by Piper Rayne
There’s not a ton of personal pictures, but enough to know there’s a family who loves him somewhere in the world and a group of friends he vacations with a lot.
“Give me one reason I should stay.”
You’re asking a lawyer to give you a reason? Just stay, you obviously want to, my subconscious screams.
“Well, I could list a lot, but I had a shit time yesterday and I just want to get my mind off of it. You owe me nothing, but I’m asking you to stay.”
That’s not what I was thinking would come out of his mouth. I’d thought it would be something with some sexual innuendo. Some promise to have me sprawled out on his counter and his face between my legs. Not that he would want me here to distract him from something that’s bothering him emotionally.
“Let me go get presentable,” I say.
For the first time since I woke, I look down at my cami and shorts. My outfit’s not super skimpy, but there’s not nearly enough fabric for a platonic relationship.
“You look perfect if you ask me.”
My hands touch my messed up ponytail and I imagine what my makeup must look like since I didn’t want to wash my face at two in the morning when I dragged myself from the couch to bed.
“Just when I thought I was safe from your seduction.”
He walks around the kitchen island, his hand extended and I don’t fight it when he captures my hand, tugging me lightly forward.
“You’ll never be safe from my seduction. Sorry to disappoint you.”
It should disappoint me. Newsflash: it doesn’t.
“Come.” He opens his palm and weaves his fingers through mine. An electric current runs up my arm, one fueled by lust, not anger.
I go willingly, and he leads me to the seat that allows me to look out the window.
“How much did you pay for this place?” I ask, daring a personal question.
He laughs from the kitchen and returns a second later with two plates and silverware.
“I suppose you think that’s fair?”
“You know every bit regarding my financial status.”
He sits down and dishes out the quiche, pancakes, and bacon on a plate for me.
“This is way too much food for just us,” I say, looking wide-eyed down at my plate.
“More people should be here any minute.”
“What?” I plant my hands on the armrests to rise.
He chuckles. “See now my company doesn’t seem so bad.” Then he winks.
That wink should be annoying and grate on me, but for some reason it makes me feel more like a teenager than anything.
I shake my head, falling back down to my chair, crossing my legs and leaning back.
After pouring two cups of coffee, he sets one in front of me. “Sugar, right?” He spoons one teaspoon, holding it above my cup.
I nod. “Is there anything you don’t know about me?”
The spoon tips the sugar into the cup, and he stirs it into the dark liquid.
He doesn’t look up at me when he responds. “I admit, I know a lot. I know your routine, or at least I did. You might have changed it since then. I know where you live, the addresses to your cabin in Wisconsin and your condo in Vail. On the way to work, you grab a coffee with one sugar and every Friday you treat yourself to a pastry. I know that your schedule is usually jam-packed with events that you have to wear a cocktail dress and a fake smile to. You work out but only in your home or your friend Tad’s gym. I know you have a membership to Torrio’s, I know the amount of your trust fund when you turned twenty-five. I know how much you’ve inherited, how much your parents are worth. Where your dad golfs and where your mom shops. I know that you don’t buy any games for your phone and only have a select few contacts that you regularly call even though you have fifty times that amount of numbers in your phone.”
He sets the spoon down on the napkin between us and I just stare at him, unable to figure out whether I’m impressed or put off by his little speech.
“That being said, there’s a lot I don’t know. I don’t know what makes you start a foundation like RISE. I don’t know what your late night snack is or your favorite type of sushi. I don’t know what makes you laugh or smile or what little things drive you crazy. So, I might know a lot about your habits, but I want to know you. Hannah Crowley, the gorgeous, intelligent woman in front of me. That’s all.”
I pop a piece of bacon into my mouth trying to act like he didn’t just make the foundation of the wall I’ve built between us shaky. Nope, he most certainly did not.
“You so practiced that.” I sit up straight, letting my gaze fall from his because I’m about two seconds from launching myself over this table on top of him.
“I’m a lawyer, Hannah, half my cases are won from my ability to string together a series of meaningful sentences.”
I shake my fingers in the air, sipping my coffee. “Why do I feel like you have more to add?”
“That was just my opening statement. I have more to add.”
I playfully roll my eyes. “I can only imagine what you’re going to say now.”
He clears his throat. “I’ll make it short.”
“Short doesn’t seem like your style.”
He winks and it starts up the slow-burning hum between my legs.
“We’re here today to talk about Roarke Baldwin pursuing Hannah Crowley. Yes, he was the divorce attorney for her ex-husband. Yes, he did do what was in the best interest of his client. Yes, he had a private investigator follow Ms. Crowley to see if he could obtain any dirt on her. He wants an opportunity to get to know Hannah on a personal basis. He’s offered her a deal because Ms. Crowley would never agree to a date with him otherwise. I’m sure by the end of the five favors, Roarke Baldwin will prove how worthy he is of Hannah Crowley’s time. Whether it’s one date or a million. Whether he gets a kiss or something more. He thinks that by the end of this period, court will see his side of this case.”
“What could that possibly be?” The light humor in my voice surprises me.
