by G. K. Brady
He wanted to ask her about Steadman, about this unpaid leave she was on, about why she hadn’t confided in him about her problems at work. But as soon as her tight little body slid against his, undulating like she was doing the dance of the seven veils, coherent thought evaporated.
He tightened his grip on her waist. “I have a few ideas. But we need to get started. I’m a pumpkin at eight.”
She hooked a finger through his belt loop and tugged him after her as she retreated to her bedroom. “Then what are we waiting for?”
He followed like a bear cub needing its next meal.
M snuggled close, her head pillowed on his chest, humming her contentment over the fireworks they’d just set off in her bed. Her body radiated heat like a boiler. “I like your ideas.” Her voice was thick with sex and sleep.
While he roved one hand over her bare ass and back, the other one toyed with her hair, wrapping curls around his fingers. “I like that you like my ideas.” He wanted to stay like this for the rest of the night, but it wouldn’t be long before he had to spell Amanda at home, so he fought the urge to doze.
“Did you know the average person has 48.6 thoughts per minute? That’s somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-three hundred thoughts per hour.” He chuckled, recognizing he sounded like a complete moron and not giving a shit because she chuckled too.
“I love that you have a big brain to go with this big body,” she murmured. Her soft lips pressed a kiss to his pec.
He craned his head to look down at her face. “You think I have a big brain? And you like my trivia?”
Her eyelids fluttered open, then closed again. “Mm-hmm. Your brain is one of my favorite things about you.”
“One of. Does that mean you have other favorite things?” He dropped a kiss on her crown.
“Of course, but don’t ask me to name them all. There’re too many.” She burrowed into his side, mumbling, “That’s why I like being with you.”
Emotion welled and overwhelmed him … that this gorgeous, intelligent, vibrant woman wanted to be with him. That she could be his. He’d always carried a vague notion of the woman he’d eventually end up with, but he’d given it—her—little thought. Veiled in the mists of his mind, she’d been more of an outline, her feminine contours the only features that distinguished her as female. Lately, though, the image had sharpened into this curly-haired, raincloud-gray-eyed woman. The one who now lay beside him, her creamy curves he wanted to touch forever molded against him like she fit him. He’d never wanted anyone as much as he wanted her. Unbelievably, she’d hip-checked hockey right out of its reigning number-one spot on his priority list. In that moment, twirling her silky curls around his fingers, he would give up everything to be with her—even the sport he loved. Hands down.
Jesus, when had she so fully filled the chinks in his heart he hadn’t even known he had? When had she become the perfect woman he hadn’t even known he’d been looking for? When had he fallen in love with her?
And how the hell was he going to convince her to let him take care of her?
Questions that had been buzzing in his head all afternoon returned with a vengeance. “M, these problems at work—what kind are they and how long have they been going on?”
She nipped his chest, chasing it with a lick. Her head lolled back, and her gaze met his. “They’re lots of mysterious little fires I’ve had to put out, and they started about the same time as Steadman’s dinner.”
“That was weeks ago.” He tried to block the hurt from his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
A sigh escaped her. “We’ve had so little time alone together lately, and I didn’t want to spend it talking about work. You’re my safe harbor, Blake. I feel like I can park my worries and drift for a while.”
Warmth bloomed in his chest. “You’re my safe harbor too, M,” he murmured in the dimness of her room.
She parked her chin on his chest. “I’ll be okay. I have savings to fall back on while they—”
“M, what if …” He traced the side of her face with his fingertips. “Don’t take this the wrong way—for the record, I think they’re a bunch of fucking idiots—but what if they don’t bring you back when your leave is up? What then?”
“I don’t know,” she breathed. “I haven’t gotten that far. I’m still reeling from yesterday. Guess I should start worrying.” She let out a mirthless laugh and flopped on her back.
Bands tightened around his chest. He drew in a sharp breath. “What if you don’t worry about it? What if I took care of you during those three weeks, or however long it ends up being?”
