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GQ physique but he had more than enough women telling him too. She shrugged and then saw Doran turn to the door.
    Shepherd Lewis’s mop of maple brown curls appeared seconds before the wiry man. His equally brown eyes widened as if surprised to find people there. Shepherd went to the vending machine and inserted his money.
    “Morning,” Shepherd said, his gravelly voice bowling through the break room.
    “Hello,” Doran replied.
    Kenyatta waved.
    “Yeah.” Brice pushed by him. The door banged after his exit.
    Great. Brice was sunny as usual Shepherd mumbled.
    Doran laughed. “He’s saving it for clients.”
    Shepherd bent and claimed his packaged honey pastry.
    “Oh, yeah. Doran, Jill said for you to come to Silver’s office.”
    Doran frowned, but Kenyatta saw him erase it quickly.
    “All right. Thanks, Shep.”
    “Later,” Shepherd mumbled before vanishing through the doors.
    Alone again, Kenyatta and Doran closed the distance between them.
    Fear gripped her heart. “Surely, he isn’t angry? I washed the blanket and the sheets before I left.”
    Doran took her hand and squeezed. “Relax. Everything will be fine.”
    He kissed her forehead quickly and left.
    Kenyatta swallowed her anxiety and followed.
     

     
    Doran walked by Kevin O’Bryan’s vacant desk and sighed in relief. Not yet 9:30 a.m., his cousin came in at ten. The door to Mr. Silver’s office stood ajar. The scent of coffee and cloying perfume came out to greet him.
    “Mr. Silver?”
    “Come in, Doran,” Mr. Silver called out.
    Jill Graham sipped her customary coffee and stared at Doran over the ceramic mug’s surface. He’d been summoned to Mr. Silver’s office first thing. On his boss’s desk, pictures of Cree showed what his boss really cared about. Images of them loving each other, Doran couldn’t agree more. Women meant the world. They love and they give so much of themselves. Men were truly lucky to be graced by them. That was how he felt about Kenyatta. The Irish knew family meant everything.
    “We called you here, Doran, because we have an offer to discuss,” Stephen Silver announced from behind his desk.
    Dressed in an immaculate suit, crisp pale blue shirt, and tasteful tie, Mr. Silver’s solemn face caused Doran to pause. Surely, he wasn’t about to be fired. Saturday night had been heaven with Kenyatta. Sunday morning, Cree had quietly crept to their room, left towels and soaps, and washcloths. Kenyatta and he enjoyed a light breakfast and kisses before they went home. He slept most of the day. They talked on the phone, but today was the first time he saw her.
    “Doran?” Jill inquired.
    He blinked back to the present.
    “An offer?” he asked.
    Standing, he looked from Mr. Silver to Jill. She sat in the caramel leather seat. With a nod, she gestured. “Relax yourself. You look like someone stole your last cookie.”
     She broke into laughter.
    “Jill,” Mr. Silver warned.
    Doran bit back a retort. Jill was the accounting supervisor. Despite her crass and sometimes cruel comments, Jill had meant him well. So, he turned to his boss.
    “Sir?”
    The soft ruffle of the heat disturbed the quiet.
    “Sit. Relax. We’re waiting for one more to join us.”
    Doran sat in the remaining chair. Who else? What was going on? He glared at the window.
    Silver grinned. “You seem different, Doran. Did you have a good time Saturday?” Mr. Silver tapped his pen on the desk. He smirked.
    “Yes, sir.”
    Mr. Silver nodded, but a twinkle of knowing was in his eyes. Jill cleared her throat and stifled a laugh.
    “I apologize,” came the harried voice of a man. Doran noted the extremely immaculate suit. The tie alone cost the price of a car. Tall, like Stephen Silver, the man had dirty blond hair.
    Mr. Silver rose and shook hands. “Not a problem.” Then he turned to Doran. “Doran Richards, meet Carte Seay.”
    “Nice to meet you.” Doran had heard of the famous attorney, had glimpsed him as he visited Mr. Silver, but had