by Blake, Jill
He bent his head, trying to catch her gaze. “You okay?”
She forced herself to release her death grip on his jacket. “You’d better go.”
His muscles tensed and for a split second she thought he would refuse. Her pulse picked up. Did she really want him to leave? Every part of her screamed in protest. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted, dreamed of, since the first moment she’d clapped eyes on him as a gawky eighteen-year-old at her sister’s wedding?
And then he’d gone and ruined it by hooking up with some big-breasted bimbo who didn’t seem to mind getting fucked in a coat closet by a stranger.
“If that’s what you want,” he said, stepping back.
No. Her fingers itched to grab hold of his tie and pull him back. Oh, God. She really needed to have her head examined.
He retrieved her keys and bag from where they’d fallen. Numbly, she accepted them, and watched as he retreated down the stairs.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I need a favor.” Angie dropped into the visitor chair in front of her partner’s desk.
Naomi glanced up from her computer. “What is it?”
“You know the CEQA case I’m working on?”
“The one with the uncooperative defense attorney you keep ranting about?”
“Yeah, that one.” Angie picked at a loose cuticle. “Can you take over as attorney of record?”
Naomi set aside the brief she’d been reading. “What happened?”
“Nothing. If you can’t do it, it’s okay. I’ll ask Cheryl.”
“Cheryl’s about to pop any day now.”
Not quite true—their partner’s due date was still a couple months away. But given Angie’s uncertainty over how long this case might last, she had to admit that Cheryl probably wasn’t an ideal choice.
Naomi pulled off her reading glasses. “Besides, I didn’t say no. I just want to know what’s going on. I’m not in the habit of walking into anything blind.”
That was what Angie appreciated most about Naomi, who at thirty-six was the oldest of the three partners. She was even-tempered, thought carefully before she acted, and could always be relied on to provide the voice of reason.
Which made it doubly hard for Angie to fess up to what she was feeling. She’d spent the last two days brooding over the kiss. If not for her Jimmy Choos, which had left her toes exposed and vulnerable to injury from the weight of a bag full of files and a sharp set of keys, Angie wasn’t sure where that kiss might have led.
And therein lay the problem. Despite being on opposite sides of the case, despite having personally witnessed Zach’s modus operandi with women, despite having it from his own lips that he wasn’t interested in anything long-term, Angie didn’t think she had it in her to turn him down. Not if he really pressed.
“Hello.” Naomi snapped her fingers in the air. “Earth to Angie.”
“I’ve lost my objectivity.” Angie frowned. “I’m afraid I’m going to make a mistake.”
“Because…?”
“My sister’s first husband was Roger Landry. As in Stewart & Landry. There was some bad blood there, especially after he died.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Tom Stewart, the company’s CEO, is a good guy. But his son, Zach…”
“The defense attorney?”
“Yes. He’s—” she broke off, at a loss for words.
“A pain in the ass?” Naomi suggested.
“Well, yes.”
“Most men are. Was there something else?”
“Maybe.” She shifted, crossed her legs, and smoothed the gray wool material of her pencil skirt. “I’m having trouble staying focused. When he’s in the room, all I want to do is…”
“Strangle him?”
“That too.”
Naomi studied her. “Are we talking conflict of interest here?”
“Maybe.”
“Are you dating him?”
“No.”
“But you want to?”
“No.” At Naomi’s raised brow, Angie amended, “Not exactly.”
“Does he?”
Angie gave a one-shouldered shrug.
Naomi picked up her glasses and pulled a tissue from a nearby box to polish the lenses. “Do you think he’s setting you up? Playing you so that you’ll push your client toward a more favorable settlement?”
The thought had occurred to her, but hearing Naomi voice it out loud pushed it a step closer from possible to probable. She took a deep breath. “If that’s his strategy, he doesn’t know me at all.”
Naomi glanced at her. “You have an ethical obligation to disclose any potential conflict of interest to your client. And getting romantically involved with opposing counsel is a doozy.”
“I’m not planning on going there.”
“Fine.” Naomi settled the glasses back on her nose. “But remember that real estate and environmental law aren’t exactly my areas of expertise. Trusts and estate planning—that I can do with my eyes closed.”
“I’ll take care of all the scut work,” Angie promised. “Any research, briefs, motions that you need, just let me know.”
“I have a few hearings coming up that I can’t get out of.”
“No worries.” Angie rose. “We’ll work around them.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“The next deposition’s on Monday. I can bring you up to date this afternoon, if you have time.”
“Three o’clock?”
“Thanks, Naomi. I owe you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Zach couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t figured Angie for a coward. Yet how else was he to interpret the fact that she’d pawned off his father’s deposition on a colleague?
He kept glancing at the door, as if hoping she’d experience a change of heart and rush in, all flustered and apologetic. But the conference room door remained closed, and Naomi Katz continued to work through a seemingly endless list of questions.
