Practice Makes Perfect

"And here I was worried that he might say something that would make this awkward," she said. "Thank god we dodged that bullet."

J.D. ignored her sarcasm. "He calls you to say good night? How serious are you two?" he demanded to know.

Payton pushed past him, slid down from the counter, and began buttoning up her shirt. "That's the part of his message you have a problem with? That he called me to say good night?"

"Oh, am I supposed to respond to the accusations your boyfriend made against me? Fine—here's my response: he's f**king full of shit."

Payton nodded as she smoothed down her skirt. "Perhaps not your most eloquent response, but I'll give you points for directness."

With a confused look, J.D. watched as she pulled herself together. "Wait—what's going on here? You're not actually buying into what Chase said, are you?"

"No." Not really, she almost added, but stopped herself.

Should she be suspicious of J.D.? Until Chase had left his message, the possibility hadn't even occurred to Payton that J.D. might have some hidden agenda that night. True, she was due in court very early tomorrow morning, but so what? What was she supposed to think, that this was all some elaborate seduction scheme to get into her apartment, and—what?—set her alarm clock back an hour so that she'd miss her motion call? Now that was a ridiculous thought.

Wasn't it?

Come to think of it . . . the guy had snuck into her office, then sliced off and re-glued her heel so that she'd fall and embarrass herself in court. But they were past that now. Weren't they?

"Well, it's obvious that Chase's message changed something," J.D. said.

Payton finished buttoning her shirt and turned around. "This is all just so complicated."

"Because of Chase?"

"Because of lots of things," Payton said. "Because I need to be in court early tomorrow morning. Because of our history. Because of the fact that I should be focusing on work right now, and because, ironically, you are the reason I should be focusing on work right now." She paused. "I'd just like to be alone to think things through."

J.D. nodded, and Payton could see he was angry.

"Fine," he said tersely. He walked over, picked his jacket up off the floor, and headed to the front door.

As confused as she was, Payton hated for them to end the evening on such a bad note. "J.D., wait," she called after him.

And with that, he was gone.

Payton stood there for a moment after he left. Then she picked up her briefcase and headed off to her bedroom.

An hour later, she fell asleep with her work piled around her and alone.

ONE WEEK LEFT.

A mere seven days.

Payton entered the final stretch of her eight-year quest to join the prestigious elite of those fortunate few Ripley & Davis lawyers who had been elevated to the rank of partner by keeping two promises she had recently made.

First, she won her trial—thereby upholding her vow to the jury during her opening statement that she was certain that after hearing all the evidence, they would find her client not liable for sexual harassment.

As was tradition whenever one of the litigation attorneys had a trial victory, when she got back to the office after court the other members of the group dropped by her office to offer her their congratulations. All except J.D., that is.

He stayed in his office the entire afternoon, with the door shut.

"What's gotten into him?" Irma asked when she stopped by on her way out, with a nod in the direction of J.D.'s office. "Are you two fighting again?"

"I don't think he's talking to m—" Payton stopped, having caught the implication of Irma's question. "What do you mean, are we fighting again?" She and J.D. had always been so careful not to air their disputes in public.

Irma threw her a look. "The administrative staff is the eyes and ears of this institution, Payton. We know everything."

Payton sat upright in her chair. "You talk about us?"

Irma shrugged unconcernedly. "Yes."

Payton folded her arms across her chest. "Well. And what do you say?"

"Mostly now we talk about you two battling it out for partner."

"You know about that?"

Again, Irma shrugged unconcernedly. "Yes. We even have a betting pool on which one of you will make it."

Payton's mouth dropped open, shocked to find her arduous career struggles the subject of tacky, meaningless office gossip.

"I can't believe you're participating in this, Irma. It's so distasteful. Who's ahead in the pool?"

"It's pretty much falling along gender lines."

Payton smiled with satisfaction. "So I'm in the lead then. There's—what—like two male secretaries in the entire firm?"

"Well, some of the junior associates are in the pool as well. And by some, I mean all of them."

Payton rolled her eyes. "I suppose all the partners, too?"

"Strangely, no," Irma mused. "None of the partners seem to know anything about you and J.D. not getting along."

Payton scoffed at this. "It's not so strange, really. Half the partners here don't seem to know anything unless it's spelled out in a memo some poor associate had to sacrifice her entire weekend drafting."