“That Roarke Baldwin really is a good guy.” He smiles so wide double dimples crease his cheeks.
I practically melt into his expensive dining chair.
“Good luck with the judge,” I comment, forking a helping of quiche into my mouth to stop myself from doing something stupid.
“I think the judge is softening a little bit.”
“The judge thinks you’re full of shit,” I reply.
His only response is another chuckle that tells me I’m going to need to up my game if I want to come out of this one a winner.
Chapter Ten
“You had to actually sleep in his bed?” Chelsea asks, her eyes narrowed.
What happened to the girl who was jumping around and cheering for me to get together with Roarke?
“Yeah, he doesn’t want the kitten in the guest rooms. Something about allergies and stuff.” I sort through the messages Victoria handed me when I walked in.
“That’s weird and sneaky.”
“It can be considerate, too.” Victoria picks up a folder with the name of the venue on it. “So, at three today we’ll see the venue?”
“Yeah,” I say, setting the messages to the side.
Chelsea sits in my office with her mid-morning snack, a cupcake today.
“The considerate thing would have been to let her sleep in a guest room.”
“Technically, the considerate thing would be to give her the venue without the five favors. So, in this case, I think we shouldn’t be surprised.”
Victoria has a point.
Chelsea nods in agreement.
“How did Lucy and the kitten do?” Victoria asks.
I fall back into my chair. “Oh, they’re the best of friends. The cat slept in Lucy’s bed with her both nights. I think Lucy might have been depressed after we left yesterday. She wasn’t herself.”
“I really hope he’s not a creep and doesn’t wash the sheets you slept in or something. What if he’s some wei
rd Dahmer kinda guy and he’s masturbating in the pillowcase you slept on?”
Victoria and I stop and look at her.
She dips her finger into the frosting and sucks it off her finger. “What?”
“That’s a disturbing image,” Victoria says.
“Maybe Dean and I may have been watching too much ID television. But he could still be a wacko.” Her eyes widen like she’s ready to bet on how crazy he is.
“I don’t think so.” I shake my head.
“Huh,” Chelsea says, unwrapping the cupcake and taking a big bite, frosting ending up on the tip of her nose.
Victoria leans forward and hands her a tissue.
“You’re into him,” Chelsea accuses once she’s done chewing.
“I’m not actually, but I will admit that there might be a side to him that’s new to me.”
Chelsea laughs and elbows Victoria in the chair next to her.
“I spent the entire weekend without him. He wasn’t even there.”
“He really is brilliant,” Chelsea says. “He gave you a tunnel vision into the man he is without having to even be present or verbally persuade you. He gave you two whole days to do whatever you wanted in his most personal space with zero pressure from him.”
“I didn’t snoop.” I raise my chin, proud of the fact that I didn’t go through every drawer in his place. Sure, I may have started looking for a pen in not the most obvious places, say his en suite’s drawers, but I was still technically looking for a pen.
Victoria tilts her head and leans back in her chair. “It really is a damn good plan on his part. Shows how smart he is.”
“Don’t start siding with the enemy,” I say.
“I’m not siding, I’m just giving him some props because you didn’t spend one minute with him and you’re already softening to his advances.”
“That’s not true,” I insist.
Victoria and Chelsea sit up straighter like scolded children in class.
“When I woke up on Sunday he was making breakfast. I guess whatever he was dealing with, ended early.”
Once again, I ignore the part of me that wonders who the woman that called his name was.
Both girls side glance one another.
“Like I said—brilliant,” Chelsea says.
“No, no. I really don’t think it was planned.” Why am I defending this man?
Chelsea raises her eyebrows, folding the cupcake wrapper inside the Kleenex she used as a napkin.
“If you say so.” She shrugs.
It’s clear she doesn’t believe me. After a few seconds, I let a long sigh loose and decide to lose the tough girl act. “Do you want to know the truth?”
“Yes,” they say in unison.
“I’ve never been treated the way he treated me last weekend.”
“That bad?” Victoria asks and cringes a bit.
“That good,” I say. “I show up and the doorman knows I’m coming. Tells me the dog walker is already scheduled and paid for and that I’m not to tip any of the doormen because Mr. Baldwin took care of it. He had the entire condo cleaned before I arrived. He had the fridge and cabinets stocked with food so I never had to go out. Then on Sunday, yes, I was going to leave first thing, but regardless, he made me a huge breakfast and then made an opening argument pertaining to the two of us.”
“Oh I like it.” Chelsea leans forward and rests her elbow on her knee and her chin in her palm. “I love it that he’s a lawyer and then did that. So cute.”
“He said all this stuff about how much he does know about me, but that I don’t really know him and in the end, I’ll see that he’s a good guy.”
“Aw.” Chelsea leans back, waving a hand in front of her face as though to dry the tears ready to spill. “I’m verklempt.”
Victoria turns and looks at Chelsea with a scrunched up face. “Verklempt? Really?”
“What? It’s a word.”
