Having Faith Read Free

a hospital the night before with injuries from a beating given her by the husband who, by order of the court, had been forbidden to approach her.
    Sheer willpower didn't have much of a chance against emotional situations like those, and by the time Faith hung up the phone, her headache was no better. So she closed her eyes, put her head in her hands and concentrated on relaxing. But it had been a hard week, and her tension reflected that. She was grateful it was Friday.
    Though she had plenty of work to do over the weekend, the pace of weekend work was different.
    Buoyed by that thought, she reached for a small recorder to dictate several letters. Loni had left for the day, which was fine for the letters since they didn't have to be typed until Monday. It wasn't so fine for the phone. Before Faith had a chance to turn the line over to the answering service, she received back-to- back calls that were both tedious and time-consuming. By the time she finally hung up the phone, she'd just about had it.
    That was when the buzzer rang in the outer office. Someone was at the front door of the suite, locked now that Loni was gone. For a minute.
    Faith considered ignoring it. She considered curling up in a ball in the corner of the sofa, burying her aching head under her arms and shirking every legal responsibility she had. Last time the buzzer had rung after hours, though, it had been a seventeen-year-old girl who had seen Faith on television and wanted help in stopping her parents from making her abort the baby she carried.
    Rubbing her temple, Faith left her office. She was barely into the reception area when she felt a wave of warmth. The face beyond the glass door was a familiar one, not a client, but a friend.
    She opened the door and smiled up at the tall, darkhaired man who stood there.
    "Sawyer," she said, almost in a sigh. She slipped her arms around his waist and gave him a hug. "How are you?"
    "Better now, sexy lady," he drawled, squeezing her tightly. Then he held her back.
    "Am I interrupting anything?"
    "Work. Always work."
    "You work too hard."
    "Look who's talking," she scolded, but she was delighted he was there.
    Taking his hand, she drew him into the office.
    "I haven't seen you in months. How can that be. Sawyer? We work in the same profession. We work in the same specialty. We even work in the same building. Why don't we ever bump into each other?"
    "Good question," he decided.
    "I think you're avoiding me."
    "Me? But you're my best friend!" When he arched a brow, she amended that to, "My best boy friend." When his mouth quirked, she said, "Male friend. My best male friend. I wouldn't have made it through law school without you. Or made it through those early days at Matsker and Lynn. Or had the courage to leave there and go out on my own."
    "The feeling's mutual. Faith. You know that." He gave her a quick once-over in appreciation of the fact that she looked professional but individual. Both qualities applied to her practice as well.
    "I'm proud of you," he said with a grin.
    "I'm really proud of you. You've done well for yourself."
    As she held his gaze, her own grew melancholy.
    "I suppose."
    "What do you mean, you suppose? Look at your practice."
    "That's what I've been doing. All week long."
    "And you have a headache," he said, suddenly seeing it in her eyes as he'd done countless other times when she'd been under strain.
    "And," he went on, "you don't have anything to take for it. Why don't you ever buy aspirin?"
    "I do. It's at home."
    "But you don't need it there. You need it here." Taking her shoulder, he ushered her to the sofa and pushed her down.
    "Stay put. I'll be right back." Before she could protest, he was out the door and jogging down the hall to the stairs.
    She had to smile. Sawyer wasn't an elevator person any more than she was, which was, in fact, how they had originally met. Uptight but eager first-year students, they had literally bumped into each in a stairwell at the law library. Once