She scowls before turning and flouncing out of the conference room. Ignoring her, I’m left alone with the one-and-only Brooklyn Myers.
I watch as she hurriedly packs up her paperwork, I’m unable to shift my gaze from her quick movements. She’s nervous. I can hear her panting breaths, see her trembling hands, and I know that it’s me that’s causing such a reaction.
I fucking love it.
I grin, moving a bit closer to her, stopping alongside her. My ass rests against the table, my arm almost touching hers, but not quite.
“So, Miss Myers,” I murmur.
I watch as her arm is instantly covered in goosebumps, causing me to smile widely. She clears her throat before she speaks.
“Mr. Black,” she exhales as she stands up.
I wonder, if her bra were off, would her nipples be hard? I bet they would be, and I bet they’d look fucking phenomenal. Lifting my hand, I trail my fingers from her shoulder, down her arm, stopping at her elbow. I smile as she physically shivers.
“Care to join me for a drink in my office?”
Her body jerks and I lift my eyes to hers. I watch as her pretty face turns pink. I wait for her answer, knowing what it is already. She wants me, and I’ve made her blush.
Fuck me, I can’t remember the last time I made a woman blush. College, maybe? I want to make her do it again. I want to watch her pretty cheeks tint pink from my filthy words.
Goddamn, I need this girl.
“Umm, no, thank you, Mr. Black,” she whispers.
My brows knit together, and I push to a standing position, turning to face her completely. I must have misheard her. No woman turns me down. I won’t allow it. In fact, I refuse. I win—it’s what I do. I may not be able to fuck her right now, but I damn sure want to lay the groundwork so that the day of the trial, we can get down to business.
“No?”
She shakes her head. “It wouldn’t be appropriate,” she states.
I watch as she hitches the strap of her cheap briefcase over her shoulder. She really should have something nicer. A thought crosses my mind and my eyes scan her outfit and shoes.
She’s rocking what she’s wearing, but it’s cheap—all of it. Nothing she has on her delicious hot body is designer, or even name brand. The D.A.’s office pays like shit and it shows.
“No, thank you,” she states a little louder and firmer.
I grin as I pull a card out of my pocket and hold it out to her. I haven’t lost yet. This is a war, a slow waging war, one that I will come out of victorious.
She takes the card, hesitantly, but doesn’t look at it. Her eyes are focused on mine, her false bravado is admirable, but I can see the pink in her cheeks that tells me all I need to know. I affect her and that shit is all that matters.
“You change your mind, anytime, call me. You want to talk about anything at all, give me a ring,” I murmur, keeping my voice low on purpose.
She jerks her head slightly before she gives me a nod. “Okay,” she whispers.
I watch her as she turns around and begins to walk away from me, and then I keep watching. Her ass is round, her thighs thick, and fuck me, I don’t know how I want to take her first. Those tits, that ass—goddamn, she’s got it all.
Then there’s her hair, it’s long and dark, like a curtain of brown down her back. I imagine wrapping my fist around it with a groan. She’s a playground, and I can’t decide which ride I want to take first.
I walk out of the conference room, my eyes still glued to Brooklyn’s ass as she steps into the elevator car, when I sense a presence beside me.
“You tappin’ that?” Noah Kelly asks. He’s one of the junior partners, and the only man I consider somewhat of a friend.
“Not yet,” I admit with a shrug before I turn to him.
He chuckles. “Better get in there. I saw about every intern and associate watching that talent stroll down the hall,” he states.
Fuck. I bet they all were, too. Little shits. I jerk my head in a nod.
“She works for the D.A.’s office, child advocacy attorney. She’s here on a case. Not a client,” I announce, as though that explains some shit about her and me.
Truth be told, I think she’s going to be a challenge. I haven’t had one of those in a long fucking while, and I’m kind of excited about that fact.
“So, not your normal M.O., but a busy new attorney. She won’t have time for much more than a few quick fucks. Might be nice to switch up the pussy you tag.” He shrugs.
