A humorless smile curled his lips. “Great pillow talk, Leslie.”
“It’s not like we’re lovers.” It was just as much to remind myself as anything.
A muscle in his jaw pulsed, but he shrugged casually. “True. Just a couple of acquaintances. We had a couple of good hard fucks, right?”
“They were very good.” My heart stuttered and blood rushed to heat my cheeks, but I didn’t look away from him. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have questions I need to ask as your lawyer. I figured I might as well get some of them out of the way.”
“Sure. Why not?”
He was quiet for a moment, and I watched as he got an omelet started. “It took two tries before I kicked everything, but I was clean before Carter was born. I…well, I grew up seeing my parents abuse drugs, each other…me.”
He shrugged, the motion lacking his normal, smooth grace. That told me more than his words how much he hated talking about it.
“I told myself that if I ever had kids, that wouldn’t be me. Of course, I also told myself I wouldn’t get hooked on shit like they did, and what did I do? But at least I was able to quit.”
He was smiling to himself now, and the love in that smile told me exactly who he was thinking of.
“You had a good reason to quit.”
He looked up at me. “Yeah. The best. But I had to do it for me, first. I promised myself I’d do better than my parents, and I am. Of course, some wild animals eat their young, and they would make better parents than my folks did.” He flipped the omelet, silent for a few moments before continuing. “Once I was able to stop, though, for good, the world was more real. Things were clearer, music was better, and I found myself wondering why I’d ever gone down that rabbit hole to begin with.”
“Did you ever figure that out?”
“It was easier.” He shrugged. “No one thing set me off. I’d have some weed here, some coke there. Then I was using more and more, and before I knew it, I was addicted. Then Brinke and I got together and we were both using and…”
He blew out a breath and turned away, grabbed a couple of plates from a glass-fronted cabinet.
Once we were sitting down, he looked at me. “Next question?”
Laughing, I said, “I think that will do it for now. I need to eat and then get out of here. It’s way past time to go.”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but he just nodded. Part of me wished he'd argued, but we both knew the truth of it. Our time together had pretty much come to an end.
And that was for the best.
Chapter Seventeen
Leslie
We ate in silence, and although the omelet was delicious, I was only able to eat half of what he gave me. I wasn't nauseous, but I didn't have my usual appetite. When I couldn't eat anymore, I stood, intending to take my plate into the kitchen when we both heard the door open.
Shit.
Paxton set his jaw and stood up, his eyes skimming me from top to bottom.
Bad enough that I’d slept with him, but it was pretty obvious – or at least it was to me – that I’d spent the night. He bent down, scooped up the jacket I’d draped over my file bag and helped me slip into it. “Let me handle this.”
My gut twisted into hot, slippery knots as I reached for my coffee so I could have something in my hands.
The woman who appeared in the doorway bore little resemblance to the glamorous creature featured next to Paxton in online promo shots. Although she was still lovely, she was too thin, her eyes sunken, face gaunt. I could still see the resemblance to Carter though.
Pale blue eyes skewered me. “Who the fuck are you?”
Before I could answer, Paxton rested a hand on my shoulder. “Brinke, this is Leslie. She’s a lawyer handling some issues we’ve been having...” He stopped abruptly and laughed, not even trying to disguise the brittle sound of it. “What in the hell do you care? You haven't bothered to show up for anything on our new album.”
I had to appreciate the skillful way he'd implied I was a studio lawyer without actually saying it. While I doubted she'd made the distinction when she finally did find out, she couldn't say he'd actually lied about who I was.
He moved past me and opened the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water. “Guess I ought to start looking for another backup singer. Raina and Leona can’t do it all.”
Color flooded her face, hot little splotches that rode her cheekbones and accentuated the hollows there. She was thin, almost to the point of skeletal with shadows under her eyes. She was still very pretty, but it was obvious she was no longer using drugs, they were using her. Using her up.
“I haven’t been feeling well, you know that.” She gave him an imploring look and ignored me. That was good.
“Seems to be a lot of that. You aren’t feeling well, Darla isn’t either. Kind of weird, how she had to have her appendix removed twice.” He shot her a cutting look.
I pretended to be enraptured with my coffee, not wanting to draw attention to myself. But from under my lashes, I watched Brinke’s face, saw the way her lids flickered, saw understanding in her eyes, and then something else.
“Oh, honey…” She smiled and walked up to him.
My temper sparked as she started to curl her arms around him, but he stopped her, grabbing her wrists before she touched him.
Brinke gave him a mock pout and then glanced over at me, winking. “He doesn’t like public displays of affection.” Sighing lustily, she moved back to the island and sat down, picking up his mostly untouched coffee and drinking it. Then she cut into his omelet. “It wasn’t Darla last year. It was Daria. I must have mistyped when I sent you the text. I was so upset at the time…”
She slid him a look, trying to gauge his response. He turned away, a disgusted noise escaping him.
I saw the way her mouth tightened, and then, for a brief moment, our eyes connected. The vitriol I saw there probably would have made a lot of people leery. I thought about Carter, how hurt she’d been by her mom taking off. I thought about Paxton, and how much he hated what he had to do. But I couldn't react to her the way I wanted to, couldn't react like the woman who hated everything Brinke had done to her family. Slowly, I lifted my coffee cup to my lips. Over the rim, I smiled at her.
