Practice Makes Perfect(62)

“Vegetarian? Now there’s a surprise.”

“About as surprising as you turning first to the financial section of the paper.”

J.D. shrugged. “So? I have a few investments.”

“I have investments. You have a portfolio,” Payton emphasized.

J.D. felt the need to set the record straight. He put down his paper and turned in his seat to face her.

“Payton, I have to tell you something, and I know this is going to come as a shock, but it’s better you hear it now.” He leaned in consolingly. “You have money.” He shook his head. What a shame.

Payton waved this off. “Please. You have money. I have a job that pays well. There’s a difference.”

“We make the same exact salary.”

“But you have an extravagant lifestyle.”

J.D. laughed at that. Did he now? Maybe in her eyes, he supposed. She was a walking contradiction and completely oblivious to that fact.

“You have five-hundred-dollar shoes,” he pointed out.

“Not anymore.”

J.D. cleared his throat. Probably best if they just moved on to another topic.

He watched as Payton picked at her sandwich, some sprouty/all-natural/no-taste concoction. Since they were flying business class, they had seats together, just the two of them. They could talk about anything and not be overheard, although so far Payton’s conversation with him throughout the flight had consisted entirely of business-related talk and/or sass. Perhaps it was time to shake things up.

“So . . . you didn’t say why you broke up with Chase.”

“You’re right, I didn’t say.”

“Are you avoiding the subject?”

Payton put her sandwich down and turned to face him. “Why don’t we talk about you for a change?”

Realizing he really needed to refine his subject-changing skills, J.D. struck a nonchalant look. “What about me?”

“Well, you’re thirty-two years old—”

“The same age as you.”

“—and still single,” she finished. “Aren’t you supposed to be married by now to a Muffy or a Bitsy or some other society type with a brain as big as this pickle?”

J.D. peered over. “That’s a pretty big pickle.”

Payton smiled. “So? What gives?”

J.D. couldn’t help but look as, while waiting for his answer, Payton crossed one high-heeled leg over the other, notably in his direction. Did she know the effect she had on him? He suspected she did. It was a little dance they did, the way they both conspicuously avoided talking about what had happened in her apartment the other night. He had a feeling that there was more behind her “innocent” questions regarding his love life than she wanted to let on. But he had no intention of cutting the game short. Not yet, anyway.

Seeing that she still waited for his answer, J.D. shrugged. “I guess I’ve just been focused on things at work.” He watched as Payton nodded. This she could understand.

Now that the subject of work had been raised, the conversation drifted onto a safer topic: their upcoming meeting with Jasper and his new general counsel. In appreciation of the fact that Payton and J.D. had agreed to fly down to Florida on such short notice, Jasper had suggested, for their convenience, that they meet for dinner at their hotel. J.D. could certainly think of worse places to spend a Friday evening than at the Ritz-Carlton, Palm Beach. Putting aside all partnership/career advancement issues, one of the main reasons he had so quickly agreed to the trip was because he knew Payton similarly would never pass up the opportunity.

Payton asked him what information, if any, he had been able to uncover about the lawyer Jasper had hired to be Gibson’s new general counsel. J.D. reached into his briefcase for the file he had thrown together earlier that morning when he stopped at the office before heading off to the airport.

Strangely, he discovered something in his briefcase that he had not put there.

A book.

Confused—and with the momentary thought that he was going to be really f**king pissed if this was some sort of South Florida drug-mule scam that would land him in jail and cut into his posh Ritz-Carlton relaxation time—J.D. pulled out the book.

Pride and Prejudice.

It bore a Post-it note, unsigned, that read:

In case of an emergency. Trust me.

J.D. rolled his eyes. Oh, for crying out loud. He had told Tyler about the trip with Payton and his “helpful” friend must have slipped the book into his carry-on when he’d stepped out of his office.

Just as he was about to stuff the silly girly tome back into his briefcase, Payton glanced over.

“Oh, you brought a book? What are you reading?” She leaned over, saw the title, then peered up at J.D. with an expression of unmistakable surprise. “Pride and Prejudice? Wow. I wouldn’t have guessed that was your kind of book.”

J.D. immediately went on the defensive. “Come on, do you really think . . .” His words trailed off as Payton leaned back languidly in her seat with a dreamy, faraway look.

“Mr. Darcy . . .” She sighed wistfully. She distractedly put her pen in her mouth—J.D. noticed a little flush to her cheeks—and without even realizing it, she slowly slid the pen in and out between her lips.

In and out.

“Fitzwilliam Darcy and his ten thousand a year . . .” she said, still dreamy.