LITMIR.BIZ

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distance between them as possible. Unfortunately, when he sat down he realized he’d selected a seat with a perfect view of her. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up staring at her throughout the meeting.

      In an attempt to distract himself, he glanced around. The conference room was in the southwest corner of the twenty-eighth floor. Two walls were all windows; the other two were covered with paintings by New England artists. The room was impressive. The inlaid wood table was itself a work of art.

      But he’d seen this room a hundred times before.

      Whereas Jane he hadn’t seen in a year.

      And now that he had, one thing was clear. She still hit him like a shot of caffeine—jolting him, making him feel more alive. How could she not? Besides being one of the most intelligent lawyers in the firm, she was also kind, compassionate, honest and decent.

      Her attractiveness and beauty were all the more potent to him because of these other qualities. And it was precisely because of them—in particular the honesty—that he’d worked so hard to stay away from her.

      That hadn’t been easy.

      But to do otherwise wouldn’t have been fair to her. Rumors had buzzed around the office after the “lunch from hell”—as he tended to think of it. When he’d announced his divorce from Gillian, the gossip had started again. One of his coworkers had screwed up the courage to ask him, “Is this about Jane?”

      “No,” he’d insisted, but his protestation hadn’t had much impact on the opinions at the office.

      He’d wanted to protect Jane, but he hadn’t known how. The best he could do, it seemed, was keep his distance.

      No doubt about it. This past year had been hell. For most of it he’d lived in an apartment full of rented furniture that he hated. He’d never felt more alone. His mother was busy with her new life in the seniors’ complex she’d moved to, and his two brothers were preoccupied with lives of their own.

      His ex-wife considered him a cheating liar. And while his three-year-old daughter still loved him unconditionally, his adolescent son didn’t want anything to do with him.

      On top of all that, he had lost his valued friendship with Jane.

      “Coffee, Matthew?” Davis Norton was the oldest senior partner and the only surviving founder of the firm. He was approaching seventy and rarely took cases. Still, he never missed a partners meeting.

      “Thank you.”

      Davis filled a bone china cup with steady hands and passed it to Matthew, then returned the carafe to the sideboard and settled in his place at one end of the table.

      Sitting at the other end of the rectangular table was Russell Fielding and, next to him, Eve Brandstrom.

      Russell was one of those men who had finally grown into his looks in his fifties. With his steel-gray hair, strong jaw and broad shoulders, he had the sort of distinguished presence that juries loved.

      Eve, also, had developed an air of distinction as she’d aged. Thick, dark hair framed a face grown more attractive with the sculpting hand of age. As she peered over stylish, turquoise glasses, her eyes were clear and sharp, as was her mind.

      Although the firm bore her family’s name, Eve’s preeminent position here had little to do with nepotism. She’d never married and seemed to live for her job, having few outside interests. Since her father had passed away two years ago, she was determined to do his memory proud.

      In addition to the three senior partners, there were six junior partners at Brandstrom and Norton, including Jane and Matthew. All were in attendance today. Each had nodded at him earlier, but not one would meet his eyes now.

      Something was up.

      Matthew felt a surge of adrenaline. Just what was this case Russell wanted him to handle?

      He checked his BlackBerry. One minute before nine. Russell, who usually chaired these things, was a stickler about starting exactly on time.

      Matthew’s gaze slid over to Jane. He just couldn’t stop himself. He noticed details he’d been too flustered to pay attention to in the elevator. She was wearing a black suit, impeccably tailored, and a slim-fitting shirt. The thin red stripes in her white shirt brought out the color in her lips and on her cheeks.

      She wasn’t looking at him. Wasn’t looking at anyone in particular, really. She nodded when Davis offered her coffee, and when he’d finished pouring, she brought the cup to her lips with a steady hand.

      Matthew gave her credit. She had to know everyone in the room had watched them walk in together. The curiosity in the air was almost palpable, yet she affected the utmost nonchalance.

      As she set the cup back on the saucer, Matthew’s attention moved to the long, fine bones of her fingers. Her gold watch dangled on her elegant wrist. As if she could feel the spot where his gaze lingered, she pushed the watch higher on her forearm.

      She looked around the room, let her gaze rest on his briefly, then carried on. Jane was one of few who had resisted the lure of the BlackBerry, and she set a pad of paper on the table and clicked her pen to release the nib. She was ready.

      Russell cleared his throat. “Good morning, colleagues. I trust you all had a pleasant weekend. Before we discuss new business, we’ll go around the table with our usual updates.”

      Though he hadn’t expected to be at this meeting, Matthew was prepared when it was his turn to speak. Most of his cases were minor, not worthy of discussion in this forum. But he’d be going to preliminary hearings on a manslaughter case next week. He summarized the facts, answered a few questions, then leaned back in his chair as the spotlight shifted to the coworker on his right.

      Again Jane’s gaze sought him out. This time several seconds passed before she glanced away.

      His heart was drumming so loudly he almost didn’t hear Russell as he proceeded to the next order of business—assigning new cases.

      Two phrases leaped out at him, though.

      “…sexual misconduct involving a minor…soccer coach…”

      Matthew’s mind stopped wandering as he noticed everyone was looking at him again. Was this the case?

      “I realize no one in the firm will be clamoring to handle this one.”

      Russell had that right. Sexual misconduct involving a minor. You couldn’t get much uglier than that. Usually, such cases were assigned on a rotating basis. Who had handled the last one? Matthew knew it hadn’t been him.

      “According to the schedule, this one is Jane’s.”

      Matthew, like everyone else in the room, turned to her. Jane’s face paled, but she showed no other reaction.

      “However, in this instance,” Russell continued, “our client has requested a specific lawyer. Matthew Gray.”

      Matthew felt sucker punched. “Who is this guy? Did he give any reason for requesting me?”

      “He’s the coach of your son’s soccer team. He says you met at the season start-up party for the Blazers.”

      Matthew did his best to organize his thoughts. “You must be talking about Wally Keller.”

      “That’s correct.”

      “What, exactly, is Coach Keller alleged to have done?” Please let it have nothing to do with Derrick.

      “The police are investigating him for sexual misconduct with the twin sister of one of the boys on the team.”

      Matthew only knew of one guy on the team who had a twin sister. Right now, he couldn’t remember either of their names. “Do you have a name?”

      “Sarah Boutin.”

      His memory quickly provided him with an image of the girl. An outgoing blonde, tall and thin like her brother. Matthew recalled the

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