Had he mistaken the situation? He could have sworn the interest was mutual. A woman didn’t get that flustered over a simple kiss unless she was seriously attracted. Or a virgin. And there was no way in hell Angie was still a virgin.
So what was the problem? They’d known each other for years, their social and professional circles overlapping repeatedly through family connections and the small world of L.A.’s civil courts. Frankly, it was amazing that they hadn’t gotten together long before this. He’d toyed with the idea on and off. But back when they’d first met, Angie had been too young—if not jail-bait, then certainly inexperienced enough that even at the height of his hormone-driven debauchery, he knew to keep his hands off.
After that, the timing had never been quite right. Or perhaps he’d shied away because avoidance of involvement was preferable to dealing with the fallout of a failed relationship. Facing his father’s disappointment would have been bad enough. But the possibility of running into Angie at some legal function and having to deal with wounded looks or recriminations kept him from giving in to temptation.
So what had changed? Was it their enforced proximity as a result of this case? Or the fact that she seemed to take inordinate pleasure in egging him on?
They’d locked horns before, over her sister Eva’s situation four years ago. Back then, all their negotiations had taken place in the presence of a third party—usually Zach’s dad or Angie’s sister. This time, however, they seemed to clash with increasing frequency without the restraining influence of family or other witnesses.
Was that all it took to fire his libido to the point where he was ready to throw all self-restraint out the window?
Or was there something else at play, something that had less to do with their battle of wills than with his own brewing sense of dissatisfaction?
Here he was, thirty-five years old, with a successful career, a healthy investment portfolio, a luxurious home in one of the most beautiful places on Earth, and a little black book that any red-blooded male would envy.
He should be feeling on top of the w
orld. Instead, he felt restless. Bored. Lonely. Wondering what he was missing.
Lately, the only time he didn’t feel that way was in Angie’s company. With her he felt invigorated, the anticipation and nervous energy fizzing in his veins as if he’d just downed a double dose of caffeine.
How fucked up was that?
And now she’d gone and pulled a disappearing act on him, sending some stern-faced substitute in her place.
“Mr. Stewart,” the woman said, the sudden sharpness of her tone pulling Zach from his thoughts. “How many times have you been sued for CEQA violations?”
“Objection,” Zach said. “Harassing.”
The woman frowned. “Do you recall the lawsuit filed against S&L six years ago by the Citizens’ Coalition for a Livable City?”
“Yes.”
“Here is a copy of the complaint, submitted as Exhibit E. Can you summarize, for the record, the terms of your settlement agreement with the plaintiff?”
Zach opened his mouth to object, but his dad beat him to it. “Sorry, Ms. Katz. As I’m sure you’re aware, the terms of that settlement were confidential.”
The woman continued to hammer Tom with questions until Zach finally requested a short break.
He didn’t know if it was his imagination or the harsh fluorescent lighting in the room, but his dad seemed to have aged a decade overnight. There were deep grooves around his mouth and dark bags beneath his eyes that Zach didn’t remember being there before.
Later that afternoon, after the deposition concluded and the room cleared out, Zach followed his father to the café on the ground floor.
“Doc said you should lay off the caffeine,” he reminded Tom.
“A man’s gotta have some vices, kid. I gave up cigarettes, salt, and booze. What’s left?”
Zach swapped his decaf for Tom’s espresso. “Women?”
That earned him a small chuckle.
They found an empty corner table. Tom took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “How long do you think this travesty will last?”
Zach wished he had an answer. As far as he was concerned, it had already dragged on too long. The lawsuit was taking a toll on Tom’s health, S&L’s bottom line, and Zach’s patience. And the woman behind it, even when she wasn’t physically present, was seriously messing with Zach’s head. Not to mention his libido.
“I don’t know, Dad.” He finished off his espresso and set the cup down on the table with a decisive thud. “I think it’s time I paid Angie another visit.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The receptionist buzzed her. “There’s a Zachary Stewart here to see you.”
Why was she not surprised? It was too much to expect that Zach would silently accept her decision to step aside. Especially if Naomi was right, and his sudden sexual interest in her was motivated by a desire to compromise her fiduciary duty to her client.
Too bad. Because buried beneath a thick layer of cynicism, there was still a tiny part of her that believed in moonlit kisses and fairy dust.
“Send him in,” she said.
The door opened, and he strode into the office as if he owned it.
“Zach.” She rose, keeping her desk as a buffer between them. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
He subjected her to the same slow, thorough scrutiny she had given him that first day, when he’d burst into her office on a wave of outrage over the lawsuit.
“You look well,” he said at length.
He’d come here to exchange niceties? Okay, she’d play along. “Thank you. So do you.”
“I thought maybe you’d come down with something. A cold or flu.”
Ah, so that was his game: he was giving her an out. How generous. And unexpected. But she couldn’t hide behind a fake respiratory bug forever. And she hated lying.
“More like an attack of conscience,” she said.