“Just what exactly do we need a lawyer for anyway? Everything’s going fine with the album, isn’t it?” Brinke demanded, her voice going from cajoling to commanding.
“I need a lawyer because there are issues I want looked at,” Paxton said evenly.
The speculation in her eyes grew, and I could tell right away she was already suspicious. Not good. The evasive shit wasn’t going to fly.
“Licensing.” I cut Brinke off when she started to ask another question. Me lying to her was different than him doing it. “There were licensing issues early on in Mr. Gorham’s career, and I’m taking another look.”
“We do this every year.” She rolled her eyes.
“Sooner or later, we’ll get it to go the way we want to.” Paxton smiled at me faintly over her head. I could see the relief in his eyes that I'd spoken out.
“You oughta just let it go. You waste more money on the damn lawyers than it’s worth. So, there are a few songs that you got fucked over on. Big deal. You make more than enough to make up for those. Besides, lawyers will screw you in the end anyway. They are all a bunch of crooks and liars.”
I could feel my smile tightening.
She dismissed me and turned to Paxton. “Listen, honey, with everything that happened yesterday, I wasn’t able to take Carter out, and I want to make it up to her.”
“Do you think you can?” Paxton leaned back against the counter.
I eyed my bag and wondered if I’d be able to grab it, and make it out the door without being drawn into this.
“Don’t be like that.” Brinke waved a hand. “Kids are resilient.”
“That doesn’t mean you treat them like shit,” he growled.
“I had an emergency!” she snapped. T
hen, she stopped, sucking in a deep breath of air. “Okay. Okay. I’m not here to fight. I want to take Carter out today. We’ll go to the park, grab some lunch, maybe even find a different show out on Broadway.”
“Mommy?”
Shit.
Paxton muttered something that didn't sound like English under his breath as a sleepy, pj-clad Carter appeared in the doorway.
Her eyes landed on Brinke and she rushed over to her.
Brinke, to her credit, leaped up and caught the child, swinging her up into the air. The smile on her face looked real and she pressed a loud kiss to Carter’s cheek. Even I could tell the affection was genuine.
“My baby girl. I’m so sorry about yesterday. A friend got super sick. Please say you’re not mad at Mommy.”
“I’m not mad.” Carter rested her head on Brinke’s shoulder. “I was sad for a little while, but Daddy and I had fun anyway. I watched the play online because I didn't think we were going to get to see it.”
“Smart girl.”
I wonder if Brinke had any idea what Carter’s statements said about her belief in her mother as a parent in general. It sure as hell didn’t say good things.
Carter started to say something else, but she glanced my way, and whatever she’d been going to say ended in a squeal. “Leslie!”
A moment later, she was running toward me, and I self-consciously hugged her around the shoulders as she pressed her face to my belly. “Hi, there, Carter.”
“Mommy! This is Leslie! She went to the fireworks with me and Daddy!”
When Brinke looked at me this time, there was an all-new level of hatred in her eyes. I simply stared back, working to keep my face blank. I wasn't going to give her anything.
“So, you went to the fireworks with them and are back here bright and early? Wow. You’re one dedicated lawyer,” she said, her voice full of venom.
“By the time we got back, the storm had settled in,” Paxton said flatly. “There were flash flood warnings and the wind was hell. Leslie used the other guest bedroom. Feel free to get all paranoid about that, Brinke. It’s your favorite thing to do.”
She continued to stare at me for a long moment.
Finally, she cut the connection and looked at Carter. “Come on, sugar. We need to get you dressed so we can hit the town.”
They started out, but before Brinke got out of the room, Paxton caught her arm and leaned in. “Carter, you head on up, Mommy will be there in a minute.”
Once she was gone, I pretended not to hear as Paxton softly said, “Alex is going with you.”
Brinke’s eyes narrowed. “I can spend the day with my kid without a chaperone, Pax.”
“Yeah? Since when? The last time you were alone with her, you got so stoned, you ended up passed out on the bathroom floor.” He took a step toward her. “Alex goes, or Carter doesn’t. Take your choice.”
“Fine.” Brinke rolled her eyes. “It’s better if she comes anyway. She handles Carter better when the kid gets whiny.”
Wow. Talk about mom of the year.
“Listen to me, Brinke. I'm not playing around. You will stay sober today. You won’t do drugs. If you get high or even have a single drink, I’ll know, and I’ll have your ass locked up. You will not do that shit around her. Not again.”
She rolled her eyes and jerked her arm away. “I know how to take care of our baby, Pax.”
* * *
I didn’t leave right away. It seemed a little too obvious to just sneak out right after we’d managed to come up with such a convincing story. I was torn between guilt and aggravation as I drank another cup of coffee, watching as Paxton busied himself with washing up the dishes.
He seemed comfortable doing it, almost happy to have something to do with his hands, although his gaze kept straying toward the hall and I knew he was thinking about Carter…and Brinke.
When he heard them coming downstairs, he moved away from the sink to the fridge, grabbing something from inside it before heading out of the room.
