by Mika Lane
“Of course, I liked it. A lot. Are you kidding?” She finally turned to face him. “Maybe we’ll even do it again someday,” she teased as her mojo crept back to its rightful place.
“Speaking of someday, how would you like to take a ride up the coast together? On our bikes?”
Her heart skipped beats.
“Now that’s the best idea I’ve heard in a long time,” she said, wishing she could check her eagerness but flat out failing.
He downed the last of his beer. “Great. When’s your next day off?”
Isabella ran her calendar through her mind.
Ugh.
“I’m scheduled every day for the next ten days. I’m covering for another girl and trying to pay off this IRS thing. That is, if the assholes there can manage to acknowledge the payments I’ve been sending them.”
This guy’s gonna think I’m the biggest loser.
“You know, Isabella, I might be able to help you with this.”
“Oh, thank you, but I really don’t want to borrow any money. I can take care of this. But that’s really nice of you.”
He does think I’m a huge loser.
He pulled his head back and looked confused. “No, no. I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean I wanted to help you with the money itself. What I was trying to say was I may be able to help you get the IRS off your back.”
Oh. For heaven’s sake. She would give anything—well, nearly anything—to rid herself of those idiots. “What do you mean? Do you know someone there? Is your dad president or something?” She gave a weak laugh. If only.
“Yeah, no, my dad is not president. That’s funny. Far from it. But I might be able to, you know, write a letter or something.”
Isabella sniffed. “That’s very sweet, but I know from experience a letter does nothing. You know how many letters I’ve written them? Whoever developed their systems,” she said with air quotes, “should be shot.”
“I might be able to take it a bit further.”
“Yeah? How?”
“I’m an attorney. A tax attorney.”
A feather could have knocked her over. How could this hot-as-shit guy, hanging out in a biker bar, be an attorney? Please, no. Anything but an attorney. Her imaginary hard-on for him began to wither like a popsicle on a hot summer sidewalk.
“Oh. You’re an attorney?” Her throat tightened, making her voice hollow and small.
Hiding her feelings, especially disappointment, was not her strong suit. So she fought to keep her expression pleasant. Boring but pleasant.
“You don’t have to say it like I have leprosy. Damn, what do you have against attorneys?” Was that annoyance that crossed his face?
“Let’s just say I have not had positive life experiences with lawyers, particularly the one who made my divorce a living hell.” She caught herself swiveling her bar stool away from him.
“Ouch.” He grimaced. “Well, I can understand a bias like that. There are a lot of shithead lawyers. But we’re not all the same. You’ve got to know that. Right?” He looked at her.
Was that expectation in his eyes?
When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Why don’t you let me look over your records, and I’ll see what I can do. I know some staff attorneys at the IRS and might be able to help you straighten things out.”
“Oh.We’ll see. I mean, I think I can get it under control. But give me your business card.” At his deflated expression, she tried to muster some enthusiasm so he wouldn’t think she was a total bitch. “We’ll see.”
Isabella flat out hated lawyers. The ones working for the county when she and her sister were kids, bouncing from one foster home to another, had added nothing but turmoil to their lives. And the asshole who had represented her during her divorce made sure she got everything. The problem was, everything consisted of her ex’s debt and nothing more.
She motioned to Silky for the check. “I need to get home to walk Taboo.” She rose from her stool.
Confusion still lined his face. “Hey, I’m not gonna charge you. I’d do it as a favor. And what about that ride?” He ran his hand through his hair as he joined her in standing.
“Can I let you know? I have work, and I’m also supposed to be bringing Taboo to training. See if I can stop him from chewing things.” She looked around. Would it be rude to bolt for the door?
“Yeah. That’s fine. Here’s my number.” He tossed some money to cover the check and pulled out a business card. “And you don’t have to call me Mr. P.” He stuffed his wallet back in his front pocket. “The name’s Porter. Boone Porter.”
“Good night Boone. Thanks for the beers.”
