Seduction in a Suit: An Office Romance Collection

by Monica Corwin

  “What’s the claim worth, do you think?”

  “Seven figures. The plaintiff’s a quadriplegic. The Worksafe report is scathing.”

  “You really don’t like the beach?”

  “I’m more of a shopping mall kind of girl.” His words about honesty echoed in her head and she fought the recalcitrant need to be oppositional. “Fine. I like the beach. I used to fish with my dad. We had an old motorboat. He let me drive it.”

  “Where did you go for holidays?”

  “Eden in New South Wales. I loved it there. We fished off the jetty, too. And from the rocks at Leonard Island, but I hated the eels.” She shuddered. Even the thought of one twisting on the end of her line was disgusting.

  “When did you last have a holiday?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Aren’t you forced to take time off?”

  “I spend it in the office.”

  “You don’t think that’s a bit obsessive?”

  “I’m goal-oriented.”

  “Why is this partnership so important to you?”

  “I promised myself and my promises are golden.”

  “That’s it?”

  She didn’t have to explain herself to him. She didn’t have to explain that being a receptionist at the lowest rung in a law firm had taught her something about power and the importance of it. Maybe it was the way his voice resonated inside her chest or maybe it was the way his tone pulled at those invisible strings. Or maybe it was because he’d called his brother an arrogant shit. “I want to fast-track my career and have a family before I’m too old.” Her mother had struggled with endometriosis and warned Scarlet constantly about the dangers of wasting time, particularly given her history of painful periods, but Scarlet was determined to make partner before she turned her mind to starting a family. She wanted the kind of respect and financial security that came with it and she never wanted to feel powerless again. What if you can’t have children? That was a possibility she wasn’t ready to face.

  “What about a husband? Is that in the script?”

  “Not necessarily. I’m a realist. Ah, here it is.”

  The car park was empty when they pulled in and she found a spot in the shade. The scent of eucalyptus from the gumtrees was strong in the building heat. No sign of the engineer.

  Scarlet cut the engine and sat motionlessly. She absorbed the sounds of the rosellas’ chatter and the shriek of cockatoos as they flashed between the trees. She breathed the strong earthy scent of the heat that rose from the ground and savoured the feel of the breeze, soft against her face.

  “What about you.” She turned to observe him. “Why the urgency to become a partner by thirty?”

  “Since we have a pact to speak the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and my word is golden…” His gaze held hers and she teetered on the blue, blue edge of it. Whispers of sadness lurked in the shadowy depths, defying the sunny flash of humour. “It’s important to my father.”

  “And your father is important to you.”

  “Yes.” He sounded surprised, like he hadn’t expected her to get it. “There was a strong expectation that I study law, but I fought it. I took a year off and travelled through India, Spain, Turkey and some other countries. I didn’t speak to my father for almost five years. I let him think I was overseas wasting my life, but in truth, I came back and studied. I surfed a lot and barely passed, but here I am.”

  “What was the catalyst for resolving it?”

  “I stayed in touch with my mum. She let me know he wasn’t well. She wasn’t well either, but I didn’t know that until later.” He took a deep breath, his gaze somewhere in the distance. “With time, I realised law was in my blood and it felt right.”

  “But you didn’t want to follow the same path as your brother?”

  “No.” He looked at her with a crooked smile. “I like to think I’m the black wig of the family.”

  “That’s not a bad thing, given what I know of Geoffrey. Shall we look around? The restaurant’s closed on a Monday, but Richard, the owner, should be here.” Scarlet opened her door and stepped out. She reached for the file and her notes from the back and when Tony slammed the door behind him, she pressed her key and the roof slid back into place. She didn’t want any hitchhikers of the bug variety.

  “I’ve heard they do a great Cab Sav here.” Tony’s gaze was on the bluestone buildings not far ahead. There was a manicured green lawn and a rambling rose seemed to cover the entire portico. It was one of those old varieties and the pink flowers had a sweet scent that travelled in undercurrents beneath the stronger scent of the native bushland.

