“I’m not going to fire her if that’s what you’re worried about.”
His head tips back, a long breath expels on the way. “Good. Okay, that’s good.”
“What’s going on? This conversation started with a divorce—”
“It’s her asshole husband . . .”
I raise my eyebrow and listen to Drake narrate the crack in Dee’s personal life. It skyrockets when he ends with, “I’d like to take over direct supervision of the legal assistant team. It makes sense. You’ve got Ash, and the Spears case, along with ten other fires burning. I have time to provide support. Under a new structure, I’ll manage all the human resource tasks. Hiring. Firing. Dee will belong to me. I mean, she’ll be my assistant. I’ll review her cases to ensure her work remains high-caliber. You should have Maisie. She’s exceptional, on her way to law school next year, and it shows in the quality of her work. Otter can deal with Carla. And if performance issues surface with any of them, I’ll handle it. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”
My eyes narrow in on him. Something is up. I catalog what I know about Dee: college grad with a focus in pre-law, mid-twenties, a cheating husband, and a kid younger than one at home. Dark blond, petite, and not at all my type. But . . . she is Drake’s.
“Are you having an affair?” My guess is no, whatever is happening hasn’t gotten that far. Yet. Dee is married. Pre-divorce or not, she’s taken vows, and Drake has the moral code of an Eagle Scout. Strange decency for a lawyer, but true nonetheless. Then again, anything is possible. The right woman can quite easily drive a man off the cliff of sanity. One minute you’re on the straight and narrow, the next there’s a curve you didn’t see coming. Literally. A picture of Maisie’s peach of an ass forms in my mind.
“What? Of course not. She’s still living with that dick. And besides, this is work-related.”
“Sure it is.” I lean forward, elbows on my desk. “Listen. We started this firm seven years ago and I became managing partner because you didn’t want anything to do with staffing decisions.” And I thrive on the control. I bite the words back because this is Lucas. He’s built this firm with me and if he needs to take on some leadership, I’ll let him. With a watchful eye. “You’ve changed your mind. You want supervision of the assistants? Have at it. We’re a team. I understand there may be a woman you just can’t say no to, one you can’t stop thinking about even when you try not to. But listen to me, Lucas. Getting involved with a subordinate is a bad idea. A really fucking terrible idea.”
Drake’s lip curves. “Speaking from experience?”
“If I was, I’d give myself the same damn advice. Be careful. Protect yourself. Protect our business. Learn from Quinn and his shit storm of trouble with Carla. His is a prime example of what not to do. Besides that, you and I made a pact. The firm comes first. No matter what. We on the same page?”
“Yeah.” He nods and thinks for a minute. Then his eyes spark as if an idea was lit behind them and he smiles. “I get what you’re saying. But you know Quinn’s problem? He forgot the rules.”
“Rules?” I ask as Lucas sets his empty glass on my desk and then stands when the distant din of Keller’s voice trickles in from the hall.
“Yes, rules. There’s nothing wrong when two consenting adults have an agreement and then partake. Even if they do work together.”
“An agreement, as in a contract.”
“Exactly. That’s exactly what I’m saying. Carla would not be an employee of this firm had Quinn established a set of boundaries. Her threats would have been a direct violation of any stipulation put in place. That’s where he failed. Quinn needed ground rules up front.”
“Lucas?” I tap my finger to get his attention, but he’s already on the way to the door. Frustration boils up and I call, “Hey,” to stop him. “Rules or no rules, Carla was going to bust Quinn’s balls to get what she wanted.”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Anyway, a contract was just a thought. Besides, it’s not like that with Dee. She’s good people and I want to make sure she’s okay. Helping her at work is the one way I know how. I’ll talk with Otter and then send a memo to the team about the staffing change.”
I nod my agreement, mumbling under my breath. Rules. A contract. My gut rumbles with unease. It wouldn’t work, not for Quinn or Lucas. Or for me. But I don’t have time to contemplate it because as soon as Lucas is gone, Keller steps in. An empty-handed Keller, based on the fingers fumbling with his cell phone.
