“No.”

He could give two shits about pies.

“Oh, absolutely,” Jasper assured them. “It caused quite a stir in the senate, actually. There was a fairly large contingent that lobbied to name another as the state pie. Any guesses? Payton?”

Circle. Circle. Fingers. Thigh. Higher.

Payton cocked her head, thinking. “Hmm . . . some kind of pie with oranges?”

“Nope.” Jasper smiled, clearly enjoying being the only one in the know. He turned to his right. “Richard?”

“Peach pie?” the general counsel guessed halfheartedly.

“That would be Georgia, sorry. How ’bout you, J.D.?”

At Jasper’s question, three pairs of eyes suddenly turned and stared directly at J.D., who, in addition to not giving two shits about pies, had been busy concentrating on the fact that Payton had teasingly stopped her fingers right at the Semi-Naughty/Outright Naughty border.

“Are you okay, J.D.?” Payton asked with a mischievous grin. “You’ve been so quiet these past few minutes.”

Ha. She was going to pay for that later.

J.D. paused. Then—

“Pecan.”

Payton blinked, then smiled as Jasper smacked his hand on the table and shouted.

“Yes! With all the pecan farms in Florida, there was a push to make that the state pie. Good going, Jameson,” Jasper said, impressed.

“What can I say? I work well under pressure,” J.D. replied, with a smug look in Payton’s direction. “Now—if we’re through with the games . . . I think Payton was going to give us her overview on the substantive ways in which we should attack the plaintiffs’ claims.”

“Yes, I was—thank you, J.D.”

“No problem, Payton—the floor is yours.”

Three sets of eyes turned to Payton. Just as—underneath the table—one of J.D.’s hands moved to her knee. How convenient it was that the slit of her dress parted at her thigh, giving him easy access to her bare skin.

Payback could be such a devilish little bitch sometimes.

Twenty-two

SHORTLY AFTER TEN o’clock, Payton and J.D. stood in the lobby with Jasper and Richard, waiting for the valet to pull the car around front.

“I’m really glad we got a chance to do this,” Jasper said, shaking their hands warmly. Richard did the same, saying how much he enjoyed meeting them.

“Didn’t I say you’d be impressed with these two?” Jasper gave Richard a jovial slap on the back, nearly knocking the poor guy right into the heavy mosaic urn that sat atop the oak table next to them. J.D. had a sneaking suspicion the new GC wasn’t going to last more than a month.

“Now normally I don’t like lawyers,” Jasper drawled with a chuckle, “and I definitely don’t like it when somebody tries to sue one of my companies for two hundred million bucks, but with you two”—he squinted one eye, taking aim with his fingers at Payton and J.D.—“I’ve got a good feelin’ here. I think I’m in good hands with y’all.”

That had been the only negative part of the evening.

J.D. watched as Payton tried to keep her expression impassive, but he could see it in her eyes. She hated not telling Jasper the truth just as much as he did, that because of the firm’s—to coin Jasper’s colorful phrasing—load-of-steamin’-bull-crap decision, one of them wouldn’t have anything to do with his case in about five days. Not for the first time, J.D. resented Ben and the other powers that be for putting him and Payton in this position. That being said, he had to acknowledge his own shortsightedness; perhaps he had jumped too quickly at the opportunity to go to Palm Beach, before really thinking through the fact that going would also mean he’d have to be deceptive, in part, to Jasper. But candidly, it wasn’t Jasper he’d been thinking of when he had agreed to the trip.

Not that J.D. regretted his decision to come to Palm Beach—far from it. True, the under-the-table hijinks between him and Payton during dinner had never crossed the Semi-Naughty/Outright Naughty border, but in reality, he never really believed they would. Without having to say a word to each other, they both knew exactly where to draw the line with the fun and games. Although at one point during dinner, J.D. had briefly worried that Jasper had seen something.

They had just finished dessert, and the waiter had finally brought the check. Payton and Richard had both excused themselves from the table to go to the restrooms and, after sliding his credit card into the check folder, Jasper turned to J.D. “Would you mind if I ask you a personal question, Jameson?”

J.D. grinned. “Sure, although I can’t promise you that I’ll answer. And remember that you’re a gentleman, Jasper.”

Jasper chuckled at that. “Fair enough. I’ll put this in the most gentlemanly of terms: Are you courting Ms. Kendall?”

“That definitely is a question I’m not going to answer.”

“Because I get a vibe.”

“We can’t have this conversation, Jasper. Sorry.”

“Something about the way you look at her.”

“Hmm.”

When J.D. remained absolutely, firmly silent, Jasper laughed. “Wow—my whole life, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a lawyer shut up so fast. You guys are normally happy to shoot your mouths off about anything. All right then—I know when to back off.”

J.D. had simply smiled, and as quickly as possible, steered them onto another topic. Because if there was one thing he knew, it was to never make the same mistake twice.