Evil Reid’s eyes narrow and he closes the distance between us until my personal space is filled with the foul odor of Drakkar Noir and bacon bits.

“Maybe you don’t realize what it means for me to be on the file. It means I now have access to all the documents. And that means I know everything about you, Westwood. Everything. And you know what I’m wondering after reading your file? I’m wondering…where’s mine?

I suck in a sharp breath and take an involuntary step back. He’s read the blue file. Evil Reid has read the file. But that’s not the worst of it. Stiffening my spine, I spit out, “Are you threatening me? Because if you’re threatening me, you’d better—”

“Back off, Cravath.” Ray steps between us, returning just in the nick of time to save Evil Reid from my new Redemption fight moves.

Evil Reid frowns. “Ray? What are you doing here? I heard you’d quit the firm and…” He cuts himself short and looks from Ray to me and back to Ray. “You’re working for her?” His voice rises and his lips curl. “You’re f**king working for her now? Talk about a breach of confidentiality. You are so going down. I’ll have your ass hauled up—”

Ray growls low in his chest. “I do not break my word. I signed the confidentiality agreement; I abide by the terms. But if you plan on doing what I think you’re planning on doing, you will have me breathing down your neck for the rest of your miserable life.”

“Call off your dog, Westwood,” Evil Reid snarls. “We’re in a courthouse. Maybe you’ve forgotten basic court decorum since you started slumming it in Hippie Land.”

My hand curls into a fist. I imagine I am Shilla the Killa and Evil Reid has just landed a hard right to my jaw. Bam. Bam. I hit him in the stomach and when he doubles over, I go for a knee to the nose. I imagine a slow motion clip of blood flying across the hallway and splattering on the canvas print of the Golden Gate Bridge as he staggers into his stable of minions. Jake would be proud.

“Not worth it,” Ray says quietly, as if he knows what I’m thinking. But then, he’s Ray, so I expect he does.

Shaking off the daydream, I turn my back on Evil Reid and walk away.

“You’re going down, Westwood,” Evil Reid calls after me and then he chuckles and lowers his voice, “and not just in court.”

***

The hearing goes smoothly, and two hours later, I am back in my office and poring through Farnsworth’s documents again when Penny interrupts me.

“You’re due down at the community legal aid clinic in an hour.”

My heart sinks as I look over the pile of paper on my desk. “Ahhh…maybe you should call and cancel.”

A pained expression crosses Penny’s face and she shakes her head. “Too late. The cab is waiting outside. You missed one session. I won’t let you miss another. You love going there and the clients love you. Not only that, they’re depending on you. They don’t have anyone else. Don’t let them down.”

I drop my pen and push back my chair. “Penny?”

She grimaces and lifts a questioning eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

At seven p.m., I am at the Bay Area Community Center where I share legal aid duties with five other attorneys. Although I know I should find some paying clients, over the next three hours, I take on five new pro bono cases for people in desperate need of legal assistance. As the clinic winds to a close, the clinic coordinator, a social worker and an old friend, shakes his head and tells me my heart is too soft. I tell him if my heart were soft, I would be at the airport right now, waiting for a hard-bodied, blue-eyed fighter with unkempt blond hair. He tells me I don’t have to worry about going to the airport, because my fighter is waiting at my table.

My heart thuds wildly against my ribs and I slowly turn around.

There he is.

Damn, he looks good. The slight sheen of his tailored gray suit subtly reflects the light giving him an almost ethereal glow. His shirt is crisp white, his tie red silk. And yet the civilized veneer cannot hide the strength and power of his muscular body.

“So…what can I do for you this evening?” I take a seat on the other side of the table I use as a desk and fold my hands on my notepad so he doesn’t see them tremble.

“Caught an earlier flight ’cause I wanted to see my girl.”

“Here she is.” Like a love-struck teenager, I can’t stop staring at him and smiling a goofy smile. He came back early. For me. And he’s here. HE’S HERE!

Jake places a cooler on the table and shoves it toward me. “Since you have a habit of forgetting to eat, I assumed you didn’t have dinner, so I brought us a snack.”

“Us?”

“Us.” He reaches around the cooler and gives my hand a squeeze. “We’re having dinner together. You aren’t working tonight.”

“Um…”

Jake shakes his head. “Not an option.”

I vacillate for all of ten seconds. “’kay.”

“I made it myself,” he says proudly, tapping the top of the cooler. “Whipped it up after I got home from the airport.”

Curiosity gets the better of me and I stand and tug off the lid. Inside, I find two large plastic containers, two forks, two napkins, and two protein shakes. “What’s in the containers?”

Jake beams. “A gourmet feast. Mac ’n’ cheese with hot dogs! Carbs, Amanda. We’re having carbs.”