First Time For Everything

by Aimee Carson

  Curbing his reaction had been doable until he’d discovered the sound body had indeed come with a sound mind, the sharp wit and keen intellect triggering a need the likes of which he could no longer ignore. Unfortunately, intellect did not equal common sense. Or sanity. Her amusing mouth was sassier than all his past girlfriends’ combined, but her reckless nature made her a risk.

  A risk he had no choice but to take.

  Pushing the doubts aside, Blake settled back and focused on the oddly enticing sight of her lightly jiggling foot. Obviously, the lady was incapable of holding still.

  Or keeping her opinions to herself.

  “What will it take to change your mind?” he said. “Money?”

  She rolled her eyes, as if to say his attempt was lame.

  “Whatever your weekly salary is, I’ll triple it,” he said.

  “No thanks,” she said smoothly. “I’m sure you can find someone else.”

  “Nikki refuses a hired aid. And the only other family I have is my mother, but she was the one who encouraged Nikki to drive herself to the courthouse today.” At Jax’s curious look, he felt obligated to attempt to explain Abigail Bennington, an impossible feat. “My mother doesn’t believe in setting limits.”

  A fact that had been okay when his father had still been alive. After his death, Blake had been the one left to pick up the slack, striving to see that a then twelve-year-old headstrong Nikki made it to adulthood in one piece. No easy task.

  He tipped his head. “As a matter of fact, you and my mother would get along great. She believes everyone should lead with their heart, too.”

  The smile she sent was laced with a touch of reproach. “Smart lady.”

  “Yes. But my mother also believes in love potions, tarot cards and the validity of the psychic hotline,” Blake said drily. “So take that for what it’s worth.”

  Her smile grew bigger. “Your mother sounds wonderful.”

  Abigail Bennington was frustrating. Exasperating. And notoriously unreliable. As much as he cared about her, dealing with his mom wasn’t always easy. Luckily, she was also very lovable in her own wacky way.

  Wacky, just like the beautiful woman with the tiny tattoo. Her wrist rested on her lap, and he discreetly tried to make out the picture. But he only managed to get an eyeful of a bare, tanned and very toned thigh.

  A few more moments passed filled with awareness, and he forced his eyes back to her face. “Look,” he said reasonably, “Nikki needs company, and I’m currently involved in a case that’s requiring a lot of my time. And my mother has a social calendar that would put the First Lady to shame.” He blew out a breath. “Most of Nikki’s old high school pals have moved away. And the few that still live here have jobs. Honestly,” Blake went on thoughtfully, “I think she’s missing her friends.”

  Jax’s foot stopped its incessant wiggling, and she crossed her arms, a small frown stealing across her face as she nibbled on her lower lip. Obviously she was rethinking her refusal, more moved by compassion than money. Information he fully intended to take advantage of.

  “Nikki had been looking forward to her summer break for months,” he said, pressing on. He’d had years of practice reading juries, and Jax’s sympathy was easy to see. He almost had her. “Now she’s stuck at home. What she needs is someone closer to her age for company.” Truthfully, he thought his sister needed a keeper, but he kept that tidbit to himself. “So she won’t feel so...alone.”

  Jax heaved out a sigh, turning to face him. “Okay, I’ll do it.” Blake’s blood surged in triumph. “But I have one condition,” she said.

  “Which is?”

  “I want you to handle my legal problem.”

  The triumphant feeling collapsed. “I’m a federal prosecutor, not a defense attorney.”

  “I can’t afford to hire a lawyer, even with the

  tripled salary.”

  Blake frowned. “So you’ll be assigned a public defender. Most of them are excellent. And more than capable of handling your case.”