She skedaddled out of the bar without another word, and was all asses and elbows hustling home.
Shit, shit, shit.
Finally, a cool guy. Why the fuck did he have to turn out to be a lawyer? A goddamn lawyer?
Chapter 4
Having just finished a ninety-minute massage, Isabella emerged from the Third Eye Chakra room, arms loaded with sheets and towels destined for the laundry.
“Hey, Isa!” a whisper called at her back.
She turned to find Aurora scurrying toward her from the other end of the hall. She was, as usual, stunning with her full lips and mass of curls, her white kimono straining against the dark points of her very full breasts.
“Oh hey, lady. How’s your day?” The load of sheets started slipping from Isabella’s arms, but Aurora reached for the fallout.
“Whew, that’s a big bundle you’ve got there,” she said, gathering what had slipped to the floor.
“Yeah, the laundry basket in Third Eye Chakra room was overflowing.” They reached the laundry room and dropped everything into a huge white bin on wheels. Across the hall, they entered the staff room and plopped down on a couple cozy armchairs.
“Ugh. Am I tired!” Isabella reached up to her topknot and pulled a couple pins, releasing her mass of hair.
“Hey, do you have time for a coffee? I’m done for the day.” Aurora leaned back in her chair to stretch, her robe popping open.
“You’re hanging out there,” Isabella said, pointing. “And I do have some time for a break. Let’s go to the coffee shop in Larkspur.”
When they were back in their street clothes, the two passed through reception to let Devi know their plan.
As they did, Isabella inhaled the spa’s fragrant air. The spa was a sanctuary for her, and she loved it. So much in fact, that it was no secret that the place might someday be hers if she wanted it. She was being informally groomed for the day Devi and her partner, Ruth, decided to retire to their weekend getaway in the hills of the Napa wine country.
“Devi, we’re going out for coffee. Can we bring you something back?” Isabella asked.
“You’re going out? Don’t you have a client?” Devi asked in an alarmed tone. Playacting annoyance, she dramatically flipped through the written schedule, comparing it to the spa’s online calendar. But as cross as she tried to appear, she was a teddy bear who loved all her girls like they were the daughters she’d never had.
“Devi,” Isabella started. “Do you think I’d be running out the door if I didn’t have the time? You know me better than that.” She hitched her shoulders to match Devi’s fake irritation as Aurora put her hands on her hips. The three looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“I’d love a decaf tea if you don’t mind. My doctor said no more caffeine. That woman is killing me.”
“And would that physician be our lovely Dr. Ruth?” Aurora asked. Devi’s partner of many years had just been promoted to head of surgery at Marin General Hospital.
“Why yes, that would be my darling Ruth—”
“Isabella?” a male voice asked from behind them.
All three heads whipped toward the inquirer. Who had sneaked through the spa’s front door without making a sound?
Boone Porter, the attorney, had. Holding a shopping bag. A big shopping bag, with Barney’s New York across the side. Tall, mus
cled, in dark-wash jeans and his usual scuffed motorcycle boots, his free hand held a Shoei helmet and his unzipped leather jacket revealed a faded Pearl Jam T-shirt. His salt-and-pepper hair had been deliciously mussed by his helmet and when he caught all three women staring, he dropped the shopping bag to straighten things out by finger-combing the mess.
“Hi, Boone. I mean, Mr. P,” Isabella croaked.
Shit. He’d left a message three days ago. Busted.
He laughed. “You can call me Boone here at the spa. I don’t mind.” He approached the reception counter and positioned himself right in front of her.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught Aurora looking him up, down, and sideways, edging toward him like a cat stalking her prey.
Ewww. Was that a stitch of jealousy?
“Hi there.” She was in his face so fast she practically blurred. “I’m Aurora,” she said in a creamy voice, extending her hand.
“Nice to meet you.” Boone returned her handshake with obligatory politeness. But he’d only barely glanced at her, his attention remaining fixed on Isabella. “Hey, do you have an opening for a massage? I didn’t call ahead for an appointment.”