Thinking about his words, I frown. I don’t like him thinking of Brooklyn as tagged pussy. And yet, isn’t that exactly what I want her for? The entire concept confuses me. I shrug, brushing it off, refusing to dive too deep into it, generally I try not to dive too deep into any part of my psyche.
“Lunch?” I ask, changing the subject.
Noah lifts his chin, and I tell him that I’ll meet him in the lobby. I have paperwork to drop off in my office first. He agrees and we go our separate ways.
I take off in a quick jog toward Peg’s desk. She’s watching me, I don’t miss her look of disapproval. She shakes her head a couple of times, then she speaks.
“You’re going to go after that pretty little newbie attorney, aren’t you?” she asks, her lips pressed together in obvious disapproval.
I give her my own wolfish grin. “Send some flowers to Ms. Brooklyn Myers at the D.A.’s office, will you? Add a nice note, too, sweetheart,” I order.
“You’re terrible,” she sighs.
I laugh with a nod. “Yeah, I know. But you love me, and you want me happy,” I smirk.
She lifts her hand and wraps it around my forearm, her facial expression shifting to lethally serious. I know this look. This is the look she gives me when she’s about to lay down some real talk. Usually, she rocks me to my core. Today, I’m not sure what she’s going to say.
“I do want you happy, Lucas,” she nods. “I want you to finally settle down, you can’t be a playboy forever.”
Her soft words make me feel funny, and I don’t like it. I shake my head once. “No roses, Peg. Something different. Maybe send her some chocolate, too. Keep that ass of hers nice and round,” I grunt.
“You’re a pig,” she grinds out.
She shoves my arm away as she releases me. I know I haven’t pissed her off yet, though. Peg is a hard nut to crack, and it takes a lot more than me acting like my usual self to truly anger her.
I wink, shoving my hand in my pocket before I turn around and walk toward the stairs. I ran this morning, but I still enjoy the extra exercise of the stairs rather than riding in the elevator.
Staying in peak performance shape is important to me. I spend far too many hours behind a desk, drink too much booze, and eat too much rich food to allow myself any kind of break when it comes to my physical exercise.
“Ready?” Noah calls out as soon as I reach his side at the entrance of our building.
With a grin, I lift my chin. “A whiskey is calling my name,” I announce.
Together, we walk toward his waiting car. I usually like to drive, but today, I think I’ll ride shotgun and drink heavily.
First, Brooklyn’s eyes made me feel—fuck, I don’t know how they made me feel. I know exactly how her lush body made me feel, but her eyes, they did something.
Then, there were Peg’s words about her wanting me happy. The way she said it, she wants me to settle. It was all too much at once.
The thought of settling down terrifies me. One pussy, one woman—happiness. Fuck me. I don’t think that’s possible. No way. Not ever going to happen. The idea makes me shiver.
Variety is the spice of life, and I’ve never sunk my cock into a pussy that I could imagine being the last one for the rest of my days.
Chapter Three
BROOKLYN
It’s two days later. I’ve avoided Kay since my initial meeting with Lucas, not wishing to discuss him with her. She would want to know all about it, and him. I haven’t come to grips with how I
feel about Mr. Black.
I know that I still have his card. I should have thrown it away immediately, and yet I keep pulling it out and staring at it. There was something about him, something that draws me to him.
He was cocky, dark and dangerous, he was gorgeous, but it was more than all of that. Something was behind his green eyes, something that I wanted to know more about.
Closing my eyes for just a second, a vision of him flashes in front of me. The man is beautiful. He’s an obvious womanizer, a playboy and an ass who knows just how shit-hot he is. Everything about him should be a turnoff—and yet, it isn’t.
I shove the card in my purse, again, and start going over the Dunning file, again. It doesn’t take me long to gather the information I need. Doctor’s names, specifically. I have to see exactly what these people, including the child, look like medically—on paper, at least.
I’ll probably have to have evaluations completed by one of the psychologists that our office works with. I have a feeling these people are unhinged.
