by Mia Madison
Risking Romero
An Adamo Story
Mia Madison
Contents
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1. I Can’t Be Your Lawyer
2. Alone For Five Hours
3. Fantasy Fodder
4. Mine
5. I Won’t Fall In Love
6. The Main Event
7. Nothing In A Million Years
8. Long Way From Over
9. Feels Right
10. Gone Soon
11. All The Excitement
12. Four Hours Until Sunrise
13. One Of The Best
14. Into The Void
Epilogue
Also by Mia Madison
About the Author
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Jade:
When a lawyer with a shady agenda starts harassing me to sell my family’s farm, I need a legal eagle of my own.
But hot older man Romero Adamo is way more than I bargained for. He’s got me thinking about his briefs, all right … just not the kind you file in a courtroom.
When my troubles get worse, and our attraction flares up, I’m caught between a rock and a deliciously hard place. Can I play his games without getting my heart broken?
Romero:
I make my living with my brain, but Jade Callahan makes my c*ck sit up and beg.
The things I want to do to her might get me arrested — and will definitely get me disbarred if they happen while she’s my client.
The sooner I untangle her legal mess, the sooner she’ll be in my bed where she belongs. I’ll have her pleading before the night is through.
RISKING ROMERO
Copyright © 2017 by Mia Madison
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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1
I Can’t Be Your Lawyer
My sisters and I are doing the morning milking when my cell phone chimes at me. It’s the signal that someone’s at the front door of the farmhouse. Dad rigged it up somehow; he was good at stuff like that.
“Someone’s here,” I announce. “I’d better go see.”
Brianna and Quinn exchange glances and move away in unison from the milking machines. “We’ll come with you,” Bree says. “It might be you-know-who.”
My nose wrinkles at the thought of the man who’s been harassing us by phone turning up to do it in person. “Might as well play it safe,” I agree, and the three of us, in our work-stained coveralls, leave the barn and head for the house.
As we go in the back door and through the kitchen, the doorbell rings again. “Coming!” I call, hoping whoever it is will hear me. The farmhouse is old, but Dad did the best he could to insulate it.
I reach the front door, the twins on my heels, and pull it open. And then I just stare.
The man standing there is drop-dead sexy. He’s dressed in jeans and a chambray shirt that don’t do anything to disguise the fact that he’s built like a quarterback, tall and powerful but not bulky. Silver glints in the dark hair falling across his forehead; it’s a match for his eyes, deep pools that seem to spark with erotic fire.
He’s got to be pushing forty, and he’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Whatever he’s selling, I want it.
“Hello?” I say, like an idiot, and it comes out all breathy. I mentally kick myself and force myself to speak normally. “Can I help you?”
“Jade Callahan?”
His voice is delicious too. Hearing him say my name is like an intimate caress that shivers over my skin and then inside me, touching other, hidden places. “Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Romero Adamo.”
“Oh!” Until this moment, I’d completely forgotten about my conversation with my high school friend Erin the night before. Then it hits me, and I stare all over again. “You’re a lawyer?”
His mouth quirks up in a little half-smile that melts my ovaries. “I usually dress the part, but since it’s the weekend, I’m not officially working. When Erin called last night, she said your situation sounded urgent, so I told her I’d stop by and check in with you.”
I owe Erin big time. “That was nice of you. Um, please come in.” I step back, bumping into my sisters. I’d forgotten they were even here.
I turn to see them all but drooling over our visitor. “You’d better go finish the milking,” I tell them. “You know it upsets the animals if we’re not consistent with the time.”
They’re about as different from each other as twins can be, but both of them send me looks that say they understand perfectly well the milking is just a ploy to get rid of them so I can have the swoon-worthy Mr. Adamo to myself. Bree’s mad about it; Quinn is amused.
Either way, they’re not wrong.
When they’ve gone, I lead the way to the parlor and watch him take it in: the sturdy, comfortable furniture that Dad made by hand, the simple decor, Dad’s wildlife photography on the walls. Sometimes people are uncomfortable in the farmhouse, used to fancier surroundings. They try to hide it, but it always shows.
Romero doesn’t seem out of place at all. In fact, he looks so at home here that I want to push him down onto the sofa and have my way with him. The fact that I’ve never actually slept with a man does not impede this fantasy in the slightest.
Focus, Jade. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? We have water, iced tea, lemonade …”
“Lemonade would be great, thanks.”
Everything this man says sounds like an invitation to sex. I feel his eyes on me as I turn to go to the kitchen, and curse my coveralls and work boots.
Maybe I can sneak upstairs and change. I should put on something more appropriate for meeting with an attorney. It would only be polite, after all.