Now it was Irma's turn to be surprised. "That sounded awfully disgruntled for you." She nodded approvingly. "I like it." With a wink, she turned and left.

Payton sighed. Note to self: bite tongue more frequently.

And find out which junior associates had the audacity to bet on J.D.

If it was Brandon, she'd kill the kid.

THE SECOND PROMISE Payton kept was the one she had made to Chase, that they would sit down and talk as soon as her trial was over. The sit-down took place at Chase's apartment, but the talking was mostly on Payton's end.

Chase took the breakup well. He even laughed when Payton said she had his best interests in mind just as much as hers, seeing how she was thoroughly convinced she was far too difficult a person to ever make him anything other than utterly miserable.

In truth, any thoughts she still may have held that things could work with Chase pretty much ended the moment she kissed J.D. She had no idea what was happening between them lately, but clearly (as evidenced by their little tryst on her kitchen counter) she had no business dating anyone else until she figured it out.

The next day at work, she was on her way to see Laney to deliver the bad news that, alas, the Perfect Chase was no more, when she heard J.D.'s voice calling her name. She turned around and saw him halfway down the hallway, approaching her.

"Ben asked to see both of us, right away if possible," J.D. said. "Apparently there's been some development in the Gibson's matter."

Without further word, he coolly breezed past her and continued along the hallway to Ben's office.

Payton followed behind him, making no attempt to catch up. If that's the kind of game he wanted to play, so be it. The two of them walked the entire way in silence.

When they got to Ben's office, they found him on the phone. He signaled that he was wrapping things up and gestured for them to wait outside. J.D. walked to the window at the end of the hall, turned his back to Payton, and checked out the view outside as he continued his silent treatment.

Payton was tempted at first to simply ignore him, but then she changed her mind. J.D. was beginning to seriously piss her off and she had every intention of letting him know that. She briskly walked up to him.

"Are you really not talking to me?" She kept her voice low, so that they wouldn't be overheard.

J.D. glanced sideways at her. "I'm just giving you your space, Payton." He turned back to the window.

"You're being an ass."

"And you're playing games. How's Chase these days?" he asked sarcastically.

"Fine, I guess. Chase and I aren't seeing each other anymore."

J.D. turned around to face her. "You broke up with him?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Payton told him. "Contrary to what you apparently think, I don't like to play games with people. And by the way, you have a lot of nerve accusing me of playing games when you're the one giving me the silent treatment. Which reminds me, thanks for being the only person in our group not to congratulate me on winning my trial. Your actions lead me to believe that either (a) you felt awkward congratulating me, given that we are in competition with each other—in which case you can't possibly fault me for similarly struggling with the complications of our situation the other night, or (b) you were simply being a stubborn, spiteful jerk, in which case I'm not sure I'd want to be in your company anyway. Either way, if you're waiting for some big apology from me for asking you to leave the other night, you're going to be waiting a very, very long time because, as you see, clearly I was in the right." Payton put her hand on her hip defiantly. So there.

J.D. stared at her for a moment with that "amused" look on his face. "You really are an amazing lawyer, Payton," he said.

She poked him in the chest. "Don't try to flatter me now, Jameson."

He grinned. "You're angry with me again."

"I think this situation is difficult enough without you making it any more difficult."

This seemed to strike a chord with him. "Fair enough. Maybe I should make it up to you, then. What would you say—hypothetically speaking, of course—if I asked you out to dinner to celebrate your trial win?"

Payton hesitated. Not because she wasn't tempted by his offer, or quasi-offer. Quite the opposite, actually.

"Hypothetically speaking, I'm not sure I trust myself around you," she said. She could tell J.D. liked that answer.

He bent his head, lowering his voice further still. "Why? What are you afraid might happen if we're alone? Hypothetically speaking."

It was a dangerous game for them to be flirting in the office like this. Strangely, however, Payton wasn't sure she cared about the office right then. Sure, J.D. pissed her off like no one else could. But when he gave her that look, that look that was bold and intimate, but also slightly cautious—as if he was waiting and gauging her every move—she felt thrills of anticipation at the thought of where their little intrigue might go next.

So she leaned in, her smile blatantly coy. "Hypothetically speaking, I'm afraid I might—"