The Hot Lawyer (A Romance Love Story) (Hargrave Brothers - Book #4)

by Alexa Davis

  "I'm sick of this whole mess, Pace," I said. "I want out, so we have to go big or go home. Tell them that they can either be loyal now or suffer the consequences later when we win."

  Brant looked up at me and shook his head before typing out the message and pressing send. "You are so going to screw us, man," he sighed. "We've worked so hard to get to this point and now you're going to piss it away, and for what?"

  "I'm not pissing it away," I said, shaking my head. "I'm taking the hard line so that we win. Don't you see? If they back out before the vote, then we're definitely screwed, but if we have plausible deniability, then we can still find a manufacturer, even if the bill doesn't pass."

  He nodded and kept typing, casually tossing out, "I danced with Mo tonight."

  "Great, she shoot you down again?" I teased him.

  "No, actually, she told me that if she weren't already attached, she'd definitely be interested in me," he grinned.

  "You're shitting me," I said genuinely surprised that Mo would say something like that. She never said something if she didn't mean it.

  "I shit you not, my friend," he said as his fingers flew across the keyboard. "I'm doing to redouble my efforts and see if I can't get her to leave the guy."

  "Look, Pace, I know you've been hot for her, well, your whole life," I said shaking my head. "But have you really thought this through?"

  "Of course, I have," he said seriously. "I want Mo. I've always wanted her, and I'm going to convince her that she wants me, too."

  "You get that this is one of the most unlikely parings in the history of the universe, don't you?" I asked. Sometimes I wasn't sure if Brant was in full possession of his faculties.

  "Linc, I've never been more sure of anything in my life," he told me as he looked up from his computer. "I've loved her since we were kids. I just had to wait until I was old enough and rich enough to have something to offer her. She's going to marry me."

  "You're insane," I said, shaking my head. "Hopelessly insane."

  "I'm in love, buddy," he said seriously. "And you'd do well to follow my lead. What happened with the reporter?"

  "Huh, oh, yeah," I said, unwilling to share the fact that I'd just come to the office from her apartment. "We danced and then that scumbag Russo interrupted us and pissed her off."

  "What'd he do?"

  I spent the next half hour recounting the details of Russo's insults and swearing that I'd get revenge while Brant seconded my emotion and kept typing.

  "Aren't you done yet?" I asked impatiently.

  "Dude, I'm typing this out in Chinese, it's not easy!" he shot back.

  "When did you learn Chinese?" I said, astonished that I hadn't known he'd been engaged in such a task.

  "I've been taking lessons for years," he sighed. "You really don't pay attention to much outside of the business, do you?"

  I didn't answer that. I knew I'd been busy building GRIPTech and pursuing the passage of legislation that would make us wealthy beyond our wildest dreams, but I hadn't realized how much I'd missed as I'd immersed myself in it.

  "You know, Linc, you really should take some time off and learn to relax," he said as he sat back and hit send. "It's not like you're going to have another life, you know?"

  "I know, but there's a lot riding on this, Pace," I said as I ran my hand through my hair. "A lot of people are depending on me and I need to make sure that I don't let them down."

  "Your parents would be proud of you no matter how this turns out, Linc," he said quietly. I nodded, but said nothing. A few minutes later, Brant spoke again, "They got the message, now we wait to see what they say about our proposal. I think it was solid, so they shouldn't have a problem with it."

  "I want out after this, Pace," I said as he stared at the screen waiting for a response from the Chinese CEO. “I'm tired of living my life under this weight of what happened and not being able to talk about it with anyone but you or Mo."

  "You can talk about it, though," Brant said encouragingly. "You are allowed to own your past."

  "Yeah, but if I do, then my whole identity goes back to being the guy whose parents were shot to death by a nut job with a gun," I said. "I don't want to be that guy for the rest of my life, you know? When I don’t talk about it in public, then people pretend like it didn’t happen."

  "So, instead, you'll be the rich corporate guy who supports gun legislation so that you can make a huge profit?"

  "I don't want to be that guy, either!" I protested.

