by T Gephart
Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
I was such a coward.
But it was done, and short of hacking into his network, retrieving the message and deleting it, there wasn’t much I could do. Besides, I wasn’t sure my future attempts would be any better and it was clear the man was too busy to accept calls.
I wasn’t sure if my assurance that a return call wasn’t necessary was going to be heeded so I prepared myself all the same. But when Monday morning came, and I hadn’t received a call or text in response, either through the night or in the morning, I assumed he’d either taken me at my word or was relieved.
Not sure why I was disappointed. I’d literally told the man not to call me, and was annoyed he’d done as I’d asked. Not to mention that if I’d been so insistent on hearing what he had to say, I’d have called back at a later time instead of leaving a stupid message.
“Zara, where are last week’s depositions?” Joel Bally knocked at my door.
It was still weird having an office, only having just moved in from a cubical, but I loved the small, well-lit space that was completely mine. It made obsessing over a guy I’d dumped—had we ever been really dating?—over voicemail so much more convenient given the privacy. Especially since I was supposed to be doing work, and technically was behind since I’d spent the weekend with my head in the clouds.
“Right here, Joel.” I lifted the folder that had been sitting in my outbox. I’d meant to drop it in his office earlier in the morning but had been distracted. You know, when I’d been busy congratulating myself on being so unemotional while secretly being emotional. It was a full-time gig, apparently.
Joel wandered over to my desk, flipping open the folder and glancing at the contents before closing it and focusing on me. “Great. You need to go over anything before your two-thirty? The Wilson merger is pretty stock standard so you can handle this meeting on your own. I’ll be there to nut out the final details of course, but I’m excited to see what you can do.”
His confidence in me was encouraging even if I was feeling deflated. “I appreciate the opportunity.” I stood, handing him some notes I’d been organized enough to take last Friday before I’d completely lost my mind. “Here are the points I want to clarify with the client. Other than that, it seems fairly straight forward. Both parties have agreed they want it done as quickly and as painlessly as possible, I don’t foresee any problems.”
At least I sounded like I didn’t have my head up my ass and was deserving of the faith he’d put in me. Which was good considering I didn’t want to screw up the one part of my life that had been pretty much my everything up to that point.
He took my notes, his eyes scanning over them as he brought his hand to his chin. “Good, good. Well, looks like you’ve got it all covered. I’ll be in my office if you need anything else.” He held out my notes and gave me a warm smile. “Knock them dead, Mathews.”
I gave him an enthusiastic fist pump as he waved me goodbye, the notes tossed back onto my desk as he closed the door behind him.
Well, that was fun.
My ass sunk heavily into my chair as I gazed longingly at my phone.
I wouldn’t call, I told myself, rationalizing it was easier for everyone involved if we just left it the way it was.
Lincoln was probably wondering why I’d even bothered to leave the message in the first place. I’d told him at the gala it was going to be a one-time deal, so it wasn’t like he’d been expecting a relationship.
Why was I over-thinking it?
Everyone was playing by my own goddamn rules and I was pissed off.
I was momentarily disrupted from my mental tug-of-war when my phone rang. It was the internal line, one of the secretaries from the front desk.
“Hi, Aria.”
“Hi, Zara, your eleven-thirty is here.”
My eyes flashed to my schedule, an appointment I hadn’t recalled making taking up my eleven-thirty spot. “Um, I hadn’t realized I had an appointment.”
“It was at Joel’s request.” Well, guess that answered that. “I’ll send him down now.”
There wasn’t any time to ask who the meeting was with or what it was for, Aria ending the call. She didn’t even say goodbye, the receiver still pressed against my ear as I listened to dead air.
Joel setting an appointment for me wasn’t strange. He’d often palm off clients who didn’t need a partner, especially if it was for tedious or monotonous work. Perks of being high in the pecking order I guess, and I was happy for the hand-me-downs.
I stood, straightening my jacket as I waited for my unknown client. My office wasn’t far from reception so it wouldn’t be long, and I didn’t want them to walk in and think I’d been rattled.
The knock came just as expected, striding to my door and affixing a smile on my face as my hand twisted the knob.
“Hi, I’m Zara Math—”
The rest of my greeting lost in my throat as I pulled open the rest of the door and came face-to-face with the sexiest dark-haired, blue-eyed man in a suit—so perfectly cut for his body it showed exactly how hot he was—to ever walk into my office.
Lincoln Archer.
Oh my God.
It felt like I couldn’t breathe, my skin tingling hot as my blood ran cold, thankful I still had a decent skeleton capable of keeping me upright.
So much for that return phone call.
Lincoln
I’d heard the message she’d left me.
Then I listened to it again, looking for the punchline because surely it had been some kind of joke.
Zara had a wicked sense of humor, so I’d laughed at first. The words spoken on to my voicemail so level and unemotive it felt like she was presenting to the bar.
It was only on the third time around that I’d worked out she was serious. Or at least, was trying to be serious, the rehearsed speech, one she thought she needed to say rather than what she wanted.
And I wasn’t having it.
