A/N: Thanks to the world's greatest beta, Bethany. :)
-x-
"This can't be happening..."
Annie practically collapses back in her chair, like the wind's been knocked out of her. What are the odds, she thinks frantically. What are the odds that the guy she picked up last night is the lawyer that wants to work with her? She struggled through Statistics and Probability in college - it took a near perfect score on the final to nail down that A - but they must be astronomical. Because there are almost 42,000 people who live in Greendale alone, not counting the larger Metro Denver area, and figuring that about half of those are men, and only half of those men are over the age of 20, it's got to be … 1 in 10,000.
Or something close.
It's insane - but just her luck, apparently.
"This seriously cannot be happening," she mutters again, almost under her breath, and Jeff Winger shakes his head.
"I don't know," he says breezily. "I think maybe the universe is trying to tell us something." He walks around to the other side of the table, taking the seat directly opposite her. "So this is that new job of yours? Interesting. I didn't have you pegged as a lawyer."
"I don't … what is …" She buries her face in her hands, feeling it go all hot and tingly. "I'm so embarrassed."
"Why? You haven't done anything to embarrass yourself."
She looks up at him sharply and gapes in disbelief. "Last night! We… you know."
He nods, smirking. "Oh, I know. Believe me. But like I said, you didn't do anything to embarrass yourself."
They stare at one another across the table for a long moment, like neither of them can look away, and she feels that same electricity from last night, crackling sharp and hot between them.
But this is her career - her life really. She can't be screwing around, letting some guy with a nice smile distract her from what's important, make her deviate even a little bit from the path she's carving out for herself. She clears her throat, sitting up straight again. "I don't understand," she declares. "Did you know who I was last night?"
He shrugs. "No. I mean, you told me your name was Anne, but it's not like that's an unusual name."
"Annie," she corrects him. "I prefer to be called Annie."
He cocks his head, studying her for a second. "Yeah," he agrees. "That does suit you better."
It is becoming harder and harder to concentrate, but she takes a deep breath and wills herself to regroup. "So this is just some big coincidence? You just happened to pick me to work on your case?"
He leans back in his chair, grinning again, and she tries to remember if he was this insufferable last night. "As much I'd like to take the credit, that's exactly what this is. A happy coincidence." He shrugs, and maybe she's naive, but she gets the feeling that he's telling the truth. "I was going through the resumes of all the first years, looking for someone to help with my case, and yours was the most impressive of the bunch. I mean, you had a 4.0 and a list of extracurriculars as long as my arm, which tells me you're a classic overachiever. So it seemed like a safe bet that you could handle the work… and I need someone I can count on here."
She has to work hard to maintain a neutral expression, because the praise is getting to her and the urge to preen is strong.
"Besides," Jeff continues, "I saw that you went to Greendale Community College. I spent some time there myself… so I thought I'd help a fellow alum out. My good deed for the year."
She can't help her smile, because it's probably the first time ever that her stint at Greendale isn't something that she has to explain away, justify, or hide. And if Jeff Winger attended Greendale and is now as highly thought of at this firm as Quendra and Vicki would have her believe, then maybe he's proof that it won't hold her back either.
"I'm gonna lay all my cards on the table, all right?" he says. "This case is big for me. And it can be big for you. I don't know what your plans are, but if you want to make a name for yourself here, this is the case that'll do it."
She frowns, confused. "Wait. You still think we should work together? Even after last night?"
That devastating smile is back - and she is seriously starting to wish that they'd met again under other circumstances because she'd really like another night with him - and he lifts his shoulders casually. "Why not?" he wonders. "We've already established we work pretty well as a team."
She flushes, because the memories are too fresh not to get a little caught up in them - but she shakes her head, pulling herself together so she can look back at him with a steely gaze.
It feels steely anyway - he keeps smiling at her like a smug jerk, though, so maybe it doesn't have the desired effect.
