by Amy Andrews
There was finality in her tone that was heartbreaking and he rushed to assure her but she wasn’t done with the one-sided conversation.
‘Perhaps you can recommend someone else in the firm that could deal with the case?’
Max frowned, not quite keeping up with the leaps she was taking. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘I assume you’ll have to recuse yourself?’ And then to his utter horror her face crumpled and she burst into tears.
CHAPTER FIVE
ALI wanted a hole to open up in Max’s very expensive-looking Persian rug and swallow her up. Her heart thunked against her ribs as if a large piece of space junk had just landed smack in the middle of her chest.
This could not be happening.
Was it not bad enough to have slept with him? Did she have to go and add public humiliation to her sins?
‘I’m s-sorry,’ she snivelled, her nose and eyes streaming as she desperately tried to stem the tears that she’d held at bay for so long now.
Since her suspension.
Since before that—her ex, the baby.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I n-n-never cry.’
Max knew. He’d read her case file several times. He knew her state of mind was shot. He knew she’d been through a roller-coaster ride of emotion. Of suspension and enquiries and re-instatements and further suspension while the case went to court.
He also now knew her ex had left her for another woman.
And then, to cap it off, she’d gone and slept with her lawyer.
‘That’ll be why, then,’ he said dryly, her kicked-puppy gaze breaking through his well-fortified barriers as he handed her a tissue from the box on his desk.
Ali looked at the snowy white Kleenex in surprise as he waved it at her. He shrugged. ‘Occupational hazard.’
‘Really?’ she asked, taking it, dabbing at her eyes, then blowing her nose.
Well used to being confronted with highly emotional people and situations in her own work environment, she found it a surprise to realise that medicine didn’t corner the market on Kleenex usage.
‘Sure. Most people come to lawyers when they’re in trouble. They’re usually pretty emotional.’
She sniffed as the vice gripping her chest eased a little and the last hiccoughy breath died.
‘I’m sorry. Please don’t think I’m this weak, weepy woman who cries at the slightest hurdle. I’ve just had … a really bad year.’
‘Not at all. If it makes you feel any better the last person who cried in this office was a hundred-and-fifty-kilo drug dealer who could bench press our combined weight and had spent half of his life in maximum security.’
She smiled despite herself but his calm acceptance of her breakdown depressed her further.
Great.
He was the best. The best. Everyone said so. Everyone had assured her that in medical defence law he was the lawyer to have.
And she’d screwed it up, royally.
Sure, the charges weren’t against her personally, but it was her alleged actions that had caused this whole mess and put the hospital in hot water. It was bad enough Brisbane Memorial had to fight this wrongful death suit—the last thing they needed was to lose their best lawyer because of her too.
The hospital needed a good lawyer. Needed the best. And so did she. She had a lot to prove here too.
A lot at stake.
Even if she was never going to pick up a scalpel again, her reputation had been damaged. And that she couldn’t live with.
She had to prove her innocence.
And for that she needed the best.
She needed Max.
But now the last few months were wasted. All that time and money the hospital had ploughed into prepping the case had been sabotaged because of one hot sweaty night between the sheets.
Max looked over at a much more composed Ali. She looked like hell.
He really, really shouldn’t want her this bad.
‘I don’t have to recuse myself.’
Ali sniffled. ‘What?’
Max looked at her patiently. ‘Ali, we slept together.’ Not that there’d been a whole lot of sleeping going on. ‘We met for the first time three days ago and slept together with no knowledge of what our relationship was going to be today. There’s no law against it.’
Ali felt a moment’s hope at his assurance but, given how badly her life had sucked the last year, she wasn’t about to dance a jig. Things just hadn’t been going her way.
‘So … legally, we’re fine,’ she clarified. ‘But what about ethically? Where do we stand there?’
Ali made hard ethical decisions in her job all the time—ethics she understood.
‘Ethically I can be disbarred from sleeping with a witness.’