Yes, I completely remembered what she’d said. It was going to be a one-time deal. But even if that was what she initially believed, surely she’d changed her mind.
We’d spent the most amazing night ever together, and yeah, the sex had been pretty fucking awesome. I’d made her come so many times I’d lost count, just the thought of that look on her face when she was about to explode, enough to get me hard. And it hadn’t been a one-sided deal either. I’d moaned her name, the feeling of her body convulsing against mine enough to drive me crazy.
But it wasn’t just the mind-blowing orgasms, we had a connection. Crazy intense but no less real, and more than I’d ever had with any other woman. And there was no way it was entirely one-sided.
No.
Fucking.
Way.
So, if she’d genuinely decided she wanted to keep to her original agreement, then she’d need to tell me face-to-face. She didn’t get to leave me a voicemail.
Which was where Nate came in.
“Zara Mathews, Lincoln Archer.” I held out my hand like I was meeting her for the first time. “I’m your eleven thirty.”
Her eyes were wild, lacking the usual locked down composure I’d seen in them before. I liked her like that, the façade of perfection slipping when I was around, the cracks of the real her peeking through underneath.
“Mr. Archer.” She accepted my outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake. Nice, very, very nice. “Please, won’t you come in.”
She was all business, those beautiful wild eyes holstered as she slipped into the refined attorney everyone was probably more familiar with.
Not going to lie, her ability to do both was crazy hot.
It didn’t take a genius to work out Zara didn’t mix the office with her personal life, and I wasn’t a big enough asshole to force her to do that in front of people she worked with. Which was why I happily nodded, accepting her invitation inside, pretending I didn’t know how good she felt underneath me.
It was only after the door was closed and we were safely
away from prying eyes and ears that she dropped the act.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Her voice a mix of shock and surprise. “Lincoln, please tell me you didn’t fabricate an appointment to see me.”
“Well, it’s good to see you too, Zara,” I chuckled, wondering if she was as desperate to kiss me as I her. “But no, this isn’t a fabricated appointment.”
“Really? You’re here for legal advice?” she asked, her tone mixed with curiosity and disbelief.
“More a consultation.” My eyes floated down her body, her corporate wear not unlike what she had on the night we’d met. I liked it. The fit of her tailored skirt and jacket hinted at the bombshell body it hid underneath.
“Well, then you better come sit down.” She gestured to the seat opposite her desk. “My billable hours probably aren’t as high as yours but can leave just as nasty a sting.”
Fuck.
I wanted to kiss her.
To feel that beautiful, smart mouth on mine while my hands were all over her body. But I wouldn’t, not at least until I was sure that was what she wanted.
“How would you know what my billable rate is?” I asked, getting closer, the smell of her perfume intoxicating and torturing me in equal measure.
“I know your type.” Her head tipped, daring me to tell her different. “So, Mr. Archer.” The way she said my name sent a shiver up my spine. “What can I do for you?”
Such a loaded question, and one I had a million answers for—none of them professional. But even though her office didn’t have any windows—something I was thankful for—I was going to keep it respectful.
Well, for as long as I could.
Trying to ignore how amazing she looked, I strode toward the chair and sat down like she asked. She did the same, the desk a literal and metaphorical buffer between us as she slid into her seat.
My fingers dipped into my inner jacket pocket, pulling out the folded piece of paper. I smoothed it out, holding it out toward her and waited for her to accept it.
“What’s this?” Her eyes scanned the document, taking it from me so she could inspect it closer. “You’re here for a consultation on a prenup?” Her eyes flashing to mine as her voice rose.
“I am.” I nodded, unable to hide my grin. “It seems Nate cannot be left unattended when given access to my bank account and a silent auction. Your firm—like a few others in the city—offered services as part of their donation for the gala. One of them was the formulation and execution of a standard prenuptial agreement. Nate thought it was both hilarious and ironic.”
When he’d initially told me, I was ready to kill the man.
I’d expected him to get himself a weekend stay in Napa, or a painting by some brilliant, underrated—yet ridiculously expensive—artist. I knew there were a few larger ticket items so I was really praying he didn’t completely lose his mind and saddle me with the bill for a helicopter. But a consultation with Bally and Cobb hadn’t even entered into the realm of possibility.
Not only had the “donation” been more sizeable than any prenuptial agreement would’ve cost, but completely inappropriate. That was until I saw the genius, the appointment—bought, paid for, and totally legitimate—giving me an excuse to stroll into her office and see her.
No partner would ever want to deal with some bullshit charity auction item, so it was either her or one of the other associates. And Joel Bally was predictable, palming it off to the one associate who thrived and enjoyed pro bono work.
Zara Mathews.
Thanks, Nate.
“Wow.” She shook her head, reading over the piece of paper, proudly declaring I—the recipient—was entitled to three consultations to draw up and finalize my prenup. “He’s diabolical.”
“Doctors.” I threw up my hands dramatically. “And everyone thinks lawyers are the assholes.”
She laughed, the first real smile crossing her lips since I’d walked in. “Yeah, guess that oath to do no harm wasn’t taken literally. Still, it’s pretty funny, though. How much did he pay for this?”
