by Taryn Quinn
I frowned. “What about now?”
“Why are you asking about marriage?” she asked in lieu of an answer.
“I’m not. I’m asking about yours. I want to understand what makes someone take a leap of faith like that.”
And why it goes wrong.
“Leaping with a net isn’t leaping at all. The jump is the destination.” She returned her tea cup to the wet bar and then moved to the door. “Sorry I can’t stay longer, but I’m meeting the girls to go shopping.” She paused with her hand on the knob. “You’ll think about what I said?”
I didn’t have much choice. What she’d said—and what she hadn’t—was spinning in my mind. Mixed in were flashes of memory of Ryan’s mouth, hot and hungry against mine.
She wasn’t one to leap with a net, that was for damn sure.
“I will. Have fun with the girls.” I paused. “Mom, you’re happy, right?”
It wasn’t a fair question. She didn’t have all the information. But I needed to know she was.
Even just for now.
Her smile answered for her. “I’m happy. I want that for you too. You deserve it.”
She closed the door behind her, and I resisted trying to get a glimpse of Ryan. Instead, I went to my desk and picked up the phone.
After I plugged it back in.
When the call connected, I took a deep breath. “Hi. I want to set up a date.”
Ten
Wednesday
My mother’s heart-to-heart talk had hit home.
Sort of.
I’d listened to her thoughtful words of advice, promised to give them some thought, and made a hasty decision I was even now reconsidering, a full day later.
There were reasons I did not move fast. One of them was so I never had to reverse course. I still could, but it would be sticky.
I didn’t like sticky.
I also didn’t like avoiding my assistant.
Today had been better. She’d come in almost on time. Ten minutes past nine was practically perfect for her. I’d mentioned some calls I needed her to make, and she’d even taken dictation on a letter I needed her to send Judge Tremont. She’d doodled smiley-faced daisies in the margins of her pad while I collected my thoughts, but I didn’t care as long as the letter sounded coherent.
After that, we’d behaved mostly like boss and employee. I’d been in the courthouse part of the day, but when I was in-house, she kept her finger perpetually on the button for my line. Half the time she asked me stuff just to be annoying. And she definitely still sent me too many emails.
Isn’t Esquire just a pompous word for attorney?
Don’t you think putting a large red X next to the line where people need to sign is overkill?
Are you a super brainiac to get through law school in two-and-a-half years?
Some of her more salient questions I answered. The rest went into my circular file.
Her missives still dinged every damn time they hit my inbox. I was convinced my computer was hexed too.
I glanced at the time. I’d almost made it through. Soon, the day would be over, and I could follow-through on that questionable decision I’d made.
There was yet another item on my docket to contend with first.
I walked up the hallway in time to witness Ryan crouching outside my office, balancing on her heels and craning her neck to peer through the gap in the blinds. Pity I’d opened them marginally today. “This angle sucks. His desk is too high. I can’t see him.”
Lifting a brow, I tucked my hands in my pockets to watch the show. My last client meeting of the day was in a few minutes, so I’d gone to the conference room to make sure it was prepped.
To my utter shock, it was. Carafes of water and coffee—not mine, oh no, that was still purportedly en route—and a fruit plate were in the center of the table, along with a vase of fresh flowers. They were nice touches, especially since I suspected Stacey would need those small comforts.
When she’d called to make the appointment, she was crying. Never a good sign.
Just in case, I’d stopped by the supply closet to get a box of tissues for the conference room. Better to be prepared.
Now it seemed as if I’d get some free entertainment before what promised to be a challenging meeting.
“You act like it’s easy. I’m telling you I can’t see him.” Ryan blew her loose curls out of her face. She’d pulled her hair on top of her head, and strands escaped to rain down onto her back. Not bare today, thank God, but I remembered.
I remembered far too much.
“Do you think I have time for this? It’s almost quitting time, and I have to get back to digitally indexing—no, I can’t do just anything because I kissed the guy. I didn’t blow him.”
I reached up to loosen my tie. She just had to insert that image in my head. And who the hell was she telling she’d kissed me?
So much for discretion. I really should’ve made her sign that NDA. Not that unexpected tongue battles would have been a line item, but obviously, they should’ve been.
As much as I wanted to hear the rest of this conversation, I was an officer of the court who’d already fallen upon boggy moral ground yesterday morning. I didn’t need eavesdropping on my conscience too.
“No, that was the thing. He’s packing. Seriously.”
I straightened my shoulders and tried not to grin. Maybe I’d just listen a moment longer.
“I know, can you believe it? But honestly, I’m not even sure he can seal the deal. You know what happens in the sack when a guy hasn’t had any relief for a while.” She made an unflattering finger gesture that I assumed was a quickly faltering erection.
Ha. She didn’t have the slightest clue. Since listening to her infernal podcast last Friday, I could’ve hung a flag off my cock and saluted our nation.
“To whom are you speaking?”
She went stock still, which made her lean precipitously to one side since she’d been mid-creep toward another gap in the blinds.
“Gotta go,” she whispered and deposited her phone somewhere she assumed I couldn’t see.
Such as down her shirt.
