Who let this man out without a health warning? Dressed in a dark sports jacket, which he filled to the brim, formal black pants that contributed nothing to hide the muscled thighs underneath and a navy shirt without a tie, he epitomized what Samantha thought a Greek god should look like. She wiped her palm on her skirt and swallowed at the sudden dryness in her throat.
When their eyes met, her body tingled and heat suffused her face. The unconcealed want in his gaze clamped her chest in a vice and sent her pulse rocking. Breathe Samantha, this is no time for thirty-eight-year-old attorneys to consider playing cougar. Besides, he is your client’s husband, for heaven’s sake. She forced air into her lungs and her mind cleared a little.
He stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Owen.”
The deep timbre in his voice unzipped her spine and resonated somewhere below her navel. Under her clothes, gooseflesh riddled her body.
“Ahem…pleased to meet you too.”
Her hand disappeared into his large one and the heat of the contact seared her all the way to her core. Her nervous system short-circuited and rational thought fled. Get a grip on yourself. You want to fight with him here, not jump his bones.
Right.
She extracted her hand while her heart threatened to climb out of her chest. The flames in her face could ignite a bonfire. Turning, she pointed a shaking finger at the table.
“Have a seat.”
While proud of the strength of her voice, she prayed her knees would carry her weight as she walked toward the rear of the office. The heat from his body warmed her as he followed much too close. She gritted her teeth as he pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit before rounding the table to his own seat.
Amber hadn’t lied. Brent Russell was a womanizer and, judging by her own struggle to regain her composure, an experienced one. For the first time since meeting Amber, she felt a sliver of sympathy toward the girl. Young Amber had never stood a chance against the sensual onslaught Brent packed.
Samantha flipped open the file and pulled out a settlement agreement. Carefully avoiding looking at his client, she addressed the other attorney.
“I trust you received the revised settlement agreement?”
Rob nodded and Samantha ignored the amusement flickering in his eyes.
“We have, but my client feels it is unreasonable. As you know, the prenuptial contract stipulated your client is entitled to claim for maintenance for her or any children born from the union. What your client demands, exceeds the bounds of the agreement.”
With a slight shrug of her shoulders, she folded her hands over the file in front of her. “My client is entitled to be kept at the standard of living she has become accustomed to during the marriage.”
“True, but she’s asking for a quarter of my client’s assets which amounts to much more than just maintaining the living standard.”
Samantha met the attorney’s eyes and a pebble of dread lodged in her stomach. She’d seen the same twinkle in Rob’s eyes before. He had ammunition that would put a different spin on things and was waiting for the right moment to pounce. Damn Amber for holding out on her.
Amber plonked her phone on the table and pointed toward Brent. “You owe me, you son of a bitch.”
“My client owes you what’s stated in the contract—nothing more.”
In the corner of her vision, Brent clamped his fingers together on the table, his expression impassive. At least he had the sense to ignore the bait thrown out by his hopefully soon to be ex-wife.
“Let’s be reasonable. We called this meeting to try and resolve these issues so the divorce could be finalized, not to go on a bout of mudslinging.” She concentrated on Rob again. “While your offer is generous, my client feels she would need more to maintain her lifestyle. She needs a new apartment and transport, which explains the amount requested in our revised agreement.”
Brent straightened in his chair. “I bought your client a house and a car two years ago. Maybe she needs the money to fund her cocaine addiction?”
The pebble in her stomach grew to a rock while all sympathy for her client evaporated. She glared at Amber who shrugged her shoulders.
“I am not a drug addict. Using a drug once doesn’t make you an addict.”
Rob leafed through his own stack of documents, pulled out a sheet of paper then handed it to Samantha. “We have an affidavit from a private investigator detailing all the times your client used cocaine during the past two months. It details the chain from purchase to use.”
The ground cracked under her case. Drug abuse was bad news in any divorce case. The abuser seldom succeeded in their monetary claims due to fear of fueling the habit even more. The anger at her client ratcheted up another notch.
“You didn’t state drug abuse as a reason for seeking the divorce.”
“My client must consider his reputation. Ultimately, the reason for the deterioration of any marriage is irreconcilable differences.” Rob nodded toward Amber. “Unless your client continues with her ridiculous demands.”
Defeat and betrayal tasted bitter on her tongue, but Samantha managed a polite smile. She closed her file and stood.
