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Just For Her: A Cerasino Family Novella (Cerasino Family Novellas Book 3) by Abbie Zanders

Just For Her: A Cerasino Family Novella (Cerasino Family Novellas Book 3) by Abbie Zanders

Author:Abbie Zanders [Zanders, Abbie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Abbie Zanders
Published: 2021-02-23T00:00:00+00:00


I WAS UP EARLY, EXCITED by the prospect of having something useful to do. And maybe, just maybe, part of me was looking forward to spending the day with Paul too. Admittedly, I had had some pretty sweet dreams.

I arrived at the Wilkins building office shortly before eight and met Paul as he was exiting the lobby café with two large cups and a bag. He was once again clean-shaven, though in all honesty, he’d looked mighty hot with a day or two of scruff. His suit was a charcoal gray today with a deep red power tie. I had mentioned the man could wear a suit like nobody’s business, hadn’t I?

I felt underdressed next to him even though I sported my nicest pair of jeans and a sweater borrowed from Miriam. I could have worn my suit, I supposed, but I’d only brought the one, and it seemed tacky to show up in the same outfit twice.

“Coffee and breakfast.” He grinned, completely oblivious to my silent appreciation. “I hope you like muffins. I got enough for both of us.”

I assured him that I did like muffins. What I liked even more was his thoughtfulness.

“Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that.”

“Says the woman who went out of her way to bring me lunch yesterday.”

“That’s different. You were swamped and having a bad day, and I’d just added to it.”

“If it makes you feel better, think of this as a transparent attempt to get on your good side before you see what’s waiting for you.”

I laughed, certain that it couldn’t be that bad.

I was wrong.

Hours later, I sat in the conference room among stacks of files, investigative reports, depositions, affidavits, transcripts—pretty much any documentation that could be associated with a case. It was bedlam. There was no logical system. No sense of rational organization whatsoever. My OCD was firing on all cylinders, desperate to create order from the chaos.

I was glad I’d come prepared with my labeler, assortment of clips, and colored Sharpies. Yes, I carried them with me everywhere, thanks to the nifty zipped travel kit I kept in my satchel. It didn’t compare to my much larger collection at home, but it would do in a pinch.

Paul popped his handsome head in sometime later. His eyes widened when he saw the mess I had made, using the entire length of the conference table, the chairs, and a good part of the floor to spread things out. He was probably wondering what the hell he’d been thinking in asking for my help.

“There’s a method to my madness, I promise,” I told him confidently. “To construct, you must first deconstruct.”

He nodded, though I wasn’t sure he believed me.

“Did you want something?”

“It’s lunchtime. I was wondering if you wanted to take a break and get some food.”

I looked at the clock, surprised to see how much time had passed. Between trying to make sense of the horrendous filing system and answering the phone—I’d taken it upon myself to screen calls



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