“Hmm?” she asked with false cheer, appearing to buff the window with the side of her fist, thereby smearing the clear glass. “Just found a spot. I figured you’d want this clean.”
I crossed my arms. “Now you do windows? Also, I’ve heard glass cleaner does wonders for that. Here, let me get the bottle for you.”
She stood. “No thanks, the spot is—”
I was already halfway down the hall to the supply closet. When I returned, she was seated behind her desk with a pile of rocks stacked high on the blotter. She appeared to be chanting to herself with her eyes closed.
“Are you actually a witch?”
Her eyes flew open, and she knocked some of her rocks to the floor. I set down the window cleaner and bent to help her gather them. Naturally, our heads nearly collided. We avoided that disaster, but when we readjusted, our mouths were entirely too close.
Her aquamarine eyes were like a cat’s. Sly, wary, and stunningly beautiful.
“Who were you telling about my…package?” Sounded like something I’d neglected to retrieve from UPS.
A heavy rock landed on my shoe.
We both looked down, but when I picked up the big golden hunk, she gasped and grabbed it back. “Don’t mix your energy with mine. It’ll fuck everything up.”
“Just like my efforts at lovemaking?” I mimicked her limp finger gesture and had the satisfaction of watching her golden skin flush.
Only problem was, she was even more gorgeous when she was blushing.
“I can’t believe you eavesdropped on me.”
“I can’t believe you told people you laid your lips on mine.”
Her brow arched. “I believe that’s called a kiss in most societies.”
I made a show of looking around, although I knew for a fact that my father had left hours ago, and his admin Courtney had followed shortly the
reafter.
Gee, I wondered why.
I wasn’t sure Dex had even come in today, and his assistant had been out sick. Therefore, we were very much alone in the office.
But she didn’t need to know that—unless she already did.
“That is hardly appropriate office conversation. But just so you know, being discreet and discriminating does not indicate lack of skill.” I cleared my throat. “Also? I would never discuss you so crassly with another male.”
She swallowed deeply, looking down at her lap. “You’re right. I’m sorry. And it wasn’t actually a person. Just my best friend. She wanted to see what you looked like after I mentioned you. ”
“Your best friend isn’t human? Figures.”
“I mean, she’s not just anybody. Lu’s a vault when it comes to intel. She would never spread shit.”
“Lu being la-la-Luna from the podcast?”
“Her name is Luna. No la-la.”
“She said it that way, not me.”
“Yeah, well, I say my middle name is Goddess. We do what we want.”
I rocked back on my heels, unwilling to move away from her just yet. We were crouching behind her desk, and I liked being in her space. Even if her witchy night floral scent was making me lightheaded. “Regardless of either of your names, the size of my physical blessings is no one’s business.”
She snorted. “Not even mine, since you put the kibosh on anything right quick.”
“Shut up or I’ll touch your rock again.”
She cocked her head. “It’s rather fascinating how you make that sound like porn.”
“You’d be surprised all the things I can do, Miss Moon.”
With a sigh, she rose from her crouching position and sat on the edge of her chair. Then she picked up a small chunk of pink rock and held it out to me. “Wrap your hands around this.”
I frowned. “What is it?”
“Rose quartz. A kind of crystal,” she said slowly, as if I was new to learning the English language. “Crystals are used for channeling energy and protection and different kinds of spellwork.”
“In your witch practice.”
“Sure.”
“Sure? That sounds like a pat answer meant to shut me up.”
“Shut up and wrap your hands around the ro—I mean, crystal. Crap, you’re annoying.”
I managed to control my smile and did as she asked. In a manner of speaking.
Instead of wrapping my hands around the rock, I wrapped them around hers holding it.
Instant flooding warmth. The heat rapidly rose as we stared at each other. We were caught in a vortex that felt so much bigger than we were, yet somehow was more about us than anything I’d ever experienced. The pink stone seemed to subtly glow, pulsing with faint energy as I tightened my hold on Ryan. It was as if she was being pulled from me, and only by sheer will could I hold on.
I dropped my hands away. The stone was merely a faceted pink rock once again. Not glowing or pulsing or anything else.
“Wow,” she murmured.
“Is that…” I didn’t even know what I wanted to ask.
“Part of the sex hex?” She didn’t laugh. “I don’t know.”
“Is this a witch thing?” I sounded choked, as if I’d lost all my air. “Something you usually do.”
“I’ve never done anything like this.” Swallowing hard, she moved the rock from hand to hand. “I’ll discuss it with Luna. She should know.”
“Is she going to ask for a picture of my unmentionables too or is your word enough?”
Her gaze dropped and lingered on my groin. I couldn’t say I minded either. “I don’t have nearly enough words about them.” Her voice was low and smoky and made my blood hum.
“Give me your phone.”
“What?”
I held out my hand.
“I have your number already.”
“Miss Moon.”
She did me the great disservice of peeling down the front of her dress just enough to pry out her phone. Then she handed it over. “If you destroy it, I will do a binding spell on your unmentionables.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded unpleasant. Besides, I had a brand new fixation.
Her phone was warm from her body. All those delicious curves had been snuggled up against this plastic.