“Gentlemen, I will consult with my client and notify you of the decision as soon as possible.”
Next to her, Amber delved into her handbag and Samantha glared at her. She stopped her fiddling and dropped the handbag to the floor, once again pouting her cherry-red lips in rebellion.
The men waited for Samantha to precede them to the door and Samantha avoided looking at Brent. As she backed up to open the door, she collided with a hard frame behind her. He pulled her against him with his hands on her biceps, trapping her arms at her sides, and heat seeped from his chest to her back.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“I shouldn’t have followed so close. Are you all right?”
She nodded. Her struggle to breathe had nothing to do with the fright of nearly falling and everything to do with the scent of man and musk drifting up her nostrils. If her arms were free, she’d have tried to hug her chest to prevent her heart from leaping straight out of it.
As soon as she regained her balance, the arms around her fell away and Samantha inhaled shakily.
“Yes, thank you.”
She kept her eyes on Rob and took his hand. Rob leaned closer to her.
“Relax, councilor, it’s not the first time a client lied to us and it won’t be the last,” he whispered before turning and walking out of the door.
Brent extended his hand and she kept her gaze fixed on the collar of his shirt, refusing to meet his blue eyes. When her hand disappeared into his for a second time, the heat of his grip had the blood rushing at breakneck speed through her veins, spreading the electrifying warmth of his touch to the rest of her body and settling in a dull throb in her pussy.
She mumbled a goodbye, withdrew her hand then turned toward the open door. If he would just leave, she could concentrate on laying into her client and not fighting her body’s unusual reaction to him.
He nodded at Rob and the pair strolled through the reception area. Samantha watched them disappear into the elevator and inhaled deeply. She needed her wits about her. Now wasn’t the time to ponder her body’s sudden sexual awaking after years of dormancy.
Amber stood staring out of the window. Beyond her, the day had faded and the city appeared in silhouette. Several lights blinked, trying to break through the gray of early dusk, while in the distance, red eyes snaked along the overpass of the M2 highway.
At Samantha’s approach, Amber turned and plonked into the chair on the other side of the desk. Samantha shoved the investigator’s report toward Amber.
“Explain this.”
Amber smirked. “So I occasionally take drugs. Everybody does. No crime in that.”
Samantha folded her arms on the desk before she could give in to the impulse to smack the insolent girl silly.
“You know it is. You could go to jail for possession.”
Samantha remained silent. She watched the emotions playing over her client’s face. When she recognized acceptance, she shoved the revised settlement agreement toward Amber.
“As your attorney I advise you to take their offer. If we go to court, you will lose even the privileges in the prenuptial.”
“It’s not fair.”
Samantha shrugged. “Life’s not fair. You abused the drugs, not your husband and the law wouldn’t allow him to pay for your mistakes. Besides, you lied to me. By law I’m entitled to withdraw as your attorney.”
“Oh, God, just stop your jabbering. Give me the pen.”
Amber grabbed the pen from Samantha’s hand and scribbled her signature on the last page before she threw the pen on the desk and got up.
“Initial every other page as well.” Samantha picked up the pen and held it out to Amber.
Amber snatched it from her hand, leaned over the desk and angrily flipped the pages as she initialed the document. Samantha waited until Amber had finished before retrieving the document and placing it in the folder.
“Please don’t do anything stupid until your husband has signed this agreement. I don’t have to tell you what would happen if he refused to sign.”
When she looked up the room was empty. She deflated in her chair. What a mess. It hadn’t been the first time a client had lied to her, but it damn sure was the first time her body had gone into overdrive just by looking at the opposing council’s client.
Banishing the thought of the young stud from her mind, she wrote instructions on the file for her secretary to copy the agreement and send the original to Rob. Then she packed up her briefcase, collected her handbag and pulled the door of the office closed behind her. If she caught the half past five Gautrain, the students lodging with her would have an early dinner tonight.
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About the Author
Ylette Pearson flavors her writing by drawing from her own experiences as Public Prosecutor, Magistrate, Commissioner of the Children’s Court and admitted attorney in South Africa. She loves to travel to remote locations on the African continent with her husband of more than twenty-five years.
She currently resides on a small vegetable and sheep farm in the Highveld of the Mpumalanga Province. When not in the veld, she can be found reading or writing in the shade of a tree with her three Jack Russels at her feet.
Email: [email protected]
Ylette loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.
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