“I know it’s a word. I just didn’t realize you were Yiddish.” Victoria shakes her head and returns her attention to me. “That is definitely a pro-star move.” Victoria pulls out another tissue and hands it to Chelsea. “So, what’s the problem then?” she asks.
“I can’t give him a chance.” My lips tip down despite myself.
“Just because of the whole Todd thing?” Victoria is the one to ask because Chelsea’s pulled out her phone to text someone.
“I don’t know.” I put my head in my hands and then plop it all down on my desk. “I just can’t trust him,” I mumble into my arms.
“Sorry, I had to text Dean and tell him how much I love him. Stories like that, they just make me realize I got a good one.”
I raise my head and give her a look of death through my eyelashes.
“I think Chelsea meant Roarke is a good one, too.”
My eyes shift to Victoria who puts her hands up in defense.
“I get the trust thing, I do, but can I ask one question?” Victoria says as Chelsea’s phone dings again just imprinting a wider smile on her mouth.
“What?” I sit up, grabbing my pen and clicking it and unclicking it repeatedly.
“Do you want to get in another relationship? Like would you want to date him if he wasn’t your ex’s divorce attorney?”
I hadn’t really thought about it. I was so hell bent on how much I hated him specifically, that I didn’t really think about it. After the divorce, I didn’t think I’d be celibate until I was six feet under, but marriage wasn’t in the near future for sure.
“I don’t really know. My main focus is RISE right now and, don’t get me wrong, I miss sex. Especially when you consider Todd and I were not exactly burning up our sheets toward the end. But, a relationship? I’m not so sure. I guess I would say no at this point.”
“Then there you go,” Victoria says like that’s all there is to it.
“That’s so sad. I know I was totally anti-anything, but Han, you can’t close yourself off forever. I never imagined it’d be like this with Dean, and I want you to have the same thing. Not to mention I think sex between you two would be off the charts. You could put all that chemistry between you guys to good work.”
I shift my eyes from Chelsea to Victoria, willing her with my expression to tell Chelsea to shut up. Victoria’s hand lands on Chelsea’s forearm.
“These divorcee dating meetings have turned into divorcee dicking meetings now that you two are getting laid on the regular,” I grumble.
“Let’s remember, I tried to tell you the same thing when Dean first came back around,” Victoria reminds her of only months ago when Chelsea was swearing off men.
“I’m not saying completely no, I’m just saying for me to take a chance again, a man would have to be pretty damn convincing.”
“He is the best divorce attorney in the Midwest.” Victoria’s eyes widen. “Convincing people is kinda what he does.”
“Good thing I won’t make it easy on him.” I give her a saccharine smile.
Chelsea chuckles. “I can’t wait to hear what favor number three is.”
Victoria and I just stare at her like she’s missed the entire point of our conversation. As long as I didn’t, that’s fine.
My mission now is to make Roarke Baldwin prove to me that he’s worth me dropping my guard, even a little.
Chapter Eleven
Three o’clock rolls around and myself, Chelsea, and Victoria all step out of a taxi onto the Northerly Island of Chicago.
“This is his connection?” Chelsea asks with amazement in her voice. “I called here when we were looking and they said it was a three-year wait for a weekend date.”
“I went to a wedding here once,” I admit. “They have the most gorgeous white tent with chandeliers inside. The views are amazing. I’m skeptical that I housesat for nothing.”
We’re no sooner through the doors when a woman in a pale pink pants suit approaches us with a tablet in her hands.
“Hannah Crowley from the RISE Foundation?” Her eyes are poised on me like she
already knows the answer to her own question.
“Yes.”
Chelsea and Victoria take up the space on either side of me.
The young woman who’s probably in her early twenties, fresh off her college graduation puts out her hand. “My name is Sonya Herrington. I’ll be showing you the area we have available to see if it’s to your liking.”
I shake her hand, inspecting her neatly manicured nails.
“This is Chelsea Walsh and Victoria Clarke,” I introduce my two counterparts. Sonya smiles and exchanges handshakes with each of them.
“Please follow me.” Her heels click on the marble floor as we walk down a long corridor. I fall in line with her while Chelsea and Victoria lag behind us. “I would have preferred you see it at night, but Roar…Mr. Baldwin said he wanted you to see it as soon as possible in case it wouldn’t be a good fit.”
I glance over my shoulder and the girls and I share a look that says we’re not going to be picky at this point.
“I’d be surprised if Mr. Baldwin could find me another venue besides this one.”
Sonya smiles at me like I’m babbling and she doesn’t understand a word of what I’m saying. Before I can pose another question, we step into the room.
“We had an event here last night. A charity for the zoo, so I asked that they keep the set up until this evening so you could visualize the space.”
Chelsea and Victoria walk in under the permanent structure that appears more like a giant tent than a building. They eye the large crystal chandelier in the center with fabric draped around it, their eyes wide.
“I attended a wedding here a few years back, so I know what a terrific space it is,” I say.
Sonya conducts what I expect is a well-rehearsed speech about the views, how many people the room can hold, and the built-in speaker system throughout. Then she goes through whether we’d want buffet or sit down, open or paid bar and how many different appetizers we’d prefer.
