After All Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Kristen Proby

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Prologue

  ~Nora~

  “I’m not Mrs. Shaw.”

  The receptionist frowns up at me. She’s new.

  “I’m on the approved list to pick Gabby up from school, if her father is unavailable,” I elaborate and wait while the woman before me taps on her keyboard, then nods her head.

  “Here you are. Okay then, Gabby is in Mrs. Flynn’s office. You’re free to go on in.”

  “Thanks.” My heels click on the floor as I march into the principal’s office. Gabby’s dark head is bowed, and Mrs. Flynn’s hands are folded on her desk, waiting patiently for me.

  “Hello, Nora,” she says politely. “Thank you for coming.”

  “You’re welcome. Carter’s been in court all afternoon. I’m sorry you couldn’t reach him.”

  “Dad’s always in court,” Gabby mutters.

  “What’s this all about?”

  Mrs. Flynn looks over to Gabby. “Would you like to explain it to her?”

  “Not really.”

  I sigh. Since Gabby’s reached the preteen years, she’s been more and more difficult.

  “What’s up, Gabby?”

  My boss’s daughter shrugs one shoulder. “I was sticking up for my friend. That’s all.”

  I blink at Mrs. Flynn and raise an eyebrow. “I suspect that’s not all.”

  “Another student, Claire, claims Gabby assaulted her and pulled her earring out of her ear.”

  “Gabby!”

  “She’s mean,” Gabby insists. “Like, really mean. And I was sick and tired of listening to her bully Lily.”

  “Our school has a zero tolerance policy when it comes to these things,” Mrs. Flynn says patiently. “I’ll be speaking with Claire, the girl whose ear is now bandaged up, but Gabby, you’re suspended until Monday.”

  “What?” Gabby demands. “But it’s only Thursday.”

  “That’s the policy,” Mrs. Flynn says. “I’ll make an appointment to speak with your father about this further.”

  “Let’s go,” I say as Gabby stands and reaches for her bookbag. To the principal I say, “Thanks for everything.”

  The principal nods as Gabby and I leave her office and I immediately reach for my phone and dial Carter’s number. It goes to voice mail, and I leave the second message since I received the call from the school.

  “Me again. I have Gabby. Will tell you more when I see you, but she’s not hurt.”

  I hang up and Gabby and I climb into the waiting taxi. She’s scowling as she puts her seat belt on.

  “This freaking sucks.”

  “Totally,” I agree as we pull away from the school. “Want to tell me about it?”

  “No. I’ll have to tell Dad everything anyway. I’d rather only tell the story once.”

  “Okay.” This surprises her. She whips her head around to stare at me with wide eyes. “I think you’ve had a rough day.”

  “Yeah.” Her voice cracks.

  “You know you have to give me your phone.”

  She silently pulls the device from her pocket and passes it to me.

  “But I think you might need an ice cream.”

  “I can have ice cream for being suspended?”

  “No. You can have ice cream because you’ve had a rough day. It’s not my job to punish you, aside from retrieving your phone. The rest is up to your dad and the school. Also, I could use some ice cream myself.”

  And maybe some vodka, but that’s not possible right now.

  On our way to the office, I have the cab drop us at our favorite ice cream shop and we leave with two scoops each.

  “So you were sticking up for your friend?” I ask as we walk into the office building where I work for Gabby’s dad. The ice cream shop is just down the block.

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you have to make the other girl bleed?”

  “I didn’t mean to,” she admits. “It just sort of . . . happened.”

  “Well, you’ll have to tell me the story sometime.”

  She nods as we walk to the elevator.

  “I’m in so much trouble,” Gabby mutters, staring at her strawberry ice cream.

  “Maybe not. I’ll talk to your dad before I send him into the office.”

  “You’re the best,” she says with a grin. “What would I do without you?”

  “We’ll never have to know,” I assure her as we reach our floor. Gabby beelines it into her dad’s office, and I call him one last time to leave a message that we’re back at his office.

  This is a pretty typical day in the life for me as Carter Shaw’s assistant. I don’t just work as his legal assistant, although that is technically my job title. No, for five years I’ve helped with everything, from picking Gabby up from school to hiring and firing housekeepers and nannies. I work fourteen-hour days. I am married to the job.

  But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “The preteen drama queen is in your office,” I inform Carter when he comes walking into the office with his brother-in-law Quinn. “She’s been suspended until Monday, and I already have her phone in my desk. But Carter.”

  He stops and looks down at me with worried blue eyes. I can see that he’s impatient to get to his daughter, to find out what the hell is going on.

  “You really need to listen to her before you fly off the handle.”

  “I don’t fly off the handle,” Carter replies. I roll my eyes.

  “Of course. You’re completely calm at all times.”

  “Thanks for taking care of things, Nora,” Carter says as he walks to his door and both men walk into the office.

  Every day is the same.

  Thanks for taking care of things, Nora.

  About thirty minutes later, the three of them come walking back out of the office. Quinn hugs Gabby, nods at me, and heads to his office.

