His Contract: Legally Bound, Book 1

by Rebecca Grace Allen

  “And you know what Eve meant.”

  “Like hell, I do!” Jack gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. “She wanted me to fall in love again. Not guzzle beer and gawk at a fucking teenager!”

  He closed his eyes and waited for his breathing to calm.

  Patrick was quiet for a moment. “I’m not going to tell you what I think anymore. You obviously know what you need more than I do, so just come to the bar, have a beer and pretend Lilly doesn’t exist.”

  Jack opened his eyes and started the car. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  When they arrived at the pub on Friday, it was even more crowded than the week before. They found Brady playing pool with Nick. Lilly was nowhere in sight. If Jack was lucky, she wouldn’t show up at all. He was actually starting to relax when she arrived with Gabe and Cassie. She was dressed in a blouse and a neat, slim skirt that showed off her figure, smoothing over curves that seemed softer and more inviting than he remembered.

  Fucking hell.

  Fine. She could be here, but that didn’t mean he had to talk to her, or look her way. He fixed his eyes on the pool table as Nick took his last shot, winning the game.

  “There’s nowhere to sit tonight?” Cassie lamented. “Can’t we go someplace else next week? A place where my shoes won’t stick to the floor?”

  “Well, you’re all coming to my show on Tuesday, right?” Nick asked. He looked over at Cassie. “The floors there are squeaky clean.”

  “Tuesday?” she asked. “That’s Valentine’s Day. Won’t people be going on actual dates?”

  “You won’t,” Gabe teased.

  Cassie wrinkled her nose at him. “I’d smack you, if you weren’t right.”

  “The show is called Sex, Love and Bromance,” Nick continued. “It’s the perfect Valentine’s Day outing for couples and singles of any sexual orientation.”

  “Open bar?” Cassie asked. Nick nodded. “I’m in.”

  “Good. Brady, you and Sam are coming, right?”

  “Already got the babysitter lined up.”

  Nick looked to Patrick next, who shook his head. “I’ll get back to you. I’m not sure about my status yet.” He and Brady exchanged fist bumps as Nick turned to Lilly.

  “It is a weeknight,” she said. “But I guess I can manage to take a night off.”

  “I’m so honored.” Nick stuck his tongue out at her, and she grinned. It was a real smile, full and beautiful.

  So much for not looking at her.

  “Jack?”

  A quick swig of his beer gave him a second to think. Valentine’s Day was his wedding anniversary. Last year, he’d spent it with a bottle of scotch. He’d hoped to ignore it this year.

  He lowered his drink. His eyes found Lilly’s.

  “Sure,” he said. “Sounds good.”

  “Great. I’m going to call the gallery owner and give her a headcount.” Nick handed Lilly his pool cue. “Play for me? I plan on schooling Brady when I get back.”

  She looked bewildered for a moment, and then slipped the rod between her fingers, deftly running a block of chalk over the tip. Jack swallowed and tried to focus on the television. On the people around him. On anything but her.

  “I’ve gotta get my game on,” Patrick announced. “Next round’s on me as long as someone’s my wingman.”

  “Where’s the girl you went home with last week?” Cassie asked him.

  “Home? Aruba? Afghanistan? How the hell should I know?”

  She looked horrified until Brady said, “Patrick never goes out with the same woman twice.”

  “Wow. You must be running out of options at your age.”

  “Hey now, don’t hate the player—” Brady began, but before he could finish the sentence, Cassie pushed past both of them.

  “Hate the chauvinistic pig? I think I will. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need the ladies’ room.”

  As she walked off, Jack readied himself for another tour at the bar, but Brady stepped up.

  “If you’re buying, I’m game,” he said to Patrick. “Don’t tell Sam I’ll do anything for a free beer.” Brady offered Jack his cue. “Take my turn. I want that rematch with Nick.”