He appears perplexed as my eyebrow twitches. His mind must catch up to my mood as he puts his cell in his back pocket and then points behind him. Toward the library and the privacy and media-related research he was supposed to gather.
“Oh, ah, I’m sorry, sir. I was sidetracked. Darcy MacDonald called and I got stuck on the phone. She needs . . .” My glare changes his direction. “I’m on it though. Give me thirty sec—”
“I’ll get it myself,” I growl and push from my desk, away from the phone, my sister, Dad, Quinn, Carla, Dee and Lucas, the messages, and all the problems plaguing me.
But with my luck, I’ll find trouble waiting for me when I arrive.
A COUPLE OF minutes later, I enter the library double doors. I’ve worked my ass off for every volume lining the walls. There’s something about holding a leather-bound book—the weight, the texture of the page, the subtle hint of coffee and ink. Drake thought I was crazy to invest in paper, but today it’s been proven—every dollar spent is worth its weight in gold.
As I turn the corner of an aisle, Maisie laughs. The sound is low, vibrant, the auditory translation of a simmering sun sliding through the horizon. Sunset in Venice. Monet’s masterpiece brought to life in the color of her voice.
From behind the end cap, I look. Blindsided. That’s what I am when I see her. The curves, the hips, that ass, her face, all the ivory skin and those full lips. I forget everything. All of the worries swirling in my mind disappear. I focus on her and it’s a relief. A long hiss of air loosens from my chest and I’m breathless.
She stands on the stepladder, stretching for a book. Her arm reaches higher until the pearly white flesh of her midsection is on display as her sweater rides up. I stare, silent and stupid with incomprehensible words flashing neon in my brain. You. Me. Dinner. Date.
Why? Why does she make me insane?
The tips of her bare toes hardly hold her in place. There’s that laugh again, a short burst as she teeters on the last rung. Her footing slips. Arms whirlwind to find balance or a shelf to grab onto, but instead find nothing but air.
I rush forward. Her back slams into my chest with a breathy “oomph.” Then my hands are on her. Christ. My fingers burn where they curve into her hip. The line of my forearm molds around her stomach, pressing her against me. When her spine stiffens I say, “I’ve got you,” and her head falls to my shoulder. She sighs. She sighs and I hold on tighter.
Seconds. That’s all we have. Maybe five. The subtle hint of peaches and youth, the scent of summer and innocence reaches my nose. I breathe her in for one second, my exhale moving the soft wave of her hair in the next.
“Mr. Kavanagh.”
My ribs constrict around my lungs, squeezing the air out when her hand slides over my arm. Scraping her nails over my skin, her fingers stumble over my watch until finding mine and tangling. The instant ache in my groin shifts my attention from our joined hands to her ass. The same ass that rubs against my zipper. Shit. My dick swells against her backside and a low moan vibrates through her. Goddamn, a moan.
What the hell am I doing? I should leave. The inappropriateness of this situation is not lost on me, but I can’t move. Too intoxicated by her to do anything but squeeze her closer and berate myself for doing so. I’m her boss. She’s . . . Jesus Christ, she’s everything I shouldn’t crave yet I do. For a hundred foolish, selfish reasons, I want this woman.
She may make me insane . . . but I’m not crazy. Not yet anyway. And to keep my sanity intact, I grip her hips and push her forward, forcing
some distance between us.
Maisie turns, flattening her shoulders against the bookcase. “Thank you. For saving me.” She clears her throat and waves at the ladder. “Heights are not my thing.”
In another second, her eyes dart from my thighs to the engorged cock in between them and then to my chin. Her gaze flies to the shelves behind me and then up, up to the rows of books. “Such a great library. I wouldn’t have thought . . . Not in a firm this size, not that it’s small. No, God no, it’s not small. Not by a long shot. I can see that. I mean, I know how big. No, that’s not right.” She shakes her head and starts again. “I know how stiff . . . uhm, staff . . .” Her voice trails off when she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth.