  "Then speak up and own all of the different facets, Linc," he urged. "There's no law that says you are limited to being only one side of yourself. You can be the corporate guy or the do-gooder or the good old-fashioned boyfriend of some hot chick you met in a coffee shop."

  "Let's not go too far," I said.

  "What I'm saying is that you've let the need to be cloaked in secrecy outlast its use," he said. "After your parents died, it made sense. Mo was protecting you so that you didn't have to be weighed down by something that was beyond your control. But now, fifteen years later, you've defined yourself on your own. It's okay if you want to reclaim the past and then move on to live your future."

  "What the hell happened to you, Pace?" I asked. "It's like you've become some kind of philosopher or something."

  "No, I've just been caught in the trap of the corporate grind, and I'm tired of it," he said as he lowered his head and rested it in his hands. "I don't want to do this for the rest of my life, Linc. I want to convince Mo to be with me and then I want to spend my life trying to be happy with her."

  "What about a family or kids?" I asked. "Don't you want those things? I mean, no offense, but she's too old to have kids and even if she could, they're not really her thing."

  "I've never wanted that life," he said, looking up. "You know that. I've wanted to live adventurously, not tied to a house or kids or a white picket fence. That's your thing, Linc."

  "I don't want that either!"

  "Please, you want something like what you grew up with," he said. "I never grew up with that kind of life, so I never wanted it."

  "I don't know what I want." I ran my hand through my hair again.

  "Yeah you do," he smiled. "You just aren't ready to admit it yet."

  "Why the hell do you annoy me so much, Pace?" I grinned back at him. "You get in my head and you buzz around like a fly!"

  "It's because I'm one of the few people who will tell you the truth, Linc," he said seriously. "There aren't many of us, so when you find one, you should hang on as tight as you can."

  I stood staring at my best friend, thinking about how all I wanted to be hanging on to was a beautiful, stubborn redhead who, thus far, had not failed to tell me the truth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Olivia

  I cried myself to sleep on the couch and woke up in the early morning light feeling stiff, cold, and annoyed with Lincoln Redding. I got up to make myself a cup of coffee and checked my phone for messages. There was one from Bix telling me to come over at nine for breakfast with the kids. It was only seven, so I started the coffee and headed to the bathroom to take a long hot shower.

  I stepped under the steaming water and felt the previous night being washed down the drain. I peeled off the strip of fake lashes that had migrated down to my cheek and dropped them in the tub, swearing never to wear such weird fashion accessories again. I closed my eyes and leaned against the tile as I let my memory of the previous night play.

  I was never going to be able to erase the feeling of Linc's hands on my bare skin, or the way he bit my lip as he kissed me, or the way his fingers felt when he'd slid them up and down in my wetness. I felt the familiar ache of need beginning again, and as the warm water cascaded down over me, I washed my hair while fantasizing about how Linc's slick, wet body would feel gliding against my own.

  "Argh," I muttered as I tipped my head up, but found the shampoo suds flowing into my eyes. I turned and rested my head against the tile as I fought back the tears that threatened to sp
ill over. I wasn't sure if I was crying about Linc or if it was leftover pain from six months earlier. In the end, the origin of the pain didn't matter as much as letting it out, so I let it flow.

  An hour later, the waterworks had abated and I was showered and dressed. I wandered into the kitchen and poured my first cup of coffee, reveling in the strong scent of the dark brew. I checked my email as I sipped from the steaming hot cup and was surprised to find a message from Carl. He was rather cryptic, but the basic gist was that I needed to get into the newsroom to see him as soon as possible. I emailed back that I'd be in that afternoon and then went to finish getting ready for my breakfast date with Bix and the kids.

  I rang Bix's doorbell at precisely nine and I heard the sound of thundering feet running toward the door and two small voices shouting, "It's Aunt Liv! It's Aunt Liv!" The door opened and two small whirling dervishes threw themselves at me. I hugged and kissed them as I laughed and tried to find out if they'd been good since I'd last seen them.