‘Oh, God.’
His calm bluntness made her want to throw up again and she gripped the desk to ground herself. It was hard enough living amidst the ruins of her own professional life without feeling responsible for his too.
‘If—’ he jabbed his index finger at the desk for emphasis ‘—if, I had prior knowledge. Which I didn’t.’
He searched her face. She still looked utterly miserable.
‘It’s okay, Ali,’ he assured her. ‘Here are the facts.’ He pointed to his index finger. ‘We met for the first time as strangers on Friday night. Correct?’
Ali nodded. ‘Correct.’
He pointed to his next finger. ‘It was a brief one-night stand that meant nothing to either of us other than a fabulous way to forget a miserable day. Correct?’
Ali swallowed as a little part deep inside her mewed in protest. She quashed it ruthlessly. Of course that was all it was—she barely knew the guy!
Just because she’d had the best sex of her life which had possibly ruined her for all other men was immaterial.
‘Correct.’
He stabbed at a third finger. ‘Unless you’re some kind of closet bunny-boiler, which I seriously doubt, we have no intention of pursuing this relationship either during or after the trial. Correct?’
She shook her head emphatically. After the trial she had to work out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. Start a new career. There would be no room for all-night-long sexual feasts.
No matter how mind-blowing it had been.
‘Correct. Absolutely correct.’
‘If, however—’ he steepled his fingers ‘—this is a deal breaker for you, you feel uncomfortable with my representation given …’ how I licked every inch of your body ‘… w hat transpired on Friday night, then, of course, I can recommend several colleagues who can take the case.’
He could practically see the cogs turning in her brain as she chewed on her bottom lip. A lip he’d ravaged more than a little himself …
‘But I have to warn you that starting over again with another lead lawyer would necessitate a continuance from the court that could set things back several months. And you need to know that, not only am I fully up to speed with your case, I’m also the best medico-legal lawyer in this city.’
Ali swallowed at the sheer arrogance of his statement. But there wasn’t even one brain cell that didn’t believe him. He was breathtaking in his total assurance that he was the man for the job. Between that and the way he’d calmly and methodically reeled off his points before, she could see how magnificent he’d be in court.
He could certainly hold his own in the arrogance stakes with any consultant surgeon she knew.
And somehow—whether it was his supreme confidence or the connection they’d made the other night—she trusted him.
She certainly didn’t want to hang on for another few months. She needed to put this behind her and get on with her life.
Whatever it might hold.
‘Okay.’ Her voice sounded shallow and breathy and she cleared it. Her mind was made up—she had no time to sound indecisive. ‘Okay, then.’
She looked so damn cute trying to conquer her anxiety and be brave with that silly curl flopping in her
eye. It reminded him of her anxiety at his door on Friday night, which was the last thing he needed. He quickly cut off that train of thought and clawed back a modicum of professionalism.
‘I have to be clear, though, that there is a line drawn between us now that neither of us can cross. We had no control over what happened a few days ago. But we do over what happens from now on.’
Aleisha nodded at his brisk businesslike tone. ‘Of course.’
Whatever he said, whatever he wanted. As long as he continued with the case, she’d follow his demands to the letter.
She rose on shaky feet. ‘How about we start over?’ She offered her hand. ‘Hi. I’m Dr Aleisha Gregory, pleased to meet you.’
Max looked at her, then at her hand, then back to her. He smiled as he stood and took her hand firmly in his and shook. ‘Hi. I’m Max Sherrington.’
Ali felt his smile and the warmth of his hand go straight to her belly and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.
Max felt it too as his gaze followed the indent of tiny white teeth torturing a lush lip. ‘Your lawyer,’ he added.
Because God knew the way he wanted to swipe his tongue across that mouth didn’t feel remotely lawyerly.
Half an hour later they were ensconced at a window table at Cha Cha Char, one of the many restaurants dotting the river walk area around Eagle Street pier. Max appeared to be a regular and Ali let him order one of their famous Wagyu steaks for her as she was still too keyed up to concentrate.
