Free More by Clare James Page A

grinned.
    “You’re something,” I countered.
    “Here.” She shoved the book in my face. “Read to me?”
    Reading a book was one thing I never expected to do in bed with Jules. But I did it. She curled up next to me and I read all about Scarlett O'Hara and Rhett Butler. I read until her breathing slowed. I read when her eyes finally fell shut. And then I read some more just because.
    I loved every second.

Chapter 17
    Jules

    “You work too hard, Jules,” Mr. D. says, walking into my cubicle.
    I’ve been putting the finishing touches on an important brief and it’s taking longer than I would like, with the typing one-handed and all. So I plan to eat lunch at my desk and bring work home in the evening to keep up.
    Actually lunch is the favorite part of my workday. Foster sent me off with a brownbag this morning with a ridiculous name on it. It proudly reads: Miss O’Hara. What’s inside is even better: a turkey, pear, and brie sandwich with homemade kettle chips and a very large and orgasmic-looking brownie.
    “Well, I’m still a little slow with this.” I hold up my hand for Mr. D.
    “Not your fault,” he says. “And this is an internship, it’s not like we’re paying you millions. You are more than we could ever hope for this summer, a perfect fit for D and D. Anyway, I wanted to pop in and tell you that and to take it easy.”
    “Okay,” I tell him. “I will.”
    He pats me on the back and I settle in for lunch at my desk, knowing I won’t let up. At least not for a while, anyway. Plus, it’s not like I have a lot going on in the evenings. With Tabby gone and Foster keeping his hands to himself, I need something to keep me busy.
    Right now I’ll settle for that orgasmic brownie.

    ~~~
    I get back to work and two hours fly by before I have another guest.
    “How’s the hand, little lady?” Jake asks. He has not let up since the first day, checking in on me, walking me down to Foster in the evening, bringing me coffee. I hate to admit it, but it’s nice.
    “A lot better actually,” I tell him, honestly.
    “Happy to hear it,” he says. “So in that case, I was thinking I could start making it up to you.”
    I raise an eyebrow, my brain on high alert.
    “No, not like that.” He laughs. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Taylor. I was thinking I could have you work on one of my top custody cases—Robins v. Robins. I’m in court next week, and you are welcome to sit in. Experience the wonder of the United States’ legal system.”
    Excitement runs through me, this would be amazing for my resume. “Really? You’d do that? What about Mr. D.? Think he’d agree?”
    Jake gives me one of his killer smiles. “Yes, yes, and yes. I already talked to Mr. D., as you call him, and he thinks it’s a great idea. The only thing is, I’ll need to bring you up to speed fast. That means your lunches and a few evenings are mine until we go to court.”
    “Done,” I tell him.
    “Okay then, we start tomorrow.”
    ~~~
    The meds continue to knock me on my ass, so I wait until I get home to take them. And that usually means an evening nap. Groggy, I pad out into the living room. My blanket is still wrapped around me and I’m holding it with my good hand.
    “Okay, Little Chef,” I hear coming from the TV, followed by some French music.
    I sigh at the cutest scene in my living room. Foster is curled up on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn watching Ratatouille . The big, tough man.
    I move in, wanting to get me some of that.
    The man and the popcorn.
    Without taking his eyes from the movie, Foster opens his arms for me to nestle in.
    I do, gladly.
    “This is my favorite part,” he says, once I lean back against him.
    Foster holds the popcorn out to me and I shovel in a handful. When it dissolves in my mouth, I almost moan. It’s seasoned with parm and some spices I can’t quite recognize. Even his popcorn is fantastic.
    We watch as the little rat tries to teach the goofy boy to cook. Surprisingly,