"I don't know," she says snidely. "Maybe because it's unprofessional? Isn't it a conflict of interest or against the sexual-harassment policy or something?"
He purses his lips, like he's deep in thought. "Well, since technically you weren't an employee of the firm yet when it happened, I think we're in the clear. Besides, you're not going to tell Ted and the other partners, are you?"
"Oh, God, no!"
He chuckles again, and dammit, his eyes twinkle just like they did last night when he had his hand under her skirt.
"But I mean," Annie stammers. "I bet you're not supposed to… fraternize with co-workers. Or at the very least, co-workers who are below you in the organizational hierarchy."
Jeff leans in across the table, lowering his voice. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret," he stage whispers. "Up until three weeks ago, Ted was shacked up with Emily, a second-year associate. Kimberly, the senior partner in charge of Real Estate, is sleeping with Chris, a junior partner in Mergers and Acquisitions. Crystal in HR left her husband for Allison, one of our Estate and Trust associates - they're fighting right now because Crystal wants a Pekinese and Allison wants a Labradoodle. I'm not worried, though. Call me a romantic, but I think those two crazy kids'll work it out."
She rolls her eyes. "This isn't funny. I'm serious."
"Anne, it's not—"
"Annie," she corrects again, a little more testily than is probably appropriate.
"Annie," he says, very deliberately, and the way he draws her name out makes her shift a little in her seat. "I'm just explaining what things are like around here. Because that's the tip of the iceberg, really. There's kind of an unofficial 'don't ask, don't tell' policy."
From the few partners and associates that she's met over the past two days, she can believe that is how things are. This might be one of the largest law firms in the greater Denver area based on revenue, with a pretty impressive track record, but the place has the feel of a cheesy Caribbean singles resort. She doesn't particularly care how everyone else here chooses to spend their time, but she definitely doesn't want any kind of reputation, doesn't want anyone to think that she'll sleep with whomever it takes to get ahead.
She may have spent a night with him, but Jeff Winger is a total stranger - for all she knows, he's going to run straight out of here and brag to all of the good old boys on the fourth floor about the first-year associate he banged.
He must sense her reluctance because he loses the charming smile and winds up with something that more closely resembles a grim frown.
"Okay, listen," he tries again. "This is a career-making case. It's seriously that big. Especially for you, just starting out. I mean, if I'd gotten a case like this my first year… well, let's just say I wouldn't need one like it quite so badly now. And I'm not gonna lie… I need this one, I really need it. And I can't trust anyone around here to help me without screwing me over. So you're pretty much my last hope."
It's strange, because she doesn't know him at all beyond a few games of pool and a couple of hours in his bed, but something tells her that he's not usually this honest, this open and vulnerable - and she gets the sense that it's not an act, either. She thinks that she remembers him mentioning something about problems at work last night, actually, so it doesn't seem like he's playing her.
Besides, she's felt all alone in the world more times than she can count, so she decides that it's only fair to at least hear him out.
Well, that and the fact that if he's telling the truth, it could mean big things for her career - she's not being entirely selfless, here.
"Tell me about the case," she says.
He smiles again and slides the manila folder in front of him across the table to her. "This is a rough outline of what we're dealing with, but the basic gist of it is this: federal charges of conspiracy to commit securities fraud, embezzlement, tax fraud, and tax evasion."
Annie skims the contents of the folder, her eyes going wide as soon as she reads the first line. "This is Simon Rutherford!" she declares. "From Pine Brook Capital. He stole all that money from the Denver Teachers' Union and the Colorado Transportation Workers Federation and a half-dozen other pension funds!"
"Allegedly," Jeff says. "We're defending him, Annie. We have to at least pretend he's innocent."
She nods, but she's honestly a little overwhelmed because this story has been all over the headlines for the past few weeks. It's major news, and not just in the greater Denver area. There's been coverage on CNN and MSNBC.