She raised her torso off the bed, propping herself on her elbows, and peered at him, her eyes glinting like hard diamonds. “What?”
Yep, there it is.
“I’ll take care of your expenses. You can bake me cookies if that makes you feel better … among other things.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Even in the gloom, he saw hers drop into spectacular slashes.
“I’m not going to be your … your …”
“Kept woman? Why not? The duties are pretty damn light,” he teased. “Easiest job you’ll ever have.”
She stiffened beside him, and he turned on his side and hoisted himself onto an elbow. With his free hand, he stroked the sex-tousled curls from her face and ran the back of his hand along her soft cheek. “I’m kidding about the duties, M. There are none. No obligations whatsoever. And I don’t want to take away your independence. I just want to take care of you. Is that so wrong?”
She blinked. And blinked again. “Not wrong, but kinda unexpected.” She scrunched her cute little nose.
“How so?”
“I-I’m not sure I can explain. I’ve just always seen myself as being completely self-sufficient.”
“Well, you’ve nailed that in spades. Maybe it’s time to entertain some alternatives.”
She seemed to gulp, and while all of him wanted to push the subject further, he sensed he’d only succeed in pushing her away. He rolled his head to the side to check the time. Shit. Babysitting duty was less than an hour away; he needed to capitalize on the moments they had left.
Flopping onto his back, he tucked his hands under his head. “Where are your glasses?”
“Um, why?”
“Because I’ve always wanted to fuck a schoolteacher … or a librarian. With you in your glasses, I get both fantasies.” He rotated his head toward her and offered her a salacious smile.
She batted her eyes coyly, and relief rippled through him. They were back on solid ground. “So you never wanted to fuck an attorney?”
“Not until I met you. Now it’s all I can think about,” he laughed. Truth. But only one attorney.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Oh shit. Had he pissed her off with the coarse language? He’d have to bite it back—though it didn’t stop him from admiring her ass as she headed to the bathroom. As he lay there, tapping out a beat on his chest, he considered various apologies, considered she might never emerge. But then she turned all his thoughts upside down when she appeared in the doorframe and leaned against it, doing a little shimmy thing like a cat rubbing its back.
Fuck. Me!
She pulled her black glasses down her nose and shot him a sultry look over the top of them. Besides the rims and a pair of conservative black pumps, she wore nothing else. “Is this what you had in mind, sailor? Will this satisfy your fantasies?”
Heat prickled every inch of his skin, and his cock grew rock-hard as he fought for control. “Get your cute little ass over here,” he croaked, “and I’ll show you just how much you satisfy my fantasies.”
“Uh-uh.” Wagging a teasing finger at him, she sauntered to the door leading to her office. Because of the heels, her ass swayed more than usual, and he about sprang out of bed to pull her down on his lap and have her grind that ass against him. Hand on the doorknob, she paused, giving him another fuck-me look that had him checking for drool. “I think for this fantasy to be just right,” she purred, �
�you need to bend me over my desk.” Her knees dipped, and she covered her mouth delicately with her fingers, reminding him of a naked Betty Boop. “There’s a ruler in the drawer, if you think I’ve been naughty.” Her voice was breathy, husky. “Ready to play, big guy?”
Oh hell yes! He was so fucking ready he lurched from the bed in his eagerness to reach her, tangling himself in the sheets and narrowly missing spraining his wood by landing on it. In a heartbeat, he recovered his footing and followed her into her office, where he braced his arms on either side of her, pinning her to her desk.
“Ready to play, sexpot.”
As she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, he answered by wrapping her in a tight embrace. This girl was never getting away from him.