  “We’re not here for the wine, Radcliff.” Scarlet heard the crunch of wheels on gravel and turned back. “Oh, good. Here he is now.”

  A white Toyota Hilux pulled up beside her car. The door opened and a man in his mid to late sixties stepped out.

  “Morning, Scarlet. This must be Tony.” He reached out to shake hands. “I’m Neil from Gray and Associates.”

  “Nice to meet you, Neil.”

  Scarlet inwardly rolled her eyes. Tony was the kind of guy who won a bloke over with a grin and a warm handshake. She stepped forward and shook hands. “Hi, Neil. Thanks for coming.”

  “This was a nasty one.”

  “Sure was.” They walked towards the buildings and it was two hours later that Scarlet realised Tony had gone AWOL. Where was he? She said her farewells to Neil, unlocked the car, retracted the roof and settled her paperwork in the boot. She turned towards the winery in time to see Tony appear from around the corner of the restaurant. He carried a box that jangled with bottles and his grin was wide.

  “Perfect timing. Hope you don’t mind if we put these in the back.”

  “You bought wine? How long ago did you ditch me?”

  “I got talking to Richard and he was telling me about their latest award-winning Cab Sav and one thing led to another. It’s an excellent drop. I invested in a dozen. Maybe we should crack one tonight. No doubt, we’ll be working late.”

  “Emphasis on the word, working, Radcliff.”

  “Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself.”

  He lowered the box into the car and his grin created all kinds of havoc with her insides until the good kind of stirring in her body made way for the irritated kind. “Are you always this Pollyanna cheerful?” She plopped into her seat with a huff.

  “Pretty much. No point being miserable.”

  “I like being miserable.” She shifted her sunglasses further up her nose and revved the engine. No way would she tolerate friendly chit chat on the way back. She needed to think about the case and what they’d learned. She needed to keep her thoughts on work and resist the tempting distraction of the man beside her. She managed well until she saw the Bacchus Marsh exit and visions of farm-fresh fruit danced before her eyes. She glanced at the clock. They’d made good time. Why not?

  * * *

  The perfect purr of the engine changed to a rhythmic kathump. Scarlet felt the steering wheel pull to one side. She slowed down and the vehicle limped to the side of the road. “A flat tyre? I’ve never had a flat tyre in this car.” Travelling with Radcliff was like travelling with a small rain cloud over her head. She shouldn’t have succumbed to the temptation of a detour.

  “No problem. I can change a tyre.”

  His chest expanded with manly pride and Scarlet stifled a sigh. The last thing she needed was to be stranded with Tony Radcliff. “No need. I’ll call roadside assist.”

  His brows lifted in question.

  “I don’t have a spare tyre, Radcliff. Unless you’ve got some handy chewing gum to repair it, we’re kind of stuck.”

  “No spare?”

  “No spare.”

  “At least we have wine,” he said with a grin. “And we just passed one of those farmer direct roadside shops. I’m thinking cheese, crackers, fruit… and chocolate. Dark chocolate coated orange slices. I wonder if they’ll have them.”

  “Fin
e.” She pulled out her mobile phone and hit the emergency number she had listed. “Maybe water too. I don’t fancy slugging from a wine bottle.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  “Hah!”

  He grinned as he strolled back the way they’d come. The shop they’d just passed was one of the bigger establishments and she liked to support the small farmer. In truth, she came this way on her irregular weekend visits to see her parents. They’d moved to Ballarat for a sea-change, well, a country-change and she’d detoured a couple of times for fresh country produce. It was a lovely avenue of trees and she loved the dappled shade and the orchards bordering the road. It was a workday. Her mind skittered to her jam-packed schedule. She didn’t have time for this. She had a mediation at two and if this took longer than half an hour, she’d be late. At least she’d prepared her notes that morning.

  Scarlet dialled the office and briefed her legal assistant on the pending mediation, glanced at her watch and scanned the road for flashing yellow lights. Nothing.