And there's also the the fact that she has vague memories of shaking his hand at boring holiday parties and muggy picnics when she was barely a teenager, always on her best behavior because her father had drilled it into her head.
It's so strange to think that she might now be part of the team that holds his life in her hands.
"But yeah," Jeff continues, when it's obvious that she's not going to respond, "it's a big deal. Like I said, a career-making case."
He clearly isn't exaggerating. This is a prime opportunity to make a name for herself, to distinguish herself from all the other first-years, even the second-years. It's the kind of chance that might allow her to make partner way ahead of her ten-year schedule.
But she can't ignore the potential for disaster here either.
If it gets out that she and Jeff slept together, if she allows herself to be distracted by him, if he winds up being the kind of pig who would try to get sex out of her by dangling her career in front of her like a carrot, then it's all going to blow up in her face.
She weighs the pros and cons in her head for a few seconds, trying to figure out the right path. In the end, though, the opportunity is just too tempting.
"I'd like to work with you on this," she tells him, and Jeff smiles calmly, like someone who is clearly used to getting what he wants. "But we're going to keep this strictly professional, okay? As of this minute, last night never happened. We don't talk about it, we don't joke about it, we don't even think about it. This…" She gestures at the space between them. "Is all about the work. Understood?"
His expression becomes surprisingly neutral, which is frustrating because she can't tell what he's thinking. He pushes his chair away from the table and starts to walk around it - that's it, she thinks. He is a pig. He saw this case as a chance to claim afternoons in a hotel bed as a work expense and now that she's made it clear that she won't play along, he's going to go find some pretty associate who will.
Well, fine, she thinks angrily. Why would she want to work with a jerk like that?
But Jeff stops in front of her then and extends his hand. "Understood. We eat, sleep, and breathe this case. Nothing else."
She takes his hand and shakes it as firmly as she can. "Good."
It's not intentional - at least not on her part - but they hold one another's gaze for a few seconds, still shaking hands like they're playing a game of chicken to see who will be the one to break away first. But there's a knock on the conference-room door then, and the moment breaks. She pulls her hand away, and Jeff turns to open the door. A heavyset man wheels in a cart, overloaded with cardboard boxes that are nearly brimming with paperwork.
"Neil," Jeff says amiably. "Right on time."
"I've got everything you asked for here."
Jeff nods. "Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it. How're you doing? Your mom still on the crutches?"
"Got off 'em last week. She's back to running around, bossing everyone around again."
"Glad to hear it. Send her my best."
In those thirty seconds, Annie thinks she gets a pretty good glimpse into how well Jeff Winger might be able to charm a jury, a judge, a courtroom full of spectators. She tries to reign it in, but she can't stop the little chuckle that escapes. Jeff smirks at her, amused.
"Oh, hey, Neil, this is Annie Edison," he says. "It's her first day. Annie, this is Neil, one of our finest paralegals."
Neil smiles. "Nice to meet you."
"You too."
Jeff takes his phone from his pocket, thumbing it on and scrolling through screens. "She's actually going to be helping me with the Rutherford case."
Neil raises a brow, looking impressed - which only serves to underscore what a golden opportunity this is for her. "Wow. First day here and you're jumping right into the fire. Good for you." He glances between her and Jeff. "If either of you need any help, just let me know. I'd love to work on the case."
Jeff grins, oozing that trademark charm again. "You're always at the top of my list. You know that, Neil."
He bobs his head encouragingly as Neil shuffles out, and then turns back to her and points at the cart.
"Okay, so here is everything we've got on the case so far," he tells her. "I've got a court appearance downtown for another case, so I need you to go through all of it with a fine-tooth comb."
"What am I looking for?"
"Anything I can use," he says. "I don't care how small it seems. We don't need a smoking gun, okay? We need just a little tiny grain of doubt that I can use to build a defense around. That's all I need. They don't call me the miracle-worker around here for nothing." He smiles, brimming with confidence that makes it easy to believe he could spin nothing into something. "Oh, we're also gonna want a forensic accountant to go over all the financials. We'll probably need to talk to a few actually, until we find someone who tells us what we want to hear. My assistant Claire has the names of the people we usually use, so you can get that from her." He reaches into his inner jacket pocket to pull out a couple of business cards. "Here's all of her info and here's mine. I'll check in later."
