Off Limits Read Online Free PDF Page A

server, the gruff old Irish guy Seamus who runs the joint.
    In other words, exactly the dive we always need after a long day of bullshit.
    As I collect our beers, Seamus slides me a shot glass filled to the brim with what smells like Jameson.
    “Look like you could use it,” he says.
    I toss back the shot. Great. Even the bartender can tell I’ve had one of those days.
    And all thanks to Chloe goddamn MacIntyre.
    The more I review the files, the more annoyed I get. This case is going to need a lot of attention, and she only wants to slot me in for 15 minutes? I’m going to spend half the day tomorrow working on this, and she’s acting like it’s just another normal case. Not one with a celebrity that could land us more attention than anything I’ve worked on in my career here so far.
    Not to mention her attitude in the meeting today. I mean, yes, okay, it was kind of sexy the first couple times she death-glared at me. But after a while that disdain gets old. I know exactly what she thinks about me, like it or not.
    Suck it up, Davis . Ignore her attitude. Ignore her shapely ass. Ignore your constant mental images of tearing that silky blouse off of her body and pushing that tight skirt up her legs, leaving the garter belt and her glasses on.
    Ignore the constant throb of your cock every time you fucking think about her.
    After this case, if I can prove myself, Anthony has already hinted at giving me a lot more freedom. I’ll be able to pick and choose my own cases, select the ones that I think will take me the farthest career-wise. Hell, he’s even hinted, in his roundabout, somehow-still-insulting way, that I could be on a partner track, if I step up my game now.
    This is no time to let a little thing like one colleague throw me off. If anything, I just need to look at her as a new challenge.
    A challenge I need to avoid conquering. Much as I might want to get my hands all over her sexy curves, Chloe is now a no-fly zone.
    Forbidden fruit.
    I slide back into my usual seat at our usual table and hand out the usual orders: Guinness for me and Jim, and Corona for Marcus, because he’s a chick.
    Small favors—it seems like the topic has shifted while I’ve been away. Thank fuck.
    “Keep hearing rumors about it,” Jim is saying, “But nothing confirmed as of yet. At least, nothing that fucking Rubin is going to tell me, since he’s had it out for me since the day I started reporting to him.”
    “I heard it’s starting next month.” Marcus shrugs.
    “What’s starting?” I wrap my fist around my second beer. The glass is cool, sweating against my palm.
    “The restructure,” Jim says, with one of those Did you seriously not know about this looks that he gets.
    I blink at the two of them for a minute before the term settles into my skull. “Hang on. What restructure?”
    Did I seriously miss an office rumor of this magnitude? Christ, I really am losing my edge.
    “Not sure exactly. Only hearing it through the trickle-down at the moment.” Marcus shrugs again, before taking a long, healthy chug of his beer. “Rumor-mill says cutting mostly in accounting and office assistants. But probably about 20 of the litigators too.”
    Shit. That’s a significant chunk of our work force.
    Paranoia sets in. Why didn’t Anthony warn me about this? He must have known, as a partner. Unless he didn’t tell me because I could potentially be on the chopping block? Normally you’d give anyone you cared to keep a heads-up before news about this kind of thing starts to circulate. Hey, FYI, this is coming our way, but don’t freak, you’ll be fine.
    Fucking hell. “At what level, do you think?” I take a healthier gulp of my drink than I probably ought to, considering I’m driving later. But screw it, if I have to cab it home, so be it.
    “Don’t know. Probably we’ll hear more next week or the week after. You know how these things go. You hear the rumors first, then the rumor cover-ups, then the truth comes out after