  She pulled out her notebook and plotted their argument to support the worker in his proceedings against work cover and the winery. Richard had cooperated fully and she had a good picture of the situation. There was contributory negligence given the man had climbed onto the roof in the rain to fix a leak, but the tiles were slick and impossible to keep a grip on. She tried not to think of the high price he’d paid for his recklessness.

  Her phone pinged and she scrolled through her messages. She was on the fourth return call and fielding more when Tony returned, a brown shopping bag in hand. He waved two plastic wine glasses in the air and his grin was that of a mischievous schoolboy who’s successfully executed a prank. She wound up her conversation and with her eyes glued to his, said her farewells. Her pulse leapt—skittery and foolish—and she couldn’t quite temper the grin. “You’re a magician.”

  “Oh, there’s magic in this here bag,” he said with a flourish. “Tell me you have a picnic rug in your boot and I’ll love you forever.”

  She toyed with the idea of lying. The thought of him loving her forever sat in her stomach like a too-starchy dish of pasta. Radcliff was a burr. A cheerful, happy burr who burrowed into her peace of mind with no apology. She flicked the automatic boot unlock and waited for him to discover it.

  He held it aloft and then bowed low like a Shakespearean player. She had to laugh. It started low in her belly and bubbled up like expensive champagne. She got out of the car and walked to the back. “What if the repair guy shows up?”

  “We’ll pour him a wine.”

  “You win.” She pulled the brand new, never used rug from his hands and released the Velcro tape. She spread it out on the grassy verge, ditched her heels and sat. “I don’t remember the last time I had a picnic.”

  “Ah, but this isn’t just any old picnic. This is the platinum lounge of picnics.” He poured her a red wine and held it out. “Try this.”

  “It’s a workday, Radcliff.”

  “Try it and then tell me it’s a workday.”

  She hated being told what to do, especially by a cocky man in an uber-expensive suit. She breathed in the earthy scents of black cherry and licorice and took a small sip, savouring the full-bodied flavour. “You like this?”

  “Are you telling me you don’t?”

  His cheerfulness was contagious. She should be attached to her phone while she waited for help. Instead, passersby could be forgiven for thinking this was a romantic tryst. She leaned back, her legs stretched in front of her, her feet bare, her toenails painted a deep red. Tony lay beside her on his side using a plastic knife to cut slices of cheese and pile them on crackers slathered with quince paste. He passed over a fully laden one for her to taste. “What do you think?”

  She sank her teeth into the soft, creamy cheese, the saltiness contrasting with the sweetness of the quince paste. Both complimented the red wine to perfection. “It’s good.”

  “It’s better than good,” he said, his tone coaxing. His grin provoked and his cheeks creased with dimples. His eyes lit up and damn it, the resistance in her muscles started to dissipate. He was nothing like his older brother.

  “It’s amazing. Gorgeous. Outstanding. You’re brilliant.” Her heart sashayed against her ribs like a Burlesque dancer.

  “That’s better.”

  She eyed the spread before her. “You got chocolate.”

  “I know the way to a woman’s heart.”

  It was a backhanded comment, yet the shadow of it erased the lightness that had radiated through her. He was a player. There was no doubt in her mind. He knew how to seduce. It ran in his genes. He seduced with every glib joke, every smirk, every probing question. The smile on her face faded, the frivolity in her chest deflated and she took a sip of her wine to hide the disappointment. What did she care? It wasn’t like she’d fall for it anyway.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She lifted her chin and took a deep breath of the fresh, grass-scented air. It was a beautiful day. A glorious day. She refused to let him spoil it.

  “You’re stunning… when you smile. You know that?”

  “Save it, Radcliff. Your moves are wasted on me. I’m not interested.” Been there, done that with a Radcliff before, and she didn’t need to make the same mistake to taste bitterness on her tongue.

  “That’s not what your eyes say.”

  “My eyes don’t have an opinion.”

  “Oh, yes they do and I kind of liked what yours were saying back there.”