A lifetime of experience has taught me how to go up the stairs without making them squeak. In my room, I quickly tug on a pair of dark slacks and a jewel-toned top that brings out my eyes. I’ve had them since high school, but they still fit.
Slipping sandals on my feet, I pull my hair free of its tie and let it hang loose around my shoulders. I want to put on a touch of makeup, but that would be too obvious. As if the rest of this isn’t.
I hurry downstairs and into the kitchen, where I pour two glasses of lemonade and put them on a tray with some cookies. On my way back to the parlor, I take deep breaths, trying to summon a calm I don’t feel.
“Here we are,” I say, not meeting his eyes as I enter the room. I concentrate on setting the tray down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Maybe it requires me to bend over in such a way that he has a clear view of my breasts for a moment or two; can I help that?
When I hand him his lemonade, our eyes meet, and a shock of electricity jolts through me. His dark eyes have hot amber flecks in them that weren’t there before, or weren’t lit up like that. He understands exactly what’s going on here.
He takes the glass from me, our fingers brushing, and another jolt sizzles along my skin. Heart pounding, I circle around the coffee t
able and sit on the sofa too, close but not crowding him, and take a sip of my lemonade.
Romero takes a sip, too, followed by a healthy swig. “This is great.” He drinks some more; I watch his throat move and wish I could kiss him there. “Homemade?”
“Yes.” I gesture to the tray. “The cookies, too.”
He eyes them speculatively. “Peanut butter chocolate chip,” I tell him.
“Can’t pass that up.” The cookie looks surprisingly dainty in his big hand. He takes a bite, chews, swallows. Gets a funny look on his face that I’ve seen before when people try our baking for the first time.
The rest of the cookie follows in one big bite before he says, “Do you mind if I …”
“Please. They’re all yours..”
He wolfs down another cookie like he hasn’t eaten all day. “Damn. That is excellent.”
I smile at him, ridiculously pleased, and those tawny flecks in his eyes heat up again. There’s an answering twitch between my legs, and I can’t help shifting on the couch. His oh-so-kissable mouth curves a little, in a way that says he knows just what I need. For a moment I think we’re going to get right down to business on the couch.
And then he says, “I can’t be your lawyer.”
2
Alone For Five Hours
“What?” Jade says. “Why?” She’s visibly upset and a pang of guilt hits me, even though I know I’m doing the right thing.
“This.” I move my hand back and forth between us. “Right here. It’s an ethical violation. I could be disbarred for getting involved with a client.”
Her eyes get round. She’s doesn’t miss the implication. “We’re going to be involved?”
“What do you think?”
Her lashes flutter. I want to haul her into my arms, but manage to hang onto my professional demeanor a little longer. “Fortunately,” I go on, “my law partner can take over your case.”
Her smile makes my cock twitch. “That works,” she says. “You’ll arrange for me to talk to him?”
“Her.” The smile vanishes. “My cousin Kara,” I explain, and that’s enough to bring back her good mood.
I can think of a million reasons why I shouldn’t get involved with Jade, client or not. She’s way too young for me. We probably don’t have anything in common besides wanting to jump each other. I could break her heart, and that would get very awkward.
Too bad. I don’t give a damn about any of those reasons. Because my dick has really good instincts.
I don’t mean the way any guy’s equipment can perk up when a beautiful woman is in the offing. I’ve known my share of lovely ladies, and it’s not unusual for my prospective bedmates to make their interest clear.
But my cock only sits up and begs when the sex is certain to be out of this world, and it started pleading the moment I laid eyes on Jade Callahan.
She belongs in my bed — the sooner the better. There’s no way I could represent her with a clear mind. So it’s a good thing I took Kara on as a partner when she finished law school; I can make sure Jade’s case is professionally handled without any ethical entanglements.
Despite her youth — she’s around the same age as Erin, my cousin Kosta’s wife, so maybe twenty-one, twenty-two — Jade has a woman’s body, all lush curves that my hands can’t wait to explore. Her dark hair swirls around a face that’s all the more arresting for not being pretty in the ordinary sense.
Her name suits her. Those green eyes are stunning, and right now I get the feeling they’re full of fantasies about what we could do together. I’m going to make her watch me when I fuck her; I want to see her go blind with pleasure when she comes.
First, I need to get the official part of my visit settled. “I’ll let Kara do the formal interview with you, to keep things tidy, but give me an overview now, just for my own satisfaction.”
“Okay.” She folds her hands, and it’s so cute I want to drag her onto my lap and hold her while she talks. But I don’t, because her eyes have gone serious.
“Our dad died three months ago.”
It’s like a kick to the stomach. “I’m sorry. He was ill?”