I heard them talking but stayed where I was.
Brinke’s voice carried, and I had to grit my teeth as she snapped, “I can handle it, Paxton.”
I had no idea what she was going on about, nor did I really care, but I wondered if she had to handle everything like such an uber-bitch. The part of me that felt sorry for her was getting smaller all the time.
There was a lower, softer voice, and then Paxton laughed. “Yeah, kid. I know you’re a big girl. Getting too big, if you ask me. Have fun, okay? Call me if you need me.”
They appeared in the doorway of the kitchen a moment later, and Carter trotted over to a cabinet, a backpack dangling from one hand. She waved at me before opening the cabinet and reaching inside.
“Gotta get my snacks,” she said seriously while Brinke rolled her eyes from the hall. At least there wasn't anything malicious about it.
Alex smiled at me and spoke softly to Paxton while Carter tucked a few things into her backpack. Her, I liked.
“You two have fun dealing with that…licensing issue.” Brinke gave me a simpering smile, and the snide tone in her voice rubbed me wrong.
Paxton moved back to the counter and sat down across from me, drawing Brinke's attention to him. “I’d invite you to hang around, but we both know how you hate discussing business. You just enjoy spending the money.”
“It’s just that you’re so much better at all that boring stuff, sweetheart.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed, and I recognized the signs of an old argument easy enough. She spun around, Carter’s hand in hers while Alex flanked Carter’s other side, already chatting. A few seconds later, they were all gone.
Paxton and I were now alone.
Seconds ticked by and he kept his head cocked, listening.
“Think she’s going to come back to try and catch us in a lie?”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t put it past her.” Another minute or so went by before he seemed to relax, and then he gave me a slow smile. “Licensing issues. That was fast thinking.”
I shrugged. “Not so much. I read up about you – part of the job – and I remembered reading that you had some issues with the first music label you signed with. It was the first thing that came to mind. I'm just glad she didn’t push for details.”
“She wouldn’t have. Like I already mentioned, business isn’t her thing.” His mouth twisted again and he looked irritated all over again.
Reaching out, I touched his hand. It wasn't a good idea, but I hated seeing him upset way more than I should have. “What is it?”
He twined our fingers together, rubbing his thumb across my skin. “Nothing.” He continued to stroke my palm, and after a moment, his gaze slid up to mine.
The heat in his eyes scorched me, and I started to tug my hand away. “I should go.”
Chapter Eighteen
Leslie
“Why?” He lifted my hand to his lips, kissed the inside of my wrist. “There’s no reason for our day to end. Not now. We've got at least half a day to ourselves.”
My heart leaped up at the press of his lips, flipped around a few times inside my chest, and my body started to go molten as the heat from his kiss spread. My common sense, however, was kicking me in the ass. “Didn’t we already agree this was stupid?”
“Yes,” he said amicably. “We agreed that last night. It didn’t stop us then. You going to let it get in the way now?”
I should. I knew that. But in the end, I just shook my head and reached for him. I'd never wanted anyone as badly as I wanted him. He grabbed my hips and picked me up, sitting me on the table even as I tore at his shirt.
His hands went to the hem of my shirt, yanking it over my head, and taking my mouth only seconds later. His lips were hard against mine, his tongue greedy as it swept into my mouth. We only broke apart to deal with the rest of our clothes, and then he was inside me again. There was no foreplay, no gentle caresses. This was need, fierce and primal. I clung to his body, wrapping my legs around his wais
t and matching him thrust for thrust as best I could without falling off the table.
The fire inside me was blazing, licking across my skin until I was burning. I felt the orgasm building inside me, relentless. His teeth scraped across my bottom lip and I bit his in return. I dug my fingers into his hair even as one of his hands moved between us. It squeezed my breast, fingers twisting and tugging at my nipple until the pain-laced pleasure sent me rocketing over the edge.
I tightened around him as I started to come, and suddenly, he froze.
“Son of a bitch!”
He pulled out of me with an urgency that left me floundering, my now-empty pussy spasming as he came too...on my belly. Semen jetted all over my lower abdomen and trickled down as I stared at him. It took my brain a long moment to catch up and realize what we’d done.
“Fuck,” he said, panting. “Damn it, Les. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I…”
I reached up, touched his cheek, drawing his attention to me.
“There are two of us here. I’m just as capable of thinking as you are, and I didn't remember either. I’m clean. I get checked regularly. You…?”
His face was still tight. “As far as I know. I get checked every few months. I…” He blew out a breath and reached up, cupping my face. “That’s supposed to be a thing of the past when you’re married, but…”
I didn't need him to say it. Instead, I did. “Brinke.”
“Brinke,” he agreed.
Despite the circumstances, I allowed myself to enjoy watching his ass flex as he walked over to the sink and grabbed a paper towel, then wet it under the faucet. He washed himself, and then came over with a new one. I shivered under his touch as he gently cleaned me. Neither of us spoke, but I knew he had something he wanted to say.
After he’d disposed of the towel, he came back to me and rested his hands on my thighs.
“The room we were in earlier, that’s been mine pretty much since my family moved here. My marriage is over.”
The Client: Short And Steamy Page 17