Just before he disappears into the hall, he does this awkward, little-half wave thing that shouldn't be as adorable as it is - shouldn't be adorable at all, really.
Because he's technically, kind of, almost like her boss.
He isn't cute, he isn't hot, he isn't charming.
He's just a pretty successful lawyer, with an exciting case, that can help her career.
So she lifts the first box off the cart and goes to work.
-x-
Defending snotty, spoiled rich kids against drug possession charges isn't exactly his favorite way to spend an afternoon, but anytime he gets inside a courtroom, he feels a rush of adrenaline, a surge of purpose that he's never felt anywhere else.
It doesn't even matter that today's appearance is only an arraignment, where he doesn't really get to show his stuff - his head is still fully in the game and he manages to get bail down to a reasonable amount that this douchebag's father will have paid before Jeff even makes it back to his car.
It's an afternoon well spent.
He especially needs that right now, when he keeps shifting between replaying highlights of last night with Annie and trying to calculate the chances of her, out of all the people in the state of Colorado, being the associate that he'd choose to help with his case. The back and forth is practically giving him whiplash, so it helps to have something, anything else, to focus on.
Despite his best intentions, his mind keeps circling back to the fact that Anne Edison, the driven, ambitious overachiever that he chose, completely blindly, to be his right-hand person on the Rutherford case is Annie from last night, the woman who blew his mind six ways from Sunday. It is, just as he told her, a coincidence. And yet, there's this stubborn voice in his head that says it has to be something more than that, because what were the odds of it happening otherwise?
But he doesn't believe in fate, so it's not something clichéd and touchy-feely like that. Maybe there was something going on with his subconscious. Maybe as he was going through the files, his head was repeating Annie, Annie, Annie, over and over again, so when he came across Anne Edison's resume, he couldn't help but pick her.
It wasn't just her name, though, he reassures himself. She had the most impressive resume and fit the profile of someone who would gleefully do all the necessary grunt work so he could stay nice and relaxed for the actual trial.
There is the little detail about her going to Greendale too - again, what are the fucking chances? - but that only seems to lead back down the destiny/kismet path and he refuses to go there.
He stops at the coffee cart in the lobby of the courthouse to get a little afternoon pick-me-up before he head back to the office, and as he stirs a packet of Stevia into his cup, he wonders if he's making a mistake. Even if Annie is the smartest, most capable, hardest-working first-year associate that the firm has to offer, she could still be a liability.
If she proves to be too much of a distraction, that is.
And he has to face facts - she was just as hot with her hair pinned up and wearing that drab gray suit under the fluorescent lights of the conference room as she was last night, half-naked and flushed in his dim bedroom.
Fuck.
But she said it herself - this is nothing but a professional relationship now. And it's not like he doesn't have experience sleeping with women and then stopping, just like that, without any major difficulties. He runs into Robin from Marketing all the time in the gym and it's always cordial, without even a trace of awkwardness. The same goes for Sabrina in Employee Benefits Law and Jessica in Family Law. Hell, he still manages to have a conversation with Britta most days and they don't have a damn thing in common. He's not some hard up guy, desperate enough to cling to memories of a one-night stand so tightly that he can't move on.
It's not a big deal at all.
He takes a sip of his coffee and reminds himself that things are actually looking up - and it's as if the universe wants to prove that fact because just as he's about to head for his parking garage, a hand clamps down on his shoulder and gives him a hearty shake.
"Winger! How do you like that? Our offices are in the same hallway and we run into each other here."