“No. It was an accident.” Grief shadows her face, and I want to fix it, find her father in whatever dimension he’s occupying now and drag him back here.
“The three of us have been running the farm on our own, but it’s been tough. Dad left insurance, but not enough, and we’ve lost the income from his woodworking business. Two weeks ago, we called the bank to ask them to work with us to restructure our loan.
“After that was when the calls started.”
“Erin said they’re from a man claiming he’s a lawyer?”
“Yes. Ralph Turnbull. He says he represents someone who wants to buy the farm.”
I’ve never heard of Ralph Turnbull. “He’s not a local, assuming that’s his real name, but we’ll look into it. Go on.”
“We’ve told him we’re not interested in selling.” She looks around the room, so simple but so welcoming. “All our memories of Dad are tied up here.”
“Of course. But he won’t listen?”
“No. He just keeps calling. And the last one — I saved the message. You can hear for yourself.”
She jumps up and leads the way to the kitchen, and as I follow I take the opportunity to admire her gorgeous ass. Even her loose-fitting overalls couldn’t disguise that beauty. I’m glad she changed, though, because in these slacks it’s spectacular.
An old-fashioned phone with an answering machine sits on a small table tucked against the end of the counter. Jade presses a button, and a man’s voice spills out into the room.
“Girls. Ralph Turnbull here. I thought I should warn you.” He sounds like every slick lawyer with a grease stain for a soul that you see on made-for-tv movies. I want to punch his lights out and he’s barely said anything .
“There have been coyotes reported in the area around your farm,” he continues. “I’d hate to see them get to your animals ... or that dog of yours. Call me.”
“We never told him about Zander,” Jade says. “Our dog. All our contact has been by phone; he wanted to come to the farm but we said no.”
She’s trembling, not with fear but with anger. “He’s watching us. That call was a threat.”
“Not a very subtle one, either. He’s counting on you not having anyone to turn to.” I believe in the law as an instrument of justice, but right now I’d like to get Ralph Turnbull alone for five minutes.
And then I’d like to get Jade Callahan alone for five hours.
3
Fantasy Fodder
“What can we do?” I ask Romero.
His face is set in stern lines. For some reason, his anger on my behalf sends a little thrill through me. “He’s harassing you, so the first step is for you to file a police report and get a restraining order. After that, Kara will track down this Turnbull and try to find out who his client is.”
His mention of Kara and the work she’ll be doing reminds me that this is going to cost money we don’t really have. Maybe they’ll let us pay them in cheese. “I haven’t asked about your fee yet.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
My arms cross before I’m aware of it, an instinctive rebellion against him seeing me as someone who needs his charity. “We’ll pay you.” It comes out sounding brittle.
He moves close and tilts my chin up, his thumb resting in the dent there. My breathing goes shallow. ”You can work something out with Kara. Whatever you arrange will be fine, so ... don’t worry about it.”
Now I feel like a jerk. “Okay. Sorry.”
He smiles, and my heart flipflops in my chest. Damn, he’s gorgeous. I want his hands all over me; I want to wrap myself around him while he shows me his best moves.
My sisters come in then, and I feel an irrational flicker of jealousy when Romero moves away. I sent them off to finish the milking without so much as an introduction, so good manners take over. “These are my sis
ters, Brianna and Quinn.”
He shakes their hands, all professional courtesy, then asks me, “Is now a good time for that trip to the police station? I can call Kara and ask her to meet us there.”
The twins look like Christmas came early. “We’ll go with you,” Bree says, not even trying to hide her eagerness.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Sorry,” I tell Romero. “We don’t get into town that often.” To Bree I say, “It’s the police station, not the mall.”
She does roll her eyes. “Wake up, sis. The police station is infinitely more interesting than the mall.”
Romero’s fighting a smile. “It’s all right. I can drive you all in.”
Bree doesn’t give me a chance to turn him down. “We’ll just … go … freshen up,” she says, and she and Quinn beat a hasty retreat. A moment later their footsteps thunder up the stairs and I open my mouth to apologize.
“It’s really okay,” Romero says before I can speak. “I don’t have anything pressing on my schedule this morning.”
I shouldn’t begrudge my sisters a trip into town, even if it means them intruding on my time with Romero. “Thanks. We should follow you in, though, so you don’t have to bring us back here.”
He raises an eyebrow. “First of all, that truck you have parked outside looks pretty decrepit.”
“It still runs,” I say defensively. “Dad kept it in really good shape.”
“I’m sure he did. But all the same, I’d feel safer if we all went in my car. And secondly ...” He moves in on me again. “I don’t mind bringing you all back because after that, I’m taking you out.”