by J. H. Croix
He stood and tossed the small ball into a basket in the corner. “Great work at practice today. Do me a favor and stay out of trouble, okay?”
I stood as he rounded his desk. “Of course. I won’t even go to any pubs for now,” I said, thinking it chafed to feel like some arse who’d been drunk and stupid.
I left his office and strolled down the hall to find my flat mate. I cornered the door into the locker room and almost collided with him.
“Eh, mate. Just coming to find you,” I said as I turned to walk alongside him.
Tristan Wells glanced to me, flashing a slight grin. For him, that was downright cheery. He was low-key, probably why he and I ended up such good mates. Tristan had signed with the Stars when I did, along with two other teammates from Britain. I’d known Liam and Alex back at university and ended up on a team in Britain with them after a stint with another that didn’t go so well. We’d done the university bit together, so we knew each other well. Tristan was the brainiest of us all, hence why he hadn’t been at university with us. Rather, he’d been at Oxford being brilliant. He also happened to be brilliant at football. At first, I’d considered him stuffy. He was bloody quiet. As I’d gotten to know him, I discovered he had a wicked, sly humor and wasn’t the least bit stuffy.
He stayed quiet as we walked down the long stadium hallway, our footsteps echoing as we followed the curve of the hall to the doors. We stepped out into a rare, sunny afternoon for Seattle. Only then did Tristan speak.
“How’d it go with Coach?” he asked.
“Eh, fine,” I replied with a shrug. “Said what I expected him to say. I shan’t be having any nights out until this all goes away.”
We commenced to walk to our flat. No surprise, but Tristan was quiet for a few moments. Every so often, I considered how surprising it might seem we’d become best mates. I’d be the first to admit, I was wild, flirty, teasing and generally out for fun however I could find it. Tristan, on the other hand, was somehow managing to balance a career in professional football whilst finishing his medical degree.
I loved women. Bloody hell did I love women. Tristan, on the other hand, seemed too damn busy to find time for them. He reminded me of Alex Gordon, another of our mates from Britain. Alex had approached sex like a business transaction back in London. An itch to be scratched and nothing more. Well, he’d gone and fallen like a rock for his girl Harper, but that was another thing.
Me? I loved sex, and I loved women. As much and as often as I could find them. I hadn’t given myself the nicknames stuck to me in the press, but I didn’t mind them. Magnum followed me from London, an ode to the condoms a woman had quite publicly given to me after a night together. Golden Boy Brit had been added to the list when I moved here. That one amused me less so, nothing more than a silly play off my hair. My sisters, all four of them, loved teasing me with that one.
Tristan seemed mildly amused by all of this. He was the best kind of mate. He never hesitated to pick up the phone, including the other night when I needed someone sensible to straighten out my unintended mess. As we came to a stop at a cross street, he glanced my way. “Right then. You’d best find another way to meet women. Else you’ll drive me mad moping about the flat,” he said with a gleam in his hazel eyes.
I elbowed him in the side as we started walking again. “I don’t need a pub to meet women.”
He flashed another grin. “Aye, you don’t. So who’s the poor lawyer that had to go meet you there last night?”
By the time I made it home last night, Tristan had been asleep, understandably so. He’d been up and gone by the time I woke up, so practice today was the first place we’d spent more than a few minutes together.
“Same lawyer who handled Alex’s case. Zoe Lawson.”
Just saying her name made me jumpy. Bloody hell. I wanted to see her again.
“Ah, the pretty redhead?”
The second Tristan asked his question, hot jealousy coiled inside. Hot on its heels was me wondering what the hell was going on. I didn’t get jealous. Hell, I thought all men should appreciate women. I’d even tried to set Tristan up with a few women who were down for nothing but a little fun. To no avail, of course. But still. I wasn’t that guy who growled about a girl and chased other guys off. I figured it was easy come, easy go.
Apparently not with Zoe. Bloody hell.
I chided myself and told myself not to be crazy. Just because Tristan happened to notice Zoe was pretty didn’t mean much of anything.
“Aye, the pretty redhead. Legs that go on for days,” I finally managed, striving for casual.
We reached the steps to our building. Tristan glanced to me again, his gaze too sharp, too assessing. I ignored it as we walked into our flat. He tossed his keys on the table and kicked his shoes off. Our flat had an expansive living room and kitchen with sunlight spilling through the front windows and gleaming on the hardwood floors. To say our furnishings were minimalist might have been an understatement. We had a black sectional couch, a coffee table and a flat-screen television mounted on the back wall. The kitchen conveniently came with an island counter with stools for seating, so we didn’t even have to bother with a table and chairs. Otherwise, we had our two bedrooms and a bathroom. We were both tidy. I loathed a messy place.
I kicked my shoes off and headed straight to the kitchen. I was bone tired from not much sleep and practice, so I started up some coffee. Tristan followed me over and slipped into a stool, running a hand through his black curls.
“I’d say you might have a thing for Zoe,” he said. Out of the blue as far as I was concerned.