Alan Connor grins up at him in a slimy, self-satisfied way that makes Jeff want to slam his fist right into his jaw. But the rational part of his brain knows that isn't the best play, so he utilizes whatever shred of self-control he has to maintain a bland, unaffected expression.
"Alan, hey. How's it going?"
"Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Making bank and laying pipe." Somehow, Jeff manages to not roll his eyes, and Alan throws an arm around his shoulder, like they're old, trusted friends. "Listen, Wing Man, I'm glad I ran into you here, away from all those clowns we work with. Because I really want to make sure there are no hard feelings."
Jeff shrugs, feigning ignorance. "Hard feelings?"
"Yeah, you know," Alan sighs. "Because Ted decided I'd be a better choice for the McAlister case. I mean, I know you had your sweet, little heart set on it, buddy, but if the boss man thinks I'm the best man for the job, then I guess that's just what I am."
Jeff clenches his jaw so hard that he's surprised he doesn't pull a muscle - but he still manages to conjure up a smile. "Don't worry about it. I've got zero hard feelings."
"Of course not," Alan laughs. "Because you're a team player… so what if this time you've got to play cheerleader on the sidelines? I bet your legs'll look great in one of those short little skirts." He does a stupid little kick as if to demonstrate. "And you know, maybe I'll be able to find a little something for you to do for the case. I mean, I'm only one man. I can't do everything."
When Jeff grins now, it is one hundred percent genuine - because he finally gets to do what he's been dying to do since Mark wandered into his office this morning and delivered the good news.
"That's really generous of you, Sundance," he says. "But I think I'm gonna be pretty busy the next few months. Won't really have much free time."
Alan smirks, elbowing him in the side. "Busy," he laughs. "With what? Getting another trust fund baby off on nose candy charges?"
"Actually," Jeff says, trying to stay as cool as possible. "I'm gonna be tied up with something a little bigger than that. You know, the Rutherford case?" It's amazing how he's able to ask in a way that makes it seem like it's remotely plausible that Alan hasn't heard of the case, and he shrugs again, doing a pretty good 'aw shucks' impersonation. "Ted just asked me this morning if I'd take care of it for him, so…"
Alan isn't new to the rodeo, so he manages to choke down his shock, anger, and envy in a hurry - but for one brief, amazing second, Jeff sees all of it play across his face, in his dull, soulless eyes, and all is right with the world.
"The Rutherford case?" Alan repeats, his toned clipped and tight. "I hadn't heard about that. I thought Ted was handling that one himself."
Jeff lifts his shoulders casually. "Seems he's got some health issues that need tending to. So I guess he thought I was the next best thing."
"Yeah, well… I guess that might keep you busy." He cocks his head, and Jeff can practically see the wheels turning in his head, trying to find some way to spin this back in his favor. "So you know… if you do find yourself a little… overwhelmed, I'd be willing to lend a hand with Rutherford. You know, as a personal favor to you."
Jeff chuckles, patting Alan on the back. "Oh, I know you would, buddy. But you've got your hands full with McAlister. You can't do everything, right?" He takes a sip of his coffee, savoring the rich taste and the moment , and maybe he's a total asshole but he can't resist twisting the knife a little. "Besides, I've got one of the new first-years to help out, so I should be fine."
Just as expected, Alan looks like he's been forced to chew glass - or is getting ready to plot Jeff's murder. And all Jeff can think is, let's twist it a little more.
"Hey, you know what, buddy? We should celebrate! You got a big case… and I got a really big case. If that doesn't deserve a drink, what does?"
Alan forces a grin, bobbing his head like none of this is bothering him at even though hitting a bar with this asshole is the last thing that Jeff wants to do, he does it, needing to enjoy his victory, all up close and personal in Alan's face, a little longer.
As predicted, it makes the booze taste even better.
-x-
She doesn't get out of the office until nearly ten.
The place is virtually deserted, with all of the other caseless first-year associates long gone, but she is determined to get through every single piece of paper in the case files before she heads out. Jeff may have said that he only needs the smallest, tiniest scrap to build a case around, but she complies a list that's more than ten pages long, full of contradictory information, case laws that they should research, and other tidbits that could form the basis for an effective defense.