  “Sorry, Suit,” she said, her gaze suddenly serious. “I entered the foster system when I was ten years old, which means I’ve dealt with a lot of social workers through the years. I learned to spot a bad one a mile away.” The tidbit about her past was disturbing. But there was no self-pity in her eyes, just a level of acceptance that was impressive, and Blake fought the surge of sympathy. “Suffice it to say,” she went on, “I’ve had enough experience with government employees to be a little leery of the devoted public servant. Yes, I might get lucky and be assigned an excellent attorney.” She shot him a look that dared him to disagree. “But I also know how bad it will be if I’m appointed one that isn’t.”

  Her hazel eyes exhibited a wariness and knowledge beyond her years, a hard-earned wisdom bubbling just beneath surface. Too bad she didn’t apply that wisdom on a regular basis. Blake shifted in his seat, wishing he could offer her words of assurance. But he had more than enough experience to know that a poorly executed defense could have lifelong consequences.

  And clearly Jacqueline Lee knew it, too.

  “Consider it an exchange of favors,” she said with a stubborn lift of her chin. And he supposed somewhere in that zany world she inhabited the logic made sense. “If you want me to help you with Nikki, those are my terms.”

  With his current schedule, their arrangement would mean burning the midnight oil. But he wouldn’t be getting any work done if he was worried that Nikki would hobble to her car and drive across town again, just to obtain a second cast tattoo.

  Blake wearily rubbed a hand down his face and then shot Jax a hard look. “You’ll have to follow my directions to the letter.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Which means no arguing over my every instruction.”

  Her attempt to feign ignorance was comical. “I’m very capable of holding my tongue.”

  All evidence to date suggested otherwise.

  He paused for effect and then raised a doubtful eyebrow. “I guess we’ll find out,” he murmured.

  Her gaze didn’t budge, and the challenge in her voice was another gut-clenching jolt to his libido. “I guess we will.”

  * * *

  The next morning Jax left Nikki relaxing by her brother’s sparkling pool, tablet computer in hand, and made her way up the bougainvillea-lined walk leading to the main house. Since Jax’s quarters were located in a separate guest cottage beyond the pool, avoiding the owner so far had been easy. The rest of the day would likely be a different story.

  For the bazillionth time since she’d said yes, Jax questioned her decision to accept the temporary job. In the end, it hadn’t been because she needed the money desperately, which was true, or that the flexibility of the work would afford her time to pursue funding for the club, which was also accurate. Ultimately, the mention of Nikki’s loneliness had won her over.

  Jax had spent years living in homes surrounded by people, yet feeling all alone.

  But for the first time, alone was sounding almost attractive. Putting up with Blake’s disturbing presence in the limo had been bad enough, but now she was staying on his property. As his employee. And the thought of being reduced to a subordinate to the strictly by-the-book man was less than thrilling. Eight years spent at the mercy of the foster-care system had instilled in her an inherent dislike of being under an authoritative thumb. Either way, as frustrating as he was, she knew he was an excellent lawyer. Brilliant was the word Nikki had used. Which would have made the exchange of favors perfect...except for that damn coolly amused attitude of his yesterday.

  An attitude that had only gotten worse.

  Because last night, when the limo had arrived in front of the courthouse to drop her off, her car had been missing. After a brief moment of panic on her part, Blake had phoned the police station with her license plate...and le
arned her VW Beetle had been towed and impounded for a parking violation.

  Which meant that the day that had started out good before turning bad had officially landed on the ugly.

  She’d wound up having to endure Blake’s patient yet imposing form in her apartment while she packed for his house—the light in his eyes clearly communicating he was even more amused since she’d added a parking violation to her list of crimes. It was stupid, she knew, to care that the man thought she was a complete flake.

  Unfortunately, now she needed to remind him of that very fact by asking him for a ride to the impound lot to retrieve her car.

  Jax bit back the groan as dread and an annoying sliver of anticipation wormed its way into her limbs, and she rubbed a damp palm down her jeans as she passed through the French doors and into the foyer. She paused, wondering where to look for Blake, feeling underdressed in her well-worn jeans.

