A.N.: So, I promised some of you guys to upload on Monday, but that was my last day of holiday and I was ... well - drunk. And yesterday I was exhausted after the twelve hour drive. So here it finally is. Enjoy.

You will need to have a little talk with Mrs. Randall about letting people just walk into your office. You push down the little wave of anger and try your best professional smile.

"Are you Spencer Hastings?" His voice is deep but gentle. You can feel your chest vibrate from his baritone, even though he spoke quietly.

You are glad you kept using your maiden name in the office. Somehow you just know you never want this voice to say the words "Spencer Thomas".

"Right. Please come in." You try to smile politely. It comes out nervously.

He closes the door and walks to your table. You stand up and extend your hand. His hands are rough but warm. You think he is very tall. That's when you notice that you are barefoot. Right. Your feet hurt. Very professional, Hastings. Your inner admiral calls you Hastings, too. You find you don't mind at all.

"Please, sit down, Mr. Cavanaugh." He does. So do you. You try to put on your shoes without him noticing. You fail. He watches you fiddle and grins.

"Rough day?" He asks compassionately.

You blush and try to keep composure.

"I had better ones. What may I help you with?"

"I have a problem with the law."

You crack a small smile. "Indeed?"

He rolls his eyes at you. "Indeed. I do."

You think he's cocky, but you never minded less.

"What kind of problem do you have with the law, Mr. Cavanaugh?"

"Well, yeah. So, I worked for a company as a carpenter and the architects screwed it up. Built everything oh so pretty but never heard of the words 'structural engineering'. I told them that it wouldn't work but hey! I'm just the carpenter."

He scowls. You think you never saw somebody with so kind eyes.

"So I build their little burrow, half a year later everything comes crashing down. Now they say, they gave the right orders, I just didn't follow them."

Did he actually just make a Harry Potter reference? You bow your head and pretend to shift through your papers concealing your excited expression. Calm down, Hastings. Attorneys don't fangirl.

"I see." you say calmly. "Well, Mr. Cavanaugh, for now we don't have to proof anything at all. We will wait and see to what extend the other party is willing to go to make you the scapegoat. If they fake the blueprints it might get difficult but that's a problem we will face when it occurs.

I will need all the paper work you can find about this. It would be great to have the original blueprints. Also try to make a list of people who can back up our side of the story."

With each sentence you get calmer. This is your element. Your safe place. The only time were you feel powerful and in charge. Fearless. Cavanaugh listens closely, eyes squinted in concentration.

"My secretary will make you a note for that." You press the 2 on your intercom. "Mrs. Randall, please print a note for Mr. Cavanaugh, reminding him to look for paper work, the blue prints and to make a list of witnesses. Write my direct dialing on it, too."

"Yes, Ms. Hastings." it croaks back.

"Thanks." You release the intercom button and look up into intense blue eyes studying your face. Your breath catches in your throat. You cough to cover it up. You blush and curse yourself. Damn it, Hastings. Get your shit together. It's just another client.

You think you saw something like concern in his bright gaze but before you can be sure it vanishes, replaced by a mischievous expression.

"I didn't expect to get your phone number so easily." He smiles flirtatiously. You feel your heart speed up. If you weren't already red as a beet, you'd be now. But as soon as he says it he looks like he is ready to roll his eyes at himself. You nearly can hear him think Really Cavanaugh? You smile.

A bit harmless flirting doesn't hurt anyone, right?

"Oh, it isn't. I'm afraid I'm the diamonds kind of girl." You grin and the giddy feeling, that fills your chest at his rough chuckle, momentarily chases the dark thoughts away, that kept pestering your brain.

As soon as you respond his expression turns back to flirtatious. "Expensive phone number."

"Expensive woman."

"I didn't peck you for the type who needs a breadwinner." His eyes glint provocatively.

Wow, Ouch. You laugh. He's quick-witted.

"No, but I do like men with their own bread."

"Fine. How about breakfast?"

You nearly choke and he looks a bit shocked too, like the speed of your banter made him talk without thinking. He blushes and rubs his neck nervously. Your chest constricts when you realize that you got carried away. You shouldn't have flirted with some client. Not even Mr. handsome-carpenter with the kind blue eyes and the musical voice. You are married, even if you don't know what will happen with said marriage. But you do know that nothing good will come out of this. It will make messed up things even more messed up. You rub your eyes to collect yourself and look up with a guarded expression.

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid I can't" You give him a tight smile. You notice his eyes keep shifting to your right eye. You look away in discomfort. But then he smiles warmly.

"Because of the lack of diamonds or the lack of interest?"

A chuckle escapes you against your will and before you can help yourself an honest "Neither." falls from your lips.

"I see." He nods knowingly. "He's a lucky guy."

Yeah, you tell him that, you want to say. But you don't say anything at all. You just smile a little pained and stay silent. He gets the hint and stands. You ask yourself if it is wrong to feel excited about the prospect of touching his hand again. Probably.

"It was nice meeting you, Ms. Hastings."

You stand too and shake his hand. You nearly jump when you feel an intense tingling shoot up your arm. What the heck? You force a smile and drop his hand as fast as politeness lets you.

"You too." You murmur.

He shoots you one last smile. The kind with the dimples and the sparkling eyes. You feel your knees go week. Get a grip!

He turns around and walks out the door. He closes it behind him and you let yourself plop down on your chair.

A.N.: I hope you like it. Please review. I always love to here what you think about the story. objective criticism is always welcome too.

A few people didn't like the second person perspective. I do understand how it's unusual. I like the perspective because it feels like you are experiencing it, but I know that it's not for everybody, so I apologize. But please understand that I can't change perspective in the middle of the story because of that. I will however write different stories in another perspective. You are very welcome to read those, too.

Next chapter will be a little unusual for you guys. Let me say this much: There will be somebody who is slightly different in character than you are used to.

Loveballs, P.Z.