She's managed to impress herself.
She isn't sure if she's impressed Jeff, though, because he never returns after his court appearance and she doesn't get a phone call, text, or email either. So she takes it upon herself to email him what she's found, pretty sure that his socks will effectively be knocked off.
If she's honest, she is actually somewhat relieved that he didn't make contact again. It was good to focus on the case, on work, on professional details that she has every reason to know. Because the fact is that she knows way too many things about her de facto boss that she shouldn't - like that he's ticklish on his hip and he makes this ridiculously sexy purring sound when he's truly satisfied - and she isn't in a place right now where she can be around him and not remember those things.
In vivid, Technicolor detail.
She'll get there, though, as long as there's enough work and appropriate distance between them - that's what she tells herself as she drives home.
When she gets to the apartment, Troy and Abed are in front of the TV in their pajamas, watching some bad 80s horror movie about a killer on a college campus. And even though it's after ten, Abed is eating a bowl of buttered noodles and Troy has a large bowl of mac and cheese that is a disturbingly bright yellow.
"What are you eating?" she asks him, as she drops her bag on the table.
Troy shrugs. "We watched an episode of Unwrapped before and it was all about Kraft Mac and Cheese and how in Canada, they put ketchup on it. I like mustard better so I figured I'd try that… and it's delicious." He lifts a heaping spoonful from his bowl. "Want a taste?"
She shakes her head with a grimace and practically collapses on the futon.
"So how was it?" Abed asks. "Your first day as a high-powered lawyer? Was it more like Law and Order or Boston Legal or L.A. Law?" He'd made her binge-watch nearly every legal drama from the past 30 years over the summer to get her in the right frame of mind, but she is pretty sure nothing could have prepared her for what actually happened today. Abed smiles gleefully, no doubt remembering every detail of every show. "Or was it more like Ally McBeal? Is there a unisex bathroom?"
She groans, shifting forward and burying her face in her hands. "I slept with the guy who's pretty much my boss," she cries, not aware that she's about to confess until the words are out of her mouth.
"Whoa," Troy says. "Dude works fast! Did he like sweep everything off his desk and do you right there?"
"Troy!" she gasps. When she drops her hands, both Troy and Abed are studying her with obvious interest. "It wasn't like - I didn't know he was my boss at the time."
The guys narrow their eyes in twin looks of confusion.
"You know how I was with that guy last night?" They nod. "He turned out to be Jeff Winger, this kind-of jerk who I'm working with on this big case."
Abed grins, eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree. "It's more like Grey's Anatomy!"
Annie rubs at her temple. "It's not Grey's Anatomy, Abed. It's my life."
"But you used to love that show," he reminds her.
"That's not… I don't-" She sighs. "Don't you get it? This is supposed to be my big chance, my shot at a bright, shiny future. And somehow I've managed to screw everything up inside of a day. I mean, I came back here because I wanted…" She trails off, because she's had a bad enough day - there's no point in traveling over that uncomfortable road. "The point is that I have this amazing opportunity now and I might have ruined it because I did something so stupidly impulsive. What was I thinking?"
"I don't get it," Troy says. "They're gonna fire you because you did this guy?"
"No. They couldn't do that."
"So what's the big deal?" Abed asks. "Is he holding it against you? Keeping you off all the good cases or something?"
"No. He actually chose me to help on this really high-profile case. He didn't know who I was at the time, but he still thinks we should work together even though we hooked up."
"Oh," Troy says, nodding. "So he's some gross dude who's going to make you bang him again so you can keep the big case? Because he can't do that, Annie. That's sexual harassment and you don't have to take it."
"No," she says again. "I don't think he's going to do that. I mean, he's all slick and smooth and uses his charm to try to talk his way into everything but-"
"Like your pants," Troy snickers.
