Snow Day

by Tilly Pope

  He looks up from his phone with a worried frown. “There won’t be, not until at least eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  “What?”

  He nods. “Blizzard warning in effect until then which means most of the city is at home or headed that way.”

  “Why are you so calm?” It’s maddening, damn him.

  “Because this is the safest place to be. We have a backup generator in case the heat or the lights go out, a cafeteria with plenty of food options, plus sofas and benches to sleep on. What’s the point in panicking?”

  “Boy Scout,” I mutter more to myself than to Finn. “I guess we’re stuck.”

  “That’s one way to look at it,” he shoots back with more attitude than I’ve ever heard from him. I guess even the Golden Boy has his limits. Good to know.

  “Is there any other way to look at it?”

  Finn’s hazel eyes take me in, a long slow perusal that has heat warming up parts of my body that aren’t even cold. It doesn’t make sense, my body’s reaction to his look, since I don’t even like the man. “Guess not,” he finally says sounding disappointed but not surprised.

  I watch him walk back to his desk and take a seat, strong capable fingers flying over the keyboard before he sits back and lets out a long breath. “What are you doing?”

  “I emailed my boss and the head of courthouse security to let them know we’re stranded here because of the blizzard.”

  “Oh. That was…thoughtful.”

  He snorts again. “Thanks, Sage.” He reaches down into one of the drawers and pulls out two short glasses and a bottle of Irish whiskey. It’s the good stuff too. “Drink?”

  The last thing I need is to get drunk with Finn Byrne, but snow is coming down outside like it’s the end of the world and I’m stuck in the courthouse with the last person I want to be stuck with anywhere. “Sure, why not?”

  4

  Finn

  “This is the good stuff, if you’re not sure if you want it then you probably don’t.” It probably isn’t very nice of me to tease Sage, but the woman makes it almost impossible to be kind.

  She places one hand on her hip, glaring at me from the other side of my desk with the other hand extended expectantly. “Just give me the damn drink, Byrne.”

  Grabbing the glass filled with amber liquid and pulling it closer to me, I arch my brows at her. “Pretty bossy for someone with nothing to eat or drink, unless you have a bucket of chicken in that little bag I don’t know about?”

  A groan escapes and she drops into the seat with a sigh, her blue gaze crashing with mine. “May I have that drink? Please?”

  I hand it to her without another word. Just because I’m a nice guy doesn’t mean I’m a pushover, a fact Sage needs to learn and soon. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  Her jaw clenches, telling me exactly how hard it is for her, which brings up a curious question, one I don’t have the courage to ask. Yet. “It’s doable.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “What’s your problem with me anyway?”

  Her blue eyes widen like she doesn’t expect the question, which brings a smile to my face. It’s nice to know the great Sage Kingston can be caught off guard. “Who said I have a problem with you?”

  “Your tone. Your overall dismissiveness. The fact that you act like I produced a blizzard just to fuck up your plans. Shall I keep going?”

  Sage looks at me, silent for a moment then brings the glass to her lips and takes a slow sip at first, then a bigger one. Finally she finishes the glass and slams it down on the desk. “It’s you, Finn. Everything about you,” she says and motions with both hands to me. “Your whole squeaky clean boy scout thing is…exasperating.”

  A laugh bubbles up out of me. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s not.” She taps her glass for me to top her off and I grab the bottle, pulling it closer. “Seriously?”

  I nod. “This is the good stuff,” I tell her again. “Not meant for chugging. Besides, you don’t want my annoying whiskey do you?”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’re annoying, Finn, not your booze.”

  “Same thing,” I tell her and shrug, pissing her off further by refilling my own glass, enjoying the way the smooth liquid slides down my throat and spreads warmth throughout my body.

  “You look down your nose at me,” she says out of the blue and I stare at her, my mouth hanging open.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” She leans across the desk and grabs the bottle before I realize what she’s doing, pouring until her glass is half full. “You think you’re better than me.”

