Layla
“These are gorgeous.”
Becca, the receptionist who was also my friend and frequent lunch partner, walked into my office carrying a huge bouquet of yellow roses. There had to be two dozen. She set them down on the desk and sighed. “I wish I could find a guy like Oliver. That man is crazy about you.”
I smiled. Although I had a nagging feeling they might not be from him. I hoped I was wrong.
“Lunch today?” she asked.
“Definitely. Around one?”
“I’ll buzz you then. If I don’t, you won’t come up for air until it’s dark outside.”
She was right. I had a tendency to jump into a project and lose track of time.
Becca was just walking out of my office as Oliver walked in.
“Why don’t you have a brother, Oliver?” she teased.
He smiled. Then his eyes landed on the enormous delivery on my desk, and his playful smile wilted.
Shit. He didn’t send them.
“Secret admirer I need to be worried about?”
“Uh... Becca just brought them in. I thought you sent them.”
He shook his head. “Wish I had.”
While Oliver and I had been dating for almost a month, we’d never had the talk—more because it was unnecessary than anything else. Neither one of us had time to date someone else. Hell, we grabbed lunches when we could, but in four weeks, we’d only been on a couple official dates together. We both worked ten-hour days, six days a week. So I’d never bothered to consider that Oliver might be dating other women, and it looked like he hadn’t thought that a possibility for me either, until now.
He didn’t ask, but he also stood there waiting, his eyes occasionally flickering to the unopened card stapled to the outside of the clear cellophane wrap. Things grew awkward.
I silently willed the phone to ring, but of course it didn’t. Eventually, I detached the card while my brain deliberated on how to handle this if the flowers were indeed from Gray. Oliver watched as I slipped the tiny card from its pink envelope.
Reading it, I forced my perfected courtroom fake smile. “My friend. I helped her with some legal work, and she sent them to say thank you.”
Oliver looked relieved. I folded the card into the palm of my hand, which had already started to sweat.
“So what brings you slumming down to my floor?” I asked him. “Come to see how the other half lives?”
Oliver’s office was two floors above mine. It had been recently renovated, and even though my floor was nice by law firm standards, his was luxurious.
“Thought I’d say good morning and tell you about a little chat I had with our prospective client last night.”
Shit. I was digging a big hole of lies, and they all had to do with Gray Westbrook. I wasn’t even entirely sure why I had started this mess by pretending I didn’t know him. But the lies just kept coming.
“Oh?” Technically, this wasn’t a lie—it was an omission to pretend I didn’t know Gray had tried to chase him off in the men’s room. Although omission or lie—whatever I called it—it still felt wrong.
“He’s interested in more than legal advice from you. Jackass actually thought he could hand me a wad of cash and I’d take a hike before dinner.”
“What did you say?”
“Told him you’d never date a client or an ex-con.”
“I see…”
“Anyway, it was the first pitch the named partners had you on, so I know it would be good if you landed the account. But the selfish side of me hopes he goes elsewhere so he isn’t hitting on you.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I know you can. That’s one of the things I think is so sexy about you. You have balls bigger than most men I know. But this guy just got out of prison.”
“Federal prison for insider trading. He’s not a rapist.”
“Yeah. But I hate the idea of you around some guy with no morals or ethics.”
“If I didn’t spend time with people who lacked morals and ethics, I’d have very few clients. You do know I work for the securities side of the firm, not the artsy and upstanding copyright department like you?”
“Sad.” Oliver grinned. “But true. I gotta run—have a ten o’clock I need to prep for. Dinner this week?”
“Sure. Sounds good.”
I asked Oliver to shut my door on the way out, feigning a conference call I needed to jump on. Once I was alone, I sat back in my chair, unfolded the crinkled card in my hand, and read it again.
Freckles,
I missed you. Take a chance and give me a second one.
X
Gray
I hated everything about what this man had done in the last twenty-four hours. He’d shown up without warning at my firm and insisted I give the presentation, demanded in front of the partners that I attend a dinner—a dinner where he was rude to Oliver, made me lie about not knowing him, and had the gall to send me flowers. But most of all… I hated that I had butterflies in my stomach when he was around.
The smell of roses permeated the air. Even though I hadn’t removed the cellophane or taken the vase out of the cardboard protective wrap at the bottom, a sweet floral fragrance wafted through my office. I’d caught myself staring at the arrangement on more than one occasion while my mind wandered. It distracted me while I tried to finish reading a stock purchase offering. I’d spent the entire morning and three hours after lunch attempting to finish going over the damn thing, when it should have taken me an hour in total.
Frustrated, I ripped my reading glasses from my face, tossed them on the desk, and sat back, glowering at the damn roses on the corner of my desk.
“You know, you’re a lot like him.” I’d definitely lost my mind, considering I was now talking to an unopened bouquet of flowers. “So pretty and smelling good. But give in and pick one up, and I’ll get pricked by a thorn.”
It was clear I wasn’t going to accomplish anything with the damn things taunting me on my desk. Blowing out a deep breath, I stood, picked up the bouquet, walked over to my garbage can, and tossed what was likely two hundred dollars worth of flowers in the trash.
Maybe it was symbolic, or maybe I was just that nuts, but I was able to concentrate after that. In less than a half hour, I’d finally finished up what I’d been working on and walked out to my paralegal to have her type up my handwritten notes.
I’d returned to my office and was rummaging through my file cabinet when someone knocked on my open door. I looked up to see Old Man Pittman in the doorway. I shut the cabinet.
“Mr. Pittman. How can I help you?”
