Chapter 8: PART ONE

"Bailey?"

Bailey turned to Neil Rothbart seated to her left. "Yes, Neil?"

"Nothing, really. You just looked like you were deep in thought." He studied her with keen eyes. "Everything okay? Any problems at the firm I should know about?"

"No." She shook her head. "None at all. In fact, everything's great."

"We were pleased to see you'd snagged Hyerdahl Industries as a client." Neil's voice broke into her mental conversation with herself. "That's a big one."

She certainly knew that. She'd worked for a year to get Evan Hyerdahl to agree to switch to Blake, Rothbart and Padilla as his corporate counsel. She'd spent a lot of hours on his boat when he came to Naples, chatting with him and members of his board. She knew they figured in every major decision he made, so it was worth the investment of time. She also was aware he'd checked with two other conglomerates she handled and had done an intense study of the firm itself. That was okay. A man didn't grow a billion dollar enterprise without crossing every T and dotting every I.

"I'm rather excited about it myself," she told Neil. "It took me a long time to reel him in, but it was time well spent. I got an inside look at the man, his board, and his company. I feel even more confident, now, that I can handle whatever he needs."

"I was telling Blake the other day what a stroke of luck it was meeting you when you were here visiting that time."

"For me, too," she assured him. "So thank you for making me a part of the firm."

"I should be thanking you," he told her. "You never know when I might find just the way to do that."

Bailey let it ride, not feeling the need to comment. Maybe they'd up her compensation package. Whatever. She made a damn good living, and she loved being part of the firm.

Trying not to be obvious about it, she glanced at her watch for what was probably the hundredth time since they'd sat down to dinner.

"Hot date?" Neil asked.

Her cheeks heated, and she was afraid she was blushing. Damn. At her age and in front of one of her bosses.

"Nothing that can't wait."

Liar!

"I'd say we're about done here anyway." He looked around the small room where they'd had their private dinner. "My guess is everyone's planning to hit the bar and relax."

"Probably." She grinned at him. "As long as they don't show up for the morning session half in the bag."

"I think we can ride herd on them enough so that doesn't happen." Neil winked, pushed his chair away from the table, and rose. "If I can have everyone's attention for a moment? I think we're about done here. Blake, Evan, and I want to invite any of you who are interested to join us in the bar here. Drinks on the firm for tonight. But before we leave, I think we owe a round of applause to Bailey George for arranging this retreat. This dinner was a great kickoff."

Bailey gave a tiny nod. "I hope you all think so after I've worked your brains to death this weekend."

Laughter skittered over the crowd. Then people began drifting out of the room toward the lobby.

"You coming?" Neil asked.

"In a little bit. I have something personal I have to take care of first."

"I hope it's nothing bad. You know we're a family, Bailey. If you ever need help, you can come to us."

"I appreciate that." And she did. "And I promise if that ever became necessary, that's exactly what I'll do. Count on it. But no, nothing drastic."

Neil studied her face for a moment then nodded. "Okay, then. See you after a while." He paused. "If you're sure there's no problem."

"Positive."

Unless she counted the thought of six feet of pure masculine sex who would be coming to her villa in a very short while. She alternated between eager anticipation and wondering if she'd made a huge mistake. How could she tell him about all the years since they'd been together without letting something slip about Michael? She was liable to end up with both of them hating her if she wasn't careful.

She could still call it off. All she had to do was text him she'd changed her mind. Of course, knowing Zack, that would just mean he'd be pounding at her door, wanting to know why and insisting they talk. Worse yet, she had a feeling if Zack had his way, talking was the least of what they'd do.

She hadn't been able to stop thinking about that kiss. It zapped through her, touching every part of her body inside and out and bringing back memories she'd tried to bury all these years. She'd needed every bit of discipline to keep from touching her fingers to her lips throughout dinner. Damn. She was in a world of trouble.

Swallowing a sigh, Bailey hunted up someone from the event staff to tell them the dinner had been great and check again on the arrangements for the morning. She'd decided to contain everyone during the day, so meals would be served buffet style in the room they'd be using. At last, when she couldn't put it off any longer, she texted Zack.

Twenty minutes. My villa. The last one on the pathway.

Did that sound too much like she was giving orders? Too late now. She hurried along the pathway from the main building to the exquisite villa Lacey had put her up in. For whatever reason, she wanted to shower before Zack got there. Take off her public lawyer personality and put on the comfy jeans and T-shirt she'd brought with her for alone times. That way, she would be just plain Bailey George, not Bailey George, Doctor of Law.

Back at the villa, she showered, scrubbed off all her makeup, and spritzed a little cologne on her pulse points. She was going to give him just plain Bailey tonight. No frills, no war paint. This wasn't a seduction, after all. Was it? Okay, then why had she invited him to the villa, where the two of them would be alone? She could tell herself all she wanted to that she preferred not to have a conversation with him in the middle of a crowd, but was that the real reason?

It's dangerous being alone with him like this.

No. I'm a grown woman. I can handle this.

Yeah, right.

Sighing, she finished brushing out her hair. She had just pulled it back into a ponytail when the doorbell chimed. Bailey hauled in a breath and let it out slowly.

Okay. Here goes nothing.