Devi watched the whole scene from her side of the counter, where Isabella caught her expression of attentiveness. Clearly, even an old dyke like her boss could see the appeal of this guy.
And damn that appeal.
Isabella’s heart pounded at his closeness. He smelled of the fresh wind that’d blow over him during his ride. But he’s a lawyer. A goddamn lawyer. She responded quickly. “No. Sorry. I have a client in a little while.” She glanced at her watch for effect and tilted her head with a small smile to feign regret.
Aurora closed in with a generous smile. “I’ll take your next client for you, Isa, so you can take Mr. P. Oops, I mean Boone.” She giggled and batted her eyes while Isabella thought of how she might murder her best friend later.
With a tight smile, she turned to Aurora and said through gritted teeth, “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t like to cancel on clients—”
“Nonsense,” Devi said. “Isabella, it’s really fine. Go ahead. Aurora can cover for you.” She looked over the schedule again. “That would work out perfectly.” She was a good businesswoman, and given the chance, never turned away a client.
So much for a coffee break. Ugh.
“You’re sure it’s no trouble?” Isabella asked Aurora, making one last attempt at escape.
“I’m serious. Happy to help the cause.” Aurora cheerfully turned to Boone. “What’s in your shopping bag there?”
“A little something I picked up for Isabella. Or should I say Isa?” he asked with an amused grin.
Stop smiling like that!
Isabella struggled to organize her feelings, knowing what lay ahead for the next ninety minutes of her life. But she stumbled over her thoughts, just like she did her words.
“Um, Isa is what my family and closest friends call me—”
“C’mon, Isa,” Aurora chided. “You’re not gonna let a handsome man like this call you Isa? Where are your manners? Especially when he brought you a little something.” She slung her arm around Isabella’s shoulders and craned her neck to see inside the large, black bag with white tissue paper poking out the top.
“Aurora,” Devi said, breaking up the party. “Would you please take Boone to the Sacral Chakra room while Isabella runs to get ready?”
Aurora’s face fell like a baby robbed of its candy. “Oh. Sure. Follow me, Boone.” She led with a measured sashay of her hips and flip of her ringlet curls, chattering all the way down the hall.
“What are you waiting for? Go, go,” Devi said to Isabella, with her usual gruff.
“Okay, boss. On my way.” She took her time returning to the staff room to change out of her street clothes and get back into her kimono. He showed up unexpectedly; he could wait.
Ten minutes later, after getting the stink eye from Devi for taking so long, Isabella tapped her knuckles on the door to the Sacral Chakra room.
“C’mon in.”
The room’s usual spicy fragrance mixed well with Boone’s unique scent of simple bath soap, deodorant, and a fine leather jacket. The corner chair held his clothes, half-folded, half-thrown. Her eyes adjusted to the dim, candle-lit room, and she found him on his back, hands behind his head, the white sheet covering his lower body. This left his broad pecs and six-pack abs exposed while covering his crotch in a shadowy outline of what lie below.
“Hi, Boone,” she said in a tight voice, ignoring the shopping bag he’d set in the middle of the chest of drawers that stored towels and massage supplies. She stuffed her hands in her pockets to hide their shaking.
“Hello, Butterfly. It’s good to see you. Open the bag,” he said, pointing to it.
“Why? What is it?” She stalled, although she was dying to know. Who wouldn’t want to know what was in a Barney’s New York bag? Especially a huge one like that? And being called Butterfly was kind of nice, when she thought about it.
But he was still a lawyer.
He sat up on the edge of the massage table, feet dangling. The sheet stopped just short of sliding from his delicious lap down to the floor.
If he ends up naked...
“Open it and you’ll see.” He tilted his head as if to reason with her.
“Okay, okay.” She grabbed the bag and set it next to Boone. “You really didn’t have to do this.”
She ran her fingers across the top of the bag and around its substantial handle. It was no Macy’s shopping bag. The paper was thick and heavy. It even smelled expensive.
