by Lola Darling
Of course, Max chooses that moment to push open the office door. I pray he hasn’t caught her last sentence, but given the deeply amused smirk he levels in my direction, I’m pretty sure he did.
“Uh, both,” I admit, color flooding my cheeks. Especially when Max nods in agreement over her shoulder, mouthing One Toned Booty.
Suzie’s 100 megawatt smile, if anything, grows even bigger. “Well great! Let me know what you think, hey? I always love getting feedback from my loyal rubbers—oh, that’s what I call you ladies who rub it out with me on the regular,” she adds with a wink, while Max attempts not to die of laughter behind her. “And who’s this hunk of luscious eye candy?” she says abruptly, turning toward the door when Max emits a soft snort of laughter. “You can’t possibly be my other attorney, can you? Davis?”
“The very same,” he replies, instantly sobering his expression with the professional speed of a poker player. He shakes the hand she offers, and I garner a small ounce of pleasure in watching his jaw suddenly clench and his eyebrows contract at the force of her grip.
At least I’m not the only one.
“Well isn’t this just my lucky day,” Suzie drawls in her low, gravelly voice. “Not just a pretty young fan defending me, but a hottie as well.” She winks at him, and I enjoy the way his ears turn red at the ends.
So the office manwhore can be embarrassed after all. Who knew?
And yet he plays it off, winking back at her. “Between the two of us, I’d say you’re in safe hands,” he says. “Though,” he adds, cracking his fingers gently once she finally releases him, “I must admit, they may not be as strong as yours.”
“I dunno.” She lifts her eyebrows at him. “Seems like you’ve got a pretty tight grip there yourself, mister. Maybe you should give your partner some pointers.”
His eyes flash to mine. “I don’t think Chloe needs any help in the gripping department.”
Suzie smirks, appraising me too. “Fair point. I can see just how gripping she is for a guy like you.” Suzie flashes him another wink, and his ears do the turning pink thing again.
I shut my eyes for a moment. I can already tell this is going to be a long meeting. “Maybe we should get started,” I say as I pull out a chair for Suzie.
“Aw, Davis, your girl here is a shy one.” Suzie actually clucks her tongue as she sits down.
“Oh trust me, she’s anything but shy,” he responds, eyes still fixed on mine. My heart races in my ears as those dark, emerald green eyes reel me in, trap me in place. He’s dressed as formally as ever, in a sharp-cut suit and a perfectly knotted tie, his jawline fresh-shaved, which reveals just how sharply his bones are cut. I want to run my hands over his cheeks, feel those razor-sharp bones myself, then let him trap my mouth with his, wrap his strong hands around my hips…
Shit. I rip my gaze free and drop into my seat.
“That’s good.” Suzie crosses her arms on the table. “I like my litigators aggressive, after all.”
“Trust me, Ms. Steel, we’re going to do everything in our power to make sure that this company stops trading on your personal reputation,” I reply, my game face back on now.
Of course, Suzie immediately flusters me by grinning over her shoulder at Max. “Ooh, I see what you mean. She’s feisty when she’s in business mode.”
The rest of the whole meeting goes like that. Every time I try to rope us on-topic and talk strategy, Suzie finds some way to derail me. Normally by pointing out how feisty I am. Or how chiseled Max is. Her word, not mine.
“I mean it, you should think about modeling on the side,” she’s telling him as we finally near the end of our preliminary discussions. “You’ve got the face for it. And, as far as I can tell, the body.” Her gaze rakes down his chest in a long, languorous stare.
Even Max squirms a little at her examination, though he keeps his easygoing smirk on his face the whole time. “Well, much as I’m enjoying the ego boost, I don’t think I’d have the temperament for it. All that holding a pose in front of a camera?”
“Sounds right up your alley to me,” I mutter. “Showing off before legions of fangirls, being the center of attention …”
“I don’t know about that,” Suzie interrupts, and for once this whole meeting, she actually sounds thoughtful. “I think your boy here is less of an attention whore than you give him credit for, Miss MacIntyre.”
