I grab the plates and hand him one as we both take our seats.
“So, why exactly am I going to love you?” I ask as I pick up my chopsticks.
I offer him either the chopsticks or a fork. He grabs the chopsticks. Good choice.
“My investigator went to your apartment today to see about the damage.” He scoops rice onto his plate.
I hand him one container as I dish from the other. Then, I put chow mein on my plate. “Please tell me it’s not really trashed and this was all just a scam,” I say, ever so hopeful.
He makes himself a plate of lemon chicken and chow mein. “No, it’s certainly damaged. When I first looked up your address online, I saw it was in a multifamily house and not a building, and I had a hunch. So, I needed the investigator to check on it for me, and I had him go there, posing as a contractor.” He slides a piece of paper in front of me and then picks up his chopsticks.
“What’s this?” I motion toward the paper.
“That’s the letter we’re sending to him, stating your lease is null and void because the unit isn’t a legal rental.”
“It’s not?” I ask, so shocked that I almost choke on my food.
He waits for me to stop coughing before he explains, “Your unit was semi-underground with long, narrow windows high on your wall, correct?”
“Yeah. They let in a lot of light without taking up wall space.”
“You entered through a side door instead of the main entrance?”
I nod.
“If there were a fire near the entrance of the unit, how would you get out? I bet those windows were pretty small. Could you have fit through them?” he asks.
My eyes open wide. “I never even thought about what would happen if there were a fire.”
He points his chopsticks at me. “Bingo. Not many people do. Not until it’s too late anyway.”
When I left that apartment, I hated leaving my cozy, little place, but all I can think of now is that it was a death trap waiting to happen.
“I don’t understand how this will help me.” I put the paper down and take a bite.
“Many properties in that area have garages that were converted to apartments years ago, using them as rentals. Unless they were upgraded to meet standard code, which says every unit needs two forms of egress in the event of an emergency, then they can’t legally be rented.”
“How do you know it wasn’t upgraded?”
“I looked up the building permits on the property, and there were none, but it was possible he made them without paying for permits and filing with the city. So, when my investigator went to the property, he confirmed no such safety upgrades had been made.”
“Wait. Do you think he’ll drop all money owed for the unpaid rent and damage?”
“I don’t think. I know. This letter says that we know it’s not being leased right now, so if he starts the renovations needed to make the space safe, we won’t bring legal charges against him for putting you, the tenant, in harm’s way.”
“Is it really going to be that easy?” I ask with a tilt to my head.
“It also helps that the letter is printed on our fancy stationery with the company letterhead. It’s amazing how threatening this piece of paper can be.”
“Must be the letterhead.” I smirk.
“I think it’s the paper. Rumor has it, the heavier it is, the more intimidating,” he jokes with a wink.
I let out a snort-laugh, sitting back in my chair with my hand over my mouth, feeling embarrassed in front of this extremely smart, very handsome man.
“Are you disappointed it wasn’t more dramatic and drawn out? Expecting your day in court?” he asks before taking another bite.
“Gosh, no. I’m beyond relieved. It’s a shame that ordinary people like myself fall for such unsafe living conditions.”
“You just need to know the right questions to ask. That’s why people need an attorney’s advice. Knowledge is power.”
“Any knowledge on how I can get my dog back?” I sigh as I think of my Pomeranian.
“You really love her, huh?”
“I do. I only had her for a few months before Hardin took her, but she’s my pup. She would curl up on my lap whenever I sat down, and if I had my laptop, trying to work late at night, forget about it. She would literally put her head on my hands and her paw on the trackpad while I was trying to type.”
His eyes crinkle as he listens to me speak. And he’s not just sitting here, staring at me while I talk. His shoulders lean in, and he nods sincerely.
“It’s like she was trying to make sure you weren’t working too hard.”
“You’re making her seem sweeter than she is. Lady Featherington is the center of attention at all times. She is very playful, but have no doubt, she is a diva. Honestly, I love that about her. She melts my heart, you know?”
He grins, and my heart picks up a little.
“I get that,” he states as he sticks his hand into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He opens it and shows me a picture of a dog, gray in color with one ear up and the other flopped. He’s scruffy yet handsome. “I have a rescue mutt of my own. Duke. He’s a Wowauzer. A Welsh terrier schnauzer mix. He’s very friendly and playful. Got him seven years ago, and he’s my best friend. I understand why you want your dog back. Their lifespan is only so long; you don’t want to lose any time.”
“Exactly.”
He closes his wallet and then slides it to his pocket. “I can help you get her back.”
“Thank you, but this is something I need to do on my own. Hardin has been a huge prick to me. Walking away from the apartment like this was the final straw for my silence. I’m going to get my dog back myself.”
“Good for you,” he states with a firm nod, like he’s proud of me.
“Thanks.” I pause and go back to picking at my food. “I guess this means, you’re not my attorney anymore.”
“No. I guess I’m not.”
I get the feeling I should leave now, but I honestly don’t want to. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You can, but I can’t guarantee I won’t plead the Fifth.” He smirks, making me do the same.
“If you won the lottery today, would you continue to work?”
“That’s a random question. Any particular reason?”
