by Naomi Chase
“Then, technically, you have legal experience.” Brandon chuckled. “Seriously, Tamia. You’re more qualified than you may think. You worked at one of the top advertising agencies for over seven years. You’re smart as hell, organized, detail oriented, great at research, and you’re definitely not afraid of hard work. Noemi will give you a crash course in legal writing before she leaves. And since you’ll be reporting to my secretary, she’ll be able to answer any questions you’ll have.”
Tamia eyed him wonderingly. “I don’t even know what to say, Brandon. You’ve already done so much for me, and I haven’t even finished paying off my bill.”
Brandon sipped his drink. “Don’t worry about the rest of your retainer.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not collecting your final payment.”
Tamia stared incredulously at him. “You’re going to forgive the rest of my debt?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, my God! Are you serious? Can you even do that?”
“Of course.”
Tamia hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. “Thank you, Brandon, but I can’t let you do that for me. You’d catch hell from the other partners.”
He chuckled dryly. “Let me worry about that.”
“Brandon—”
“Look, you need help getting back on your feet, and you also need to keep that money in the bank in case it takes you a while to find another job once Noemi comes back. Stop me when I start lying.”
Tamia smiled wanly. “Everything you’ve said is true. But I don’t feel right about not paying you what you rightfully earned. You worked your ass off to get me acquitted, and I know for a fact that the hourly fees you did charge me were pro-rated.”
Brandon gave her a blank look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She laughed. “Yeah, right! We dated for nine months, Brandon. I know the kind of fees you command, and I know that I got off cheap.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Brandon—”
“Listen, baby girl,” he gently interrupted. “The way I see it, we’re doing each other a favor. You need a job, I need a reliable assistant, and that’s all that matters right now. So are you gonna sit there arguing with me about retainers? Or are you gonna say yes to my job offer?”
A slow, delighted grin spread across Tamia’s face. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Yes, I’ll marry you! “Yes, I accept your job offer.”
Brandon smiled approvingly. “Good. I’ll take care of everything when I get back to the office.”
“Okay.” Tamia couldn’t believe her good fortune. She couldn’t have prayed for a better opportunity to ease her way back into his life. “Thank you, Brandon. Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me just yet,” he drawled humorously. “In the interest of full disclosure, I have to warn you up front that I can be a real hard-ass as a boss. I’m demanding as hell, and you may feel that some of the tasks you’re given are beneath you.”
Tamia sent him a wry look. “I just got out of prison, and I’m on the verge of applying for unemployment benefits. Trust me, I won’t think anything’s beneath me.”
Brandon grinned crookedly. “We’ll see if you’re still singing the same tune three months from now.”
Tamia just laughed.
They spent the remainder of lunch discussing everything from the Houston Texans’ playoff chances to sharing their favorite memories of local parades and festivals they’d attended as children. The conversation was so lively and enjoyable that they lost track of time, one hour slipping into two.
It was Tamia who happened to glance down at Brandon’s platinum Rolex and exclaim, “Goodness! It’s after two o’clock!”
Brandon unhurriedly followed the direction of her gaze. “Mmm. So it is.”
Tamia gaped at him, shocked by his blasé response. “Don’t you have to get back to the office?”
“Sure.” But he made no move to get up, lazily contemplating the downtown skyline.
Tamia studied him for a few moments, her head tipped thoughtfully to one side. “Wow.”
Brandon looked at her. “What?”
She smiled softly. “You’re so much more relaxed nowadays.”
“Think so?”
“Definitely. Once upon a time, you were too busy to take personal lunch breaks, let alone extended breaks. Six months ago, this scenario”—she gestured around the balcony—“never would have happened.”
“You’re right,” Brandon agreed with a rueful expression. “Lunch breaks were a luxury I couldn’t afford.”
“And now look at you. Sitting here chillin’ like you don’t have a care in the world.” Tamia grinned at him. “I think making partner may have been the best thing that ever happened to you, Brandon.”
He smiled faintly. “Time will tell, I guess.”
As they rose and began clearing the table, Tamia wished she’d kept her mouth shut about the time. She didn’t want Brandon to leave. She wanted him to stay and chill with her for the rest of the day, just the two of them, keeping the rest of the world at bay.
When they returned to the kitchen, Brandon helped her put away the leftover food. When they’d finished, he rolled down his sleeves and refastened the buttons on his shirt cuffs before walking over to the barstool where he’d draped his suit jacket. As he shrugged into it, Tamia moved behind him and impulsively wrapped her arms around his broad back, embracing him.
Brandon tensed with surprise, but only for a second.
Tamia closed her eyes as he took her hands and placed them over his heart, which was beating as fast as her own. She swallowed hard, her chest tightening with emotion.
After several moments, he brought her hands to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles, making her shiver with longing.
“Brandon ...”
Turning slowly in her arms, he leaned his forehead against hers and stared down into her eyes. Their uneven breaths mingled, fanning each other’s faces. Tamia’s nipples were so hard they ached, and her wet pussy had begun throbbing.
“I have to go,” Brandon whispered.
“I know,” Tamia whispered back. “But I don’t want you to.”
“Neither do I. And that’s why I have to.”