My pulse took off like a rocket, and I was relieved my back was to him. I bought myself a moment getting the water poured into the coffeemaker. Just enough time for me to talk my body down. It was bloody ridiculous the effect Zoe had on me. It occurred to me suddenly that last night, or this morning if that how you wanted to look at it, was the first time I’d actually been alone with her for more than a few minutes. My few and far between encounters with her before had always been in the company of Alex when he was dealing with his case last fall. Save when I’d impulsively kissed her in that hallway, which had been maybe a minute tops.
I tapped the button to start the coffee and turned to face Tristan, curling my hands over the counter as I did. It chafed at me to be bothered by his comment. Usually, I gave as good as I got, especially when it came to teasing about women. I’d managed to get my pulse to stop running about like a wild man, so I took that as a win. I met Tristan’s gaze and knew in a flash he knew perfectly well I was bothered by Zoe. Fuck it. If I trusted anyone, it was Tristan.
“Perhaps I do,” I said with a shrug, unable to resist the urge to sound as if it was nothing.
Tristan idly twirled a salt-shaker in his hand as he eyed me. I’d say he looked thoughtful, but he always looked thoughtful because he was one of the most sensible, thoughtful men I knew.
“Wouldn’t be a bad thing to like a woman like her,” he said. “That said, I don’t think Zoe Lawson would fall for your fun and games. You’d have to take her seriously.”
Oh, he had no idea how seriously I took Zoe. I’d felt many things in life, but uncertainty was not one of them. I ignored it because there was nothing else to do about a feeling like that. At least, not that I knew.
“Of course,” I replied, bouncing my heel against the cabinet behind me. I took a breath and eyed Tristan, calling on the me I knew so well, the one who wasn’t rattled by any woman. “Perhaps she needs to stop taking life so seriously?”
Tristan set the salt-shaker down and pushed off of his stool. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you might need a change of pace.”
That left me speechless and unsettled. When I didn’t reply, he started walking toward the bathroom. “I’m hitting the shower. My arm took a blow at practice today, and I could use more steam,” he called over his shoulder.
I watched him walk away, annoyed with my irritation at him and at how unsettled I felt about his last comment. As s
oon as he disappeared from sight, I recalled Zoe’s flushed cheeks and the feel of her silky skin under my fingertip. That one touch—a drag of my finger down her cheek and neck—and just thinking about it got me hard. Fuck it. I had good reason to go find her, so I would. I turned off the coffee and hollered to Tristan I was taking off.
Chapter 4
Zoe
“You can’t be serious,” I said.
“Zoe, I’m serious,” Ted Duncan said. “Let me talk to my client and…”
“Ted, it’s total bullshit and you know it. There are about thirty witnesses who said your client punched my client first,” I countered, annoyed as hell to even be fielding this call.
Ted Duncan was the most obnoxious kind of attorney to be found. His face was plastered on billboards all over Seattle. He was litigation happy, promising his gullible clients dollar signs he rarely delivered. Now, he’d just informed me that his client, the drunk fool who’d been trying to fight with his friend and ended up punching Ethan instead, was considering suing Ethan over his bloody nose. Somehow between last night and this afternoon, the nose was now allegedly broken. I did not have time for this bullshit.
“Zoe, I will review the police reports, but my client’s version of events is different, and he’s concerned Mr. Walsh is receiving favorable treatment from the police, in addition to the alleged witnesses. Let’s also not forget, this happened at a bar. It’s fair to say every witness might have been under the influence,” Ted said, his calm, measured and professional sounding tone at odds with everything he was doing.
I bit back my urge to swear and hang up on him. “Ted, I’ll hear from you after you’ve had a chance to review the police reports from the event. If you weren’t aware of this yet, the entire event was also captured on the security cameras at the bar.”
“Oh? You don’t say. Well, it’s good to know we have concrete information,” Ted replied. For the first time, I sensed a tiny bit of hesitation in him.
I smiled wryly to myself before politely saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. The second I did, it rang again. I glared at it and then realized it was Jana, my receptionist extraordinaire who also happened to be one of my best friends. I tapped the speaker button.
“Please tell me it’s not Ted Duncan calling back.” I might’ve enjoyed a moment of amusement when I sensed the dent in his smarmy armor, but I wasn’t up for another chat with him just yet.
“It’s not Ted Duncan calling back,” Jana parroted cheerily.
I reached up and untied the knot in my hair, sighing at the feel of my hair falling loose. I was tired. I’d managed maybe two hours of sleep after rolling out of bed to meet Ethan at the police station. I could’ve seriously used a cup of coffee and then a long, hot bath.
“If it’s not him, who is it?” I asked.
I heard footsteps, which let me know Jana was striding away from the reception desk. That meant she was stepping into the small room behind her desk, which she referred to as her top-secret gossip spot. It was the place she could go if she needed to convey something privately.
“Mr. Sexy is here to see you,” she whispered into her headset.
My low belly clenched. “Mr. Sexy?”
“Don’t play coy with me. Ethan Walsh is here. He’s so hot, I could eat him up on the spot.”
