He stepped inside, and got a jolt when he saw Layla Darnell, one of that little band of six, behind the desk in his reception area. His mind went blank for a moment, as it often did if he saw her unexpectedly. He said, “Um…”

“Hi.” Her smile was cautious. “You’re back sooner than expected.”

Was he? He couldn’t remember. How was he supposed to concentrate with the hot-looking brunette and her mermaid green eyes behind the desk instead of his grandmotherly Mrs. Hawbaker? “I-we-won. The jury deliberated less than an hour.”

“That’s great.” Her smile boosted up several degrees. “Congratulations. That was the personal injury case? The car accident. Mr. and Mrs. Pullman?”

“Yeah.” He shifted his briefcase to his other shoulder and kept most of the pretty parlorlike reception area between them. “Where’s Mrs. H?”

“Dentist appointment. It’s on your calendar.”

Of course it was. “Right. I’ll just be in my office.”

“Shelley Kholer called. Twice. She’s decided she wants to sue her sister for alienation of affection and for… Wait.” Layla picked up a message pad. “For being a ‘skanky, no-good ho’-she actually said ‘ho.’ And the second call involved her wanting to know if, as part of her divorce settlement, she’d get her cheating butt-monkey of a soon-to-be-ex-husband’s points for some sort of online NASCAR contest because she picked the jerkwad’s drivers for him. I honestly don’t know what that last part means except for jerkwad.”

“Uh-huh. Well, interesting. I’ll call her.”

“Then she cried.”

“Shit.” He still had a soft spot for animals, and had a spot equally soft for unhappy women. “I’ll call her now.”

“No, you’ll want to wait about an hour,” Layla said with a glance at her watch. “Right about now she’s getting hair therapy. She’s going red. She can’t actually sue her skanky, no-good ho of a sister for alienation of affection, can she?”