“Thank you, Ms. Steel.” Max flashes her a wink. “It’s good to know someone still sees the real me.”
“Or is so blinded by the good looks that they can’t see an inch past the facade,” I counter.
If anything, his smile just widens. “So you admit you find me good-looking.”
Suzie leans back in her chair and mimes eating popcorn as she glances back and forth between us.
For my part, I just roll my eyes. “I said nothing of the sort. Now, Ms. Steel, since you didn’t file for a trademark when you began using this saying, we’ll need to collect evidence that you used it first. Original recordings would be best, something time-stamped ideally, that we could use to prove the date when you first started using the phrases they stole publicly.”
“No problem there. I’ve got hundreds of tapes. Heck, there’s some old VHS ones from back when I was first getting started, rehearsal takes and the like, I think. Would those work?”
“That sounds perfect. So we should set up a meeting—”
“You two should come out to my place,” she says abruptly. “I’m up by Napa, just a few hours’ drive. I’ve got shelves on shelves of the tapes, and I’ve still got a VHS player to boot, so it’ll be easy to watch them all there.”
“Oh.” I blink a couple of times, and exchange a glance with Max. Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t actually have any way to play a VHS tape here. I sure as heck don’t have one in my apartment, and I doubt there’s any in the office supply storage here at work either. Even we moved away from tech quite that old, a long time ago. Max stares back at me and shrugs, probably thinking the same thing. “Well, sure,” I start slowly. “Maybe we could drive up for a morning sometime next week and—”
Suzie snaps her fingers as though she’s suddenly getting a brilliant idea. “You know what, I’m actually headed out of town on Tuesday. Why don’t you both come up and meet me before I leave, I’ll give you the tour, show you the lay of the land, and you can use the place while I’m away. I’ll be gone until the weekend, so it won’t matter how long you need. I’ve got a big old office too; you can use anything you need. Make a whole business trip of it, why not, huh?”
“Um…” My mind whirs. How long are we going to need? Exactly how many tapes are we talking, here?
Now it’s Max’s turn to catch my eye, questioning. He must see the confusion written on my face, though, because he takes it upon himself to reply for the both of us. “That sounds like a great idea, Ms.Steel.”
She claps her hands together, looking way more excited than someone ought to by the prospect of their lawyers borrowing their whole house for a few days to comb through every video tape they own. “Perfect! And call me Suzie, Davis . If you’re going to be my guests, we should be on first name terms, no?”
“Well in that case you’ll have to call me Max, Suzie.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” She gives his arm a playful swat, which she subtly turns into a bicep grab, just to check the extent of those muscles she was praising earlier, I guess.
I crack a small smile, unable to help myself from grinning at her antics, even though I’m still not sure how I feel about this plan. “Chloe, by the way,” I tell her, feeling like we’re introducing ourselves all over again. “Thank you for the offer, Suzie. We’ll do our best to take full advantage of your generosity, and get your case rolling as soon as possible.”
Is it just me, or are her eyes twinkling with mischief when she glances back at me. “Oh, I expect you to take full advantage, kids. You’re going to love the place, trust me. It’s right outside a vineyard, fabulous views of the co
untryside, and the fresh air in that place … well. Only one thing, Chloe, that I want you to keep in mind,” she adds, her voice suddenly stern and much more serious than it’s been all meeting so far, even when we were discussing the crooks who are stealing her name and brand and tagline to try and advance their own agenda.
I swallow hard, suddenly nervous. “What’s that?” I ask, hoping the nerves don’t show on my face.
Suzie narrows her eyes. “Don’t keep this trip strictly to business. Business is best, I always find, when mixed with a heavy dose of pleasure.”
Over her shoulder, Max cracks up in silent laughter. I have to press my lips together to keep my expression from shifting into embarrassment. My cheeks, however, burn red all on their own. Traitorous body.
Suzie laughs, too, and swats my arm. “Seriously. Don’t be so serious. Have some fun while you’re there. It’ll be good for you.”
