Lifting my chin, I look him square in the eyes. “I came here,” I say, “because you didn’t show for an appointment”—that’s not exactly true; I came here because I was pissed off—“and it was an important appointment at that. I was trying to do you a favor, but that was clearly a mistake. You can kiss the plea bargain good-bye. I’ll see you in court, Mr. Knight.”

Chapter 6

I pull a bottle of wine from the fridge and pour myself a glass. Carrying the wineglass and a large bag of chips over to the sofa with me, I put them down on the coffee table and turn the TV on.

After a long, shitty day and zero sleep, all thanks to Grayson Knight, I’m ready to relax for an hour before I hit the hay. With my remote in hand, I channel-hop while sipping my wine. I settle on a rerun of Friends. It’s exactly what I need right now—some light humor.

I’m still chewing over Grayson’s behavior earlier. I can’t believe he was hitting on me like that. And I’m still trying to ignore the fact that it affected me.

That he affects me.

I stretch my legs out and rest my feet on the coffee table. My phone starts to ring. I reach over and pick it up from the table. The call comes up as a private account, and for a moment I consider ignoring it, but then I decide to answer. It could be a client. Always the lawyer.

“Hello?”

“Melissa?”

“Yes.”

“Melissa, it’s…Grayson. Grayson Knight.”

Why the hell is Grayson Knight calling me at 9:00 p.m.? Actually, why the hell is he calling me, period?

Whatever his reason, I’m not going to make it easy for him. “How did you get my home number?” I ask. My tone is accusing.

“I, um…if I tell you, will you have me arrested?”

“Probably.”

He laughs, but I’m not entirely kidding about having him arrested. I won’t put him behind bars for this call, but it’s my job to put him there for drug possession.

There’s a distinct pause. I feel the tone in the conversation shift to serious as he blows out a long breath. “Can we…talk?”

“About?”

“Earlier.”

I take a deep breath and let it out. Then I say, “You have one minute.”

“One minute. Got it.”

I hear him exhale loudly down the line. Again. But then he says nothing.

“Minute’s ticking,” I say, taking a sip of my wine.

“Right. Look, I’m calling to apologize for my behavior earlier. I acted like a total dick. Not showing up for our appointment, and for the way I behaved…I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“Okay…as in, okay, you forgive me?”

This guy is actually charming when he’s not acting like a total tool. A smile is fighting its way onto my lips. I’m just glad he can’t see it.

“Who helped you realize you were being a jerk?”

He laughs again, this time knowingly. “My dad might have chewed my ass out after my idiot lawyer told him that I hadn’t shown up for our appointment.”