Too keyed up to eat, really, but her empty stomach was growling in protest and she was starting to feel light-headed. It was time to put something in her belly or soon her hands would be trembling and she wouldn’t be able to take in what he was saying.
And she really needed to keep her wits sharp until this ordeal was over.
‘Maybe we should have gone to the River Breeze as I first suggested?’ Max murmured as he watched Ali play with her cutlery.
Ali looked up sharply. ‘What?’
Her curls bounced to the abrupt movement and he remembered how they had felt trailing against his chest. ‘You don’t seem very comfortable here.’
Ali frowned. ‘Oh. No … Here is … fine.’
The very last thing she needed right now was Kat’s perennial cheeriness. Plus, she hadn’t told her friend about her and Max getting naked and doing the nasty and Kat was too savvy not to take one look at them together and guess.
And then she’d never hear the end of it.
Max suppressed a smile as Ali returned her attention to her nearby fork. ‘Kat doesn’t know, does she? About us?’
Ali’s fingers froze on the tines of the fork. She peeked up at him through her fringe as she chewed on her lip again.
‘That you’re my lawyer?’ she asked, feigning innocence.
Max quirked an eyebrow. ‘That we slept together.’
Ali’s cheeks grew warm as she shook her hair back and looked at him fully. ‘No.’ She sighed. ‘Kat’s a romantic. Truly, it’s best she doesn’t know. Especially with this new … development. She’ll start talking about destiny and, trust me on this, that’s one load of hippy mumbo-jumbo I’ve heard one too many times.’
Max chuckled. ‘You don’t believe in destiny?’
Ali looked him square in the eye. ‘I believe in hard work and self-determination.’
He nodded. ‘Me too.’
There was a pause and Ali realised she’d relaxed a little. She picked up the spoon and absently doodled a pattern on the white tablecloth. ‘Does Pete know?’
Max shook his head abruptly. ‘I don’t kiss and tell.’
Ali blinked at the sudden starch in his voice. ‘I didn’t think you would.’
Frankly it hadn’t occurred to her that Max would be indiscreet. He hadn’t struck her as the type. In retrospect that had probably been naïve but it was good to know her instincts had been on the money.
Max relaxed and even managed a small smile. ‘Pete thinks he knows. He has a vivid imagination.’
Ali smiled in response. ‘I think he and Kat are going to get along famously.’
The waitress arrived with their drinks, interrupting the only sense of shared history they had, and Ali was reminded that they weren’t here socially. She took a sip of her diet cola and looked at him.
‘So, what do we do now? I suppose you want to talk about what happened that night … at the hospital … ‘
Max shook his head. She was too strung out at the moment to dive straight in. He needed to build a rapport with her—a professional one this time.
And for that they needed to start from scratch. The facts of the case would be discussed ad nauseam over the following weeks—he needed her to trust him. To know that he was on her side.
‘No. Not right now. I want to talk about you.’
‘Me?’ Ali really hadn’t meant it to be a squeak but she rather feared that was exactly how it came out.
Max nodded. ‘You.’
Ali was confused. She’d been bracing herself to go over the whole horrible mess again. Had just about made herself sick over it. ‘I don’t understand … ‘
‘I know about the case, Ali. I know it inside out and back to front. And, trust me, we’re going to go over and over it again with a fine-tooth comb. For now, I want to know what a file won’t tell me. I want to know your favourite colour and what books you read and whether you’ve travelled and if you’ve had chicken pox. To understand you, to understand how this predicament evolved, to help you, I need to know who you are. I need a sense of you.’
Ali sobered. This she hadn’t expected. But he was so sincere, his gaze gentle and full of empathy.
And she trusted him.
