It feels so familiar. Waiting outside my office building, and watching Max glide up in his fancy sports car. I take off my suit jacket then set it in the back with my purse as I slide into the passenger seat, and he smiles at me.

"You look stressed," Max says. "Gorgeous, but stressed."

"It's been a day."

"Tell me what happened," he says as he eases the car back into traffic.

"Where are we going?"

"Maybe a drive along the coast?" He glances over at me. "I don't trust myself to take you home with me. If we go to my apartment, I'll have you in my bed in five minutes. If we go to my family home, Rina will feed you. Then I'll have you in my bed."

"We never did make it upstairs when you were giving me the tour of your family home."

Suddenly I'm wondering what Max's bedroom looks like. The one he grew up in. Are there still souvenirs of the boy he once was? Or is it completely transformed to the man he is today?

"Don't tempt me, Hadley. You know how I feel about peeling you out of that lawyer suit."

I notice with equal parts relief and regret that he's heading toward the coastal highway, not the club or the family estate. Because I know how I feel about him peeling me out of my lawyer suit, and I can already feel tingles of arousal racing through my body.

Then I imagine me telling him that Dylan deleted his files, and Dylan ending up dead with his body dumped in the Everglades never to be found. And arousal is replaced by dread.

"Well?" Max looks over at me again as we leave downtown Miami behind.

"I'm trying to decide how much to tell you," I say honestly.

His hands grip tighter on the steering wheel momentarily, but his voice stays calm.

"The answer to that is tell me everything."

"Some of it is just supposition."

"Let's start with the facts."

I tell him about the fact that someone has hacked into the firm shared directory from my laptop, and that they installed a device that gave them remote access. How only my files were targeted - specifically, the files on the art gallery. Plus anything I had saved or uploaded for about a week on my other cases.

"So someone deleted files?"

"Yes, I know, it doesn't make sense. They could have copied them and I never would have expected it because we have state-of-the-art security from the IT department that, honestly, we all take for granted. So why delete them and tip us off that the files had been hacked?"

"It could be a number of things. Someone sending a message, or someone just wanting to cause you trouble. I'm leaning toward the first."

"So am I. But I don't know if it's a message directed to me, to you -since they were your files - or to my grandfather."

"You're holding back something. What is it you're not telling me, Hadley?"

I stare down at my hands in my lap, not sure how to answer.

"I can't help if you don't tell me everything." I can hear the control in his voice. He's annoyed, but he's trying not to show it.

"It's just that I thought I knew who did it, but now I'm not so sure."

"Why the reluctance to tell me?"

"Because I don't want an innocent person - or even a guilty one, for that matter - to end up dead in a swamp because I fingered them to my boyfriend the crime boss." Ex-boyfriend, but I can't bring myself to say that.

Max bursts out laughing.

"It's not funny."

"Hadley. As protective as I am of you, I don't go around randomly killing people because you think they might have done something wrong. Now, Uncle Eddie might take a different view. But I told you. I'm not him. And I'm not my father, either."

"The problem is, Max, I don't know really what you are. I know there are things you do that you can't or won't share with me. And I know what you did to Ramon Suarez. I saw what you did to him with your fists and a lead pipe."

Max nods. "I gave Ramon Suarez exactly what he deserved. I didn't kill him and dump his body in the Everglades. There's a big difference, Hadley. Tell me who you think did this, and why you are now second-guessing that conclusion."

"Not unless you promise not to do anything."

"You know I won't promise that. But I will promise I'm not going to kill anyone - or order them killed - over some computer hacking and deleted files." He pauses. "Was there anything in those files that I need to be worried about?"

"No. It was just drafts of the template I created for your commission agreements with artists, and copies of the purchase and sale agreement without any of the parties filled in. Not even the purchase price was filled in. I'm careful."

"And I appreciate it. Hadley, I don't have any reason to seek retribution for this. It seems to me it's more a case of someone flexing their muscles, a demonstration that not even the legal files are protected. And I agree - it could have been targeted at you, me, or even your grandfather."

"That's just it. If we knew the why, then we'd know the who."

"Well, you can start by telling me the who it is that you suspected before you started having second thoughts."

I sigh. "Do you remember the first time I came to your club?"

"How could I forget? You ended up drunk and practically naked in my bed. And you left your panties behind."

"And you cooked for me, and didn't take advantage of the situation." I let out a long breath. "I think I started to fall in love with you that day."

"Hadley. I just did what any decent person would do."

"Yeah." And it hits me not for the first time that the most decent man I know is also the head of a criminal enterprise.