Chapter 29
Reunions and Other Disasters
Michaela sat at a table in the Cherry Creek Grill, her eyes flicking nervously to the door every time it opened. It was Monday after Thanksgiving and the first day that had been the closest to normal since she’d been “put on leave” five days ago. Blake had gone back on the road after a matinee game on Saturday, but DeeAnn and Amanda hadn’t flown home until yesterday. Consequently, Michaela had spent half the weekend catering to the two women. Well, more like just his mom because Amanda had been gone most of the time visiting friends. Not that Michaela minded, really, but she’d walked on eggshells, worried the slightest misstep would trigger DeeAnn’s evil twin. Blake had stashed the alcohol, and though it seemed DeeAnn hadn’t left the condo, her speech was often slurred and she smelled like she’d just rolled out of a distillery.
“Why are you watching my mother?” Blake had asked when he’d called her Saturday night.
Because Amanda’s not here, and I’m a little worried about her staying alone, she wanted to say. Instead, she’d said, “Because she loves the horoscope stuff and wanted me to teach her.” And she’d done just that, showing DeeAnn what she knew—well, as much as she could remember. The rest she faked, and DeeAnn sponged it all up. In exchange, Michaela had learned about DeeAnn as a young woman. While Michaela had hoped to glean more about her son, the woman basked in memories of debutante balls, coming-out parties, and summer days spent boating from estate to estate on Lake Oswego. Foreign and fascinating, Michaela became caught up in a world more aligned with the stately Steadmans and nothing like her own modest upbringing—or Blake’s, from what she knew.
Michaela jerked from her thoughts when she caught sight of her lunch date rushing toward her.
“Sorry I’m late, Micky,” Paige huffed as she leaned in for a quick hug, then squeezed herself into the seat on the other side of the booth. “I couldn’t find parking anywhere. I swear, this city gets harder to maneuver.”
“Especially when you’re carrying two bowling balls in your tummy,” Michaela quipped. “I wish you would have let me bring lunch to you.”
Paige flapped a hand at her. “Very nice of you to offer, but I needed a change of scene. Having your office in your home has its upsides … and its downsides.” She leaned toward Michaela conspiratorially and whisper-shouted, “And this way I can have something sweet without the dessert Nazi passing judgment.” When Michaela’s smile became a partial frown, Paige elaborated. “Beckett takes ‘charge’ of my diet every time I get pregnant, and while I love that he wants what’s healthiest for the babies and me, the stubborn man always forgets what a bad idea it is to come between a pregnant woman and her ice cream.” An evil gleam flashed in her eyes.
Michaela loosed a laugh. “I have a feeling you don’t hold back when it’s time to remind him.”
“Not in the least,” Paige agreed with a chuckle.
“What’s that like?”
“What? Telling a hulking husband to shut it about my ice cream needs?”
“No,” Michaela laughed. “Being married to a hockey player.”
“It’s … different. Not for the faint of heart, especially if you’re the non-trusting or clingy type. Honestly, I never pictured myself being married to a rock star—didn’t think I could manage the never-ending hits to my confidence—but the right man came along, and the worry faded into the background like so much white noise.”
Huh. “And you’re happy.”
Paige’s eyes twinkled. “Deliriously.”
“And you have a wonderful little family.” Did Michaela detect a note of sadness in her own voice?
“Not so little,” Paige chuckled.
They chitchatted until they’d placed their orders, then Paige folded her arms and leaned her elbows on the table. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of this lunch?”
Michaela clasped her hands in her lap, cleared her throat, and leveled her gaze at Paige’s. Here goes nothing. “I wanted to let you know I’m on leave from Steadman, Fast & Hart until mid-December. I—” Oh God, this is harder than I thought. “I didn’t want to tell you over the phone or in an email. You’re my favorite client, and I felt I should let you know in person. Any work you need done in the next few weeks will be referred to a different attorney.”
Paige’s green eyes drilled into her, making her squirm. “Is everything all right?”
Michaela had practiced several partial truths and a few out-and-out lies, but they were tripping up her tongue. Tell her the truth. Full disclosure. Michaela looked down at her fingernails. They really needed a polish; pity she was cutting back on luxuries like manicures. She raised her eyes back to Paige’s and launched herself into explaining about some of the peculiar happenings, without too much detail, leaving out the part about the billing irregularities. No need to raise the specter that billings might be off at her firm in any way, shape, or form to a paying client.