  His modern, U-shaped house was framed in wood and stone and gorgeously situated in an exclusive island neighborhood in South Miami Beach. Jax headed into the huge living room, where dark Brazilian wood floors added warmth. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows afforded an unobstructed view of the Biscayne Bay to the north, and to the south, the pool nestled between the U.

  All in all, a soothing scene...until she spied Blake at the far end of the room.

  Jax’s heart picked up speed even as her stride grew slower as she considered leaving before being detected. After yesterday’s trail of humiliating moments, she longed to rejoin Nikki at the pool and forget about her car. Unfortunately, the sound of her squeaking tennis shoes announced her arrival, and Blake turned before she could decide whether to pay now or pay later.

  Her heart shifted from First to Third as he approached, long legs crossing the vast room with a purpose.

  Clean-shaven and impeccably dressed, Blake looked almost as formal as the day before. The tux had been replaced with charcoal-colored pants and a white dress shirt, and his thick, ink-black hair was damp at the edges, probably from a shower.

  Didn’t he know it was Saturday? And why couldn’t she convince her libido that he was so not her type that she couldn’t even begin to count the ways? The oodles of dollars in his bank account didn’t come close to making her list of concerns, but she was dying to know where his fortune came from.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re accepting bribes from the Mafia,” she said.

  His pace slowed as he approached, puzzlement briefly hijacking his cool demeanor. “I’m sorry?”

  Not near as sorry as she was when he stopped in front of her and she was hit with his now familiar cologne. Tamping down the wave of heat, she shifted her gaze from his broad shoulders, emphasized by the cut of his shirt, to his striking face.

  Her body might never get used to the masculine beauty.

  “No matter how far up the chain he is, there is no way a government attorney could afford a house like this,” she said with a wry hike of her brow. “Unless, of course, he’s on the take.”

  His cool expression morphed to one of interest, and the gray eyes crinkled at the edges in humor. “I promise, I’m not accepting bribes. And trust me,” he said, his voice achieving the perfect droll note, “no one enters a life of public law for the salary. I’m fortunate enough that the paycheck isn’t a concern.” He held her gaze a moment before turning his attention to the view, his face briefly growing hard. “I inherited my money.”

  Inherited. Which meant someone—family—had to die for him to acquire all this wealth. And judging by the look on his face it was a subject she should stay far, far away from. Because something in his expression told her if she pursued that line of questioning, he’d cut her off at the knees.

  A perplexing and exasperating tenderness welled inside her. The man who had the world at his feet had a vulnerable spot, too. And, minus the inheritance part, one she could relate to, no less.

  Toes tapping nervously, she struggled to lighten the mood again before she asked for a ride, ignoring her clamoring nerves. “Well, I guess I have to change my first impression of you as the James Bond type.” He quirked his eyebrow skeptically, and she went on. “Must have been the tux.”

  His forehead bunched in amusement. “Must have been.”

  “But the ultrarich guy fighting for justice is more Batman than James Bond,” she said, struggling to mirror his coolly amused demeanor.

  A quick flash of a sexy half grin graced his face, and Jax’s breath caught, her world tipping sideways.

  “Except Batman was a vigilante operating outside of the law.” Clearly playing along, he crossed his arms, his dress shirt stretching across broad shoulders. “And for the record, I prefer the tux to tights.”

  The planted image did nothing to right her still-spinning world as she pictured his muscular legs encased in formfitting fabric. And the thought of a man in tights should not be turning her on.

  “Interesting visual,” she murmured, her tone holding an embarrassingly husky quality.

  Their eyes locked.

  Time stretched.

  And Jax struggled to shore up her body’s defenses against the attraction she’d just let slip. She could tell by the wary look in Blake’s eyes.

  Big mistake, Jax. Big mistake.

  Right now climbing into a car and riding across town with the man hardly seemed like a good idea. But without her vehicle, she was stuck in his house with no means of escape, even for a brief reprieve.

