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reached for the stack of files sitting at the edge.
    “Sophie?  Sophie?  Are you there?” Her mother’s high-pitched voice screeched from the fallen receiver. She fought the temptation to leave it there when her mother continued. “I don’t know why you can’t put me on the speakerphone. You’re always dropping the phone and banging it in my ears.”
    What about the torture you inflict on my ears? On a daily basis?
    Wisely, she kept her mouth shut and picked up the handset again. Putting her mother on any kind of speaker would guarantee that the entire office would know all of her business by the end of the day. 
    “Are you there? Sophie, are you there?”  
    “Sorry Mom,” she sighed into the phone. “My speakerphone is broken right now.” Out of habit, her index and middle finger automatically crossed. 
    It was so much easier when her dad was alive.
    Or maybe her mother only turned into a paranoid, nagging wreck once he’d died?
    Either way, things would have been better for both of them if he was still around. Ever since Jeannie Harlow had become a widow, she’d focused her attention on her only child with the same kind of single-minded determination that took out international terrorists.
    “What kind of law firm do you work for that won’t provide proper telephone equipment to their employees?” her mother asked irritably. 
    A smart-mouthed reply was on the tip of her tongue, but she kept quiet. At least her mother was off the topic of her disastrous love life.
    Well, disastrous sex life.
    Actually, when she thought about it, not really a sex life at all. One mind-blowing, orgasm-filled evening did not a sex life make. 
    In the two weeks since that awful morning at the W, she’d managed not to think about it too often. 
    Every other waking hour, and maybe a few sleeping ones did not amount to too often.  
    Her mother continued her signature habit of chattering and complaining.  She only heard half of it as her mind drifted. 
    Something about a cruise her mother was going to take with her aunt and property taxes.
    The neighbor who purposely let his dog do number two on the front lawn. 
    Files and phone conversation forgotten, she closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair as phantom particles drifted together in one mouthwateringly male form. 
    It began with a finely chiseled chest, not too sinewy but with just the right amount of lean muscle covered by taut skin with a healthy tan. Strong, broad shoulders curved up with masculine grace. It was hard to decide exactly which direction to go for the piece de resistance. 
    If she moved up, she’d find the face of an Adonis. A strong, angular jaw, lips that were almost too full to belong on a man, and dark, intense slate gray eyes.
    If she moved down, she could picture exactly the thick, perfect length—
    A sharp rapping sound on her door made her jump and jolted her out of her reverie.
    She flushed guiltily as Liz stood in the doorway.  The other woman gave her a meaningful look, and she began to shift the files on her desk around in no particular order. Her mother was still going on, and it didn’t appear like she was going to run out of steam anytime soon. 
    “Mom, I have to go,” she murmured, motioning the other woman into her office.
    “You never want to talk to me anymore, you’re always too busy. You never pick up the phone when—”
    “Mom,” she interrupted firmly, “it was great catching up, but I have to go.  I’ll call you later.”  Sound was still coming out of the receiver when her finger moved to disconnect the call.
    She sighed heavily as Liz comfortably settled herself in a chair.  “Sorry about that.”
    Her friend smirked in response.  “Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with Jeannie.  No offense, but I could hear her in the hallway outside of your office.”
    She shrugged.  “She means well.  She’s just lonely.”
    Liz stared at her friend.  “Honey child, I have known you since high