  “We’re headed home,” Carter says grimly. Gabby’s still looking miserable, but no longer scared, and that makes me happy. Her father may have moments of impatience, but he’s right, he’s rarely flown off the handle. I just know that when she tells him she made Claire bleed, his temper may flare.

  “Do you want me to drop dinner by later?”

  “Oh, I’m full,” Gabby says. “That ice cream filled me up.”

  Carter stops and stares down at his daughter, then over to me. “You rewarded her for being suspended by taking her for ice cream?”

  “I didn’t reward her, or punish her, for anything.”

  “Christ,” he mutters. “You need to remember your place, Nora. Taking my daughter out for ice cream after picking her up from school is not that place.”

  I’m shell-shocked. Are you fucking kidding me?

  But before I can respond, Carter grabs Gabby’s hand and they disappear down the hallway to the elevator.

  I need to remember my place.

  I didn’t sleep well last night. I tossed and turned, Carter’s voice in my head, until I finally
flung the covers off and started cleaning my apartment.

  It sparkles this morning, and I’m no less pissed off.

  I’m in the employee lounge, pouring my second cup of coffee of the day, when Carter comes walking in the room.

  “Leave us,” he says, effectively clearing the room. His voice is hard, his hands shoved in his pockets.

  The last person out of the room shuts the door behind them. I don’t pause as I stir the sugar and cream in my coffee, watching him with cool eyes.

  I’m damn pissed.

  “Nora,” he begins, and then he sighs. “We need to talk.”

  “You bet your ass we need to talk,” I reply, setting my cup aside and walking to him, seeing red. All my frustration and anger has bubbled up, and there’s no stopping it now. “You’re my boss, and I respect you, but you do not get to talk to me like that. I need to know my place, Carter? Well, for the past five years, my place has been doing whatever the hell you need me to do for you, including parent your child. I take her on the weekends you work. I take her to the doctor. I take her to after-school activities.”

  I shove my finger in his chest, on a roll.

  “Don’t you—”

  “Would you stop running your damn mouth for two seconds?” He grabs my wrist and pulls me against his tall, lean body. He’s breathing hard, his blue eyes are bright. “I’m trying to apologize here. So if you’d stop dressing me down for a minute, I could get the words out.”

  “Go on.” I swallow hard, trying to ignore the fact that this is more physical contact than I’ve ever had with Carter in my life. He’s warm and firm, and I’m not proud of the way my breath hitches when he leans his face closer to mine.

  “I’m sorry for what I said.” His voice is calmer now. “I was out of line. I was upset at Gabby, and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”

  His eyes fall to my lips and his breath catches. Is that lust I see in his eyes?

  “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Nora. I’m sorry for what I said.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you forgive me?”

  I swallow hard and nod. “Yeah. Of course.”

  I can’t think straight. I need to pull away. To escape back to the safety of my desk. But we don’t pull away. Instead, Carter leans farther into me, as if he’s unable to fight it. His hand slides from my hip, up to my ribs, and my nipples tighten, yearning for his touch. I don’t have time to question our actions as his mouth descends toward me, but just before his lips land on mine, the door opens, and we spring apart, staring at each other in shock.

  “Oh, sorry,” Stephanie from payroll says. “I didn’t know anyone was in here. I can come back—”

  “Don’t be silly,” Carter says, his intense gaze still pinned to mine. “We were just leaving.”

  He turns and marches out of the room, leaving me shell-shocked again.

  “Nora? You okay?”

  I smile at Stephanie and nod. “Of course. Still waking up. Didn’t sleep well.”

  I retrieve my coffee and leave the lounge, headed for my desk.

  What in the ever-loving hell just happened?

  Chapter One

  ~Nora~

  “Hey, thanks for taking care of things today, Nora.”

  I glance up from one of my three computer monitors to see Carter standing by my desk, smiling down at me. A dimple winks in his left cheek, sending a flash of warmth down my spine.

  In the four months since I brought Gabby back to the office from school for maiming her bratty little classmate, I’ve felt a shift where Carter’s concerned. It’s purely one-sided. I’m positive of it.

  Since that day in the lounge, since the almost-kiss, I’ve noticed that Carter’s hot as hell.

  He’s remained perfectly professional and normal, as if nothing happened at all. I’ve worked closely with the man for almost ten years. I know him. And nothing has indicated that he’s interested in anything other than my ability to basically make his life run smoothly.

  Which is absolutely how it should be.

  But damn it, my hormones have suddenly kicked in.

  It’s ridiculous.

  Just like that dimple in his left cheek is ridiculous.

  “Nora?”

  “What? Oh.” I shake myself out of my weird haze of lust and blink. “Sorry. Been a long day.”

  “You’ve been here longer than I have, and I’m running on thirteen hours,” he replies, checking his watch. “I think we should both knock off for the day.”

