Hot Lawyers: The Lee Christine Collection

by Lee Christine

  But best of all, he wore a hopeful smile, and he was holding the bottle of 1994 Grange in his hand.

  ‘I know I’m late. I only found the flowers this afternoon.’

  Clean.

  Straight to the point.

  No bullshit.

  ‘Oh.’ Josie’s stomach filled with butterflies as she ran nervous hands down the sides of her skirt.

  ‘When I didn’t hear anything, I wondered, thought — maybe you’d decided to stay in the States, you know, keep screwing the Hilary Clintons of the world.’

  A rare flash of irritation sparked in his eyes. ‘Josie!’

  Oh God, where had that come from?

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m really nervous, and you know how I say things when I’m nervous.’

  His eyes softened, and his mouth curved in a dry smile. ‘Yeah, I know.’

  She waved a hand in his direction and drew in an uneven breath. ‘And you caught me by surprise, coming in unannounced like that, and looking all great. If I’ve learned anything over the last three months it’s that I hate surprises.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Now he was apologising. ‘I tried calling, but your phone was turned off.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Let’s start again, shall we?’ He leaned down and put the Grange on the floor. ‘How are you?’

  Josie opened her mouth to say she was fine, to parrot off the automatic response that people just expected. But this wasn’t people, this was Nate.

  Suddenly, she knew she had to be honest. This man knew her better than anyone else in the world.

  ‘I’m alright. Truly, I am. It hasn’t been easy, it’s been bloody hard work. But bit by bit, I’m putting my life back together.’

  There was a moment of uncertainty in his eyes, but then it disappeared as quickly as it came. ‘Building the wall one brick at a time, hey?’

  She nodded. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘And your mother?’

  Touched that he’d asked about her mother when many didn’t, Josie smiled. ‘Mum’s getting there too. The house is being sold — proceeds of crime and all that. But it seems there’ll be enough money for her to live on. I mean, Dad did own the construction company, so not everything’s been bought with drug money.’

  She closed her eyes and wondered whether she’d ever be able to utter the words “drug money” without a pain piercing her heart.

  When she opened her eyes, Nate had moved closer. ‘I’m proud of you, Josie.’

  The admiration in his voice sent a wave of pleasure through her. ‘I’m trying to turn things around. Mum and I have even joined forces, if you can believe that. We’ve set up a charity, raising money to rehabilitate teenage drug addicts.’

  Nate’s eyebrows shot up, so close now she could feel the heat from his body, smell his sexy clean aroma. ‘I’m very impressed, but I need you to tell me what made you change your mind, about me?’

  Josie stared at his firm brown lips, her breathing turning shallow. ‘I saw the interview with Dickson on TV. You’d been right all along about him. I understood then, why you did what you did.’

  He reached out and cupped her nape, coaxing her nearer, and when he spoke, his voice was a low whisper. ‘Dickson was out in the hall. He left before I could speak to him.’

  Josie moved closer too, parted her lips in anticipation. She didn’t want to talk about Dickson. She wanted Nate to stop talking and kiss her.

  ‘I feared he might have taken my place,’ Nate murmured, warm breath fanning her face, thumb a hypnotic stroke across her cheek. ‘Has he, princess? Has Dickson taken my place?’

  Josie shook her head, raised her hands and splayed them across his chest. ‘No one could ever take your place, Nate.’

  He kissed her then, softly and tenderly, lips clinging to hers, hands cupping her face.

  ‘Josie’, he whispered between kisses. ‘God I’ve missed you.’

  ‘I’ve missed you too.’

  He groaned and gathered her closer, wrapping her in his arms and claiming her mouth again, this time in a passionate kiss. Josie slid her hands upwards, stroking her fingers across his shoulders and down his triceps, where the Altar Boys had inked the tattoo into his skin.

  ‘You’re thinner,’ he said against her lips, hands roaming her body.

  ‘I lost my appetite.’

  He rested his forehead against hers. ‘I’m going to have to take you home and fatten you up.’

  ‘Home?’

  ‘Home to the mountains, and then Tasmania. I haven’t brought a girl home since high school so Mum will know it’s serious. She’d be over the moon.’

  Josie stilled, unsure she was ready to confront the entire Hunter clan. ‘Your family?’

  ‘Yes, my family.’ Nate raised his head and held her at arm’s length, so she had no option but to look in his eyes.

  ‘Princess, you have to accept that you are not your father, that you did not commit his crimes. I wish I could give you the self-esteem, empower you with the confidence to know that. But I can’t. All I can offer you, is me.’

  His heartfelt, genuine words brought tears to Josie’s eyes, but she blinked them away and refused to cry even happy tears. This was a night for celebration.

  Gathering every bit of internal strength she could muster, she forced herself to smile and give him a gift in return. Prove to him that she’d develop the confidence to overcome all that had happened to her.