It was the second time in two days he’d come down from the ivory tower to speak to me. I knew whatever he wanted had to be related to a certain potential client. For the first time, it dawned on me that the blow I’d dealt to Gray’s ego might’ve caused him to bad-mouth me to my bosses. I wouldn’t survive at this firm if the senior partners thought I’d intentionally sabotaged a large potential account. The shaky ground from my suspension had only recently started to steady.
“We thought we’d give you the good news, Layla.” Pittman flashed a rare smile.
“Good news?”
“Yes.”
He took a few steps into my office, and for the first time, I noticed he wasn’t alone. Gray strutted in like he owned the place. He flashed a wicked smile.
Pittman motioned to him. “Mr. Westbrook has just signed on with us. He said you were very persuasive at dinner.”
I fought against the headiness I felt. “Oh. That’s…that’s fantastic news.”
Pittman patted Gray on the back. “You’ve made the right choice. Layla here will take very good care of you.”
The fucker’s eyes gleamed. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
“Well, I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” Pittman looked at me. “I know you’ll need coverage for the Barag deposition. I’ll have Charles sit in for you. Mr. Westbrook is a VIP client, so we’ll need to rearrange some things to see that you’re available when he needs you.”
“The Barag deposition? It’s tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry. If Charles can’t get up to speed, we’ll reschedule it. Mr. Westbrook’s trip takes priority.”
“Trip?”
“You’ll be accompanying him to Greensboro.”
I stayed quiet with a practiced smile plastered on my face until I closed the door behind Pittman. He’d left with dollar signs in his eyes, none the wiser about my wanting to strangle the new VIP.
Folding my arms across my chest as I turned to face Gray, I hissed, “What kind of game do you think you’re playing?”
“What? I need new counsel.”
“I thought I made it clear last night that I wasn’t interested in representing you when I said, ‘Hire another firm.’ What part of that was vague?”
“I’m a good client. Your firm credits you for landing the business. It’s good for you.”
Defiant, I jutted my chin out. “You have no idea what’s good for me. You are not good for me.”
I held my breath as he walked toward me. The nerve endings on my skin came alive even though I hadn’t been touched. But there was no way in hell I was backing down or letting him see the effect he had on me. Gray got right into my personal space.
I expected the deep vibrato of his intimidating voice to put me in my place. Instead, he caught me off guard when he spoke softly.
“I’m sorry I lied to you, Layla.”
I’d hardened when it came to this man. I couldn’t do soft.
“Whatever happened more than a year ago was a mistake,” I said. “But the mistake wasn’t in your lie. The mistake was getting involved with you.”
The slightest twitch of his eye was the only indication that he’d felt my strike.
“We need to be in Greensboro at noon to meet with my new partners,” he said. “It’s best to have your input while the terms of the partnership are being negotiated so things are already smoothed out when you draft the agreement.”
The request in itself wasn’t odd. I’d accompanied clients to business-formation negotiations on occasion. What was off, though, was that I was essentially stuck. No doubt Gray was fully aware of the predicament he’d put me in. If I went to the partners now and refused to work on the new account, I’d have to give them an explanation.
And what would I say? “Remember when I had to do pro bono legal services as part of my sanctions for violating attorney-client privilege? You know, that time you almost fired me? Well, while I was fulfilling my punishment by working at a men’s prison, I met Grayson Westbrook and started to fall for him. Sometimes we’d sneak into the stacks of the library and make out. Everything was great—until he lied to me. What’s that? You think I should’ve seen that coming? But how was I supposed to know getting involved with a prisoner arrested for insider trading was a bad idea?”
I shot him an annoyed glare. “I’ll have my assistant make my arrangements and email them over to you.”
A slow grin spread across his handsome face. I wanted to smack it the hell off.
“Great. Let her know I prefer the Langham.”
“A hotel? I thought the meeting was at noon?”
“It is. But some of the investors are from out of town—they’re also flying in. They’ll expect to have dinner.”
“So have dinner with them. You don’t need me for that.”
“Dinner will be a continuation of our business discussion.”
I squared my shoulders. “Then you’ll take notes and let me know if anything changes after the actual business meeting during the day. I’ll be flying home on an evening flight.”
To my surprise, Gray gave in. He nodded, took a step back, and extended his hand. “Glad to have you on my team, counselor.”
My eyes dropped to his hand. A memory I hadn’t thought about in ages flashed before my eyes. The first time he’d kissed me, he’d cupped my face with his big hands, and I’d nearly melted. I hated that it now made me feel vulnerable and afraid to even touch him. It was a bad idea to let the past have power over me.
Hoping I didn’t tremble, I put my hand in his. A spark zapped right through me. It was akin to sticking my finger in an electrical socket. Abruptly, I slipped my hand from Gray’s and walked around him toward my desk.
“Email me the names of your partners so I can do a quick search with the SEC and our investigator.”
“That’s not necessary.”
With the desk now acting as a barrier, I lifted a file and gave it my attention while speaking. “Let’s get one thing clear. If I’m your counsel, things are going to be done my way and with proper due diligence.”
I didn’t look up but heard amusement in his voice. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Leave your contact information with my paralegal on the way out. Have a pleasant day.”
A minute later, the door clicked open, so I chanced a glance up. Of course I found Gray waiting for my attention. He pointed his eyes down to my trash bin full of roses.
“Allergic?”
I couldn’t hide the smirk. “Yeah. That’s it.”
Gray’s eye’s crinkled at the sides, and he winked. “Next time I’ll send candy.”
“Next time send them to your wife.”