Practice Makes Perfect
Page 61

Seeing that she still waited for his answer, J.D. shrugged. “I guess I’ve just been focused on things at work.” He watched as Payton nodded. This she could understand.
Now that the subject of work had been raised, the conversation drifted onto a safer topic: their upcoming meeting with Jasper and his new general counsel. In appreciation of the fact that Payton and J.D. had agreed to fly down to Florida on such short notice, Jasper had suggested, for their convenience, that they meet for dinner at their hotel. J.D. could certainly think of worse places to spend a Friday evening than at the Ritz-Carlton, Palm Beach. Putting aside all partnership/career advancement issues, one of the main reasons he had so quickly agreed to the trip was because he knew Payton similarly would never pass up the opportunity.
Payton asked him what information, if any, he had been able to uncover about the lawyer Jasper had hired to be Gibson’s new general counsel. J.D. reached into his briefcase for the file he had thrown together earlier that morning when he stopped at the office before heading off to the airport.
Strangely, he discovered something in his briefcase that he had not put there.
A book.
Confused—and with the momentary thought that he was going to be really f**king pissed if this was some sort of South Florida drug-mule scam that would land him in jail and cut into his posh Ritz-Carlton relaxation time—J.D. pulled out the book.
Pride and Prejudice.
It bore a Post-it note, unsigned, that read:
In case of an emergency. Trust me.
J.D. rolled his eyes. Oh, for crying out loud. He had told Tyler about the trip with Payton and his “helpful” friend must have slipped the book into his carry-on when he’d stepped out of his office.
Just as he was about to stuff the silly girly tome back into his briefcase, Payton glanced over.
“Oh, you brought a book? What are you reading?” She leaned over, saw the title, then peered up at J.D. with an expression of unmistakable surprise. “Pride and Prejudice? Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed that was your kind of book.”
J.D. immediately went on the defensive. “Come on, do you really think . . .” His words trailed off as Payton leaned back languidly in her seat with a dreamy, faraway look.
“Mr. Darcy . . .” She sighed wistfully. She distractedly put her pen in her mouth—J.D. noticed a little flush to her cheeks—and without even realizing it, she slowly slid the pen in and out between her lips.
In and out.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy and his ten thousand a year . . .” she said, still dreamy.
J.D. had no idea what she was talking about, but he couldn’t help but stare. The pen. The lips. In and out.
In and out.
Tyler was a f**king genius.
With a blink, Payton came out of her reverie. Most unfortunately.
“Sorry. What were we talking about?” she asked, a little breathless.
Clearing his throat, J.D. held up the book. “Pride and Prejudice?”
Payton smiled fondly. “Yes. It’s one of my favorites.”
“I caught that. Gotta love that”—J.D. quickly stole a glance at the back cover—“Elizabeth Bennet.”
This seemed to wake Payton up. “Well, of course,” she said, not unlike Tyler, as if only a Neanderthal wouldn’t be in the know. “Elizabeth Bennet is only one of the greatest literary heroines of all time.”
J.D. could see she was beginning to get all riled up and lecture-y again. Not that he particularly minded. “Is that so?”
“Yes, that’s so. She’s clever, witty, bold, and independent. True, she can be a bit proud, some would say she’s far too sassy for her time, and she’s definitely judgmental, but still—that’s why we love her.”
J.D. cocked his head. “Well. I guess that settles that.”
Payton grinned, a little embarrassed. “Sorry. I can get kind of carried away talking about that book.” She paused, remembering. “Weren’t you going to show me the information you pulled on Gibson’s new general counsel?”
Back to business. J.D. handed Payton the file he had compiled and she began to read through it. But after a few minutes of working in silence, she cast a sideways glance in his direction.
“Still . . . it is kind of a wussy read for a guy, Jameson.” With a sly half smile, she turned back to her reading.
J.D. didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. But after a few minutes had passed, he subtly glanced over and watched Payton as she worked.
Proud and sassy, no doubt. And definitely judgmental.
But still.
PAYTON STOOD IN front of the closet in her underwear, scrutinizing her dress for wrinkles. She was relieved to see it had survived the plane trip relatively unscathed because (a) she had absolutely zero skill when it came to using an iron and (b) there wasn’t time to iron anyway because she was supposed to meet J.D. in the hotel bar downstairs in five minutes.
This was business, she kept reminding herself. She and J.D. were here, at the luxurious Ritz-Carlton, Palm Beach, just steps from the white-sand beach and the cerulean blue water of the Atlantic Ocean, on business.
She had stayed in nice hotels before, of course. Plenty of them. One of the perks of working for a top-tier firm was that its lawyers were expected to stay—for image purposes—at top-tier hotels when traveling. It also wasn’t the first time she’d traveled on business on a Friday evening, and it certainly wasn’t the first time she’d traveled with a male coworker.
But.