She nodded slowly, even as her hips rubbed against his thick, hard dick and made him shudder. “I’m so wet for you, baby.”
“Shit,” he swore gutturally. “Don’t tell me that.”
“But it’s true.”
Nostrils flaring, eyes glittering fiercely, Brandon grabbed her face between his hands and crushed his mouth to hers.
Tamia moaned with pleasure, sucking his soft, succulent lips as he sucked hers.
His big hands roamed the curves of her body before cupping her ass, grinding his heavy erection against her. Her pussy rained as they kissed with deepening hunger, mouths exploring, tongues slurping and feasting.
Abruptly Brandon pulled away and staggered backward, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. Scrubbing a shaky hand over his face, he whispered hoarsely, “Fuck.”
“Yes,” Tamia panted, staring at his bulging crotch, “let’s do that. Please.”
Brandon stared at her for a moment, then made a sound that was part laugh, part groan. As she watched, his hooded eyes traveled from her kiss-swollen lips to her hard nipples protruding through her T-shirt.
Shaking his head, he discreetly turned away to adjust his pants.
Tamia licked her lips, still tasting his deliciousness. “I want you to know something, baby.”
Brandon glanced over his shoulder and met her intent gaze.
She said boldly, “I want you back. In my life, in my arms, in my bed. I’m not gonna sleep with any other man until you come back to me, no matter how long it takes. So whenever you’re ready, boo, I’ll be waiting. But just know that the longer you make me wait, the more I’ma wear your ass out with this starving pussy. Believe that.”
Brandon’s eyes widened with a combination of lust, surprise, and anticipation. He held her gaze for several scorching seconds.
Tamia waited, pulse pounding like a drum.
Finally he growled, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She nodded, then watched as he turned and strode purposefully from the kitchen.
As soon as she heard the front door close, she unzipped her tight jeans and shoved her hand down her panties. They were so wet that the silky material clung to her skin like Saran Wrap.
Closing her eyes, she thrust two fingers inside her pussy and groaned softly. Bracing one hand on the countertop, she stroked her fleshy insides until she found sweet release, coming so hard and fast her knees buckled.
Gasping, she slid weakly to the floor.
A minute later she let out a soft, shaky laugh.
As horny as she was, she must be out of her damn mind to even think she could abstain from sex much longer. But she had to. She’d made a promise to herself, and now to Brandon. So no matter what happened, or however long it took him to put her out of her misery, she’d keep her promise.
Because she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was worth the wait.
Chapter 13
Brandon
Later that afternoon, Brandon’s concentration was shot to hell as he sat in the weekly litigation partners meeting. Boasting a roster of seven hundred attorneys—which included two hundred partners—Chernoff, Dewitt & Strathmore was so large that most leadership meetings had to be divided by practice areas.
Seated at the glossy mahogany conference table, Brandon half listened as his colleagues griped about unnamed partners who hoarded clients to drive up their own billable hours. The accusations didn’t apply to Brandon, who’d already established himself as a team player who fairly delegated work and mentored associates. So since he wasn’t on the offensive, it was easy for him to let his mind wander.
And wander it did ... right back to Tamia.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Since leaving her apartment, he’d been in serious need of an arctic-cold shower. He should have known better than to go to her place for lunch. The moment she’d opened her front door and he got an eyeful of her bodacious body squeezed into those jeans, he’d been in trouble. He’d wanted to toss her over his shoulder, carry her to her bedroom, and lose himself deep inside her sugar walls till the cops came knocking. And that little speech of hers had fucked him up big-time. Every time he replayed her words, his dick hardened painfully.
I want you back. In my life, in my arms, in my bed.... But just know that the longer you make me wait, the more I’ma wear your ass out with this starving pussy.
Dayuuummm!
“Are we boring you, Mr. Chambers?”
Snapped out of his reverie, Brandon glanced around the large conference table. Twenty-four pairs of eyes stared back at him, including those belonging to Mitch Perkins, managing partner of the firm’s litigation department and his former supervisor.
Brandon grinned sheepishly.“Sorry. It’s Friday,” he offered by way of explanation.
Everyone laughed.
Everyone but Russ Sutcliffe, one of the firm’s senior partners who’d made it clear from day one that he was no fan of Brandon’s. With his meticulously groomed hair and icy blue eyes, Russ was your typical good ole boy—a staunch Republican who undoubtedly believed that minorities had no business working at blue-chip law firms, let alone sharing a slice of the partnership pie. He’d vigorously campaigned against the election of the current governor and his running mate, Bernard Chambers.
So there was no love lost between him and Brandon.
“I’m sorry,” Russ drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Are we interfering with your exciting weekend plans, Mr. Chambers? Should we reschedule our meetings to another day of the week that better suits your attention span?”
“Actually, that wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” Brandon quipped.
Laughter swept around the room.
“He’s got a point,” another partner spoke up. “I’ve always said that Friday afternoons are a lousy time for meetings.”
As more voices chimed in, Mitch laughingly held up his hands. “Before this turns into a mutiny, let the record show that I’m open to suggestions for alternate meeting days.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” Russ sent an exasperated glance around the table. “Just because Chambers has a problem, suddenly we’re all willing to rearrange our schedules to accommodate him? Since when does a newly minted partner call the shots around here?”
