Blind Trust

by Lynda Aicher

  She studied him, another of those cryptic smiles creeping over her lips. No, there was amusement in this one, along with something he construed as respect. “That’s pretty deep, Burns.”

  He shrugged that off. “It’s all part of the job, Wakeford.” They’d shifted to the use of last names without fanfare. He liked it though, when he normally didn’t care for the implied camaraderie. But it’d already been there with her, even without the shift in names.

  “Not necessarily,” she countered, her smile softening. “But it’s nice to see that you believe it is.”

  His scowl yanked at the offended hurt he often didn’t acknowledge. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  The dismissive lift of her shoulder didn’t match the penetrating heat of her gaze. It smoothed over him on a slow shift that plucked at that damn awareness he’d tried to bank where she was concerned.

  “You don’t always come across as a warm and compassionate person,” she told him, the honesty refreshing and harsh at once.

  “I’m fully aware of that.” He’d been told so often he’d have to be stupid or in complete denial if he didn’t recognize that about himself. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand how to be.”

  “I know.”

  The soft agreement floated between them on a wave of memories he couldn’t repel. Of the passion she’d unleashed in him. Of the roar of possessiveness that’d raced forward at her first lust-filled whimper. Of the need to see her cry out in pure abandonment.

  The sun was making its descent through the fog that’d rolled in yet again. The diminished light didn’t hide the understanding that rushed between them, or the questions that came with it. Had the Boardroom really been just a moment? Could there be something more?

  How?

  “How much of your debate was based on actual experience?” she questioned, true concern and warmth in every word.

  He could shut that intrusion down with a single clipped remark. Yet within this room, with the door half-closed and the outer office drifting into a different world, his truth was safe.

  “Enough.” He could expand, but her small wince told him he didn’t have to. “You?”

  Her slow inhalation lifted her breast and softened her expression even more. There was a true sadness there when she answered. “Not nearly enough.”

  “Why do you say that?” He frowned. “Actual knowledge isn’t required for empathy.” Another fact he knew from personal experience.

  “True.” She wet her lips with that same slow glide that’d driven him mad in the Boardroom. He tracked the movement, his breath hitching against the urge to follow its retreat and rediscover every sweet, heated corner of her mouth. “But there are times when I have to step back and see that my own past and problems are so incredibly minor when compared to others.”

  “Yet we just concluded that the only one who can judge the impact of each event is the person who experienced it.” He let that stand for a long moment, curiosity bursting to learn more. What was her pain? Her history? Where did she want to go? What had she overcome to be here? “What may be perceived as minor by others could be devastating to you.”

  She swallowed. The silence stretched as she stared at him. Understanding buzzed over his skin on the energy that flowed between them and never seemed to go away.

  The distant ring of a telephone filtered into the room to remind him of where they were. The interruption was innocuous, yet highlighted the lines he’d crossed once again.

  They were at work. She was his subordinate.

  And he still wanted to sink into her until he was lost in her sweet passion once again.

  Brie cleared her throat, jerked her focus to her computer, lips compressing as she squinted at the screen.

  “Donaldson and Jackman are working through the state files to untangle the property rights,” she said, all professionalism now. Gone was the note of remembrance and the easy banter between friends.

  Ryan stared at her for another long moment, that damn regret hardening into a permanent ball in his stomach. Regrets were useless when they couldn’t be changed. Actions stood as deeds that didn’t morph with time, and he owned every one of his.

  They’d fucked in the Boardroom under the agreement of detachment, and in her case, anonymity. He’d already blown one of those terms. He refused to do so with the other.

  “Good.” The crisp snap of the word cut through the last of his useless longing. “Have them go back as far as the records provide. I don’t want a loophole being missed.” One that could benefit either side.

  “Done.”

  They worked in silence for a long while before he arched back, stretching his arms once again. The persistent pinch along his neck and shoulders rarely went away anymore. Except in the Boardroom, and he hadn’t been back since Brie.

  He was staring at her again, his gaze traveling to her without conscious thought. Her hair fell in a soft fan where she’d brushed it to one side as she read through a document. A low blush highlighted her cheeks and countered the deeper rose of her lipstick.

  It was lighter than the Boardroom shade she’d worn. More subtle. Yet it still highlighted each arch and curve to perfection.

  The outer office had gone quiet and faint shadows ran long and thin over the table from the surrounding buildings. He glanced at the time, winced.

  “You can go,” he said into the quiet.

  She straightened, blinking before she frowned. “What?”

  “It’s after seven.” He pointed to his watch. “You should go home.”

  “Oh.” She looked around, brow furrowing. “I had no idea.”

  He chuckled softly. “I understand.” He lost track of time more than he kept it when he was buried in research.

  The wrinkles disappeared from her forehead as she let a hushed laugh roll out. “I bet you do.” She started clicking away on her computer and he assumed she was shutting things down. He should do the same, or at least get back to his own work, but he didn’t. Not when each little movement she made fascinated him. There was a concise grace to everything she did. She was always so engaged in what she was doing.