But as we say our farewells and she sweeps out of the office, followed closely by Max, as though he can’t even stand to linger in the room with me a minute longer than necessary, I have to wonder if she’s actually as right about that as she thinks. In my mind, mixing business and pleasure has always been a recipe for disaster.
Especially in a case like this. A scenic Napa home, right on a vineyard, where I’ll be forced to hole up for a few days. Me, and Max Davis.
My stomach churns, and it’s all I can do not to teeter in my high heels, despite how balanced I normally am in them.
What have I just agreed to?
Eight
Max
A text flagged with the emergency ringtone I use only for this arrives on Monday.
Three minutes before I’m supposed to be heading to Chloe’s office for our final planning meeting before we leave for Suzie’s place tomorrow. Shit. I’d been expecting this text—dreading it, actually, hoping it would be good news. But expecting a bad answer nonetheless.
Sorry about this, need to cancel today. I dash off the email to Chloe quickly, and add a few notes about what I’d been planning to mention. Logistics, mostly. I’ll pick you up at 9am tomorrow. You bring snacks, I’ll bring coffee, deal?
Then I’m gone, rushing to the elevators as quickly as my feet will carry me. Normally I’m never this flaky, and I wouldn’t cancel a meeting last-minute, not with someone counting on me.
But someone else is counting on me more, and some things can’t be helped.
Unfortunately, Chloe catches me just as I’m about to climb into the elevator.
“Are you seriously bailing right now? We have a lot of things we need to discuss before the trip tomorrow.” She’s got her hand on her hip, which is cocked to one side, her curves devastating in the slim-fitting dress she’s wearing. She’s not showing any cleavage today, and yet just the outline of her breasts makes me picture every other glimpse I’ve gotten of her full, firm tits.
I can’t do this right now. Focus, Max. “Something important came up, Chloe.”
She rolls her eyes skyward. I swear, the glasses just accentuate the strength of her eye rolls. “What could possibly have come up? An emergency afternoon hookup?”
I frown. “It’s an actual problem, Chloe. Some people have those, you know.”
“Oh, so I don’t? We all have issues to deal with, Max, but some of us know how to set aside work time to, you know, actually do work.”
“And some of us know that there are more important things in the world than work,” I snap. Then I push past her onto the elevator, ignoring the rush of heat throughout my body when our shoulders brush. If there’s any time I really don’t want to think about how fucking hot she makes me, it’s right now.
She just assumes she knows everything about me. Assumes she knows who I am and what I prioritize. I’m a great lawyer, and I pour my all into this company, but I understand the line between work and life. I’m not so sure Chloe, for all her sex appeal, understands that.
The elevator doors swing open and I jog onto the Bart, dragging my thoughts with me. Away from the office, away from the trip we’re planning and the case details we’ve been obsessing over, and especially away from Chloe, who to be honest, I have needed to get out of my head for a long time. I can’t imagine the last time I fantasized about a woman this much. Possibly never. Every night in the shower, I’ve got pictures of her spread-eagled on my bed in mind, as I wrap my hand around my rock hard dick.
I blame that fucking red-hot lipstick. The librarian glasses, as austere and severe as she is. The pencil skirts that hug her ass, the derisive sneer that curls her lip when she’s making some cutting comment about the girls who trail me around the office, wide-eyed and pliant.
Chloe isn’t like them. Chloe doesn’t give a shit what I think about her. If anything, she seems to actively want me to hate her. After the relentless fawning and indulgent laughter of the other girls, the ones who bat their eyes and twirl their hair and find excuses to touch my arm every ten seconds, it’s almost refreshing to find someone who doesn’t like me.
Even if sometimes I want to toss her out a damn window. Like right now.
I force thoughts into the background now. More important thoughts— thoughts about where I’m headed, what’s waiting for me on the other end of this rushed, last-minute train ride, flood my brain instead.
I’ve spent too much time lately ignoring the important things. And part of me can’t help but feel responsible for this whole situation.
