Page 12 of Ask for Moore
“I already told you I wanted to sue his ass. Did you forget?” he hissed, his gaze raking down my body, lingering on my boobs and legs. “Bradley assured me that you’re an excellent attorney. I hope he wasn’t wrong.”
“Sorry, but I had to ask since his lawyer brought it up during our meeting.” Tucking my notepad and pen back into my purse, I lifted my hands in a gesture of surrender. “I wouldn’t be doing my job properly if I didn’t present you with any settlement opportunities provided by the defendant’s counsel. Odds are good that they’d be willing to give you a settlement for the benefit of the bargain.”
“No deal. The premium I paid is a drop in the bucket compared to what I’ll lose if I can’t move forward with this development,” he insisted with a scowl. “And settling with Sanderson won’t help me put pressure on the board to rethink their position. Dragging his ass back to Indiana might, though.”
“Understood.”
I was relieved to head back to my car, and not just because I wasn’t sure my heels could handle getting more mud on them. I was accustomed to dealing with difficult clients, but spending an hour with Roger Burkhart had tested the limits of my self-control. If a partnership wasn’t riding on the outcome of this case, I would have been sorely tempted to try to find a way out of representing him.
Deciding I would make good use of the whirlpool tub when I got back to the bed and breakfast, I climbed into the vehicle and called Ryland’s office. His assistant picked up on the second ring. “The law offices of Ryland Moore. How may I help you?”
“Hello, please tell your boss that Waverly Duncan is calling,” I requested.
“How nice to hear from you so soon after you were here, Waverly.” I wasn’t certain why she seemed to put particular emphasis on my name until she asked, “You don’t mind if I call you Waverly, do you?”
“Umm…”
Before I could formulate my response, she added, “You’re more than welcome to use my first name. It’s Ivy.”
“Ivy?” I echoed, my brows drawing together as I wondered about the extent of Ryland’s relationship with his assistant. Was he just a nice guy who brought her back cookies out of the kindness of his heart? Or were they romantically involved?
Not only was he her boss, but there was a considerable age gap between them. She was probably about five or so years younger than me, while Ryland was almost a decade older than I was.
“Yup, my parents are seriously into nature names. My sisters are Olive and Sage,” she explained.
“Hmm,” I murmured noncommittedly.
“Your name is seriously pretty, though. I can totally see why Ryland prefers to use it.”
I relaxed at the teasing note in her voice. If she was in a relationship with Ryland, I figured she would be more confrontational while feeling me out about her boss. My relief—which was completely unfounded because it shouldn’t matter to me either way—had me offering, “You’re welcome to use it as well, Ivy.”
The offer was completely out of character for me, but it seemed to please her. “Cool, thanks. I’ll put you right through.”
There was a click on the line, and then Ryland asked, “How did your meeting with Burkhart go? Is he willing to be reasonable and drop this frivolous suit against Marty?”
Resisting the surprising urge to dump my frustrations on him, I answered, “I’ll be filing his complaint against your client in the morning.”
“I look forward to seeing you in court, Waverly.”
If it hadn’t been for Ivy pointing it out, I probably would have assumed that Ryland’s use of my first name was just his way of being friendly. But after my little chat with her, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was confirmation that the attraction I was feeling was a two-way street. Or if I’d ever have the opportunity to hear him rasp those three syllables in his deep voice under entirely different circumstances.
7
Ryland
True to her word, Waverly filed two lawsuits on behalf of her client the morning after our meeting. Although she’d given me a copy of the complaint, Marty still needed to be officially served. An hour after my contact at the county courthouse called, she showed up at my office.
I jumped out of my seat and rounded my desk when I heard my assistant greet, “Hey, Waverly.”
“Good morning, Ivy. How are you doing this morning?”
My brows drew together at their familiarity with each other when they’d barely exchanged a dozen words while Waverly had been in my office yesterday. But that was a mystery for another time since as soon as my gorgeous opposing counsel saw me, she thrust an official copy of the complaint in my direction.
I slid my glasses up my nose as I glanced down at the documents, and she gasped. “Since when do you wear glasses?”
“They’re just for reading,” I explained. “Why?”
“Um…no reason. I was just surprised since I hadn’t seen you in them before.” She cleared her throat. “Consider your client served.”