Brandon deadpanned, “Oh, you didn’t get the memo?”
Another round of laughter filled the room.
Russ wasn’t amused. “Ah, yes,” he drawled sarcastically. “Behold young Mr. Chambers, flush with victory after winning not one but two big court cases this year. Let us all bow in submission to his greatness.”
Brandon tsk-tsked, wagging his finger at the other man. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, Russ.”
“Jealous? Of you?” Russ snorted derisively. “Don’t flatter yourself, kid. I was a rainmaking partner at this firm while you were still captain of your high school debate team. I’ve got too many years of litigation experience under my belt to feel threatened by some upstart who’s feeling his oats after winning a couple of cases that I could have easily handled.”
“Really?” Brandon challenged. “Is that why you were entrusted with the Quasar Diagnostics lawsuit? Hmm? Oh, wait, that’s right. You weren’t. The case was assigned to me, a lowly associate with less than half the years of litigation experience that you have. So I have to wonder, Russ. Does that say less about me—or you?”
Russ’s face flushed beet red as a tense silence settled over the room.
Eyes glinting with humor, Mitch interjected, “At the risk of interrupting this pissing contest, which has been highly entertaining—”
Russ held up a hand, interrupting Mitch as he gave Brandon a narrow, condescending smile. “You seem to be forgetting that you’re only a junior partner.”
“A junior partner,” Brandon countered evenly, “who brought $2.6 million of new revenue to the firm last year as an associate.” He paused, pinning his adversary with a direct gaze. “What was your haul, partner?”
He stared Russ down, watching with satisfaction as the man’s face turned an even brighter shade of red.
Throats cleared and papers shuffled around the table. Everyone knew that Russ was an underperforming partner whose neck was on the chopping block. He was dead weight in one of the firm’s top revenue-producing departments, so his days were rumored to be numbered.
Mitch glanced around the room. “Before we adjourn the meeting, are there any other items we need to discuss?”
Brandon spoke up. “I just wanted to let everyone know that Tamia Luke will be filling in for Noemi during her maternity leave.”
A shocked silence followed his announcement.
Not surprisingly, Russ was the first to recover and sneer. “Tamia Luke? As in, the former porn star who was just acquitted of murder? As in, your client?”
Brandon met Russ’s reproachful stare. “My former client.”
Mitch frowned at him. “How did this, ah, development come about?”
Brandon shrugged. “Miss Luke needs a job, and I need a temporary assistant.”
He’d made the decision on Sunday afternoon during lunch with Cynthia’s family. Throughout the festive celebration, he’d found himself struggling not to dwell on thoughts of Tamia dating other guys. As Cynthia fed him a spoonful of crème brûlée, he’d come up with the idea to hire Tamia, which would not only help her out financially but also give him the means to keep tabs on her.
“While we’re on the topic of Miss Luke,” Russ jeered, breaking into Brandon’s thoughts, “has she even settled her retainer yet?”
“She doesn’t have to. I’m writing off the rest of what she owes.”
Russ’s brows shot up to his receding hairline. “You’re f
orgiving her debt?”
“That’s what I said.”
Russ scoffed, glancing incredulously at the other attorneys seated around the table. “Are we running a charity or a law firm?”
Brandon heaved an impatient sigh. “Come on, Russ. My successful representation of Quasar Diagnostics just netted this firm $128 million in revenue. Are you seriously gonna rake me over the coals for retiring a $15,000 debt?”
Russ clenched his jaw, impotent with fury because he knew he couldn’t refute Brandon’s point.
Mitch diplomatically intervened, “Brandon, no one’s disputing that you’re one of our top rainmakers—”
“That’s an understatement,” someone muttered in agreement.
Mitch chuckled dryly before continuing, “Russ is just expressing concern that hiring a former client could present a conflict of interest.”
“It’s downright unethical,” Russ snapped.
Brandon raised a brow at him. “Are you gonna report me to the bar? Or are you planning to sell an exposé to the Houston Chronicle?”
Someone snickered. “Don’t give him any ideas.”
This set off another wave of laughter that was interrupted by a new voice. “Hiring Miss Luke does seem rather unsavory.”
Brandon looked across the table, meeting the censorious gaze of Gibson Sorrell, the litigation department’s only other black partner. The man rarely spoke during meetings, and notoriously refused to render an opinion on any controversial issue—a reputation that had earned him the nickname “Clarence Thomas Junior.”
It figured that he’d break his long-running silence to oppose a fellow black colleague.
Brandon smirked at him. “What was that, Gibson? I didn’t catch what you said.”
The brotha pressed his lips together, quickly backing down.
I didn’t think so, Brandon mused. Fucking coward.
After shooting Gibson a look of disgust, Russ returned his attention to Brandon. “Surely even you can acknowledge that hiring a client—a former murder defendant, at that—is a huge violation of ethics.”
As Brandon’s patience finally snapped, he growled, “Miss Luke’s trial is over, she’s no longer a client, and quite frankly, I can hire whoever the hell I want.”