  Feeling as if his brother had presented him with a hot poker, Jack took the cue from him and threw a dirty look at Patrick, who smiled and walked away. Jack turned around, but wasn’t at all prepared to see Lilly racking the table, her open blouse giving him an enticing glimpse of cleavage peeking out from a lacy white bra.

  Christ. Keeping his distance from her was impossible, let alone keeping his eyes off that body, or his mind off what was hidden behind that smile.

  When she looked up, however, her smile had vanished.

  Chapter Eight

  “Do you want to break or should I?” she asked.

  “I’m a little rusty. You go for it.”

  The words “Yes, Sir” formed on her lips, but she managed to clamp her mouth shut before she said them out loud. That would’ve made things even more awkward, given how obvious it was that Jack was annoyed at being stuck with her.

  Well, she was annoyed now too. At him, at how Damien’s training was drilled into her, at Nick for dragging her out and then leaving her alone with someone who wouldn’t even look her in the eye. God, what an idiot she was for thinking about Jack last week. She smacked the cue ball hard in her frustration, but she knew what she was doing. Her shot sent several balls scattering into various pockets.

  “Nice shot,” Jack murmured, his tone approving.

  Lilly hid her smirk. Pool was a pastime she’d grown up with. Her dad had a table in the basement, and had spent many an evening teaching her and Nick how to hold their own.

  “Solids,” she declared as she sank another with little effort. When she scored a third time, Jack’s eyebrows rose but he remained withdrawn, his lips pressed together in a tight line.

  Lilly frowned back. She wasn’t about to stand here with him and not say anything at all until the others came back.

  “How was your week?” she asked. It wouldn’t kill him to talk to her. And a part of her wanted to challenge him. To see if she could dig under that gruff exterior and get a repeat performance of last week’s look.

  “Busy,” he answered.

  “Busy’s good.” Lilly scratched and stepped back. “I like staying busy too.”

  “I gathered from Nick’s comments.” Jack put down his drink and began rolling up his sleeves. “How long have you worked at the firm?”

  “Six months. How long have you been at Harvard?”

  “Fifteen years.”

  He lined up his shot, and her body went molten at the sight of him stretched out long and lean. Older or not, this man was fit. She would’ve asked if he worked out, but that was a stupid line, and besides, the flexing muscles in his forearms were proof enough that he did something athletic in his downtime. She watched as he pulled his right arm back, and caught a glimpse of a small arc of white that crossed his wrist. It was curved, raised and angry looking. Whatever caused it must have hurt a lot.

  Jack scratched, and when he stood, he glanced down to where she was staring. He quickly jerked his sleeve down.

  Lilly’s cheeks flamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

  He looked away, shook his head and let out a heavy exhale. “No, I’m sorry. It’s nothing. Just an old injury.”

  She blinked, oddly soothed once again by the soft cadence of his voice. It curled around her like a ribbon, making her knees go a little rubbery. A moment passed before Jack filled the silence.

  “So,” he said. “Quite a change, coming from Illinois to Boston.”

  “It was, but I needed to get away.”

  Her sudden honestly surprised her. She blamed his voice and that weird, wobbly feeling in her legs.

  Sc
anning the table for her next move, she asked, “Have you lived here long?”

  “Massachusetts, born and bred. We moved from Springfield to Boston when Brady was little. He’s been following me around ever since.”

  “We younger siblings are the worst, aren’t we?” she asked, happy to feel the conversation shift into more comfortable topics. “I was like that with Nick. I’d chase him everywhere.”

  “My wife once joked that Brady would’ve come with us on our honeymoon if he could.”

  Lilly’s stomach plummeted. “You’re married?”

  Jack cleared his throat. Seconds felt like hours. “I was married. She passed away.”

  An odd mix of relief and sadness filled the void in her belly. “I didn’t know.” She peered up at him. “Can I ask what happened?”

  “Cancer.”

  The grief on his face made her heart ache. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” He took a breath and exhaled heavily again. “So, why the no-go on the bar exam?”