  I laugh. “That’s rich coming from you, Sage. You walk around with your nose high in the air, certain that you’re untouchable because of your record.”

  She grins and wraps red lips around the rim of her glass. “Well, I do have an impressive record.”

  “And you don’t mind throwing it in anyone’s face whenever you get the chance.”

  Sage takes a bigger sip, wincing when she set the glass down. “Can’t handle being beat by a girl, Byrne?”

  That’s what she thinks, because for all her legal smarts, Sage knows fuck all about people. “I have no problem with a man or woman beating me in court.” I can’t be an effective attorney if I worry too much about winning or losing. Juries are unpredictable as hell so all I can do is put forth the best case I can and hope for the best.

  “As long as the woman isn’t younger than you?”

  One brow arches at her. “You’re not that much younger than me, and it has nothing to do with it.” I take another sip, studying Sage closely to see what’s there that I missed before.

  “Then what’s the problem, Finn? What is your problem with me?” She leans forward offering up an eyeful of cleavage that’s pretty damn hard to ignore.

  “I don’t have a problem with you.” With the way she practices law, absolutely.

  “Bullshit,” she practically spits, taking another long pull from her glass. “Tell me. I can take it.”

  “Can you?” She’s tough on the outside, makes a big deal of making sure the whole world knows it, but I’m damn good at reading people and I know it’s just an act.

  She nods. “I can.”

  “You know what Special Victims call you?” She shakes her head and leans back in her seat like it doesn’t matter to her, but I see the way tension forms around her eyes and mouth. “The rape lawyer.”

  “Everyone is entitled to a defense,” she shoots back automatically.

  “And that right is constitutionally protected. It’s one of the things I believe makes our justice system stronger. Better.”

  “But?” She rolls her wrist to get me to keep talking.

  “But all you care about is the acquittal. You don’t do plea bargains which means your rapists clients get no therapy, leaving them free to leave the jurisdiction and do it again. And again. And again.”

  “Stop.” Sage picks up her glass and drains it. “I’m good at my job, don’t hate me because you’re not as good.”

  A smile curls my lips at her immature words, making her seem far younger than her twenty-eight years. “I’m a damn good attorney, Sage. But sometimes justice means the best outcome for everyone, not just the one victim or the one defendant.”

  “You can’t blame me for what my clients do after they’ve been acquitted.”

  I nod my agreement at her point. “No, I can’t.” Nothing else needs to be said after that. She has the answers she demanded and now she’s pouting, running away.

  Typical Sage.

  5

  Sage

  Why in the hell do I care what Finn Byrne thinks about me and why on earth am I letting his words get to me? I have no idea, but here I am, stuck in his damn office and pacing in front of his ridiculous floor to ceiling windows that go from one wall to the next, trying to outrun his words. Who does Finn think he is, lecturing me on justice? I am the best damn lawyer in this city, won awards for being an incredible tria
l attorney, I know all about justice.

  Hell, Justice is my middle name!

  But it just goes to show that men are all the same. Despite his good looks and his almost disgustingly squeaky clean image, Finn is just like all the rest. He can’t handle a strong woman, one who regularly beats him in court. He can’t stand a woman being better. Period.

  “You might want to slow down before you accidentally start a fire on the carpet.” The amusement in his voice is clear enough I don’t turn around to see the little quirk of a smile on his face.

  “And you might want to mind your own damn business, Finn.” I don’t even know why I let his words get to me, it’s not like we’re even friends. Hell, we’re barely even colleagues.

  His laugh sounds in the office, seeming louder because of the eerie silence outside. “No need to take things so personally, Sage.”

  His words make me stop pacing and it takes every ounce of willpower not to turn around and throw the first thing I find at his head. Instead, I inhale deeply and let it out slowly at least a half a dozen times, trying to expel all the words he’s said in the past few minutes. Do people really call me that awful nickname and is it only because of my winning track record? Is it jealousy or something more? “Just. Stop. Talking.”