She glares at him, and he immediately quiets.
"But I don't think that's his plan," she finishes.
"What's the problem then?" asks Abed. "It's not like he's some long-lost lover. He's just a guy you had sex with once. If it's not going to happen again, it doesn't really matter, right?"
She nods slowly, taking a deep breath to calm herself. Because Abed is right - there is really nothing to worry about because she isn't going to sleep with Jeff Winger again. Sure, there's some lingering awkwardness to deal with, but they can do that. They're both adults, adults who managed to make it all the way through law school and pass the Bar - they can do this, too.
She's getting ready for bed when her phones chimes with a new email message. Much to her chagrin, she can't help but smile, just a little, when she sees that Jeff's finally replied to the list that she sent.
Very thorough, he's written. Let's talk tomorrow. 9 am. My office.
She crawls under the Star Wars throw on the futon, feeling pretty pleased with herself.
-x-
He isn't hung over, but he is feeling a little tired and jittery when he steps off the elevator.
Staying out as late as he did with Alan wasn't part of his plan, but he found that as soon as he sipped that first drink, felt the pleasant little buzz heightening his already good mood, he didn't want to walk away. The tight, constipated look Alan wore all night definitely didn't hurt either.
He's only human - delighting in his enemy's misery is second nature.
Claire offers up a sunny smile when he makes it to her desk and he mimics her, trying to project an ease he doesn't quite feel yet.
"You've got three messages," she tells him, handing him several slips of paper. "None of them urgent. There's a senior staff meeting at three o'clock in conference room C, and Ted wants to take you to lunch."
He nods as he glances through his messages. "Okay. Sounds good."
"And Annie Edison is inside," she adds, "waiting for you."
He does something of a double-take, glancing over at the doorway to his office before checking his watch. It's a quarter to nine.
"Already?" he says before he can stop himself.
Claire shrugs. "She's been here for twenty minutes."
He nods again, heading for his office almost hesitantly. He stops just outside the doorway, peering in at her - she's sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk, one leg crossed over the other, with a pad in her lap. Today she's gone with a pinstripe pantsuit, with a bright turquoise shirt underneath, and her hair is loose over her shoulders.
For a moment, he almost forgets why she's here.
But he pulls himself together and strolls inside as confidently as he can manage. She looks up at him almost immediately, like she just knew the precise moment he would finally show up. He notices then that there are two cardboard cups of coffee and the overview of the case that he gave her yesterday on the desk in front of her.
"Good morning," he says brightly. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
Annie lifts her shoulders, smiling politely. "No problem. I was a little overeager."
"Yeah," he agrees. "I kind of got that from the novel you sent me yesterday."
She nearly smiles. "I think I prefer your assessment from last night better. I was thorough, that's all."
Jeff grins, tapping a hand against his desk as he moves to settle himself in his chair. "Okay, then. Thorough it is."
She smiles for real now, with a soft blush in her cheeks and a brightness in her eyes. They just look at one another for a minute, and he is aware of the blood pumping through his body in a way that he usually isn't. Annie shifts in her seat, reaching forward to push one of the coffees toward him.
"Claire said you like it black with one Stevia," she says. "It's probably a little cold now, but …"
He wraps a hand around the cup and nods. "It's the thought that counts, right?"
She gives him a little half smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Something like that."
He grins, watching as she taps a pen against her legal pad. It seems like it might be a nervous tick, the way she drums it faster and faster, her fingers clutching a little more tightly each time. The joke's on him, though, because he has to bite at the inside of his cheek to force back a memory from the other night: her hand gliding over his stomach, wrapping around him, and making him see stars...
Annie clears her throat, and he sits up straight in his chair.
"Okay," she says. "Should we go over what I've found?
He nods, turning to his computer to pull up the document she sent last night. As he waits for the file to load, he tries to remember the last time that he felt quite this excited about work.
Years, he thinks. It's been years.