Maybe I’m just being jealous because Meredith Dunning was sitting a little too close to Lucas, with her tits hanging out a little too far and her red painted lips turned into a pout every other minute.
I turn to the computer and pull up the form I need before printing it. Standing, I make my way over to the typewriter.
Not for the first time, I wish that this office was equipped anytime in the last decade, instead of stuck in the seventies.
Feeding the paper through the typewriter bar, I decide that law school in no way prepared me for an ancient office.
This shit sucks.
I close my eyes for a second and dream of a margarita. Then, I remember when I go home that it will be to an empty, messy condo, and Lillie still won’t be there.
Shit, but I miss my best girl. I want queso, and hers is the best. I want margaritas. I want to tell her about this guy and get her opinion.
Although I’m sure I could already guess what she would say about him. He’s trouble, Brookie. Pure trouble. He’s good for nothing other than a couple of orgasms, if that’s what you want, take them and go—never look back, never get attached.
“Everything all right?” Aaron asks, his hands resting on my shoulders and his lips at my ear.
I jump, almost gagging, an automatic reflex that I have to tamp down and fast. Aaron is my boss. While his touching me is against the law, there’s really nothing I can do about it—at least not right now.
I need to have two more years of experience before I’m qualified as a child advocacy attorney, and then I’m blowing this place. I’ll be quitting with a fucking smile on my face, giving this asshole the middle finger on my way out of the door.
I nod and focus really intently on the typewriter before answering, “Yes, Mr. McDonald.”
“You know, you can call me Aaron. All my friends do,” he whispers, his rank breath hitting my nose.
“Okay,” I murmur. I have zero intention of calling him Aaron, or anything other than sir and Mr. McDonald.
He chuckles, and I press my lips together as he squeezes my shoulders before finally releasing me.
“Okay, Brooklyn, if you need any help on the Dunning case, you know where my office is. The door is always open for you. Drinks soon?”
I nod, keeping my eyes focused on my work and my lips pressed tightly to stop myself from saying something smart assed and getting myself fired. When he’s finally away from me, I take a deep breath and get my job done.
I have no desire to stay late tonight. I want to go to the gym, do a yoga session, go home, drink the calories back that I lost at yoga, and sleep. I definitely need to sleep. When I do, I hope that my dreams won’t be filled with Lucas Black. Not like last night, he was all I could think about, and it is driving me insane.
“Kay, can you file this please?” I ask, a few moments later as I walk up to her.
She’s at her desk, working away. I hate to interrupt her, but I need this subpoena filed for the Dunning’s medical records. The sooner I get those, the sooner I can get the ball rolling on the case.
“Sure thing. Oh, you got a delivery while you were away from your desk.” She winks. “By the looks of it, you caught someone’s eye. I tried not to read the card, but I couldn’t help it.” She giggles.
Yes.
Giggles.
Like a school girl.
Feeling a little lightheaded, I make my way toward my desk to see a bunch of flowers sitting in a vase, taking up almost the entire space. They’re gorgeous blue hydrangeas.
My eyes skirt down to my desktop to find a box labeled chocolate truffles. It’s wrapped in gold with a little bow. Reaching for the card that’s tucked into the hydrangeas, I pull it out and read it.
Brooklyn –
It was lovely meeting you. Dinner Friday?
—L.B.
My eyes widen in surprise. He officially has asked me out, then. Interesting. But no, thanks. I mean, he’s a way better option than my creepy boss, but still, I’m not sure I could fit in his bed—you know, with his gigantic ego already there. I think he would seriously suffocate me.
Just because he interests me, just because he’s hot. Just because I haven’t had sex in far too long, that’s no reason to hop into bed with him. He will use and lose me in a heartbeat. I know his kind, I’ve been used and lost on several occasions, and I’m not falling for it all over again.
I’m ready to be in a relationship. I need someone who cares about me. If I wanted to screw some rando, I’m sure I could find one, but I want more. I have a feeling Black would never offer me more than dinner and a quick fuck.