“Go ahead. I don’t know what you’re waiting for.”
Neither did she.
She ventured into the bag’s interior as if it were hiding a mousetrap. When she reached its contents she withdrew a small but heavy bundle wrapped in several layers of tissue paper, which she peeled away like the skin of an onion.
She paused, looking at Boone before she unveiled the gift.
“Keep going,” he laughed.
With the removal of the final piece of tissue, she gasped.
“Oh my god!”
A pile of buttery-soft leather filled her hands. Throwing off the remains of the tissue, she held Boone’s gift. Her bottom lip quivered.
It was a new leather jacket.
A goddamn new leather jacket.
She froze in place, staring at the dark leather that was both tough and feminine at the same time. It was cut motorcycle-style with padded elbows and an asymmetric zip, but the styling was designed to flatter the shape of a woman. She pulled it closer to smell and held it to her shoulders to check the fit.
She whirled so fast to face Boone she had to grip the table because the room spun.
“Why?”
“Because your dog chewed your other one,” he said matter-of-factly.
Her gaze shifted from Boone’s face back to the jacket. As fast as she’d fallen in love with it and decided it would fit her perfectly, she folded it up and stuffed it back in the bag.
With arms crossed, she said, “I can’t accept a gift like that. Thank you, though. It was very sweet.” She held the bag to him.
His hands flew up in protest. “It’s yours. Accept it. Enjoy it. The more you wear it, the softer it will get.”
“No.” She shook her head and thrust the bag at him by shaking it a little, as if that would force him to accept it.
Boone sucked in his breath and slapped his palms to his thighs. His gaze wandered from Isabella to the ceiling. Shaking his head, he snatched the bag in one swift movement and tossed it to the floor.
He reached for her arms. “I am not taking it back.”
“What are you doing?” She squirmed but couldn’t break loose.
Oh god. I’m in trouble now.
“Listen to me, Isabella.” He drew her nearer, in spite of her struggle. “I like you. I want to spend time with you. I want you to give me a chance.” His pleading eyes contradicted his rough, craggy face.
Isabella’s insides churned.
He’s a lawyer. Don’t forget, a scumbag lawyer.
Memories of the pain she’d suffered at the hands of attorneys made her blood boil. She thought of the powerless county attorneys who’d dragged her and her sister from one custody hearing to another as kids, to the loser who represented her during her divorce. If not for him, she wouldn’t be in the hole she was with the IRS today, leaving her hunted like prey.
But Boone was kind—not like the others.
Right?
Despite the warnings running through her mind at a hundred miles per hour, the moment his lips brushed her neck she realized she needed him and his touch more than she’d ever needed anything in her life—more than she needed oxygen and her heartbeat, light and her sanity. And when the mysterious electric jolt returned to zap her again, it was all she could do to remain upright by grabbing fistfuls of Boone’s hair. Her head dropped back to bare more of her neck, and the shock of his touch disbursed into a thousand tingles that traveled directly to her sex, leaving her panties damp.
“Butterfly,” he murmured as his mouth found hers.
Boone’s lips pressed softly at first and then so hard he took her breath away. As their lips melted together, Isabella’s head spun. Or was it the room? Her knees began to wobble just as Boone jumped from the massage table and lifted her to take his place. The sheet that had covered him slithered to the floor.
Once Isabella was seated, she emerged from her daze to gape at the mass of solid muscle before her. In spite of his crushing ruggedness, his touch feathered across her skin and left in its wake a sprinkle of goose bumps. The distinction was intoxicating and agonizing, forcing her to wriggle on her seat to relieve the pressure building in her pussy.
Boone thrust her knees apart and positioned himself between them. He drew her ass to the edge of the massage table until his growing cock danced against her lace-covered pussy. With his hands full of her thick waves, he lured her closer, teasing her lips with a new gentle kiss until she whimpered. She was lost in him, and when he jumped back, she realized she’d drawn blood, leaving a bite mark and a smudge of red on his bottom lip.