  And she would, with him by her side.

  ‘Okay. If I’m in love with you, and I am, I guess it’s only reasonable I meet your family.’

  He crushed her in another hug, burying his face in her neck and inhaling deeply. ‘You’ll love it down there. There’s an apple orchard, and we can go for long walks by the river. We even get snow sometimes. It’s about as different from Sydney as you can get. It’s perfect for holidays.’

  Sudden elation welled inside of Josie, and for the first time since making love with Nate in the mountains, she dared to think that she could be lucky enough to have all this. Have him. ‘It sounds beautiful, Nate.’

  He kissed her again, tongue searching for hers. And then his hands were sliding all the way down her back and over the curve of her bottom.

  ‘No!’ He pulled away when she crushed her breasts against his chest. ‘We are not going to make love in the dusty back room of a community hall.’

  ‘Oh come on, detective.’ She had the urge to tease, like old times. ‘Where’s your sense of adventure?’

  He growled. She didn’t know how he did it, but the low sound that rumbled from deep within his throat was positively primitive.

  ‘I’ve had enough adventure to last me a lifetime, and I’ve booked us a room at the “Shangri-La”.’

  Josie raised her eyebrows. ‘Very posh.’

  ‘You better believe it. Undercover work pays extremely well.’

  Josie sobered. She’d been so excited, she hadn’t even thought about his next assignment. How would she cope without him, cope with knowing he was constantly in danger?

  ‘Hey.’ He captured her chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting her face up so he could look into her eyes. ‘What just happened?’

  ‘When do you start your next assignment?’

  He grinned. ‘My undercover career is over, princess. This face has been splashed all over the media for three months. I should have mentioned undercover cops have a limited career life. Most only have one or two big assignments in them.’

  Josie breathed a huge sigh of relief. She hadn’t realised that, but of course it made sense when you thought about it. ‘What will you do now?’

  ‘I’ve had lots of offers, from overseas, from within Australia, doing anything I want.

  Luke’s even offered me something.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really.’ He reached down and tapped her lightly on the bottom. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  Josie glanced at the small storage room. ‘Er. I have a problem.
I’ve locked my keys in there, and all the instruments have to be out before Monday morning.’

  Gees, great timing, Jos.

  Nate rested his hands lightly on his hips. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Is that all?’ Josie cried. ‘It’s a pain in the arse. I want to go now, Nate, leave with you — and I’m going to have to stay here and wait for a locksmith.’

  ‘Wait here a sec.’

  He turned and disappeared out the door, returning a few minutes later holding a wrench and another fine instrument that looked like a pick.

  Josie watched in amazement as Nate squatted on his haunches and carefully slid the pick into the keyway. He moved it around, using the tiniest of movements, and then he raised his other hand and did something with the wrench.

  To the Altar Boys I’m Nate Jordan, mechanic by day, lock picker by night.

  Suddenly there was a small click, and Nate lowered the tools, straightened up and opened the door. Then he raised an eyebrow and grinned at her, a slightly cocky expression on his handsome face.

  ‘That is so hot!’ Josie flung her arms around his neck and crushed her breasts against his chest. ‘I am so aroused right now, detective, you’d better get me to that hotel quick smart or we will be doing it on the floor of this hall.’

  Nate laughed, picked her up in his arms and swung her around. ‘If I’d known you’d be so impressed, I’d have done it before now.’

  Josie laid her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes and savoured the moment. She’d come through the darkest days of her life and ended up with the most incredible guy on the planet. And she was safe again now.

  Safe in her home city.

  Safe in her relationship.

  And best of all, safe in Nate’s arms.

  THE END

  In Safe Keeping

  Lee Christine

  Acknowledgements

  Many thanks to Kate Cuthbert and the supportive and efficient team at Escape Publishing.

  Huge thanks to my critique partner, Linda Hills, for keeping me on the straight and narrow. Her belief that I can do this again is unwavering.

  And finally, thanks to my amazing family. Danielle and Adam, you inspire me! And to my wonderful husband, Damian, who never complains about picking up take-away or having soup for dinner when things get a bit full on.

  To my brother, Ray, with love.

  For always being there.

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter One

  5 p.m. Friday

  Laila Richards had always known success came at a price, but she could never have imagined it would cost her Evan Barclay, the man she’d been sleeping with for the past six weeks, the man she’d shared the most unbelievable sex with, and not much else.

  So it was with a heavy heart she waited in the steel-and-glass foyer of Poole Greenwood Lawyers. This was her only chance to speak with him before the weekend, and the man needed to hear what she had to say — tonight.

  ‘Ms Richards doesn’t have an appointment.’ The receptionist spoke into a microphone attached to her wireless headset and continued to sort mail. ‘She’s left emails and messages, but Mr Barclay hasn’t responded.’