She paused. I knew she was grinning, and I knew she was waiting to see if I’d take her bait. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction. I had no idea how, but she’d picked up I had maybe a thing for Ethan. Jana was crazy perceptive. Ethan had accompanied Alex to a meeting here at my office once. She’d quickly picked up on the fact I was a bit scatterbrained. I’d also made the mistake of telling her about that random kiss. She’d hardly shut up about it until I told her she was wasting her time. I knew I was in for it now that he would be around.
I was still toying with what to do about the fact we had kissed and he was now my client. Funny thing was, we lawyers had the loosest rules for ourselves. While plenty of us happily sued doctors who screwed their patients, we had this loosey-goosey rule on it. It was so loose that if your ‘relationship’ commenced before the client became your client, you were golden. Unless it wasn’t consensual, but that was something else altogether. I found it wryly amusing that the fact Ethan had already kissed me might be the small detail that let me dance on the safer side of the ethics. That didn’t change the fact it felt completely wrong and naughty. My intellect was slightly horrified at the fact my body only got more hot and bothered about it as a result.
“Well, he’s yours to eat up,” I countered, trying and utterly failing at tamping the tiny curl of jealousy. Jana wouldn’t even think of making a play for a guy she thought I liked, but I desperately wanted to not want Ethan the way I did. My mind flashed to the blaze of fire his fingertip left behind on my skin last night. Or this morning, I supposed.
Just thinking about that tiny, brief touch, and I got hot all over.
“Oh hon, I can appreciate a sexy man, but I don’t want to personally eat him up. I want you to,” Jana said.
I could see the sly grin on her face. Of late, she’d been on me to ditch my virginity. She’d declared I was her project. I had mixed feelings about that. I was kind of annoyed I was still a virgin. It wasn’t because I was a prude, or saving myself. No, it was as stupid as just being too focused on other things, namely my career. It didn’t help I’d been a redheaded beanpole in high school and most of college. I’d been what people called a late bloomer. I didn’t get curves until later. By that point, I was a tad bit self-conscious what with being teased for my height all the way up into my twenties.
“Hey Zoe, you there?” Jana asked.
“I’m here. Can you tell Ethan I’m busy?”
Jana sighed dramatically into my ear. “No, I’m not lying about your schedule. I’m telling him you’ll be available in five minutes. Oh, and if you were hoping to throw me off the scent of how much you want to screw his brains out, trying to avoid him only proves my point.”
“Jana, fuck off. Okay?”
Jana chuckled softly. “Don’t you wish.”
I could hear her footsteps and was about to hang up the line when I heard her speak again. She could’ve muted her speaker, but I knew she wanted me to hear her. Dammit. I wanted to hear Ethan.
“Mr. Walsh, do you mind waiting five minutes?”
“Be happy to,” was Ethan’s reply.
I could hear his teasing tone even in those three small words, and just the sound of it sent flutters twirling in my belly.
I was screwed. I had the hots for my client. Make that double screwed.
Restless, I stood up abruptly and dashed across my office to the decorative mirror between the windows. Oh hell. I’d temporarily forgotten I’d taken my hair down. It was a tousled mess now, and I didn’t have time to fix it. I ran my fingers through it, trying to make it look tidy somehow. I almost always wore it up in a knot because my hair was wild. It was thick and wavy when it was loose. Nothing seemed to tame it, so I kept it out of the way. Throw in the fact it was a deep auburn and my hair drew way too much attention when it was loose. No one took me seriously then. All they did was stare at my hair. After getting teased so much about it when I was little, it was hard not to be self-conscious even though I intellectually knew it was silly.
There was a knock at my door, and I jumped away from the mirror. I couldn’t believe I was obsessing about my appearance all because a client showed up unexpectedly. Well, not any client—the obscenely hot client whose kiss had left me hot, wet, and bothered and occupied nights of fantasies since.
Why not? Ethan’s hot as hell. If you want to ditch your virginity, might as well make it worth your while.
My naughty voice was in full swing today. It was safe to say I hadn’t heard much from this voice. Very few men caught my attention. If they did, they rarely noticed me, or not that I knew. Ethan had gone and set me loose inside with his random kiss months ago and then flirting so blatantly with
me last night.
Another knock at my door. Right, I was dithering about how I looked while Ethan was waiting to meet with me.
I started to walk to the door when it opened and Jana slipped inside, closing it quickly behind her.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.
My cheeks heated, and not for the first time, I silently cursed my fair skin.
“Nothing,” I replied, striving to keep my voice calm and bored sounding.
Jana’s perceptive gaze coasted over me. “Right. Nothing. Well, you look gorgeous. Good move to take your hair down,” she said with a sly grin.
My cheeks got even hotter. “I did not take my hair down for Ethan. I’m tired, and I took it down before. Trust me, I was just thinking about putting it back up, but…”
Jana shook her head. “Do not do that. I’d give an arm or a leg for your hair.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Send Ethan in, would you? Let me get this over with,” I replied, cringing a little at my snappish tone.
Jana eyed me for a moment and shook her head. “Just relax, okay? It’s okay to think a guy’s hot. You know I’m only teasing about him, right?”
“I know,” I muttered. I took a gulp of air and straightened my shoulders. “And it’s not okay to think one of my clients is hot, so this won’t be going anywhere.”