  Why do I care what a bunch of prosecutors have to say about me, anyway? I have a job to do and that means representing my clients to the best of my ability. No matter what they’re accused of and no matter how guilty some prosecutor assumes they are. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Sage.”

  I let out a derisive snort. “I think that’s exactly what you meant to do, Finn. At least own up to it.” The only thing worse than a liar is a bad liar, and Finn is one of the worst liars I’ve ever seen.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you, hell I assumed you’d take it as a compliment given the ball buster routine you’ve perfected.”

  His words force me to do what I’m trying to avoid, looking at his stupid beautiful face. “Perfected?”

  He nods and kicks his feet up on his desk, looking as casual as you please while he attempts to dissect my personality. “The crisp designer suits, tailored to within an inch of its life, the killer heels and sharp red nails that could easily be called talons. Let’s not forget the way you yelled at Detective Smythe for holding the door open for you.”

  “He just wanted to look at my ass!” Which I have no problem with, except the Detective always found a way to turn a look into a touch. “Maybe you should be less concerned with my acquitted clients and look for predators a little closer to home?” I have no desire to break down in front of Finn or to show any emotion other than anger. It’s a weakness I can’t afford to show, especially to the man I’d be going up against in court in just a few weeks. “I think I’ll have another of these thanks.” I pour three fingers of his expensive Irish whiskey into my glass and stare at him just to let him know I’m not impressed by his good stuff.

  “Please, do.” His words ruin the impact but I refuse to let on, instead I drink half the glass in one gulp.

  “Not bad.” I say, twirling the booze in the glass.

  “What did you mean about Smythe?”

  I glare at him. “Like you don’t know. I don’t even work in your office and I know.” The courthouse is like its own small town, hard to keep a secret and the more salacious, the better.

  “Pretend I don’t know.” His tone is hard but firm, his expression bland but the way his jaw clenches tells me he isn’t happy.

  That makes two of us. “Not interested,” I tell him, my words harsh and bitter. “You think you know so much but this you’re ignorant about? Next you’ll tell me you have a bridge to sell me.” I shake my head and resist the urge to pace. Again.

  “If he did something, Sage—”

  I cut his words off immediately. “Don’t. Don’t pretend like you care or that anything will be done about it, Finn. I’m an attorney. I know better.” Police officers and prosecutors stick together, it’s the way of things. A fact of life, if you will.

  Finn stands up, giving me a good long glimpse of his body. With one hand in his pocket and the other clutching his glass, he looks every bit like the sexy, most eligible bachelor New York Mag’s editors have anointed him for the third year in a row. “You know nothing about me.”

  “And you know even less about me.” We both stand there, less than a foot apart, staring at each other. “Yet you’re quick to make assumptions.”

  “You too,” he says calmly. So calm it makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs just to get a reaction out of him.

  “You already confirmed you look down on me, simply because I make it hard for you to toss people in jail without sufficient evidence.” I’ve met dozens, probably even hundreds of prosecutors and litigators just like Finn. “You’re a big believer in justice until it comes to the defendant.”

  “That’s not true,” he insists with a hint of fire in his voice that makes my body go on high alert. That deep growl is like catnip, making me feel lightheaded. Intoxicated. Aroused.

  “It is, but it goes against the image of yourself you’ve created.”

  “I’m not a liar.” He protests.

  I shrug. “Sure, Finn. Whatever you say.” Whether or not he thinks so is irrelevant to me. I know Finn and I know his type. “What I think doesn’t matter, so don’t take it so personally.” I step into his space, intending only to give his shoulder a friendly, if condescending, pat but Finn grabs my wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  His hazel gaze darkens with something that looks a lot like desire, but that can’t be. “Nothing. Yet.” The low seductive tone does something to me, something I can’t explain. Something it shouldn’t considering who the voice is attached to. Finn.