  Just like in the Boardroom. Only there, every movement had been layered in passion.

  “You should go home too,” she said as she tucked her laptop into her bag and stood.

  “I will.” At some point.

  “When?” Her raised brow said she knew the answer wouldn’t be soon.

  He motioned to his computer. “After I finish this.”

  Her light chuckle should’ve irritated him. It normally would’ve—from anyone else. But she left it at that. Missing was the reprimand for not having a personal life. Yet no one complained when he won his cases or brought in a high-profile client based on his work ethic and record.

  He tracked her departure as she moved to the door. She’d worn black slacks today and paired them with a gray summer sweater that hugged her breasts. A string of pearls capped off the professional look.

  She paused at the door, her hand braced on the frame. She scanned the outer office before looking back to him. That softness was back in her expression. The one that reached beneath his defenses and warmed him when it shouldn’t.

  Her hand tightened around her bag strap, and her tongue snuck out to wet her lips. The action had become a tease that almost had him groaning with the want it stirred. He doubted it was intentional, yet the effect was the same.

  “In case you didn’t know,” she said, the throaty rumble of her words reaching out to spread the warmth through his chest, “Ryan is safe with me.”

  His heart fell to his stomach while his pulse raced in the long moment it took for him to process her words. Ryan is safe with me.

  She cracked a half-smile and left before he could respond. But what would he have said?

  He slumped forward, head braced in his hands. His heart declare
d its presence with every hard beat that nailed his ribs. He squeezed his eyes closed in a useless attempt to block the full meaning of her words.

  Ryan is safe with me.

  She’d turned his words on him with a deftness he had to admire. Which also made it impossible to misinterpret her intent, and fucked up every good intention he had when it came to Brie.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The energy of the city hit Brie the second she shoved through the revolving door and stepped onto the sidewalk. The sun was out, and the street was crowded with people hustling to their own destinations.

  She turned back to wait for Burns as he followed her outside. He adjusted his suit jacket, squinted as he glanced up, but a smile was on his face when he caught her eye. A real one.

  Her heart did that useless dip-and-flip routine she couldn’t seem to stop no matter how hard she tried. It’d been weeks, and his smile still devastated her. It changed his entire appearance and set off a wave of wild thoughts and fantasies that had zero chance of becoming reality.

  “That went well,” he said, glancing up the street.

  “Yes. It did.” His mild optimism was just one of the things she’d come to expect with him. He wasn’t a man of wide-ranging emotions, at least that he let show. “The new information will benefit our latest property findings.”

  “It does.” He nodded to her as they headed toward his car. He’d driven them across town for the deposition at the opposing counsel’s office.

  His clipped words put another smile on her face. The efficiency of his speech was a direct reflection of the man himself. Nothing was ever wasted. Not his time, thoughts or actions. And that simple fact alone irritated more people than appeased, but she liked it. It meshed with her own productive tendencies.

  She automatically slowed as he did. Her thoughts were racing ahead to the documents she needed to pull and the additional research to be done. The billable hours on this case were well beyond any she’d had under Mr. Cummings.

  Her focus jerked back to the present when Burns opened a door. He waited, brow raised.

  A quick glance at the building had her frowning. “What?”

  “Come on, Wakeford.” He motioned with his head toward the restaurant. “I’ll buy you dinner and a drink.”

  His words wouldn’t penetrate her brain. “Why?” She glanced at her watch. There were still two to three hours left of work they could get done that night.

  He stared at her, his head slowly swiveling. “It’s dinner time. I’m hungry. And there is nothing that has to be finished tonight.”

  “Oh.” That was the extent of her brilliant comeback. She stepped forward, stopped. “You don’t have to buy me dinner.” The idea of sharing a quiet meal with him bordered too close to personal territory when she was barely controlling her emotions as it was.

  Her Libido Bitch was not backing down.

  And that was creating more havoc than she wanted to admit. Because in truth, she was falling harder for him every damn day, and most of that had nothing to do with her libido. Her mother would’ve cheered if she’d known, but only if Brie “snagged” him too. That term alone gave her a gigantic reason to slap her longing down.

  He released a heavy sigh, his lips compressing in a sure sign of suppressed frustration. She’d become very familiar with that look over the last weeks.

  She bit back a smile, nodding. “Fine.” She moved forward, a quiet “thank you” sent as she passed him. She inhaled long and slow in a move that only punished herself. That distinctive scent of his cologne filtered in to tease her with the longing that never really died.

  She held both in—the air and his scent. Her stomach twisted around every promise she’d laid down for herself before she’d walked back into the office so many weeks ago.

  No lustful thoughts. No dreams. No fears. No mention of those two amazing encounters. The Boardroom had no place in the office. None. Zero. Zip.

  But those rules hadn’t stopped her from speculating every time she entered their corporate boardroom. Did those private sex events take place there? When? Did Ryan participate?

