Or Joey.
He blew out a frustrated stream of breath. He shouldn’t be wasting so much time worrying over a damn case assignment. Or more accurately, worrying over what rumors might crop up if he assigned Joey a new case. He suspected that his calling her Joey in front of the other associates this morning had already caused a few tongues to wag, and from the brief flash of panic in her eyes, she’d known it would happen, too.
He hated office politics. He hated even more that he had to pretend they weren’t…what? Involved? They weren’t. Not really. They’d slept together. Period. He’d be stupid to start something with Joey. He thought he should probably forget Friday night, but he couldn’t. He liked her, a lot. He wanted to spend more time with her, get to know more about her. She was smart, sexy as hell and tried real hard to come across as a bad girl. He already knew how she liked her eggs, that she was a hard rock fan and that the backs of her knees was one of her erogenous zones. But what he didn’t know was if she was interested in getting to know him better.
Of course there was only one way to find out—appeal to that bad girl she tried so hard to be. He leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head and imagined all the erotic possibilities.
Chapter 7
Joey pulled her coat tighter and shivered, and she hadn’t even stepped out of the building. She peered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the lobby. Tall banks of snow already lined the street, which was filled with cars at a standstill. She’d never make it out to Brookline in this weather.
Oh, poor Molly, she thought. Left to her own devices again. Maybe she could sweet talk Louise, her grandmother’s housekeeper, into sneaking over to the carriage house to make sure Molly’s food and water dishes were sufficiently filled.
With any luck, she might be able to make it as far as Katie’s, where she could bunk for the night, but the roads were such a mess, she had her doubts. She should’ve left the office hours ago, but no, not her. Was making an impression that important? Fat lot of good it had done her, now that she was stranded in the city for the night.
She set her heavy briefcase down at her feet and fished her cell phone out of her purse to call Katie. Her sister answered on the second ring.
“I’ve been waiting for you to call me back all day,” Katie scolded without greeting. “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you everything later.”
“When are you coming home?” Katie asked, a hint of desperation in her voice. “I need rescuing.”
“Oh, God, where are you?” Joey asked, immediately concerned for her sister’s safety. “You didn’t try to drive in this mess, did you?”
“Not quite.” Katie lowered her voice to a hushed tone. “I’m trapped in Brookline because of this stupid storm. Help.”
Joey let out a big sigh of relief. She’d envisioned Katie stranded in the storm, her car buried under tons of wet, heavy snow. “What are you doing out there? You knew this storm was coming,” she scolded.
“Luncheon with Grandmother.”
Joey smiled at the defeated tone in her sister’s voice. “Oooh, wedding plans already?” Katie and Liam hadn’t been engaged a week and already her grandmother was hell-bent on turning Katie’s wedding into the society event of the year? Her sister’s life was going to be nothing short of hell until she said I do.
“It’s not funny. But if you must know, Grandmother wanted to discuss the preliminaries for the engagement party.”
Joey shuddered. She could just imagine the blue-blooded spectacle that would be, probably second only to the actual wedding. “Better you than me.”
“Your sympathy takes my breath away,” Katie complained. “Keep it up, Joey, and I’ll make sure your bridesmaid’s dress is pink.”
“Okay, okay,” Joey said with a laugh. Katie knew how much she despised the color pink. “I’ll try to be more sympathetic in the future. Look, I’m stuck in the city tonight. If you can tear yourself away from all those bridal magazines for a minute, could you sneak over to the carriage house and make sure Molly has enough food and water?”
“Better yet, I’ll go bunk with her,” Katie suggested. “I could really use the break. If I stay here, Grandmother will have me picking out china patterns before much longer.”
“I hope you know I’m trying really hard not to laugh right now.”
“I knew I could count on you for support,” Katie said dryly. “I have Duke with me. Molly hates him.”
Duke was Katie’s adorable cocker spaniel. “She’ll get over it,” Joey said. “Thanks, Katie.”
“Hey, wait. What happened with Mr. Boss Man? Did you survive?”
Joey let out a groan at the memory. “You mean, other than my graceful entrance?” She told Katie about her mortifying experience of literally crashing into the conference room this morning. “All in all, it wasn’t so bad. I can see why the senior partners brought him on board.” Even if she didn’t agree with his assessment of the upcoming Gilson trial. His position surprised her, and she couldn’t help but be curious.
“Yeah, but what about…you know?”
“Nothing to worry about.” She winced at the sudden sharpness of her voice. “We were both completely professional,” she said, although she still felt the slight sting of disappointment even if that’s exactly what she’d wanted.
Or had she?
She let out another sigh. “I don’t suppose you have a key hidden somewhere so I can get into your place for the night, do you?” She really didn’t want the hassle of trying to find a hotel room, but it was looking as if she didn’t have much choice in the matter. On a night like tonight, she imagined she wasn’t the only commuter stranded in the city.
“Sorry. I gave it to Liam, who by the way, is stranded at O’Hare Airport until this damn storm clears,” Katie said. “What are you going to do? You’re not going to try to drive home are you?”
Joey looked through the windows again. A dark blue sedan skidded to a stop—and slid right into the snow bank. “Not a chance.”