  “Then maybe you should take your hands off of me.”

  The corners of his mouth quirk up into an amused grin and I notice how lush his lips are, how plump. How kissable. I must be losing my damn mind, or maybe it’s some form of hysteria brought on by being locked inside the courthouse building. “Maybe I should,” he whispers and leans in close. “But that’s not what either of us wants. Is it, Sage?”

  All I need to do is open my mouth and tell him this isn’t what I want and he’ll let me go and back off. Right? That’s exactly what I plan to do yet when I open my mouth, no words come out.

  His laughter sounds, deep and warm and inviting. “Exactly what I thought.”

  Before I can ask what the hell he finds so funny and demand he explains himself, he kisses me. His lips, soft but firm, are on mine, teasing me, playing with me until I place a hand on his chest and lean into him. There’s something about the hardness of his chest combined with the softness of his lips against mine that sends hot lava pulsing through my veins.

  Then his tongue slips inside my mouth at the same moment his hands fly to my hips, pulling me against him so I can tell the full effect I have on him. And what an effect it is! I open to Finn, letting his tongue explore the depths of my mouth while I soak up every ounce of pleasure he’s giving me. My hands slid up his chest and around his neck, letting my fingers get lost and tangled in his thick waves.

  A groan slips from Finn’s mouth and he pulls me even closer, pressing his hips against mine with a low, erotic growl that sends a shiver through me, making my nipples pebble beneath my shirt. And my bra.

  I want to step back, to put some space between us but the kiss is too damn delicious to back away. To end. Ever. So I lean in, pressing my soft curves against the hardness of his body, enjoying the feel of his big hands moving from my hips to my ass and back again.

  “Fuck,” he growls as he tears his lips from mine, tracing delicate kisses along the length of my neck and across my collarbone before the feel of his teeth sinking into my earlobe sends a lightning rod of pleasure through me.

  The pleasure overwhelms me and I feel my body starting to shake with desire, with such a strong need to have this man that it scares me. I take a step back and Finn follows,
hands still gripping my ass while we move, almost dancing. “Finn.”

  He freezes and looks up at me, confused, lust heavy hazel eyes “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, but we…can’t.”

  He grins. “We can. We are.”

  I put a hand to his chest to stop his forward momentum, to stop what comes next before I want it too bad to say no. “We were,” I clarify.

  “And we can again,” he whispers, a ghost of a smile on his face. “Up to you, Sage.”

  My gaze flies to his eyes, taking in just how dark they are at the moment. Dark, almost darker than his hair, with only the gold threads woven through them visible. How can I want Finn Byrne, the man who annoys me like no other? Why do I want him and how in the hell can I melt so easily at his kiss? No answers come, at least not right away. I can’t think straight with his hands resting on my hips, the heat of his body warming me to the bone. It’s too much and I take another step back.

  Finn’s hands drop, but his gaze is still full of heat.

  I want that heat. I want his kisses. I want his hands all over me, again. It scares the hell out of me and I grab my purse and run from his office, down the hall towards the closest restroom to get my thoughts together. Never in my life have I been so happy to see an empty public restroom, but the privacy is just what I need to get my thoughts and emotions back on track.

  I can’t want Finn. He’s opposing counsel on my upcoming trial and that’s an ethical gray area I have no desire to test. Especially not for a man who doesn’t respect me. Then for who? an annoying voice asks as I take in my reflection.

  That’s it, I realize. The reason Finn is getting to me is because I’ve been working too much and not dating enough. Not having enough orgasms, especially with my current workload. It’s not Finn, it’s me. My hormones. My needy body.

  “What the hell am I doing?” I pose the question to my reflection and wait for an answer to come. A smile appears on my face and suddenly I know exactly what I’m doing. “Making the best of a bad situation.” Finn might be insufferable professionally and a total goody two-shoes, but he is hot as fuck and he kisses like the devil.