“Just something that came to mind. It’s silly. Forget I even asked. You can plead the Fifth.”
Leaning back in the leather conference chair, he steeples his hands and holds them up to his mouth. He eyes me with a quizzical look, which makes me feel uneasy. As his mouth quirks up on the side, I see a dimple on his cheek, which surprises me with how sexy I find it.
“This,” he states easily. “I can honestly say, there is nothing I’d rather do than be an attorney.” He drops his hands to the armrests and swivels toward me. “The work challenges me, and being in charge is a good place to be.” That cavalier smile of his is enchanting. “Plus, I really enjoy helping people. I got into law to further public good and change the way the world is run. My cases haven’t all been easy, but I’ve never taken a case I didn’t believe in.”
Of all the answers he could have given, his is the very best.
“What about you?” He leans in, his tone deep and hushed. “What would Amy Morgana do if she never had to work?”
I raise a shoulder. “Funny you ask since I’ve never worked a day in my life. Making chocolate is my passion. How can I claim it’s work when I’m having so much fun, doing it?”
Those eyes. The caramel hue of his sinful gaze is looking at me like I just gave him the answer to the most interesting question. His tongue darts out and licks his lips as he smiles slowly.
With a swallow, I divert my attention to the table and remember the gift I brought him in my bag. I reach in my tote and grab a narrow box. “Before I forget, this is for you.”
He accepts the mauve-and-white box, adjusting it so he can read the words engraved in navy script on the top.
“Amy Morgana Cho
colatier. You brought me dinner and dessert?”
“Again, it’s part of my thank-you.”
“I’ll savor these.”
I lift my chopsticks and go back to eating, trying to hide my blush from the way he glances over at me every few seconds and grins.
We finish our meals, and there’s this looming feeling of our night coming to an end, no matter how much I don’t want it to. Our conversation has flowed so easily, and the hour has flown by.
I start to clean up our mess and throw our trash in the bag that I brought it in when he stands.
“Here, let me help you.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I got it.” I reach for the last container and tie the bag, tossing it in a nearby trashcan. Next, I grab my tote, looking toward the door, and hope I remember the way back to the lobby.
Sebastian must sense my unease because he offers, “I’ll walk out with you. Just let me get my things from my office.”
He leads me out of the conference room and into an office with Sebastian’s name on a gold placard. When I enter, I instantly feel like I’m in a no-bullshit zone.
Bookshelves filled with legal books line the far wall with his dark cherry wood desk in front of it. Everything on the desk has its place, all angled toward a leather chair like little soldiers, and there doesn’t seem to be a speck of dust anywhere. The plant in the corner doesn’t have one leaf that’s turning color, and the view out the window of the city is to die for.
While it’s impressive and regal, none of it compares to the personal touches that make the office warm and welcoming. His law degree from University of Pennsylvania that sits in the corner is framed, but an old hat with a P on the front of it hangs off the side.
A photo of who I assume are his parents sits in a frame next to it with him in the middle. His father, a man with tan skin and a wide smile, stands beside Sebastian, who has his arm around a woman with blonde hair and eyes the same as his. They’re clutching to him with pride as they pose on a dock overlooking the ocean.
I glance to the other side of the room and have to hold in my laughter at a photo of Sebastian with the Phillies mascot, Phillie Phanatic, on the wall.
“Baseball fan?” I ask.
“Absolutely. One of the charities I volunteer for got honored at a game last year, and they let us go on the field.” The way he says it with so much excitement makes me smile.
“Pretty fun day then, I guess.” I try to downplay.
“Just another day at the office.” He grins.
“I suppose you get a lot of perks, working as a high-profile attorney. Are you living out all of your twelve-year-old boy dreams?” I tease.
“Twelve-year-old, nineteen-year-old … hell, even thirty-year-old dreams.”
I laugh as he grabs his stuff, and we head out the door.
We walk down the hallway and make our way to the elevator. Inside the glass enclosure, I feel this searing energy in the air, a prickling that something amazing is about to happen.
It doesn’t though. Instead, the doors open rather quickly, and we are in the main lobby of the building. There’s someone different at the front desk and a security officer by the front doors. We walk toward them and onto the street.
“Well”—I pull my bag up high onto my shoulder—“thank you again for your help. I never would have even considered it not being a legal apartment.”
“I’m glad we could solve the problem easily.”
If I’m not mistaken, I see a hint of indecisiveness with his body language.
I pause, staring into his eyes, seeing if he’ll say anything else. When he doesn’t, I take a deep breath and turn to leave.
I walk away when I hear him say, “Amy?”
My feet spin around so fast that my hair whips in my face.
Sebastian takes a step forward. “Do you have any plans for tonight?” His voice is almost hesitant. “I was going to go out for a drink and would love if you could join me. Totally platonic, of course. I’m not your attorney anymore, but I don’t want you thinking I’m trying to take advantage of a job well done, like you owe me or something.”
I feel my heart instantly pound harder with both nerves and happy sensations flowing through me. “You’ve been nothing but chivalrous, Mr. Blake. And, well, I’d be more than pleased to have a drink with you.”