Behind her, an elevator dinged. She glanced over her shoulder just as Sebastian stepped into the lobby. He saw her and grinned, then headed in her direction.
“Don’t worry about me,” she told her sister. A slow smile tugged at her lips. “Something tells me I’m gonna be just fine.”
* * *
“On nights like this, I have to say even though I feel guilty for thinking it, I sometimes regret not taking one of the offers I received from those firms out in Los Angeles. They have much better weather.”
Sebastian dragged a French fry through the glob of ketchup on his plate. “Don’t feel guilty.” God knew he was feeling guilty enough for both of them at the moment. Inviting Joey to his place to wait out the storm probably wasn’t his brightest move, but when he’d found her in the lobby as he was leaving the office, it wasn’t the head above his shoulders he’d been thinking with. One smile from her, coupled with a sassy comeback filled with innuendo, and he’d lost all common sense.
He popped the fry into his mouth, then wiped his hands on the paper towel and tossed it on the plate. “I checked the weather forecast for Miami before I left the office. It was in the eighties there today.”
“Homesick already?” Joey asked with a laugh.
“Only for the sunshine.”
She laughed again and something deep inside him stirred. His heart? Impossible. Or was it? He’d never felt anything like it before and couldn’t be certain. Still, he wondered at the cause.
Maybe it was the sparkle in her blue eyes when she looked at him, or the delicate turn of her hand when she slipped a loose strand of hair behind her ear before she bit enthusiastically into her cheeseburger from the take-out place on the corner. Whatever the cause, he knew he’d be better off ignoring it. Only he couldn’t, even if both of their positions at the firm might depend on it.
“I bet you had a lot of firms trying to recruit you,” he said.
She slid off the wooden stool at the breakfast bar an
d carried both of their plates to the sink. “Oh, and you didn’t?”
He gathered up the remnants from their impromptu take-out dinner and carried them to the cardboard box still doubling as a trash can. “I’m not the one who graduated from Harvard Law. Top five percent of your class?”
To say he’d been impressed by her background had been an understatement. Although in reality, he hadn’t been all that surprised. Friday night he’d pegged her as having money. He just hadn’t realized her net worth would make his look like a pittance in comparison.
“Not top five percent, but top five.” She rinsed their plates, but when she looked at him over her shoulder, a frown creased her brow. “Who told you?”
He leaned his hip against the counter and gave her a sidelong glance. “Think about it.”
Her eyes instantly widened. “You snooped in my personnel file?”
“I snooped in the personnel file of everyone who works in my department,” he said, then winked at her. “But I read yours more carefully.”
She snapped her mouth closed, then after a moment’s hesitation, shook her head and smiled at him. “You really don’t play fair, do you?”
He grinned. “I believe in taking advantage of the resources available to me.” He pushed off the counter. “More wine?”
Her smile turned positively wicked. “Are you trying to take advantage of me?”
“Would you mind?”
“Not in the least,” she said. “Besides, what else are we going to do during a snowstorm?”
That’s what he liked best about Joey—her honesty. She was refreshing in that she didn’t appear to be the type to play head games or turn everything into a drama. She was the last woman on earth he should consider becoming involved with in a relationship, but he was beginning to think she just might be worth the risk.
He refilled their wineglasses, still nothing more elegant than cheap red plastic tumblers, but she didn’t seem to mind. Something else he admired about her. Although he’d learned she was a Winfield, one of “the” Boston Winfields, with roots dating back all the way to the Mayflower, she was unpretentious and down-to-earth.
She dried her hands on a paper towel, then smiled her thanks as she took the refilled tumbler from him. “I see you’ve made some progress since I was here last.”
“Some.” He inclined his head to the dining area off the kitchen, where several packing cartons took up the small space. “We could finish unpacking my kitchen,” he suggested. “Then maybe I could offer you wine in a real glass for a change.”
“It’s what’s in the glass, not the glass that counts.” She took hold of his hand and led him from the kitchen to the living room. “Is that thing for real or just for show?” she asked, indicating the gas fireplace.
Lighting the fireplace was as simple as turning a knob and adjusting the level of the fire. “Good thing it’s gas,” he said as he slid the screen closed, “or we’d have to resort to burning the furniture.”
She sat in the middle of the sofa, toed off her shoes and curled her feet up beneath her. “What it lacks in authenticity, at least it makes up for in atmosphere.”
He joined her on her sofa. “You want atmosphere?” He reached over and flicked off the lamp, setting the room in darkness lit only by the flames flickering in the fireplace. “How’s that?”
“Hmmm. Nice,” she said and snuggled up beside him.
Cozy, he thought. And comfortable. Too comfortable for the last two people who should be sharing wine in plastic cups in front of a fire during a snowstorm together.
He let out a long, slow breath and settled his arm around her shoulders. “What are we doing, Joey?”
“Sitting in front of a fire and enjoying a glass of wine after feasting on a take-out dinner of greasy cheeseburgers from the only place in your neighborhood that was still open.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “But can’t we just enjoy the moment? Do you really want to ruin a nice evening with reality?”