  "I think we've been quite good, Aunt Liv," Jake said with a very serious expression. "I've been maintaining a chart on my wall, but Diana pulled it down this morning, so I need to put it back up."

  "Did not!" Diana yelled at the top of her lungs. "Did not! Did not!"

  Jake looked at her, rolled his eyes, and stepped away from the tangle of arms. "Mom's making stuffed French toast with cherries and cheese and a huge plate of bacon," he said as he walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

  "Are you hungry, Aunt Liv?" Diana asked. "I'm very hungry."

  "I'm positively starving," I said in a dramatic voice as I pretended to faint. She burst into a fit of giggles as she ran after her brother.

  "Aunt Liv is positively starving," she said when she reached the kitchen.

  "Well, then please tell her to wash her hands and come sit at the table so we can eat," Bix said as I stepped into the kitchen.

  "Aunt Liv, wash your hands so we can eat!" Diana yelled jumping up and down. "Wash your hands!"

  I walked over and planted a kiss on Bix's cheek and then stepped to the sink and followed Diana's instructions before taking a seat at the table.

  "You've outdone yourself, Bix," I said as I grabbed a strip of bacon and took a bite out of it.

  "I saw this recipe in Bon Appetite and I wanted to try it out before I used it on a bigger crowd," she said. Bix was dressed in her usual uniform: a sweater topped by a matching cardigan and a pair of black pants with holiday flats. This pair had sequined Santa faces on each of the toes. Around her neck she was wearing a large necklace made of red and green macaroni pieces strung together on a length of red yarn. I shot her a questioning look, to which she responded, "Diana's preschool holiday project."

  We listened to the children talk about their holiday parties at school and list all of the things they'd put on their Christmas list as we stuffed ourselves. Once the meal was done, Bix told the children that the choice was either dish duty or practicing their music. Both quickly ran from the room and soon after we were treated to the sounds of Jake on piano and Diana accompanying him on the drums.

  "You got her drums?" I laughed.

  "My father bought her a drum and said it would be good practice for her budding career as a rock star," Bix grinned. "She's hell on wheels, but my mother assured me that I was quite a bit like her when I was that age."

  "I can't even imagine."

  "My mother is a known liar," she laughed as she cleared the dishes and stacked them next to the sink. I pulled on the pink dishwashing gloves hanging on the hook inside the cabinet and prepared to fulfill my duty. Bix looked at me as I turned on the water and added soap. "So, I hear you absconded with the jewels last night."

  "Oh God, it was a nightmare," I said rolling my eyes. "I was so worked up about Davis Russo that I ran out of the place and completely forgot that I was wearing them."

  "What did Russo say that got you so wound up?"

  "He found me dancing with Lincoln Redding and accused him of having bought his own reporter," I said as I felt the fury rising in my chest again.

  "Has he?" she asked as she set a large empty platter on the corner next to me.

  "Bix! How could you even ask such a thing?" I said incredulously. "Of course, he hasn't bought me! What do you think I am?"

  "A little touchy are we?" she grinned mischievously as she grabbed a sponge and began wiping the table. "What else happened last night?"

  I hesitated for a moment, not knowing whether I wanted to tell her what had happened with Linc and how he'd run out afterwards leaving me confused. But when I looked up, the sympathetic look on her face told me that she already had a pretty good idea that something had happened, so I spilled the details.

  "What are you going to do now?" she asked as she rinsed the sponge she'd used to wipe the table before grabbing a towel and drying it.

  "You're kind of anal about the cleanliness thing," I observed.

  "Well, aren't you a regular Sherlock Holmes! Nice try at avoiding the issue," she smiled. "What are you going to do about the boy?"

  "I don't know, Bix," I sighed. "I don't know how I feel about him. He's sexy, smart, and rich, and there is definitely an animal attraction there, but I feel like he's hiding something."

  "What do you mean?" She opened the cabinet and pulled out a fresh set of placemats and began putting them on the clean table.

