Champagne Rules. Susan LyonsЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Jax was standing at his secretary’s desk discussing a file, when her phone rang. Caitlin answered, then put her hand over the receiver. She looked like a cheeky elf with her trendy orange-tipped hair, freckles and wide grin. “Your wife.”

      “Ex,” he corrected automatically. Caitlin always teased that, because he rarely dated, she forgot he was divorced. “I’ll take it in my office.”

      He closed the door to his closet-sized office, slid into his chair and picked up the phone. His marriage to Tonya might have been a mistake, but their hard-won friendship was something he valued. “Hey, you. What’s up?”

      “Just calling to say happy anniversary.”

      “Ouch,” he said mildly. If they’d stayed married, it would have been three years on Sunday. “Sorry I didn’t send a card, but I figured Benjamin wouldn’t appreciate it.”

      “He’s cool. Especially now our marriage has lasted a whole month longer than yours and mine did.”

      They’d finally reached the point where the teasing was affectionate, even if occasionally barbed on her side.

      “Double ouch,” he said. So she and Benjamin had made seven whole months.

      “So, I’m curious. Did you even pause a moment in your work to remember it was our anniversary?”

      He smiled into the phone. Yup, there was a work barb. But it was kind of cute that, while she was happily married to another man, she didn’t want her ex to forget her.

      “Yeah,” he confessed. “Found myself thinking about our honeymoon. Sonoma, the wineries, the hot air balloon ride. It was a lot of fun.” It was also the last time he’d taken a week, much less a weekend, off work since he’d become an associate at Jefferson Sparks.

      Actually, it had only been the second time he’d taken a holiday since he’d graduated from law school. The first time had been that trip to Crete with Chase, before he started articles.

      Crete. Just the word conjured up unforgettable images.

      “Yeah, it was great,” Tonya said.

      What? Oh right, he’d mentioned their honeymoon. Man, he was lucky she didn’t know where that train of thought had led him.

      “That balloon ride was awesome,” she said.

      “And our wedding night wasn’t? That sounds like another ouch sent in my direction.”

      She chuckled.

      And the truth was, while he remembered the balloon ride very well, he had only the vaguest recollection of making love on their wedding night, compared to that crazy afternoon in Crete. He remembered every single detail of that lovemaking.

      No. Sex. It was just sex.

      Sex so hot it had him squirming in his chair.

      “Jax? You pouting, babe? Honest, I didn’t mean to badmouth your skills in bed. The sex was always good with us, wasn’t it?”

      “Good?” There was a damn-with-faint-praise word to deflate a guy’s dick.

      Sure, once they’d been married a few weeks they’d started squabbling, mostly over the long hours he worked, and the bedroom became more a place for making war than love. But in the beginning, the sex had been pretty damned great.

      He remembered when he’d finally given in and let his mom introduce him to her neighbor, the one who was taking cooking classes and was always looking for people to experiment on. The attraction had been immediate and mutual. There’d been lots of nights he and Tonya had planned dinner or a movie, taken one look at each other and ended up in bed instead.

      Funny thing was, he couldn’t call to mind any details of those nights either.

      “Jax? You hang up on me?”

      “I’m here. Seems to me, when we first got together, the sex was better than good.” Crap, could he sound any more huffy?

      “Ooh, bad word choice. Yeah, I guess it was. It’s a while back, but I do remember some bells and whistles. But then we got married, and work came first for you.”

      Another barb.

      He shot back. “You were working too, with all those cooking courses, those sous-chef jobs.”

      She paused, and when she spoke again, her tone wasn’t snippy, but sad. “Yeah, but my work wasn’t more important to me than our marriage.”

      And to that, there was no answer, because she was right. She’d been able to juggle career and marriage. He’d learned he couldn’t handle both, and he’d had to choose. His career came first. Always had, always would.

      “Oh shit, Jax, this really isn’t why I called. I didn’t mean to get into another rehash. You’re doing what you want to do, and I’ve got my bells and whistles with Benjamin, and thank God, this time they’ve actually survived marriage. So you ’n’ me are both happy, the past is behind us and I really do want us to be friends.”

      “Me too.” He’d failed at marriage, and he hated to fail. He ought to at least be able to succeed at being Tonya’s friend.

      “So, let me tell you my real reason for calling.” Now her voice rippled with excitement. “You want a new client?”

      “Always,” he said promptly, straightening and grabbing a pad of paper and a pen.

      “God, Jax. You sound so…hungry.”

      “I am. Bringing in clients is one of the criteria for partnership.”

      “I know, believe me I know.” But this time her voice was teasing, without the barb. “So I figured I’d do my bit to contribute to the game plan.”

      “You know someone who needs a lawyer?”

      “Yeah. Me.”

      “You?”

      “It’s time. I’ve been looking around. Found a perfect place, a price I can afford, so…” She gave a shaky laugh. “Yes, I’m doing it!”

      She was going to open her own restaurant.

      Damn, she wasn’t a real client. Not for him, in the high-powered litigation department. He represented corporations fighting product liability suits, antitrust charges and so on.

      Fuck. What an asshole he was, for reacting this way.

      “Jesus, Tonya, that’s great. Congratulations.” This was her dream. She’d worked for it and he really was happy for her. “How can I help?”

      “Oh, all that corporate stuff. You work with corporations, right?”

      Had she ever really listened when he talked about his work? Or had he ever found the time to try to explain it to her, beyond telling her about all those billable hours he needed to put in?

      “Space and equipment leases,” she was saying, “contracts with employees and suppliers. Oh, and before I do all that, of course I’ll actually need to incorporate.”

      He was scribbling as she talked, adding other tasks she hadn’t mentioned. “Most of this work is done by paralegals, so we can keep the bill down.”

      “Thanks. And you can have dinner on the house any time. Bring a date too.”

      Yeah,