Legally Yours (Spitfire Book 1)

by Nicole French

  I pursed my lips and shrugged. Kieran knew where I was from, but not about my small trust fund. “I’m sure. I got it for a piece of jewelry that was…well, let’s just say I got it under false pretenses. The person who gave it to me doesn’t want it back, and I’d prefer not to keep it myself.”

  I ventured a small smile, though the knowing look on Kieran’s face caused an unwelcome flush to rise on mine. She raised one thin eyebrow and looked back down at the check. Then she set it down on her desk and pulled a pad of paper out from a drawer. After scribbling a moment, she ripped off the top sheet and handed it across the desk to me.

  “You’ll want that receipt for your taxes,” she said as she turned to her computer. “You’ll save more from the exemption than you would not declaring the jewelry.”

  I nodded and tucked the receipt into my purse before going to sit at my small desk. Just then, my phone buzzed with a text message from a number I didn’t recognize.

  310-555-2368: I forgot to say you looked gorgeous on Sunday.

  I grinned. I had been dressed in yoga pants and a crappy shirt.

  Me: Who is this?

  310-555-2368: You don’t know?

  I turned to face my desk, biting back another telltale grin in case Kieran was watching. I still had a few minutes before my shift started, but she didn’t need to see me all worked up like smitten schoolgirl. I decided to have some fun.

  Me: Ooohhh, Jake, you need to stop using those online text services, baby.

  310-555-2368: WHO THE FUCK IS JAKE?

  I sucked in a giggle, but Kieran didn’t seem to notice.

  Me: Oh, just this other hotshot tycoon I’m seeing. He likes to give me consolation jewelry too.

  310-555-2368: Hilarious. I’m rolling over here.

  Me: I know. It’s part of my charm. How did you get my number?

  310-555-2368: I offered Ana a raise to get it from your friend. She really took advantage of me.

  Me: Oh?

  310-555-2368: Yeah, she makes more than me now.

  This time I couldn’t quite stifle the giggle.

  Kieran looked up irritably from her work. “Something funny?”

  I shook my head and set my phone down on the desk. “No, sorry. Just a friend’s text.”

  She looked at the clock, which read 8:51. “I see.”

  Grateful she didn’t reprimand me before I had actually done anything wrong, I punched in a quick message.

  Me: Why do you have a California number? I thought you were from Boston.

  310-555-2368: This is a Google Voice number, just like yours. I’m texting from my office. I should be working, but you’re distracting me.

  Before I could come up with a pithy reply that would somehow request his actual number, my phone buzzed again.

  310-555-2368: Anyway, just wanted to say I can’t wait to see you on Friday. Thanks for the third chance. Later, Red.

  The affectionate nickname wasn’t anything I (and every other redhead) hadn’t heard before, but somehow the familiarity of way he used it, the way it sounded like he’d called me that for years, made me smile. I typed in a quick farewell, and tucked my phone back into my purse before logging onto my computer and pulling two files I had been working on from Monday. I had several calls to make on one client’s behalf, so I needed to get to work.

  “It’s funny. I know someone who always gives expensive jewelry like that to women he dates.”

  I jerked my head up to find Kieran peering at me from over a brief, wry amusement playing across her sharp features.

  She pointed a pen at me as she spoke. “Usually before he even knows them very well.” She shrugged. “I always tell him that will make the good ones feel like prostitutes, but he never listens. He was planning to do it again last week even though I told him not to.”

  I gulped and set my file on the desk so I could face her. “Who’s that?”

  “Something tells me you know,” she said, holding up the check.

  I blinked, not entirely sure what she wanted me to say. I liked Kieran, but I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea about Brandon and me.

  She sat back in her chair and set the check on the table. “Relax, Skylar. He’s not your boss any more. And FLS has never been too good for his money anyway.”

  Somehow, I found her command difficult to obey. Her pointed expression across the desk was already intimidating, and I couldn’t tell if she approved or not that I was dating her friend. I still remembered her laser-like expression at his house that first night; I had also already seen her in action when she went after particularly nasty opponents in court. Kieran’s wrath was not something I wanted to be on the wrong side of.