“You mean me, right. How much did I pay for it? Because if he’d been using his own cash, he wouldn’t have thought it was as funny. And you don’t want to know.” I shook my head, unwilling to part with that information.
“Oh, but I do.” She grinned, arching back in her seat in a move to get more comfortable but was really just sexy as hell. “Or would you rather us start talking about the division of your assets in the event of the dissolution of your future marriage.”
“I’d rather talk about the voicemail, and why it was left in the first place.”
Her eyes darkened, my request probably not unexpected even if more direct than I’d intended.
“You want to tell me what that was about?” I leaned forward, unwilling to let it go.
She sighed, her lips twitching. “I thought we agreed—”
“Yes, I remember.” I cut her off, not needing the refresher. “But you still feel that way? Because I’d like to renegotiate.”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea.” She folded her arms across her chest, almost like she was holding herself back from doing something we both wanted. “But I meant what I said on the message. I like you, I had a really good time and—”
“Yes, you wish me the best for the future.” I chuckled, wondering if she’d been breaking up with me or giving me a severance package. “Cut the bullshit, Zara, that wasn’t you. Now, tell me what’s really on your mind.”
“Lincoln.” She shook her head, her thoughts being reorganized in front of me. “I meant it when I said I like you. And I did have a really good time.”
“Good, because those feelings were mutual, Zara. I’m not sure if I didn’t make that clear, but spending time with you has been a highlight.”
“I’m glad. Honestly, I am.” She took a breath, pausing a beat. “I can’t do this here, but I really want us to remain friends.”
“Friends.” I rolled around the word in my mouth and didn’t like it. Not when I’d had more with her. But she was right, an ambush wasn’t going to get me what I wanted. “Okay, then, let’s be friends.”
“Really?” She didn’t try and hide her surprise, sitting up straighter. “You’re cool with that?”
“Of course,” I lied, letting the smile ease back on my face. “So, friend. Let’s have dinner tonight. We’ll order in. My hotel, your apartment, I’ll let you choose.”
She looked at the door, almost as if expecting an interruption or hoping for one. But she wouldn’t get so lucky, still plenty of time left on my allocated appointment.
“I thought we agreed to be friends.”
“We did. You can have dinner with friends. I have dinner with Nate all the time and don’t sleep with him,” I offered drily. “But I get it. You don’t trust yourself around me, so we could have a chaperone, make it easier for you to keep your hands to yourself. Nate is back on rotation so he’s out. What’s Belle up to tonight? Should I call and ask?”
“Don’t call my sister!” she warned, her hand reaching across the desk and landing on my arm. “I don’t need any more heat from her.”
“Oh? Belle giving you a hard time?” I asked, not even trying to hide my delight. Her little sister was fast becoming one of my favorite people.
Her eyes flared as she pushed out a breath. “I’ll have dinner with you. I’ll text you details of where and when later if you agree not to involve anyone else and we can wrap this consultation up early.”
Wow, who would have known it would be so easy.
“Sounds reasonable. But you will call me and let me know the details, I’m not a fan of your messages.” Last thing I wanted was for her to change her mind and let me know via text. What was next? A note left with the reception of my hotel? Nope, if she wanted me to leave her office she had to agree to dinner and a phone call.
She rolled her eyes. “It was one lousy voice message; I’ve texted you before.”
“You did, but your privileges have been
revoked since you couldn’t behave appropriately,” I offered with zero apology. “You’ve done this to yourself, Zara.”
“Fine. I will call you. I will call and we will have dinner. Satisfied?”
Not even close.
“For now,” I agreed, the outcome better than I’d expected. Not that I’d planned to leave before she reconsidered but a firm commitment to another date was even better. I pushed up the cuff of my jacket, seeing the time was edging toward twelve.
A lunchtime meeting with my client to wrap up my New York dealings was my last order of business, and I was cutting it dangerously close to being late. Not that I had a choice, the only appointment time I could get for Bally and Cobb was either the eleven-thirty I took, or nine a.m. next Monday. And I wasn’t waiting until Monday.
As hard as it was to leave without touching her, I rose to my feet. The urge was still there, stronger when she did the same and walked around to my side of the desk.
“So, I’ll call you,” she offered, her hand fidgeting by her side.
I nodded, distracting myself from the beautiful curl of her smile. “You will.”
“Well, let me show you out.” She gestured to the door as she stepped ahead and placed her hand on the handle.
She didn’t open it though, pausing, her body bracketing the doorway. “What did you do to Nate?”
It was a valid question, and one I’d be happy to answer.
But I didn’t want the last few moments with her to be about Nate.
I leaned in, my lips so close to hers I wasn’t sure I would stop. But I did, pulling up just short as I hovered over her mouth.
There was a sharp intake of air as those beautiful lips separated just enough that I’d be able to slide my tongue in if I wanted to. And regardless of her declaration of our new status—friends—I doubted she’d stop me.
“I’ll tell you at dinner.” I pulled away, leaving us both wanting.
It was a dick move, but I needed to be sure. Positive it wasn’t her feelings that had changed, and those second thoughts were her just being cautious.