The cheesy smile that spreads over his face makes him cuter than ever. “Great. I think you’ll love this place.”
Chapter Five
It’s a brisk evening as we walk to the bar. With the beginning of spring, warm days are here, but the nights can still bear a winter chill. Like a true gentleman, Sebastian offers me his coat, and I accept with a shy smile, knowing he has his suit jacket underneath.
Though our conversation flows easily, I start to wonder where we’re going after about fifteen minutes of walking, and I’m surprised when we stop outside McGillin’s Olde Ale House. Beer has been pouring in this tavern since 1860, shortly after the Liberty Bell was cracked.
“I can’t tell if you’re impressed or disappointed,” Sebastian comments as he holds the door open for me to enter.
“Pleasantly surprised,” I chide as I walk by. “I love this place. It has so much charm.”
The brick walls are adorned with paraphernalia of the bar’s history from liquor licenses to old photographs and a sign from the old Wanamaker’s Department Store that used to be nearby.
The place is packed, so the waitress waves us through the crowd to a small table near the back. We order craft beers and settle in after Sebastian removes his suit coat. I stand to do the same when I realize I’m still wearing his jacket.
“Thank you for letting me borrow this.” I hand it back to him.
“Are you sure you don’t still need it?”
“It’s okay. I’m sure I’ll warm up real quick in here.” Both with how many people are here and getting to stare at you for the next hour or so.
We sit, and he instantly rolls his sleeves back up. Seeing those forearms bare with his muscular flesh on display definitely heats me right up.
A gentleman’s arms aren’t given nearly enough attention. You can tell a lot about a man with one quick glance. Smooth skin shows outer care while corded forearms declare he treats his inside equally well. He has home-gym arms, curled and toned but not bulky. He has no creases in his shirt, except at the elbows, as would someone who has his shirts professionally cared for. The rolled-up sleeves show a laid-back confidence, but it’s how they’re folded in an even, precise manner, as if he needs to be able to roll them down to pristine perfection with ease. He appears ambitious and dedicated to his work. And the thought of those arms wrapped around you on a cold March night is just damn sexy.
Our beers arrive quickly, so I take a sip and try to rid my mind of all thoughts of cuddling and forearms and flesh.
“Did you know McGillin’s is the most romantic place in Philadelphia?” I muse.
He looks around with a grin as he leans forward. “I thought you’d get a kick out of the history, but I didn’t think of it as romantic.”
“Oh, but it is. More couples have met, become engaged, and even gotten married here than any other place in Philadelphia.”
He leans closer in a flirtatious way. “Given how old it is, the odds work in its favor.”
“True. I can only imagine the amount of booze that has been drunk within these walls. I suppose, too, that most people find their soul mates over a couple of drinks.”
He laughs. It’s thick and rich, like dark chocolate mousse. “You’re a true romantic, aren’t you, Amy Morgana?”
I blush a little. “You’re not incorrect. I do love a good romantic comedy, and I’d never refuse a walk on the beach.”
“Don’t forget chocolate,” he muses.
“Yes, chocolate. Eating a small morsel is a voluptuous experience. Even if you didn’t know it had aphrodisiac qualities, the flavor alone would make you feel romantic.”
He takes a sip of his beer and lick
s his lips. “Do you really believe chocolate makes you horny?”
“When the Spanish conquistadors arrived in modern-day Mexico City, they say Montezuma drank fifty cups of chocolate a day and he had a harem of fifty women. They assumed the chocolate must have increased his stamina.”
He raises his brows in amusement. “Meaning … it was the original Viagra.”
I laugh and almost spit out my drink. “It must have been—or so the conquistadors thought. They returned to Europe with cacao, where it immediately caught on as an aphrodisiac and a luxury that was tightly controlled. I mean, they couldn’t have lust-filled peasants running amok.”
“That would have been a travesty,” he jokes, acting very serious. “So, I take it, it was reserved for the aristocracy?”
“Bingo. Rumor has it, Marie Antoinette wouldn’t start her day without a cup of chocolate.” I take a long swallow and grin. “That chocolate was made with chile though, which was too spicy for Europeans or Americans. So, they replaced the chile with sugar to create what we know now as chocolate today.”
“Do you think the chile was the trick to it being an aphrodisiac?”
“If you ever want to try it, I can make a special batch in my kitchen.” My words come out far flirtier than I intended.
Based on Sebastian’s grin and the heat in his gaze, I’d say, my unintended comment just got a rather welcome reaction.
“Why chocolate?” he asks as his hand wraps around his pint glass. “Why did you choose it as your career?”
I blow out a breath and cross my legs, leaning into the table. “I guess it started when I was a kid on Valentine’s Day. My dad would buy each of us those heart-shaped boxes. You know, the red fabric kind. They were so pretty, and I loved having my special piece of heaven. The diagram was key. There’s nothing worse than biting into a disappointing flavor.”
He laughs. “I was the kid who took a bite out of every piece and only ate about five in the box.”
“Exactly!” I say rather excitedly. “As I got older, I found myself testing different brands, finding the flavors I enjoyed, and I learned fast that not all chocolate makers are alike.”
Loyal Lawyer: A Standalone Novel Page 4