  Lilly stiffened, her muscles going rigid. “It’s like I said last week. I’m not sure I want to be a lawyer,” she said, hoping he’d drop the subject.

  He didn’t.

  “And yet you apparently have the reputation of a workaholic.” Jack looked at her quizzically, as if she were a puzzle piece he was trying to fit. “Something must have happened to change your mind.”

  “Did you actually fool yourself into thinking I belonged to you?”

  Hot tears pricked at her eyes. Lilly looked at the floor.

  Jack moved next to her. “Did something happen?”

  His voice was so warm and calming. It brought her back to the present and anchored her there. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Can you tell me about it?” he asked, but she shook her head. “Lilly, look at me.”

  His tone hadn’t changed, but the timbre of his words echoed with a strength and confidence she couldn’t place. Without thinking, she looked up at him, and found herself unable to move, locked in his stare.

  “Whatever’s haunting you, you need to let it go. I know a thing or two about being chained to your past, and it’s no way to live.” His gaze drifted over her like a caress. “Don’t be like that. You’re too beautiful to be so sad.”

  For a second, she couldn’t remember how to breathe. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “You’re welcome.” He was looking at her so intently it almost made her feel naked. “I have to ask—how old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight. Why? How old are you?”

  “Forty-four.”

  She smiled, happy to finally have that question answered. Jack smiled back and raised an eyebrow, his expression playful. “Does that bother you?”

  “No—” Sir.

  Shit, she’d almost said it again.

  Lilly’s face rushed with heat, and Jack’s eyes grew hooded. His gaze traced her cheeks, the shape of her nose, her lips, slow and deliberate, before meeting hers again. He licked his upper lip, and that slip of tongue made Lilly’s breathing quicken. She imagined what his mouth would feel like on her neck, if his stubble would rasp against her skin. The thought made her lick her own lip in response. It was a move Jack caught, and suddenly his gaze was no longer mischievous.

  It was hungry.

  “Geez, you’d think they’d have more than two stalls in this place,” Cassie announced, returning to the table.

  Her arrival broke their connection. Jack quickly stepped away.

  Lilly faced the pool table again, feeling like she’d lost a chance at something. She wanted it back again, even though her flying heartbeat told her that something might be better off left alone.

  Jack closed his front door and leaned against it, as if doing so could shut out what he’d felt tonight. As if it could shut Lilly out. He’d wanted to murder Patrick for leaving him alone with her, and yet, during that short time, he’d forgotten how for the last year it had hurt to do anything more than breathe.

  Hearing she was at least older than Josh was a small comfort. His age, however, seemed of no consequence. He’d thought she hadn’t read anything into the question, that the attraction that was driving him out of his mind was all one-sided, but Lilly’s blush said otherwise. As did the quick pass of her soft, pink tongue over gorgeously full lips.

  Jack groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face, then looked at his scar. He could only imagine what Lilly would think if she knew where it came from, what kind of life he’d lived. The Dominant he once was.

  He closed his eyes and saw Eve in their playroom, the two of them beginning their scene with practiced words.

  “You are mine, love.”

  “I am yours, always, Master.”

  Grief shouted from the past. But the image was quickly replaced with one of Lilly looking up at him in the bar. How would she react if he ordered her to strip for him? Would all of her skin bloom with the rosy hues he’d seen on her cheeks? Jack’s mind traveled to a place where he had her bound and naked, telling her to bare everything to him—body, mind and soul.

  Realizing where his thoughts had strayed, he tried to shut the fantasy down but it was too late. Lilly had flipped a switch in him, waking the part that had been buried under the ashes of Eve’s death. And now that he’d opened that door, he didn’t know how to close it again.

  Chapter Nine

  It was late into the afternoon on Valentine’s Day when Lilly finally glanced up at the clock. She’d been staring at her computer screen for so long she could still see lines of text before her eyes.

