Free Do-Over by Dorien Kelly

rotten way he treated Cara or the hyperventilating?”
    Harbedian straightened one French cuff, then the other. “He’s brilliant, you know.”
    “And?”
    Stewart gave him a blank look. “And what?”
    Mark had already noticed that firm members said, “Howard is brilliant” in the same way his mother always said, “Your father needs his rest.” Brilliance wasn’t license to be a pompous jerk, any more than being tired permitted a husband to belittle his wife’s accomplishments.
    “I need to talk to Cara,” he said to Stewart. “I’ll catch you later.”
    “H EY .”
    Cara didn’t have to look up from the well-worn loft condo brochure—hers was unit 612, two bedrooms, balcony and urban-chic exposed ceilings—to knowwho had entered her office. Even if Morgan hadn’t spoken, she would have sensed him. She’d been waiting for him, and somehow knew down to the second when he would arrive.
    This newfound awareness was creepy, like nothing she’d ever experienced. It seemed to have fully kicked in about the time he’d worked up that “please” in Howard’s office. There was something remarkably sexy about a begging guy, especially one with deep brown eyes a girl could get lost in. Not sexy enough to help her lose the feeling that her life was spinning out of control, however.
    “So I’ve been given to you,” she said, ignoring the shiver running down her spine.
    He settled his hands on the back of one of the chairs opposite her desk. Annabeth’s comment last week about “big hands” flitted through her mind.
    Yep, big hands. Long, elegant fingers that would glide across her skin…attached to the man who was stealing her life. God, she needed a vacation. Or sex. Or both…just not with Morgan.
    “Howard’s an ass,” he said.
    For the first time ever, Cara found herself wanting to defend the man. “Howard’s br—”
    “Don’t say brilliant. ”
    She shrugged. “Okay, but he is. Besides, everyone here has been conditioned to accept his behavior.”
    “That must have been one hell of a brainwashing session.”
    Cara didn’t want to think about Howard. She glanced out the window. The landscape lady was down below, arranging colorful pots on either side of a stone bench on the narrow strip of lawn. She fussed with the leaves on a coral geranium, making sure itwas perfect. Couldn’t she hurry up and go the hell away?
    Cara pushed from behind her desk, stood and turned her back to the window. Mark walked closer. It took the last of her waning willpower not to move away.
    “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you before Howard did, but Cara, will you work this deal with me? I know you…trust you…and my career’s riding on this.”
    What about my career? she wanted to shout. Hasn’t it occurred to you that I’ll be helping you right into my partnership slot?
    Either he hadn’t thought of it, or he didn’t care. It didn’t matter, and she wouldn’t bring it up, because in doing so, she’d be showing weakness. In any case, only one truth mattered: If she refused this assignment, it would be considered an act of open rebellion, and she wouldn’t last past her semiannual review.
    “I’ll help you,” she said, bowing gracelessly to the inevitable.
    He held out his hand.
    Had she ever touched him before? Not sober. Not willingly. Now she would, but not of an entirely free will.
    His hand closed over hers. The clasp of his palm against hers was firm. Warm. Perfect.
    Somewhere deep inside, her libido purred a sexy ahhhh, then stretched and roused itself from what had been a very long nap.
    Not now. Not him, she counseled herself. She’d been shark bait once, and twice would make her a fool.
    She didn’t want to let go, though. She imagined those fingers slipping beneath the silk of her blouse,tracing a pattern on skin that was becoming dewy at the thought.
    Oh, for God’s sake, he’s just shaking your hand, her intellect lectured.
    A lot you know, brainiac, her libido hummed.
    Reminding