By the time the train pulls up to my destination half an hour later, my intestines have worked themselves into knots of concern. I check the text message again, willing myself to have misunderstood it, or maybe read too much into it. But no. There those same words are, in black and white.
Can you come meet me? They let us go early … I didn’t get the spot.
This is my fault. Goddamn it. If I had had more time, dedicated a little more energy where it was truly needed this week… I grimace as I cross the street from the station, up the hill to the familiar, shabby facade of the high school where I started volunteering last year as a career mentor.
Sitting on the stoop out front, head bent, arms crossed on his knees, still dressed in the well-tailored suit I picked out for him, and insisted on buying for him despite his protests about the cost, is the kid I’ve come to think of as my younger brother. My fourteen-year-old mentee, Travis. Brother from another mother, he usually calls me, in his usual buoyant, happy tone.
Today, though, he looks far from his usual self. “Travis?” I keep my voice low, casual.
His head jerks up, fast, like he’s ashamed to have been caught with it down. His eyes are bright red where the whites should be, and there are telltale streaks down his cheeks where I know tears must have carved their tracks recently. He’s scrubbed them away now, though, and he makes a valiant effort to force a huge, fake smile, so I don’t say anything about it.
“Hey Max,” he says, and the little hitch of a waver in his voice makes my heart break all over again. Fuck. How did I let this happen? “Thanks for coming. Um. Sorry it was late notice… “
“Don’t sweat it.” I offer a hand, which he grabs, and haul him to his feet. “I needed a good excuse to get outta the office today anyway. You’re the one doing me a favor.”
Travis sucks in a deep breath, and I pretend not to notice that he still sounds a little sniffly. “So I guess I bombed the interview, huh?”
We’d been prepping for this interview for months. It was a unique chance for him to get into a much better private program at a nearby school, a program for gifted students that met once a week and gave students courses in a specialty they could choose. Chip off the old block that he is, my little bro was interested in their Introduction to Debate course. And by “interested,” I mean he’d set his whole heart on that class.
Now he wasn’t going to be able to take it. Dammit.
“I doubt you bombed it,” I tell him. “I saw you practice. You had that shit down pat, bro.”
“Well then why wouldn’t they pick me
? Either I was good enough or I wasn’t.”
I shake my head hard. “That’s not how it works. You can be good—hell, you can be great, and still not get something. Be it a position in school, a job, an award.” I lean down a little to try and catch his eye. “A girl you like,” I add, teasing a little. “Anything.”
But he turns his head, refusing to meet my eye. “If I was good, I wouldn’t have failed. End of story.” He frowns deeply.
“Travis, trust me when I tell you, everyone in the world has failed at something.”
“I bet you never have.” He sticks his chin out, but he does at last look up at me.
I shoot him a small smile. “Kid, I’ve failed at so many damn things I’ve stopped being able to count. You think I got the first job I wanted? Or even the dozenth? I’ve been on probably a hundred interviews in my life, for everything from internships to college scholarship boards to jobs. And I failed most of them.”
He lifts a skeptical eyebrow. “Really?”
“My first job interview, they stopped me halfway through the interview and told me thanks for stopping by, but I could go home now.” I sigh. That had been a shitty day.
Travis frowns. “But … weren’t you sad about it?”
“Of course I was. I was devastated. I really, really wanted that job. It was, I thought, my dream job. Huge firm, working on the types of cases I always wanted to work on. Doing something that mattered. I practiced for days and days before I went into the office. And I didn’t mess up or anything, that was the most annoying part. If I’d forgotten something, or said something dumb, I would’ve understood. But I was just me. And they didn’t want me.”
Travis crosses his arms as we stroll down the sidewalk, his eyes on the cars passing down the street now. We’re heading vaguely in the direction of our usual spot, a coffee shop halfway between his high school and his house, where we go to work on homework assignments or practice his interview questions or sometimes just to hang out and shoot the shit before I need to walk him home at 5pm, when his mom finishes her shift at the car wash she runs.