  She’d spent the day poring over the Giordanos’ laboratory database. It contained a ton of information—months of data from the company that hosted their logs. It was nothing more than an internal logging system, but after hours looking at it, she felt like she’d taken the LSAT in Hungarian.

  Lilly studied the column containing the random lines of numbers she’d been pondering all afternoon. It bugged her, not being able to figure out what they stood for. There were about ten numbers on each line, too long to be dates or social security numbers. The column was titled “MOD_dt”, which she’d tried googling, but everything she found was technical garbage.

  Frustrated, Lilly turned toward the window. Snowflakes were falling softly, white laced with pink from the waning sun. Across the cement horizon, Cambridge and the redbrick buildings of Harvard camped against the Charles River Basin.

  It made her think of Jack, and how he’d looked at her with burning eyes and told her she was beautiful. She’d barely been able to think about anything else since. The way he stuck in her thoughts was a complete mystery to her, as was her reaction when he told her to look at him. She’d obeyed his command without thinking. Damien had ingrained that response in her, but she didn’t know why Jack triggered the impulse. He’d confirmed his age, so it must have been his older, more powerful presence that caused it. Nothing more to it than that.

  She picked up the dress hanging from the back of her cubicle and headed to the ladies’ room to change, slipping the sheath over her head. The fitted, ruched fabric clung to her body, a lover in the form of a little black dress. It hugged her shoulders and stretched out along her collarbone, the hem licking above her knees.

  The dress reminded her of what it was like to feel sexy and strong. Confident.

  It had been a splurge—a reward for procuring the summer associate position at Damien’s firm. She’d worn it the night he and her colleagues took her out for drinks to celebrate. Later that night, it was in a ball on his bedroom floor.

  The sharp tang of memory made Lilly cringe. She could’ve worn something else tonight, but the dress fit the event, and she wanted to wear it. Maybe if she did, she’d be able to find that confident version of herself again.

  Downstairs, Lilly flagged a cab. She texted Cassie that she was on her way during the ride over to Newbury Street
and the row of brownstones where Nick’s gallery opening was, but didn’t get a reply. When the driver pulled up to the curb, Lilly eyed the line of people going in and out of the building. She could hear a trance beat vibrating all the way from here.

  She paid for her trip and went inside. The narrow space was lit with hot track lights, dozens of people standing around in clusters of excited conversation and clinking glasses. Lilly checked her coat, slipped her black wristlet purse over her arm and searched for a familiar face among the crowd.

  She wasn’t looking for Jack. She wasn’t.

  A server passed by and offered her a glass from a tray of decadent-looking beverages. She took one and sipped slowly, relishing the sweet burn. Glass in hand, she concentrated on getting lost in the art hanging on the whitewashed walls. She paused by one of an elderly couple holding hands as they reclined on a park bench, completely absorbed in the contented looks on their faces when someone tapped her shoulder. She whirled around to see Nick’s smile, the tips of his hair turned to a shining halo by the bright lights.

  “Hey,” he said. “I thought I’d never find you.”

  “I’m not surprised. This place is packed.” She beamed at him. “The turnout is incredible.”

  “Did you see my photos?”

  “Not yet.”

  Nick took her hand, drawing her to where his work was displayed, and stepped back to let her take it in.

  His work was exquisite, each shot offering only a snippet of the moment he’d captured: a man’s hand tenderly cupping a stubbled cheek, two masculine fingers curled around one another, a baby girl being kissed on each cheek by two pairs of fatherly lips. They were intimate, quiet, the emotions reflective of the kind of love she’d always been proud to watch him celebrate.

  “They’re amazing,” she said.

  “You’re biased.”

  “I’m right.”

  “I’ve already sold six pieces. And Framed wants an interview with me.”

  “Congratulations! I told you this would be great.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re a genius.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Enjoy the show. Gabe and the others are around here somewhere. I’ll find you later.”