‘My favourite colour is yellow. Not a soft gentle yellow you’d find in a nursery but bold, like sunflowers. I don’t get time to read unless you count journals but the times I do I like to read something with a happy ending. I’ve travelled a lot both here and overseas. Tuscany is my favourite place. Yes, I’ve had chicken pox. I was sixteen and it knocked me flat. I did nothing but sleep for a week and avoid looking in the mirror. It was hideous.’
She dropped her gaze briefly, embarrassed by the rush of words. She raised her eyes and blasted him with a direct stare. ‘What else?’
Max blinked, a little taken a back for a moment, then laughed. ‘Okay then. We’re obviously going to need to work on your technique for court.’
It was Ali’s turn to blink. ‘My technique?’
He nodded. ‘You only answer the question. There’s no need to elaborate. The more information you give, the greater potential for trouble.
You should have just said, yellow, fiction, yes and yes.’
Ali felt as if she’d just flunked court preparation 101. She stared glumly into her drink. ‘Oh.’
‘It’s okay,’ Max assured. ‘I’ll go through all this with you.’
Ali glanced at him. There was so much for her to learn before she even got to court. ‘So you would have answered those questions how?’
‘Orange, biographies, yes and no.’
The startling efficiency of his quick-fire response was mildly depressing. Would she ever be that cool, calm and collected under cross-examination?
‘And the long answers are?’
Max smiled. ‘Orange, that blood orange you see at sunset as all the colours start to bleed into each other. I too don’t have a lot of time to read anything other than work-related things, but I love biographies because other people’s choices fascinate me. I’ve travelled extensively and I also love Tuscany, although I have a soft spot for Prague. And, no, never had chicken pox.’
Ali much preferred his long answers. She was far more comfortable with Max the man, than Max the lawyer.
Even if he had seen her naked.
‘I hope you’ve had the vaccination. Chicken pox can be pretty brutal as an adult. I had a patient my first year out, a fit twenty-three-year-old, muscle-bound footy player, who wound up in Intensive Care with it. Went to his lungs. He
arrested twice.’
Max chuckled. ‘I’m betting you have a medical anecdote for every occasion, right?’
Ali chewed on her bottom lip. She did have a habit of being a walking, talking heath alert. Something that had always annoyed her ex.
She shrugged. ‘Sorry. Occupational hazard.’
Max shook his head. ‘Not at all. It’s good to know. I’ll arrange to get the shot as soon as possible.’
Ali felt awkward beneath his calm grey gaze. After going to bed with him on a mere hour’s acquaintance, then crying and throwing up in front of him today and now this, he probably thought she was a nutcase. And she suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of it.
‘You shouldn’t take your health for granted.’
Ali cringed. God, she sounded waspish. Shut up. Just shut up.
Max nodded. ‘I agree.’
Their meals chose that moment to arrive and Ali could have kissed the waiter. The aroma of perfectly charred beef hit her empty stomach and it growled.
‘This smells divine.’ Her mouth watered as she picked up her knife and fork.
Max drifted the conversation to film and television as they ate. Ali was more relaxed now, which was exactly where he wanted her for the more difficult questions to follow. Listening to her speak, her low husky laugh, took him back to Friday night, and for the duration of the main meal he conveniently forgot that it could never happen again.
‘Okay, I’m stuffed full,’ Ali said, pushing her empty plate away and slouching back against her chair. She rubbed her hand over her belly.
Max watched the action. She’d removed her jacket and the burgundy silk of her blouse slid over the skin beneath with seductive ease. Her hand stopped abruptly and he dragged his gaze upwards. Ali was watching him, her olive eyes darkening.
For a moment neither of them breathed.
‘Would you like the dessert menu, sir?’
This time it was Max’s turn to be grateful for the arrival of the waiter who, oblivious to the sudden electrification of the air currents, was efficiently clearing the table.
‘Ah …’ Max needed a second or two to get his thoughts back in order. ‘Ali?’
Ali, her breath short in her chest, gratefully looked at the waiter and shook her head. ‘I couldn’t possibly fit another thing in.’