  “Look, I really couldn’t care less about your personal life, Skylar,” she said as she tapped a long fingernail on her keyboard. “But Brandon is a different story. He’s like a brother to me. A good guy, but he’s…complicated. And he doesn’t need anyone who will add to that in his life. So be careful.”

  She looked up at me, and her dark eyes zeroed in on mine directly, holding me to my chair. It was obvious why Kieran was such a successful litigator; I couldn’t imagine anyone actually lying to her or doing anything other than cowering in front of her on the stand.

  “We clear?” she asked.

  Wordlessly, I nodded, although I couldn’t be less clear. Was she warning me off him? Was she trying to help? Her sharp expression was even more inscrutable than usual, red mouth set in an impassive line as she stared at me.

  “Of…of course,” I finally managed to croak under her unwavering gaze.

  Her lips quirked up at the sides, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Well, this was a good start,” she said, holding up the check again.

  I smiled back, although I wasn’t sure what she meant. Finally, she turned back to her computer, and suddenly it was as if our awkward conversation hadn’t happened.

  ~

  “What about this one?”

  Jane yanked a bright blue dress off a hanger that was so short it looked more like a skirt. She held it up against her slim body and swished it playfully from side to side.

  My face immediately torqued up in disgust. “Are you kidding? That’s not a dress, it’s lingerie.”

  “It’s hot and you’d look hot in it. Didn’t he tell you he liked your legs?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Well, one look at you in this, and he’ll actually fuck you on the piano this time. Or maybe in the backseat of his car. Is his driver a perv? Do you think he’d watch?”

  “I really need to stop telling you everything about my sex life.”

  I blushed, glancing around the small boutique to see if anyone had heard her. Luckily it was almost closing time, so the small shop was nearly empty, and if the girl at the register had heard us, she was doing a really good job of acting like she hadn’t.

  I grabbed the dress—if you could even call it that—from Jane and shoved it back on the rack. “He promised nothing fancy. Less call girl, more girl next door.”

  “Who are you, his kid sister? What did you ask me here for?” Jane grabbed back at the long gray cardigan currently hanging from my arm and tossed it over a piled of go-back clothes by the dressing room.

  “Hey, I liked that!”

  “I don’t care if he’s taking you out to a taco truck, lady!” Jane said, blocking my reach with her body. “It’s a date, not tea with my Great-Aunt Meg. If you want to go cazh, that’s fine, but I’m not letting you go on this date without sexing it up a little bit. No cardigans!”

  “Fine, fine. No, not that. Jesus, Jane, this isn’t Vegas! It’s twenty-eight degrees outside.”

  Before I could finish vetoing her next choice—an indecently low cut halter-top littered with sequins—my handbag interrupted our sparring with a loud vibration. I yanked my cell phone and answered it without checking who it was, shaking my head violently at Jane. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Skylar. It’s Jared.”

  I froze and stuck my tongue out at
Jane when she asked silently who is was. “Oh, hi, Jared. What’s up?” Immediately Jane’s lips rounded in a silent “Oh!” of recognition, and she tiptoed away to the other side of the store to look at the options over there.

  “I was just wondering if you’d gotten any of my texts this week,” Jared said. “I was hoping we were still on for our date tomorrow.”

  Shit. I’d completely forgotten about that, and now here I was out shopping for the date I was going on with someone else instead. I’d been dodging Jared’s texts all week, sending noncommittal promise to get back to him later.

  “Oh, yeah, um, about that…” I mumbled, trying ineffectively to come up with a reasonable excuse that wouldn’t make me into a massive liar. Jared was a nice guy. He didn’t deserve to have the wool pulled over his eyes, although I didn’t think he needed the absolute truth either. No one really wants to be told they’re just not that interesting.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s fine,” I mumbled as I flipped through a sale rack of t-shirts before moving to another area of the store. Jane was starting to meander closer, clearly interested in what I was going to say. Excuse, excuse, I needed a decent excuse not to see him again. “I’m just really busy these days. I still don’t have a job offer, so I’ve doing some networking stuff and working extra hours at the clinic…”

  From the other side of a tall rack of jumpsuits came a pronounced snort.