  She swallowed hard and bit the proverbial bullet. “I was hoping you could give me a ride to the impound parking lot.”

  He pressed his lips together, either biting back a smile or suppressing a groan of irritation. Jax wasn’t sure which would be worse.

  “I’m free this afternoon,” he said, and she sighed, relieved that the car ride would be delayed. “I have some work to finish this morning. But first we need to discuss the terms of our employment agreement,” he added.

  Her heart slipped to her belly.

  Damn. And escape had been so near at hand.

  When he headed toward the door, she sighed and followed him into the hallway, praying his office was as big as the living room. Because, as she’d learned in the limo, being confined in a small space with the lethally sexy Blake Bennington was an assault on her senses she was ill-equipped to deal with. All she wanted was to survive the contract negotiations without adding to her growing list of embarrassing moments.

  But given her interactions with the exasperating hottie to date, she wasn’t holding out much hope.

  * * *

  Blake leaned back in his leather chair, elbows on the armrests, fingers steepled just beneath his chin. Fortunately, his monstrous desk separated him from Jax as she paced back and forth, reading through the contracts.

  Sporting threadbare jeans and a Madonna T-shirt—did the woman own anything that didn’t have a face plastered on it?—she looked fresh and surprisingly at ease in his office of hunter-green and dark leather furniture. Her unruly hair had been whipped into submission, a long braid extending down her back, streaks of gold intertwined with the honey tones. At first glance he’d thought the restrained hairstyle would help control his growing appreciation for her looks.

  But he’d been wrong. Because the graceful neck along with her loose-limbed, lissome body conjured images of her dance routine gone awry. And the reminder of her hips swinging to the Latino hip-hop song was hardly conducive to controlling his appreciation. Not to mention the husky voice radiating from the capricious female earlier in the living room. The voice that had broadcast that she wanted him, too...

  A slow burn took up residence in his gut, heating him from the inside out. Ignoring his own desire was a lot harder now that he was certain it was returned.

  Jax finished reading and halted beside his desk, her clear skin kissed by the sun and radiating health. Hazel eyes
assessed him doubtfully as she set the contracts in front of him.

  “Is this really necessary?” she said.

  “It’s a fairly standard employment contract.”

  She leaned her hands on his desk, which had the unfortunate effect of placing her breasts closer to eye level. “Seems like an awful lot of words just to say I’m hired, explain a few rules and list my hourly rate,” she said doubtfully.

  Studiously ignoring the view, Blake reached for the document. “No one should enter into employment without laying out the terms of their agreement.”

  Maintaining his businesslike demeanor was difficult enough after spending ten minutes admiring her features. And he wasn’t above admitting a few fantasies had been entertained by the sight.

  He cleared his throat, hoping to put an end to the torture by getting her to sign...and leave him in peace. “This protects your interests as well by covering the terms of the dissolution of your employment should the relationship not work out.”

  Blake mentally flinched at the term relationship. But Jax didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy looking at him as if he’d just crawled out of an alien spacecraft.

  She straightened up and crossed her arms, which obscured Madonna’s face and pushed Jax’s breasts higher. He shifted slightly in his seat, willing his groin not to respond.

  “Do you ever get tired of being this careful?” she said with amazement. “I mean—wow.” Sweeping a stray lock of hair from her cheek, she eyed him closely. “I’ve never met anyone so cautious. Your muscles must be tired from all the overtime they put in being—” she clenched both her fists to emphasize her point “—tensed and poised for every possible catastrophe.” Hands relaxing, she dropped them to her sides, her hazel eyes boldly honest, her tone dry. “’Cuz this is only my second day of knowing you, and you’re already exhausting me.”

  Trying to hide the grin, Blake wiped his hand across his chin and lower lip. She looked younger than her years, fresh and beautiful—with a youthful exuberance that was captivating. Exhaustion hardly seemed to be her problem. His libido, on the other hand...?