"So," I continue, "I'm referring to that guy who got pushy with me on the dance floor."

"Ah, yes," Max says, "the lawyer who kept threatening to sue me."

"Dylan Barclay. Well, what I didn't know at that time is that same obnoxious lawyer was already in negotiations with my grandfather to bring his securities law clients over to our firm. I told my grandfather what a jerk he is, but he hired him anyway. Which he now regrets."

"Why do you think this guy would have hacked into your computer?"

"He's been nosy about my business and especially about you ever since he started. And one time when Martina and I were on our way out to lunch and had to double back for something we caught him in my office with my laptop open and the art gallery file sitting on my desk."

"How did he explain that?"

"He claimed that my grandfather had asked him to work with me on the purchase and sale agreement."

"Was that true?"

"Not exactly. It was Dylan who asked my grandfather if he could work on the matter since my background is criminal law and he has some experience with M&A. All my grandfather told him was to talk to me about it."

"I wish you'd mentioned this sooner."

"I thought it was just a case of jealousy. And I'm still not convinced it isn't. I also found out that he's been spreading rumors about me around the firm, trying to undermine my reputation with the other attorneys."

I can tell by the way Max's jaw hardens that he's not liking this at all.

"What would be his motive?"

"I've been thinking that he saw an opportunity when he first approached my grandfather. You know, my grandfather owns the law firm outright - he's never taken on an equity partner. But he's getting older, and people have heard that my grandmother has serious health issues."

"So this guy thought he could work his way in and maybe take over the firm when your grandfather decided to pull back a bit?"

"Exactly. Then I showed up and ruined everything."

"So the hacking and deletion of files was what, just mischief?"

"If it was him, and I'm not convinced that's the case, then maybe he was looking for something he could use against me. Some evidence that I was involved in criminal activity that he could use to either drive a wedge between my grandfather and me, or even threaten my license as an attorney."

"And send you running back to Philadelphia."

I nod. "Then when he didn't find anything, he decided to just cause me some aggravation. Plus, he used it as another way to undermine me, telling people in the firm that I must have accidentally deleted the files myself and am covering it up by accusing some phantom hacker."

"I may have to have a little conversation with this Dylan Barclay."

"No, Max. That's not a good idea."

"I'm not having some little weasel think he can screw with you like that."

"I don't know if he was the one who got into my laptop."

"Tell me why you think that."

"We had a meeting today of the whole firm to let everyone know about the data breach. He really came at me."

Max's jaw tightens again. "And you think that is going to discourage me from having a talk with him?"

"I know when you say talk, you don't necessarily mean talk."

"I remember him from the club. He's a little pussy, Hadley. I can scare him without ever laying a hand on him."

And the way Max looks at the moment, I have no doubt that's true.

"My point is, if he was the one behind this, I really doubt he would accuse me openly in the meeting of accidentally deleting the files."

"Why not? Seems like it might be a good strategy to divert suspicion away from himself."

"It's just not his style. He's more the sneak around behind the scenes kind of antagonist. If he accused me in the meeting, I think it's possible he had nothing to do with the hacking and just saw this as another opportunity to make me look bad."

"That's possible."

Max turns off the road into a parking lot.

"Where are we?" I ask, looking around.

"Come on," Max says. "I know you didn't eat much at lunch today, and I'm hungry. I'll buy you dinner."

He's around the car opening my door for me before I have a chance to think twice. I know having dinner with Max is not a good idea. It makes it feel like we're dating again, and we're not.

But I am hungry and we're here, so . . .

I take Max's hand and get out of the car, leaving my jacket behind. He keeps hold of my hand to steady me as we walk across the parking lot that seems to be composed of a combination of loose gravel, sand, and sea shells, and I'm wearing stilettos.

It's a rustic seafood place with a very beachy feel to it. We walk in the main door and Max asks the hostess for a table on the back porch. When we sit down I see a stunning view of the water.

"This place is great," I tell him after the hostess takes our drink orders, and lets us know our server will be there shortly.

Max orders a bottle of Prosecco, which I'm also not sure is such a great idea.

"I'm not planning to get drunk and end up in bed with you," I tell him, as soon as she's out of earshot.

"As much as I want you in my bed, it's not a good idea," Max says. "I'll limit myself to one glass since I'm driving. But you should relax."

"I can't relax. It's been a really crazy day and my brain is having trouble shutting it all down."

"It the wine doesn't do it, I have another idea how to relax you on the drive back."

From the glint in his eyes I'm thinking this other idea probably involves him slipping his hand under my skirt. I feel my mouth go dry.