I throw the card in the top drawer of my desk and open the box of truffles, inhaling the chocolate scent before I take one. It’s dark chocolate with chocolate chips mixed in and dipped in milk chocolate. It’s smooth and decadent, and I know it must have cost a fortune.
Deciding, immediately, that I can’t keep them to myself, I take them to the breakroom for everyone to share. If I took them home, the fact that I couldn’t share them with anyone, would be depressing. Then I would sit and eat them all, all by myself and I would probably cry. How pathetic.
“You do realize that box of candy probably cost more than we make in a day, right?” Kay asks as I set it down on the Formica countertop.
“Then, happy day,” I announce, waving my hand around.
I can’t imagine candy costing more than a few bucks. I mean, sure it’s a truffle, but at the end of the day, it’s just some chocolate.
She furrows her brows, her eyes scanning me, but doesn’t say anything, and it makes me feel like a bitch. Then, I decide that I’m not a bitch at all.
I had enough hot assholes in college and law school, who thought they were all that and then some. No way do I want to be added to Lucas’ personal list of conquests. Been there. Done that.
Taking the flowers, I walk right over to our receptionist’s desk and set them down in the corner. It makes the space look a little less drab, and I smile. Picking up the phone, I call a courier to pick them up and ask him to take them back to Lucas’ office. Grabbing a sticky note, I write:
Mr. Black,
Thanks. But no thanks.
—Brooklyn
An older woman and a young boy walk through the door just as I’m stuffing the sticky note into an envelope. I know immediately who the boy is. I’ve seen his picture a dozen times in his file.
Fisher Dunning.
I finish with the envelope, crossing out my name before writing Lucas’.
I inform the receptionist that a courier will be arriving shortly, and that he’s instructed to take the flowers back to Mr. Black’s office. She nods but eyes me warily, probably judging me for sending such a gorgeous bouquet back. She probably thinks I’m a bitch at the same time.
Whatever, I’m not worried about her or her opinions.
“Fisher. Mrs. Dunning. How may I help you?” I ask.
Fisher looks solemn and Mrs. Dunning lifts her l
ips in a small, but sad smile.
“You know who we are,” she points out.
I smile kindly and hold out my hand. “I do. I’m Brooklyn Myers, the attorney handling the case,” I explain as I shake her hand and then Fisher’s.
Guiding them back to my tiny desk, I offer two chairs for them then take a seat behind my small desk. Quickly, I remove the messy paperwork that I had spread around.
“I’d like to talk about my grandson, and see what his options are in this situation,” Mrs. Dunning announces.
I freeze, a stack of papers in my hand. Shaking my head, I lower my eyes for just a moment. “I’m sorry, but Fisher has to be fourteen years old to make any decisions or requests of the judge when it comes to where he’d like to live,” I explain.
“But he’s been living with me, and I would like to keep it that way. He’s miserable with those two,” she states.
I have no doubt that he probably is. His father’s cold glare gave me the heebie-jeebies, and his mother is obviously not right, either. She was too worried about staring at Lucas and running her fingers all around her cleavage to show any concern for the case, or her child. I shudder to think about what she’s like as a parent. Selfish and indignant, no doubt.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a decision in the matter. All I can do is gather evidence, as much as I can get my hands on. Gather information about the life that Fisher, Curtis, and Meredith live. Then, I hand that over to a judge, along with what I feel would be a good recommendation. However, at the end of the day, the judge makes the ultimate decision,” I explain.
Mrs. Dunning nods as she stands. “Okay, honey, I understand. Just, please be careful,” she warns.
Before I can ask any more questions, she’s up and walking away, Fisher on her heels. I watch after them, something uneasy washes through me from her words. Something I don’t like, not one bit. Her words actually terrify me. I take the warning for exactly what it is—a warning.
LUCAS
I stare at the bouquet of flowers that are sitting on my desk, but I’m not really seeing them. I’m seeing red, instead of the light blue of the bouquet. What the fuck? I snatch the note up and read over it.
DISCOVERY (Esquire Black Duet Book 1) Page 3