  “Whatever you think they were saying was tainted by whatever is going on in your own twisted mind.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with finding a colleague attractive.”

  “You’re right and I find you so attractive,” she mocked, her hand to her heart. “I can barely hold myself back. It’s lucky I’m already sitting down because when you look at me like that? My legs go weak and my lips crave one taste—one taste—of yours.”

  “Nice try, Scarlet.”

  She grinned and took a large bite of her cracker, but her gaze snagged on the jagged edge of his and awareness sparked between them. His gaze lowered and lingered on her lips like a caress—a silky, soft caress that raised the small hair follicles all over her body. Her own gaze dropped to his clean-shaven jaw. Strong and square. Her hand tingled with the need to touch, with the imaginary warmth of his skin. Her gaze travelled a sensual path to the velvety softness of his lips. Her own lips yearned in response. What was wrong with her. Not. Going. To. Happen. Ever.

  “Wait.”

  “What?”

  He reached out and traced the line of her jaw, his touch lingering on her bottom lip. “You have a crumb.”

  If her resistance hadn’t already disintegrated like a puff of pink smoke, she would have swiped his hand away. If her body hadn’t already caved in with his touch, she would have taken the opportunity to sink her teeth into his fine tanned flesh. If her body hadn’t already been weak with wanting more, she would have scowled and scolded and stopped him. Instead, she fell into the pool of blue and her gasping lungs seemed to fill with water instead of oxygen. It was a moment or many before she reached for the edge, dragged her wet and bedraggled self out and growled with a voice that was pure provoked bear. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

  His mouth tweaked at the corners and a wash of desire filled her, stirring her insides into a delicious spin. It coloured everything from the way he poured the wine, to the way he produced strawberries and fresh raspberries from the depths of his bag.

  “They’re organic.” He picked up a plump, juicy raspberry and began to lift it towards her mouth. She eyed him as she might a particularly persistent blowfly and he thought better of it, throwing it into his own mouth instead.

  Memories of his brother’s rakish charm rose like ghouls from the dandelions growing in the grass around them and snapped her out of whatever spell he’d cast with his wine and his crumb and his berries. The reality check was like a shower
of ice to the heat germinating in her centre.

  “What makes you think you’re the black wig of the family? You went into law.”

  “Guilty as charged, your honour, but I’m not my father or my brother. I don’t want my children to grow up without their father because he’s at work. I don’t want to spend more time with my secretary than my wife. Or take advantage of a young teenage receptionist because my life is dull beyond endurance.”

  His words cut like a slap and Scarlet physically recoiled. “Your brother’s behaviour was reprehensible.”

  “It was.” His tone was cheerful, as if they weren’t having a scathing discussion about his older brother. “We’re not close.” His gaze said a lot of things. For one, it said he didn’t like what had happened to her. Nor did he take his brother’s side, which was something. “Our father was never home. The pressure of his work took a toll on his health and his family and I don’t want that. I don’t want success at the cost of everything that’s important.”

  “You’re very wise for a… twenty-nine-year-old man?”

  “I sometimes feel like I’m fifty.”

  “Are you telling me that mop of hair isn’t real? A toupee?” Scarlet pretended to be devastated. She blamed the wine. It raced through her veins like an aphrodisiac and where before she’d found him only marginally attractive, she now found him devastatingly handsome. She didn’t drink. With colleagues. Ever. She didn’t do work functions. She especially didn’t do end-of-year Christmas parties. Why had she thought a roadside picnic was acceptable? She had rules for a reason. Rules kept her safe. Rules kept her on task and focused on her goals. How had she let another Radcliff drive all sense from her head? She glanced at her wrist. PS19. Pissed and Stupid at nineteen. It was a message from her younger self, etched in indelible ink. She’d been charmed and wooed and weak. Never again would she feel such a fool. She lowered her glass and reached for some berries, her gaze straying to the road. The quiet, empty road.

  “What does it stand for?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Your ink. You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who gets a tattoo.”