  “Is it that late?” I check the time on the corner of my monitor and sigh. “Wow. I just have a few more—”

  “It’ll wait until tomorrow,” he interrupts. “Shut it down, Nora. I’ll wait for you.”

  “Wait for me to what?”

  He quirks a brow. “To walk you to your car.”

  “Oh. All right.”

  Carter nods, then walks back to his office and I sigh deeply. For the love of the baby Jesus in a manger, what in the hell is wrong with me? This is Carter Shaw, my boss, the man I’ve worked with for most of my adult life, and I’m suddenly nervous around him? It’s stupid.

  And it’s going to stop today.

  I make quick work of shutting down the computer, locking up my notes and the physical planner that I keep on hand. Everything is in the shared drive, of course, but I have hard copies of everything, in case the power goes out or there’s a zombie apocalypse.

  Prepared is an understatement for what I am.

  Once I’ve gathered my handbag and jacket from the closet behind me, which is hidden in the wall and reminds me of a secret passageway, Carter emerges from his office, locks his door behind him, and turns to me with that smile again.

  But I’m immune.

  I’m immune, I remind myself.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “Sure.” We walk in silence to the elevator. I glance to the left and see a light coming from Finn’s office. This law firm is owned by Carter and his two brothers-in-law, Quinn and Finn Cavanaugh. “Is Finn working late?”

  “Yeah, the Barkowski case is driving him crazy.”

  “Going on three months now,” I reply as the elevator doors open. “You have a meeting with them tomorrow afternoon.”

  Carter just nods and watches me for a long moment as we begin our descent to the garage under the building. Most buildings in Manhattan don’t have parking garages. But this is a newer structure, and the Cavanaugh/Shaw brothers wanted fancy.

  Fancy is what they got.

  “What?” I ask with a frown when he continues to watch me.

  “You always know literally everything that’s happening in this building.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “How do you do that?”

  I smirk. “I listen. I watch. It’s a matter of paying attention.”

  “My mom always used to say she had eyes in the back of her head,” he replies with a laugh, shoving one hand in his pocket.

  “You could call it that,” I concede with a smile. “I have to know what’s going on so I can be one step ahead of you. Your schedule, what you may need. That’s my job.”

  “And you’re damn good at it,” he murmurs. The comment fills me with pride. Who doesn’t want their boss to say that their work is noticed and appreciated?

  “Thanks.” The doors open and we walk into the cold. “Jesus, this winter is going to suck.”

  “It already does,” he agrees, pulling the collar of his coat up around his neck. Rather than hurrying over to his own Mercedes, he walks with me to my car and waits as I open the door.

  “You didn’t have to walk me to my car,” I say as I look up at him and freeze when he brushes a piece of my hair behind my ear. Just that simple touch has me forgetting all about the bitter winter cold.

  He doesn’t reply. His blue eyes watch his fingers as they brush down my neck, and then he backs up a step and shoves both hands in his pockets.

  “Drive safe,” he says with a nod, then hurries over
to his vehicle.

  I watch as he starts his car but he doesn’t pull away. After a moment, he rolls down his window. “Aren’t you going to get in?”

  “Oh. Right. Have a good night.” I numbly start my own car and follow Carter out of the garage, then turn the opposite way as him and drive home. I live in a small apartment in Manhattan. Close to work and to Carter, should he ever need anything.

  Which I know sounds a little too dedicated, but he pays me well, and I don’t mind.

  Not many personal assistants in this city bring in a salary generous enough to pay for twelve hundred square feet in Manhattan, with a parking garage where they work, full insurance benefits, and a nice retirement plan. I don’t have to take public transportation.

  I’m spoiled.

  So you bet your ass I’m dedicated to Carter.

  Did it hurt my marriage? Yes, but many things led to the demise of that relationship, not just a demanding career. It didn’t help that my ex was threatened by the fact that I am successful. It wouldn’t matter who I worked for.

  But that’s in the past, and I’m happy with my life.

  Someone’s parked in my designated parking spot, again, so I circle until I find a space, then shoot a quick text off to my super, informing him that someone needs to be towed, and hurry inside where it’s warm.

  To top it off, the elevator is broken. Also again. So I slug it up the four flights to my floor and breathe heavily as I toss my handbag and briefcase on my kitchen counter. I’ve just opened the fridge to reach for my bottle of water when the front door bursts open and my best friend, Christopher, makes a dramatic entrance.

  “This place is a dump,” he announces as he drops onto a stool at the breakfast bar.

  “Hello to you, too.” I drink my water and watch him, amused. Our building is anything but a dump. It’s actually really nice. But Christopher isn’t patient when it comes to things breaking down.

  “The elevator isn’t working again,” he says. “I had to take the stairs down here, which means I’ll have to take them back up again.”

  I drink my water, eyeing his six-foot frame. “You’re a freaking dancer. You’re in shape. Two flights of stairs are a breeze for you.”

  “That’s not the point.” He sets a brown bag on the counter and my stomach growls. “You’re hungry, darling.”