A breathless laugh erupts from her mouth. And that fucking smile.
“That was all wrong,” she says, grinning like a loon.
Perfection. She is that—flawless and undeniably beautiful. Real.
I clench my teeth and block the urge to reach for her. Bring her flush with my chest, to feel her soft curves wrap around me.
“Mr. Kavanagh.” Her hand shoots out. “We haven’t officially met. Maisie Walker, newest and best—I assure you—legal assistant in the office. It may not seem that way. The brief—this morning. However, I promise my review is top-notch. All morning I’ve done nothing but think about it. The contract. I’ve worked on you in my mind. Ugh, the research. I’ve worked on the research.”
I stare, dumbfounded, at her perfectly painted pink nails and her long fingers stretched between us. That breathless laugh sounds off again and then she whispers so low I barely hear the words, “I don’t bite. Not too much anyway.”
My gaze jerks and narrows in on her sparkling blue eyes just before our palms connect. Fuck that tremor racing down my spine.
“What did you say?” I step in, hovering over her until she has to crane her neck to stay connected with my eyes. Her hand is gripped in mine. Trapped. Just like I feel when we’re in the same room.
“I mentioned my research.”
“There was something else.”
“No, I was definitely referencing my review. It’s taken all morning and now it brought me to the library. Your very large, well-endowed library. I’ve not encountered one in real life that’s hung in quite this way, only seen them on TV.”
“Hung?”
She bites her lip and the dimple, the one in her right cheek, dips into her porcelain skin and then disappears as she fights a smile.
“Of course I didn’t say hung. That would be a highly inappropriate adjective to describe a library. It’s strung with books, volumes and volumes of big, massive books. Color me impressed, Mr. Kavanagh.”
“Are you able to speak coherently?”
“Absolutely. But you’re standing really, really close to me. And you smell good too. Like cinnamon and leather and big, brutish man. You’re also holding my hand and although I’m not complaining, I have no idea what’s happening right now and I babble when I’m confused. So.”
Almost in spite of itself, the corner of my mouth tips up. “You like my library.”
Maisie nods and uses her free hand to tuck a curl behind her ear, but her eyes never leave mine. “Truly, I do.”
A part of me, the lawyer, wants to tell her how wrong this is, that it verges on a violation of firm policy. Then again, I’m enjoying every word out of her delicious mouth. And as the managing partner, I make the rules.
“Are you flirting with me, Ms. Walker?”
“That depends,” she says in that low breathy voice that gets me hard. “Were you staring at my breasts during the staff meeting, or just appreciating the faux mohair in my sweater?”
Chapter Three
“There’s Nothing Holding Me Back” 3:20
Maisie
REALITY IS SO much better than any daydream I’ve ever had about Mr. Kavanagh. He’s beyond gorgeous with his mystified scowl and sleeves rolled to his elbows. His wide shoulders are drool-worthy, the rippling muscles bitable and pressing against the cotton of his shirt. He’s hovering too. As if he can’t get close enough, he moves in another inch, and I sidle up against the warm breadth of his body.
It’s obvious after my ridiculous library antics that he’s aware of my indecent thoughts about him. And, if the gigantic bulge between his legs is any indication, he’s having the same fantasy about me. Butterflies decide this is a great moment to frolic in my stomach, but I tamp them down. I have two agendas. Yes, I’d like to gain intimate knowledge of his penis, but I also have to think about that recommendation letter which has nothing to do with the mohair in my sweater.
“Don’t answer that.” I press a finger to his mouth. His lips part just enough for his breath to heat my skin and send a rush of tingles down my spine. Those flipping butterflies return with a vengeance when the tip of his tongue swipes against my skin.
A second later, something changes, a flicker of awareness behind his blurred vision and he drags my hand away from his mouth. “Why are you here, Ms. Walker? And don’t mistake my question. I want to know why you’re working at my firm. What do you want from me?”
What a curious question. Said in a hard, used tone, as if the world always demands something from him personally.
“Truth?”
He nods, with those beautiful eyes zeroing in on mine.
