Leigh stirred her ice cubes and sipped her drink. Her shoulders loosened, and she felt a warm buzz spreading through her as the vodka kicked in. The feeling was good, and she chose to focus on it instead of the strange fact that she was out at a jazz club with Brandon. It was a bad idea for many reasons—not the least of which was that he was the lead detective on her client’s case. And Leigh had very intentionally not told him everything he wanted to know about it.

She hadn’t lied. She just hadn’t been completely forthcoming. She doubted he’d see the difference. Withholding information wouldn’t go over well with him. But at the moment, she had no choice.

Leigh took another sip and surveyed the room full of people. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in a nightclub. It had been with Javi, but she couldn’t think of a specific time. They’d been so slammed with work lately, weekdays and weekends seemed to blur together.

At least, for her they did. Javi had been out Thursday night, so he seemed to be keeping at least some semblance of a social life.

Brandon tipped his beer back, watching her. He set the bottle down carefully.

“What?” she asked.

He leaned forward on his elbows. “What happened earlier?”

“Earlier?”

“You were crying.”

Her pulse skittered and she looked away, searching for what to say. She was good at thinking on her feet. But Brandon didn’t fall for her usual deflection and misdirection tactics.

She stirred her drink with the little red straw. “Rough day at the office.” She glanced up at him with a smile.

He watched her patiently.

She could tell him to drop it, and he might. But that would just postpone the inevitable. The topic wasn’t going to magically go away.

“I had a little run-in with Mason Lloyd.”

His gaze sharpened. “A ‘run-in’?”

“He approached me outside my office. Basically told me to stop gossiping about him.”

His eyes narrowed. “Did he touch you?”

“No.”

She thought of his finger on her sweater and stifled a shudder.

Brandon’s jaw tightened. “Leigh . . .”

“We exchanged words.” She shrugged. “He threatened to sue me for slander. He probably heard I was asking around about him, doing some background research.”

She stirred her drink, debating how much to reveal about her research. She hadn’t planned to get into this with Brandon—at least not yet. But she hadn’t planned to go to a jazz club with him, either. He was watching her intently, and she felt pressure to at least hint at the newest development. He’d learn about it eventually, and she might as well tell him so that she could control the message.

“He may have also heard I’m representing Vanessa’s sister,” she said, trying to sound casual.

“You’re talking about Kate?”