  He followed her inside, his presence tingling over her back. The continued hyperawareness of him was slowly driving her insane. And it showed no sign of diminishing anytime soon. The awareness or the insanity.

  She clutched her briefcase in her hands, nerves rattling her chest, skin stretched tight in that familiar crush of restraint. This was just a business dinner. Nothing more.

  “A table for two, please.”

  The lowered tone in his voice took her back to the Boardroom and every luscious, intimate thing he’d done to her. The rumbled groans and—God! She gave her thoughts a silent shake. She had to keep her shit together.

  The hostess led them to a table near the back. The small booth provided a sense of privacy even though the place wasn’t busy yet. More bistro than restaurant, the casual atmosphere helped set her headspace in the professional mode.

  This was very not a date. Not even close.

  She focused on the short menu, suddenly starved now that she’d stopped to notice. That usually happened, especially when she got lost in work.

  “It all looks good,” she remarked.

  “It does.”

  She looked up, heart catching when she found him studying her. The heat in his gaze had to be imagined, right? But why? Why did she keep denying what he wasn’t trying to hide?

  She lowered her menu, mouth going dry. “Have you decided?” She lifted her chin toward his menu, eyes never leaving his. She wasn’t backing down if he was issuing a challenge of some sort.

  “Do you drink wine?” he asked instead.

  Did she drink wine? In general, or with him? “Yes.”

  “Red or white?”

  “I prefer reds.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up in that quirk of a smile he used more and more around her. The amusement danced into his eyes to shove away a bit of that sizzling heat. The rich brown color had a way of drawing her in if she let it. Especially when he let his guard down, like now. Another thing that was happening more frequently.

  “You?” she asked when the silence grew.

  He lifted a shoulder. “Reds. I guess.”

  She smiled at that. “You guess?” She loved that he admitted that given the abundance of wine snobbery that prevailed in the area.

  “It’s wine,” he stated with a quick twist of his lips. The rare show of true emotion was yet another surprise. “I don’t think it requires an opinion.”

  Her laughter bubbled out in a freeing release. “I think you’re one of the few with that outlook.” Some of the tension drained from her shoulders as she settled back in the booth.

  “What’s the point in being like everyone else?” he countered before shifting his attention to their waiter.

  Burns was definitely not like anyone she knew. And there was so much about him she still didn’t know. But she wanted to, and that was a problem.

  She waited until their orders were placed and the waiter left before she questioned him on his choice of wine. “Syrah? I thought you didn’t have an opinion on wine.”

  He tipped his head, a smile forming. “Just because I don’t have an opinion doesn’t mean I’m not knowledgeable.”

  Of course it didn’t. She begrudgingly gave him that point, her own smile spreading. He could be charming when he let himself be. Kind too. Gracious and generous.

  She hunted for an inkling of the resentment or hurt that’d hammered her when she’d discovered he was her secret fantasy man. She found none. In many ways, this man sitting across from her wasn’t him. No, this man had the potential to be even more dangerous, if she wasn’t careful.

  “Is that true for a lot of things for you?” she asked. He was wicked smart, yet offered so few opinions about any topic, unlike a large majority of people in the
world today. It seemed like everyone had a judgment of some kind that they brandished on social media without fear or thought.

  “I suppose.” He loosened his tie, slipping his fingers beneath the knot to undo the top button. The move had become almost familiar to her now. He could relax, some. Even in public. “But just because I don’t share my opinion doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

  She smothered a smile. “Do you ever not debate?”

  “Yes.” He waited a beat, face serious. “But it’s more fun if I do.”

  “For you, maybe.”

  He nodded, smiling just a touch. “Sometimes that’s the only fun I have.”

  “Ouch.” Her reflexive thought was out before she’d thought better of it. Was he serious? How...sad. Her heart went out to him when she knew it shouldn’t. But how could it not?

  “Why ouch?” His brows dipped, his fingers curling into a fist.

  How did she answer without sounding patronizing? “What do you like to do in your spare time?” she asked instead, hoping to dodge his question.

  “What does it matter?”

  “Just answer me.” She leaned in, intrigued now. “What else occupies your time?”

  The corner of his mouth turned up, a hint of mischief lighting his eyes. “Now you’re assuming that what occupies my time is also something I like to do.”

  Her groan was long and tortured as she slumped back in the booth. She leveled a glare at him. “You can be so infuriating.”

  “I’ve been told that once or twice.” His serious note left her pondering the depth of his meaning once again. Did he ever really open up?

  Yes. In the Boardroom.

  She’d felt the depth and passion he didn’t seem to show anywhere else, not even in the courtroom.

  Her phone buzzed in her bag, sending a jolt of annoyance through her. She’d turned her phone back on after the deposition and now wished she hadn’t.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. She glanced at the text alert only long enough to see her mother’s name. There’d been three waiting for her earlier, all having to do with yet another “eligible” son of so-and-so.