  There was a halt in the conversation, then the woman’s white-tipped nails clicked against the plastic as she flicked away the microphone and looked at Laila.

  ‘Mr Barclay’s been in lockdown negotiations with a client for the past three days. A junior solicitor on his team can see you.’

  Laila scraped back a few blonde hairs that had worked free of the thick braid she always wore to work. ‘I’m afraid that’s unsatisfactory.’

  The receptionist’s lips compressed, her patient expression changing to one of forbearance as she watched Laila take a business card and pen from her handbag.

  Scribbling the word Urgent on the back of the card, Laila handed it to the receptionist.

  ‘I act for Scarlett Peyton. Mr Barclay acts for her husband.’

  It was typical, the way a name opened doors. The mere mention of one of Australia’s wealthiest families had the receptionist repositioning the microphone and pressing a button on the telephone console.

  ‘Please take a seat.’

  Laila breathed a little easier and sat down in one of the ergonomically designed waiting-room chairs. Representing Scarlett Peyton in divorce proceedings was a coup by anyone’s definition, and it meant big things for her small family law practice. Scarlett’s patronage turned those she favoured into overnight success stories. Fashion designers and hair stylists became instant celebrities. Women wanted to frequent the same beauty parlour, the same gym. Even the school Scarlett’s children attended had a waiting list of more than four hundred.

  If Laila handled the case well, a recommendation by Scarlett Peyton would have wealthy women lining up for her to represent them. And that meant success for the firm — and, more importantly, much-needed funds for her foundation.

  It was so unfortunate, so damn disappointing, that the case brought with it a massive conflict of interest — and with Evan Barclay of all people.

  Laila tried shaking off the regret threatening to swamp her. At thirty-two, Evan Barclay was one of Sydney’s young dynamo lawyers, working hard, playing even harder, and very much the helmsman in their relationship.

  Until now.

  When it all had to end.

  Laila looked up as the receptionist came towards her, handbag hooked over one arm, a large bundle of mail in her hands.

  ‘I’ve sent your card upstairs, Ms Richards. But I should warn you, Mr Barclay works obscene hours.’

  That she knew. How many times had he knocked on her door at three in the morning after working late? They’d screw each other’s brains out for the next few hours and then, just as the sun appeared on the horizon, he’d unwrap himself from around her body, tell her to go back to sleep, and leave.

  Laila flushed, the memory of those nights threatening her resolve. ‘I don’t mind waiting.’

  ‘Well.’ The woman pointed at a security guard stationed by the entrance. ‘The US consulate’s a tenant of this building. The guard’s here all night.’ She raised a doubtful eyebrow at Laila. ‘I hope you’re not.’

  The other woman left, and Laila settled back in the chair, eyes shifting to the sophisticated logo displayed on the wall behind the desk. Formerly Grace and Poole, the firm had become Poole Greenwood Lawyers following Henry Grace’s very public downfall and arrest eighteen months earlier. Since then the firm’s partners, Simon Poole and Allegra Greenwood, had been rebuilding its reputation. Evan Barclay formed an integral part of that plan.

  Laila drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair and thought back to when his appointment had featured in the Law Review. Headhunted from another firm, his brief was to clean up the mess left by Henry Grace, rebuild th
e commercial division, and recoup the two million dollar fine imposed by the Law Society.

  Of course it was vital he bring with him one of Australia’s wealthiest men, his school friend Duncan Peyton, as a client. That had been the deal-breaker.

  At the time of reading the article, Laila would never have dreamed her path would cross with Evan Barclay’s. But that had all changed at a Law Society dinner six weeks ago.

  He was already seated by the time she arrived, but he stood, raising his red wine glass in a toast to her as someone or other introduced them. She couldn’t remember who. She was only aware of the blazing interest in his eyes as he put down the glass and reached across the table. A warm hand engulfed hers, his firm grip sparking every nerve ending in her body.

  Over the next hour their eyes met again and again, until finally, in the midst of the after-dinner speech, his foot nudged hers beneath the table.

  He mouthed the words balls-achingly boring.

  A naughty boy.

  She smothered a smile and reprimanded him with a nudge of her own.

  His eyes burned brighter.

  Time ticked by. Tension grew. People around her became an annoying distraction.

  She was deaf to the speeches, blind to anyone else in the room bar them. She grew hotter and hotter under Evan Barclay’s continued scrutiny. Her panties grew damp. She couldn’t remember being so physically attracted to a man, so turned on, just in his presence.

  And then, when she thought she couldn’t stand it, that she’d have to leave, he mouthed the words. ‘Want to get out of here?’

  She’d gone, without the slightest hesitation.

  He’d walked straight out to the reservations desk and booked a room on the spot. They didn’t even make it out of the hotel.

  It was a night to remember, and the first tine she’d slept with a man since the death of her husband four years earlier.