Paige took a sip of lemon water, keeping her eyes locked on Michaela. “So these … glitches. Were you responsible?”
“God, no! I’m not sure I would know how to cause half of them, and I sure can’t figure how I caused any of them accidentally. I’m still wrestling with that one.” She released an extended exhale. What she had to say didn’t get any easier. “I get that this doesn’t put me in the best light, but I wanted you to know so you could make a change to a different attorney. There are several in the firm who—”
“Before you go there, let me tell you a story.” Paige covered Michaela’s hand with her own warm one, a concerned expression etched in her delicate features. “When I first started in real estate, I was with a big firm. I figured it was my best shot at learning and getting clients, and it was. When I’d been there a while and wanted to make a switch, I told myself I couldn’t afford to. That my clients would stay with the brokerage, and I’d have to start over again. Imagine my surprise when my clients opted to stay with me, not the brokerage. They said they couldn’t have cared less whose shingle I worked under.” Paige squeezed her hand and released it. “I’m not telling you this to brag. I’m telling you because now that I’ve been running a business for a while, I understand you’re only as good as the people on your team. And just like my clients that followed me that first time, I don’t switch based on the company. It’s based on the people I trust. I trusted you before, Micky, but by opening up and being honest with me, you’ve told me all I need to know. I’m Michaela Wagner’s client, not Steadman, Fast & Hart’s client. I go where you go.”
Gratitude welled inside Michaela, stinging her eyes with tears. Their food arrived just then, giving her the moment she needed to recover herself. “Thank you,” she finally said.
“No, thank you,” Paige replied after the server left them. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for a good attorney?”
Michaela shook her head.
“A loooong time, and I’m not giving her up.” Paige winked at her.
They dug into their meals in comfortable silence. After a few beats, Paige asked, “What is it that drew you to real estate law, and is there one thing that really floats your boat? I’m guessing it’s not filling your days with the sort of vanilla stuff you do for me.”
Michaela swal
lowed a chunk of seared ahi. “Minerals.”
An eyebrow dipped. “Like gems? Iron ore?”
Michaela chuckled. “More like oil and gas. I love unraveling mysteries from the past, like how a dusty document from a hundred years ago influences a property owner’s rights today.”
Paige seemed to assess her. “Do you get to practice much of that?”
“No. Right now we refer that type of work out.” Michaela’s attempts to get Steadman and company to keep the effort in-house had so far fallen on deaf ears. They were squandering an opportunity, though she’d had to tread carefully pointing out that fact to them. Colorado was ripe for more oil and gas attorneys. We could even branch out into Wyoming. Talk about opportunity! Michaela’s excitement kindled, like it always did, when she pondered the possibilities.
A smile lifted the corners of Paige’s mouth. “You should see your face right now. Have you considered going out on your own?”
“Someday maybe, but right now I’m still cutting my teeth.”
Paige continued to watch her, calculations seeming to stream behind her eyes. “Oil and gas is a subject I know little to nothing about, but I should know. And other brokers are in the same boat. What would you think of me pulling together about ten of us, nothing formal, and you hitting the highlights for us? Help us learn the pitfalls and how to spot the red flags so we know when to call in an expert like you and keep our clients—and ourselves—out of trouble? While you’re on leave would be a great time.”
“You want me to teach a class?” Michaela spluttered.
“No, more like share your knowledge.” Paige grinned. “I guess that’s the same thing, huh?”
“Pretty much.” An unexpected thrill coursed through Michaela. The opportunity to teach a subject she loved to geek out on? To a willing audience? Oh yeah!
Paige gave a little shoulder shrug. “Well, think about it. We would charge a fee to have them attend. It wouldn’t net you much—maybe enough for a week’s groceries—but you’d really be doing us a huge favor.”