  “Tell him his kissing was like making out with a block of tofu,” Jane whispered loudly, suddenly beside me again. She held up a black silk blouse with a drawstring collar. I waved her away, but pointed at the shirt and gave a thumbs up.

  “Who was that?” Jared asked.

  “Ah, no one. TV. But, yeah, I was saying that, um…I just don’t think I’m going to be able to make it out any time soon.”

  “Really? You can’t even get dinner? Everyone has to eat, don’t they?” His tone was friendly, but I thought I caught a hint of irritation. I understood it, but I didn’t like being pushed. These were pretty clear signals I was giving him.

  “I’m really sorry, Jared,” I said, trying and failing to keep my voice from tightening a bit. “I’m just swamped. Maybe another time.”

  “Yeah, another lifetime,” Jane muttered to a rack full of wrap dresses.

  “Okay, I guess,” Jared said, his voice full of disappointment. To his credit, he was trying to be nice. “I hope you get everything done. Let me know when your schedule frees up, okay?”

  “Will do,” I said. “Bye.” I tucked my phone back in my purse and then turned to Jane. “What is with you? I thought you liked him.” I swatted ineffectually at her with my purse, which she neatly dodged.

  “I liked the idea of you going on a date,” she corrected me. “Our toaster was getting more action than you do. And we don’t even eat that much toast.” She handed me three more shirts she’d been holding. Since none of them were cut to my navel, I draped them over my arm.

  “And now?” I couldn’t help the sly grin creeping its way across my face.

  “Well, now you’ve got Mr. Tall, Blond, and Eat Me Out for Breakfast. Why would you keep a guy with the soggy oatmeal personality when you’ve got a giant plate of sizzling bacon ready for you?” She shook her head. “Didn’t you say kissing him was like kissing a cold fish?”

  I shrugged, unwilling to meet her gaze as we walked to the small dressing room in the corner of the shop. “I think it was cold cuts, not cold fish.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Making out with bologna sandwich sounds so much more enticing.”

  I chuckled as I dropped my things inside the small dressing room and pulled the curtain closed while Jane stood outside, continuing her tirade. Judging from the noises I had heard all too often coming out of her bedroom, she suffered no such lackluster connections.

  “He doesn’t deserve to be told off or anything. What would you have had me say?” I asked while tugging on one of the tops. The purple shade washed me out. Nope.

  “Well, if it were me,” Jane said, “I probably would have said something along the lines of, sorry, Jared, I can’t go out tomorrow because you have the personality of a Toyota Camry.”

  I burst out laughing in spite of myself. “Well, I already turned him down, didn’t I?”

  “Or sorry, Jared, I’d rather take the LSAT four more times in the same day than kiss you again.”

  I pulled on another top and immediately discarded it, although it was hard to get it off while laughing again. “You’re terrible,” I chided my friend before tugging the last shirt, the black one, over my head.

  “You want me to keep going?” Jane asked. “I have so many more. I’d rather wear head to toe beige. Have lunch with a room full of insurance salesmen. Attend a mayonnaise convention!”

  “Stop!” I cried, now that tears were starting to stream down my face. “I…can’t….you…stop!”

  Jane tugged the flimsy curtain aside to find me squatting on the floor, holding my side while I heaved silent. She grinned and grabbed my arm to pull me up. “You know it’s true.”

  “Oh, he’s better than that,” I gasped as I straightened myself up. “I mean, he’s cute and he’s nice. That’s got to make him better than an ugly family car.”

  Jane tipped her head from side to side, considering the metaphor more carefully. “Okay, but just because he’s objectively handsome in a Gap ad kind of way, and also because he’s objectively loaded. So…maybe he’s a Saab. A nice, well made, sensible Saab. God, even the car name sounds boring, doesn’t it?”

  I giggled again. “Don’t start again, Jane.” It was one of the things I loved about living with her—she could always, always make me laugh.