I’d never been jealous of an inanimate object before.
“Are you okay?”
I wasn’t at all sure, but I nodded and let out an exasperated breath. “You have to unlock it first. I don’t have your face.”
“You are truly the king of the obvious.” She did the honors for me before setting it in my hand again.
I scrolled through her contacts in her message app. Luna was on top—labeled Best Bish—but half a dozen down was an entry labeled Big Dick Energy.
“Who is this?” I stabbed her phone.
“I can’t see it when your big finger is blocking the screen. Stop flailing about and let me see.” She batted my hand away and smiled slowly. “Oh. Him. He’s no one.”
“That’s why you reference his dick in his contact information? Or is that just standard operating procedure for you to reduce men to their most base level?”
“Turnabout is fair play. But if you must know, he’s our yoga teacher.”
“I want to petition for a nickname change,” I muttered as I went back to her phone.
“You certainly make his look small.”
I was not above preening as I did something I had never done in my life. I pulled up Luna’s chat window, hit the camera icon and reversed the direction, and then cocked my head and hoped for the best as I pressed the button. I hit send without looking at it.
“Did you just take a selfie?” She snatched back her phone and started to laugh. “Oh my God.” She doubled over with her hand over her mouth as she giggled at my expense.
When I pulled back the phone and saw what I’d sent, somehow I started laughing too.
I’d messaged a stranger a picture of the top right corner of my head, and the one eye in the picture looked cock-eyed and droopy. That was surely going to satisfy Luna’s requirements for a photo.
“That’s the best. Wow.”
“It was my first one.” I straightened my tie.
“Ever?”
“Yes.”
Ryan sobered quickly. “But you wanted to send her one for me.”
I shrugged.
“Come here.”
“What? I have a client due to arrive in approximately—”
She yanked me toward her by the tie before angling my face toward the camera she held away from us. Then she pressed her cheek to mine.
“Smile, PMS.”
I didn’t know what expression I managed in that one second before I gave into temptation and turned my face into her neck. Dimly, I heard the shutter go off as I nibbled her earlobe. “Jesus, you smell good.”
“Not exactly the picture I was going for,” she said as as she tilted her neck to give me more access.
Which I took, greedily and without shame.
I kissed my way down her throat, scraping my teeth over her skin. She hummed in her throat, and my dick hardened in a nanosecond.
I’d probably give up everything just to spend an hour in this woman’s bed.
Even her desk would do.
“But I think I like it. Keep going,” she said breathlessly as I licked my way across her throat to the pulse hammering wildly under her jaw.
“Oh, I will.” The proximity to her lips was making me mad. “I have to kiss you.”
“For fuck’s sake, don’t ask. Just do it.”
“Not the only place I want to kiss you.” I slanted my mouth across hers and absorbed her groan like oxygen.
All at once, it was overwhelming. Just like yesterday. Wildly wandering hands competed with the desperation of my lips racing against hers. I couldn’t taste her enough. I knew I was being rough, and hell if I could stop it.
She tasted like cinnamon. Fiery
and unforgettable.
I cupped her jaw to direct her where I needed her. She opened up to me freely, lifting one of her legs to wrap around me. I was still kneeling on the floor and she was sitting on her chair, and I couldn’t keep from rocking into her, grasping for any part I could touch. The chair tried to roll away and I scrambled after her, holding on fiercely as our mouths warred with each other.
In a minute, I’d pull her down onto my lap. Finish this insanity once and for all.
The elevator dinged. It might as well have been miles away for all the attention I paid to it. Same for the sudden flurry of chimes from Ryan’s phone.
I was too preoccupied with Ryan’s lips, all luscious and wet. And her body, sensuously wrapping around mine.
Sex hex be damned. I think I loved that curse.
Then I heard a loud sniffle. And another.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Is this—are you—oh, God, are you cheating on your wife too?”
My head whipped around. My new client—at least I assumed—was sobbing into a too small tissue that allowed approximately a gallon of tears to leak onto her pale pink top.
With her hair askew and her lips swollen, Ryan rocketed back in her chair. “Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”
I was still kneeling, dizzy and half crazed, when my assistant somehow got her bearings and hurried around the desk to scoop Stacey into a hug.
“That’s okay. That’s a girl. Just let it all out. Men are pigs, aren’t they? Yes, they are.”
I cleared my throat, but no one seemed to notice me and the unattended club between my legs.
On second thought, that was a good thing when it came to Stacey. I didn’t need a lawsuit on my hands.
“I’m sorry I interrupted.” Stacey pinned me with a slightly accusing stare out of streaming eyes. “But it was just like my husband. He was screwing his secretary. Oldest cliché in the book, right?”
“She’s not my secretary.” I cleared my throat. “We aren’t…having intercourse.”
“Oh, sure, right.”
Had I ever heard a less sincere agreement? I had to say no.
Ryan didn’t seem to mind Stacey was calling our character into doubt. No, she was too busy steering her to the small sofa in the client waiting area. “Clichés exist for a reason. They happen all the time. As awful as it is, you aren’t alone, Mrs.—”