The Client: Short And Steamy by M. S. Parker

tell her that I was suddenly feeling the pangs of losing her and the others. Not while Arik was there, nuzzling on her knuckles and toying with her thigh – or other body parts – under the table.
    I wouldn't do that to her.
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    “ Y ou’ve been quiet tonight .”
    Looking over at Dena as we walked down the sidewalk, I managed a strained smile. It had been good seeing her, nice getting to know Arik a little better, but…yeah, I’d been quiet. “I’m just tired.” Managing a shrug, I added, “It’s crazy at the office. I need to hire somebody to help out so I don't get behind the next time I need to go out of town, but in the meantime, I’m dealing with all the stuff that piled up while I was gone. My admin is great for paperwork and phones, but she’s never worked with anybody in the legal area before, so I’d rather her not deal with anything important until I have time to teach her more.”
    Dena seemed to accept that.
    “Krissy looked…well, she looked good, didn’t she?” Dena asked after a few moments.
    “Yeah.” I felt a tug in my chest as I thought about the baby she lost. “She looked good. DeVon is taking care of her.”
    “I think they're both taking care of each other,” Dena said. “He was pretty broken up too.”
    “Yeah.” Blowing out a breath, I lifted my face to the sky. “I can’t imagine what they went through.”
    “I don’t want to.”
    We reached the end of the block and stopped. Dena was heading in one direction with Arik, me in another.
    I wasn’t just talking about heading home, either.
    Feel sorry for yourself later, I reminded myself.
    “Pizza in a couple of weeks?” Dena asked.
    “Absolutely.” I pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and nodded at Arik.
    After hugging Dena, we went our separate ways, and I found myself wondering if the night out had been a good idea after all.
    I’d wanted to see my friend, yet somehow, I now felt more alone than before.

Chapter Two

Leslie
    T he entire apartment smelled lemony clean and the surfaces of the appliances in my miniscule kitchen sparkled.
    I, however, was sweaty and dusty.
    After shoving the cleaning supplies into the small space at the top of my closet, I retreated to my bathroom – the shower stall sparkled too. I would have given my right arm for a long, hot soak, but my budget hadn’t quite extended to where I could shell out the kind of cash it would take to afford an apartment that came with a tub.
    At least not the kind of apartment I’d want .
    If I’d stayed with Webster and Steinberg, I would have been able to upgrade already, but branching out on my own had taken a lot of cash. I was now seeing a slow, steady climb in my income, but it had taken cutting back on a lot of things and focusing on things that mattered.
    Sadly, finding an apartment that came with a bathtub wasn’t one of the things that mattered.
    But it was in the plan.
    In another year or so, I thought I’d be able to get a bigger place – and not just a little bigger.
    I was waiting until I was secure enough to find the place.
    I was nothing if not an excellent planner. And I had no problem with waiting to get what I really wanted.
    Hot water from the shower pulsed down on tight shoulders, and I sighed, relaxing a little as sweat, dust and stress washed away down the drain. In a short while, I was going to be sweaty again and hopefully, I’d get rid of a lot more stress.
    I was heading to the club and the plan was to find a man and spend the night under him, over him, in front of him. I needed sex and I needed to forget about all the brooding I’d been doing.
    My life was good .
    I was beautiful, successful and I was doing exactly what I’d planned to be doing just a few short years ago.
    That my friends had chosen other paths didn’t really matter. I had my own path and I was happy with it.
    Yet, as I climbed out of the shower a few minutes later and dried off, a small voice in the back of my head seemed to whisper… if you were