  “Saaaaaaab,” she droned, but shut the curtain again to let me finish getting dressed. I quickly put on my clothes and gathered the black shirt and hanger to bring up to the front.

  “Ooh, I’m glad you went with that one, even if it means your closet stays monochromatic,” Jane said as we walked up to the cash register.

  “Like you’re one to talk,” I retorted. When she wasn’t dressing professionally, Jane’s look usually consisted of torn skinny jeans and a rotating series of black concert tees.

  “Did you find something you like?” asked the salesgirl.

  I handed her the silk blouse and a pair of earrings I snagged by the counter. “I think so. I hope so.”

  “This blouse is super sexy,” she said with a sly wink. “I’m sure he’ll love it. The, um, bacon, not the oatmeal.”

  Jane and I traded glances and broke into another round of giggles. Apparently the salesgirl had been listening after all.

  ~

  Chapter 19

  Between my class work and starting work on the clinic presentations, the rest of the week flew by. Brandon and I traded a few more flirtatious texts (always via Google, much to my irritation—I was fairly certain it was punishment for not providing my number on my original application), and solidified our plans together. On Friday evening, I raced into the apartment with just under an hour to get ready. I had stayed late at the clinic helping Kieran with a particularly challenging client, and the T had been delayed on top of that.

  Jared had called two more times on Thursday, but I hadn’t found the time to call him back, instead opting to send a quick text begging a busy weekend of studying. I didn’t normally like to lie, but something told me he would be the kind of guy who’d want to turn a “Dear John” conversation into a big long thing. I had other things on my mind.

  I dropped my briefcase by the door, kicked off the sensible black pumps that were suitable for walking through the fog settled over Boston that day, and raced down the hallway to my bedroom. After I tore off my gray suit jacket and pants and tossed them on the bed, I wrapped my robe around myself and padded back to the bathroom, only to find it locked with the shower running. Jane was in there, and clearly not alone.

  A telltale giggle slipped out from the bathroom door, followed by grunt that couldn’t possibly be
female. I frowned. I glanced at the hallway mirror at my reflection, which was about a frazzled as I felt. My hair was half falling out of its bun and about a million frizzy flyaways created a red-orange mane all around my face. Mascara was smudged beneath one eye, and light sheen of sweat glistened across my brow.

  I turned back to the bathroom and banged on the door. “Jane! I need to use the bathroom.”

  A deep male voice murmured something in response to Jane’s higher voice, and I listened as someone came padding toward the door. It opened, and Jane stuck her very wet head out, water running down her neck to where she held a towel against the rest of her body.

  “Dude!” she growled. “I’m a little occupied here. Do you think you could wait?”

  “Dude yourself!” I hissed back. “I have a date tonight. An important date. You know this. And he’s coming in—” I glanced down at my watch— “forty-seven minutes and I look like I just got dragged through a gutter!”

  Her eyes blinked wide with sudden recognition. “Oh shit, I’m sorry! I totally forgot. We’ll be out in two seconds.”

  Without waiting for a response, she shut the door quickly in my face, and I heard her muffled voice speaking to her obviously disappointed partner. Within a minute, the water shut off, and the bathroom door opened. Jane shuffled out, still clad in her towel, followed by a tall, thin guy with shaggy blond hair who held my green bath towel around his waist. Gross.

  “Uh, Sky, this is Greg,” Jane said sheepishly as they shuffled down the hall. “Greg, Skylar.”

  Greg pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and tipped his chin at me. “What’s up, roommate?”

  I glared at him. “That’s my towel.”

  He looked down, dripping water from his hair onto his big feet, then looked back up with a horsey grin. “Oh, sorry, man. You want it back?”

  I rolled my eyes and looked at Jane, who was standing coyly in her bedroom doorway. “No, I’ll find another. You guys better not have left any of your…remnants in the shower.”

  “Don’t worry, Sky. We were just getting clean, that’s all.” Jane reached out, clasped Greg’s hand, and tugged him behind her into her room. “Have a good shower!”