  "I don't know, he doesn't quite answer questions when I ask them," I said as I drained the sink and rinsed the gloves before pulling them off and storing them away. "It's like he's got something he wants to talk about, but every time I ask, he pulls back and keeps it hidden."

  "Are you sure this isn't a case of the pot calling the kettle black?" she asked with a knowing grin.

  "Low blow, Northrup," I laughed. "It's entirely possible, but I don't think I'm wrong on this one."

  "So, I return to my previous question. What are you going to do?"

  "Try and dig up the dirt on Russo and report a story that will help me solidify my reputation as a solid news reporter," I said as I leaned against the counter. "I have to focus on my career, Bix. It's only been six months, but I know people are wondering if I'll ever recover."

  "Look, you didn't do that, Liv," she said. "You know that was a betrayal by someone entrusted with the power to make choices about information. You did what you were supposed to do."

  "I know, Bix, but people who trusted me died because of my choice," I said quietly. "So, it was my fault. At least, in some ways."

  "You have to let that go, Liv," she told me as she moved around the counter and put an arm around my shoulder. "He betrayed your trust and used you just as much as he used the others. It wasn't your fault."

  I nodded as I leaned into her hug and rested my head on her shoulder. We stood there for a long time, listening to the kids practicing while I tried to get it through my head that the deaths of my informants were not my fault.

  "What's going on with the story about the shootings?" she asked, breaking the silence and bringing us back to the real world.

  "I don't know. Carl emailed me and said he had something, but he didn't share it over email," I said as I stood up and moved away from the sink. "I don't understand why the guy who shot the senators is still laying in the morgue unidentified."

  "That reminds me, Doug said he overheard a couple of aides talking about the gun safety bill and saying that Larry Bangor was doing everything he could to oppose it," she said.

  "That's weird, I thought I heard Bangor was trying to help get enough votes to pass the bill," I said. "I need to check that out. And on that note, it's time for me to hit the road, chickadee!"

  Bix smiled warmly, opened the fridge, pulled out a paper bag, and handed it to me. It had my name written on the front in handwriting that could have only come from a seven year old and it was covered in stickers thanks to what I assumed was an overzealous four-year-old helper.

  "Lunch," she said. "I know you never eat well when you're at the paper, so this is my
attempt to change that, at least for today."

  "Thanks, Bix," I smiled as I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tightly.

  "Yes, well, someone has to look out for you," she said as she hugged me back and whispered. "Let him in, Liv. Just try."

  I nodded as I pulled away and yelled, "Hey, thundering hooves of music, I'm outta here!" The kids stopped playing and ran into the kitchen wanting to know if I liked my personalized lunch bag. "I love it," I said as I hugged each of them tightly. "I love it more than you know."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Linc

  In the early hours of the morning, I told Brant that I was heading home to get some rest. He'd said he'd be heading out as soon as he was sure that the CEO on the other end of his message didn't need any additional information.

  I texted Mick and told him to pull the car around to the front of the building. A few minutes later, I crossed the lobby and found him waiting at the curb. On the drive home, I thought about calling Olivia. I wasn't sure if she'd be up this early, but I found myself wanting to talk to her. More than that, I wanted to be curled up next to her warm body – if I was honest, I wanted to do far more than curl up with her.

  There was something about her that made me feel alive when I was with her. She was stubborn and willful, but there was a base level of honesty that I didn't have with most people. And suddenly it struck me: my money didn’t impress her at all. Most women I dated wanted something from me, whether it was dinners out in fancy restaurants or tickets to sold out events or trips to exotic places, they all wanted something, but Olivia Moore wanted nothing. She didn't even pretend to care about my money. And, that made me suspicious.

  She wanted information, that much was obvious. She wanted to know what was underlying my push for gun safety legislation, and she wanted to know why Davis Russo and I hated each other so much. And while there was part of me that wanted to tell her exactly why I hated Russo and clue her in on all the damage he'd done, the other part of me didn't want her to see me as the poor orphan whose parents had been murdered by a mad gunman. I didn't want her to know the side of me that was still hurt and lonely after all these years, but Mo's advice kept ringing in my ears.