“Really. And your conscience didn’t bother you when you pawned off today’s deposition on an underling?”
“Naomi isn’t an underling. She’s a founding partner of this firm.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you weren’t there.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Unlike some people, I know how to recognize a conflict of interest.”
His eyes narrowed. “So you’re giving up.”
“No. I’m simply stepping aside so my partner can take over the case.”
“Because of what happened last week.”
She gritted her teeth. “Because of what almost happened last week.”
“Are you angry because I kissed you?” He stepped around the desk. “Or because I stopped?”
She wanted to smack him. “Naomi’s married. Happily married.”
“And your point is?”
“You won’t be able to seduce her into compromising the case.”
The words halted his advance. “You think this is about the case?”
She lowered her arms and took a step back. “Isn’t it?”
“You have a pretty low opinion of me, don’t you?” He started moving again, a hunter stalking his prey. “And of yourself, for that matter, if you think I would fake interest in you just to win a case.”
“We’ve known each other for thirteen years, Zach, and this is the first time you’ve ever even given me a second look.”
“Not true.”
She backed up, straight into the low filing cabinet that ran perpendicular to her desk. “What, are you going to rewrite history now?”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Angel, and you know it.” He boxed her in against the hard wooden surface behind her. “Of course I’m attracted to you. And whether you want to admit it or not, you’re attracted to me.”
His hand found her hip, scorching her skin through the lightweight wool of her skirt. Panic mixed with desire sent her pulse skittering. She pressed her palm against his chest and shoved. “Stop it. This is neither the time nor the place.”
He didn’t budge. “Then you tell me what is. Name it, I’ll be there.”
His eyes bored into hers, the blue all but swallowed by dark pupil. She blinked, breaking the connection. Someone had to put on the brakes. “Zach, listen to me. If there’s something worth pursuing here, it’ll keep. At least until after this case gets resolved.”
He leaned down, lips grazing her ear. “You know lawsuits can drag on for years.”
She shivered. “True. But do you really want this one to?”
“No.” His breath whispered along the column of her throat, to the pulse-point beating frantically just above her clavicle. “Do you?”
She felt her eyelids droop. “No.”
“So what do we do?” The hand at her hip tightened, pulling her closer, until he was right there, pressing against her, hard and unmistakable even through multiple layers of clothing.
Her fingers, caught between them, slid up his chest to his shoulder, digging into the muscles that tightened beneath her touch.
He groaned and buried his free hand in her hair, tugging until she arched back and gave him greater access. His lips traced a slow path up her neck, sending ripples of heat to her core.
“Zach,” she breathed.
His teeth nipped the sensitive skin just beneath her ear.
“Oh, God.” Desire shuddered through her. How long had it been since she’d felt like this? Months? Years? Surely whatever they’d been arguing about could wait…
He released her hip, skimming his hand over her ass and down the back of her thigh, lifting her leg as far as the pencil skirt would allow.
He cursed and pulled back slightly to assess the material getting in his way.
That momentary pause was enough to bring Angie to her senses. Or at least dampen the flames sufficiently to allow her to push Zach away. He clearly wasn’t expecting the move. That was probably the only reason it worked. He stumbled back a step, and she slipped out of his grasp, past the executive chair that he’d rolled aside earlier, and around to the other side of the desk.
“Don�
��t even think it,” she warned, when he made a move to follow.
“Angel…”
“No.” She backed up toward the door. “I mean it. Don’t come any closer.”
“You’re killing me here.”
“You know the issues, Zach.” She fumbled blindly for the doorknob. Her fingers found the heavy brass handle and she felt a surge of relief tinged with just a hint of disappointment.
He took a deep breath. “It might be better if you spelled them out, Angel.”
“Like…now?”
That brought a wry smile to his lips. “I think we could both use a break to clear our heads. And you know what they say about things done in haste.”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “You want me to draft a settlement proposal?”
“That would be good.”
“I’ll still need my client’s approval.”
“Whatever it takes, Angel.” He approached her slowly. “Just do it. We can always work through the details later.”
“No guarantees,” she said. “But I’ll try.”
With each step, she could feel her body tensing up, like a violin string getting pulled tauter with every twist of the tuning peg.
She tugged open the door and stepped back, giving him plenty of room to pass by.
He paused in front of her. “I’ll request a voluntary settlement conference with the judge. A couple weeks, okay?”
She nodded.
Before she could even think to protest, he leaned in and brushed her lips with a soft kiss. And then he was gone.
In a daze, she closed the door and slumped against it.
What had she just agreed to?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“You sure you don’t want one?” Angie said. “Last chance.”
Naomi shook her head and watched Angie devour a double-chocolate cupcake with caramel sea salt frosting. “How can you eat like that and not get fat?”
Angie licked a dollop of frosting from her finger. “Just lucky, I guess. Plus I run every morning, do Pilates twice a week, and hike on weekends.”