“The truth is, I need you. Well,” I clarify by pointing to his forehead with my free hand, “I want what’s in there. Next fall, I’ll start Columbia Law and I intend to master the program. It’s grueling. You know that. You’re a graduate—you’re faculty. I researched the best law firm in Manhattan when I was looking for a position and it brought me here, because I want to learn from you, Mr. Kavanagh. I’m good at what I do, but I want to be better. I plan on being the best student to ever walk through those doors.”
“Is that right?”
“Better than my father, or you, for that matter. I guarantee it.”
My heart does a little break dance when his expression softens. “And that’s it. You want my knowledge?”
“Not entirely.” I shrug and then laugh. I’m nothing if not honest. “I’d like to use you for sex as well, but I thought it was most appropriate to take advantage of your brain before I go down that rabbit hole. Seemed like the right organ to go after first.”
He fights a smile and the heat consuming his gaze smolders, really sparking a fire between my thighs. “Do you act like this all the time?”
“Straightforward? Yes. It’s my only flaw. If you mean, do I proposition my bosses for sex?” I bite my lip and look at him through my lashes. “No, you’re my very first one. Why? Did it suck? Was I bad at it? I can rehearse. You know what they say—practice makes perfect and so I’ll . . .”
“Ms. Walker—”
“Take it back for right now and work on . . .”
“Maisie—”
His thumb caresses my hand. The hand he has yet to let go. I stare at it. I raise my eyes to his—intense and agonizingly sexy. But it’s his full lips that destroy my concentration.
“The delivery. Forget I said—” anything against his mouth as I crash mine to his.
Screw it. Or, screw him. God, I would love too. And God do I love his mouth. Firm. Pressing. After a moment of hesitation where I fear he’ll stop my advance, his tongue sweeps along my parted lips and then my teeth before delving in to play with my own. There is nothing sweet about this kiss. It’s long and deep, and I can’t help my hands as they find his hair and pull him closer. His answering groan vibrates between us. Cinnamon. He tastes like cinnamon and him.
His hands roam to my waist and up my spine to cup my cheeks and then the back of my neck to hold me in place, angling me in a new direction for deeper access. I touch him too, all while his mouth does its magic. The kind of magic Vinnie revs up, but it’s Mr. Kavanagh this time and not a battery-operated tool of pleasure.
Boy, does he feel good. His muscles are harder than I imagined. He’s bigger than I dreamed. His kisses are bi
ting and sucking, urgent. Like he needs me to breathe.
He rips us apart. His hands on my shoulders keep me an arm’s length away but it doesn’t stop me from reaching for his hips, anything to bring him back.
I lick my lips and look at his, swollen and red. “That was amazing. Can we do it again?”
His chest heaves as he sucks in a breath. He might even chuckle but all I see is him shaking his head.
“No? Why, no?”
“This library experience has been very informative.”
“And?” I ask, frustrated his long reach is still keeping my pawing hands off his ass. I forgot to feel him up. If only . . .
“You need my brain. Remember my mind?”
“Uh-huh, but I just changed mine. I want your body now. Mind later.”
He laughs but doesn’t adjust his stance. “No deal. I appreciate your honesty, Ms. Walker. You have no idea.” A cloud passes over his vision before his gaze narrows in on me—back to business. Well, damn. I release the tension in my position, stopping the fight to get closer. He’s made a decision and he regrets sticking his tongue in my mouth. I can see it in the apology lining his features.
The silence is deafening, so much so I can hear the clock on the back wall tick away the time. It’s nearing five. Two hours before his dinner date at Petrossian. Disappointment lies heavy on my shoulders, an unwanted cloak of defeat. I don’t want to be second best with Jayce Kavanagh. I’ve waited a hell of a long time for these intense feelings. Now that I’ve found someone who stirs me up, sharing him with someone else—not happening. “Does this have anything to do with Carla?”
“What do you know about that?” he growls.
Breach of Contract (Kavanagh Family Romance Book 1) Page 3