“Our reality is that we not only work for the same firm, but I’m your immediate supervisor,” he reminded her.
“Not the sexual harassment thing again. You know, it’s only harassment if one of us complains.” She tipped her head back to look up at him. The light in her blue eyes warmed his heart. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not complaining.”
Yet. But what would happen when he did something to piss her off? Joey was a passionate person. They were bound to clash eventually. Would they be capable of keeping the bedroom out of the office? Or vice versa?
Only time would tell, he supposed.
“And if you’re really worried, for the record, I practically invited myself tonight.”
He didn’t know about that. When he’d stepped off the elevator and noticed her standing in the lobby, the last thing he’d thought of were the ethics involved in their seeing each other outside of the office. “Are you suggesting I merely offered you safe harbor from the storm? Now who’s taking advantage of whom?”
“Is that what they call it down south?”
“What do you Yankees call it?” Little did she know, he, too, was a Yank. A minor detail he figured would come up eventually if they continued down the path he was certain they were traveling.
That wicked smile of hers returned, firing his blood. “Sex.”
His body instantly responded. “Yeah, that’s what we call it, too,” he said, then dipped his head and lightly kissed her lips.
She angled her head to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back. There’d be plenty of time to make love to her later. She wasn’t going anywhere tonight—Mother Nature had made sure of that.
She looked at him with an odd expression on her face, then shifted her position and leaned back against him and faced the fire. “Since you already seem to know so much about me—because you cheated by reading my personnel file—tell me something about you.”
“I lived in Florida.”
She gently nudged him with her elbow. “You didn’t grow up there,” she said. “That’s no Floridian accent you got going there, Stanhope. It’s subtle, but it’s still New England.”
“I grew up not far from here,” he admitted. “South Boston.”
“A Southie? I never would’ve guessed. I was thinking maybe Cambridge,” she said. “My half sister owns a bar in South Boston. So do you have brothers? Sisters?”
He shook his head, then realized she couldn’t see him. “An only child.”
“Uh-oh, not very good at sharing your toys, are you?” she teased.
“Hardly,” he said, unable to completely keep the edge of bitterness from his voice. His mom had done her best, but there hadn’t been a whole lot of money left over each month for many extras. “Half sister?”
“Three sisters total,” she told him. “Lindsay is my half sister, but I grew up with Brooke, who was the oldest until a few months ago when we learned about Lindsay, and finally Katie, the youngest.”
“Did Lindsay live with her father?”
“No.” She pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “My mother gave her up for adoption. Katie’s the one who discovered Lindsay. We didn’t know about her until after my mother passed away last summer.”
He tightened his hold on her. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I miss her.”
She took a sip of wine and stared at the fire, momentarily lost in her own thoughts. He held her close, enjoying the feel of her body against his.
“You said Lindsay owns a bar on the south side,” he prompted after a few moments.
“Yes,” she said. “Chassy. Nice place, actually.”
“Do you have a relationship with her?”
“We’re trying.” She let out a sigh. “She’s a little standoffish yet, but I think it’s because she’s just trying to keep from getting hurt. We come from very different backgrounds, and I don’t know that it’s really an issue with Lindsay, but to be f
air, we Winfields can be a little overwhelming. Especially when we travel in a pack.”
In all honesty, he couldn’t blame this half sister of hers. The thought of being bombarded by three Joey-types would scare the hell out of anyone. “Be patient,” he advised. “It couldn’t have been easy for her.”
She took another sip of wine. “She’s the one who had it easy in my opinion, but I doubt she’d see it that way. She didn’t have to deal with all the crap we did.”
“Do you think she resents you and your sisters?”
“God, I hope not. We might not have wanted for anything, but being a Winfield isn’t always easy. Everything Lindsay has, she’s worked for, and I admire her for that. A lot. We all do. At least Brooke, Katie and I do. My grandparents haven’t even spoken Lindsay’s name yet.”
“Maybe she just needs more time.”
“That’s what we’re hoping.” She leaned forward and set her empty cup on the table, then shifted on the cushion beside him and turned to face him. “So, tell me, Sebastian. South Boston. Stanhope. Doesn’t quite match up. I guess that means you’re no relation to Emerson Stanhope.”
“He’s my father.”
Curiosity lit her gaze. Had bitterness crept into his voice again? He wouldn’t be surprised considering he despised the son of a bitch.
She tilted her head slightly to the side. “But…?”
“But we’re not close.”
“So I gathered.”
He let out a sigh, wondering how much, if anything, to tell Joey. He wasn’t a bastard, but he might as well have been. “He and my mother were married for a brief period. I don’t think I was quite a year old when he left her for another woman, one considered more suitable, and took his Stanhope dollars with him.”
A frown creased her brow. “I’m sorry,” she said, her tone sympathetic.
“Don’t be,” he said and downed the last of his wine. “I’m not.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
He shrugged. “I have the pedigree, but not the trust fund.”
Her frown deepened. “Unless you’re a show dog, pedigrees don’t mean squat. At least to me they don’t. Or to my sisters.”
My Guilty Pleasure Page 7