“Not strictly speaking, no.”
Her anxiety trebled. She stood up restlessly and ran her fingers down her dress, straightening it over her narrow hips. “Then how do you expect to help me?”
“I’m Hendrix Forrester, and this is my firm.”
She stood on the spot, not reacting at all to this discovery. For what felt like an eternity, she didn’t speak. Her whole body remained perfectly stiff. Then, colour rushed to her face. “Mr Forrester.” She blanked her eyes closed. “I can’t possibly afford someone like you.”
“No, I would say not.”
Chloe’s throat was parched. She gulped silently. “What exactly do you charge, sir?”
His words were tinged with derision, not for her, but for the corporate clients who paid his bills. “Over a thousand dollars per hour – or part thereof.”
She gaped, her face white as a sheet. “A thousand dollars… Oh, my Lord.” She lifted a hand to her mouth. “And I’ve been here with you…”
He lifted a hand, to silence her. “You will not be paying me.”
She studied him warily. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll take it on. Pro Bono. Free.”
An emotion he didn’t understand crossed her face. She shook her head slowly and then stalked across his office. “No.” She scooped up her broken handbag, clutching it under her arm, then spun around to face him. She was a different woman. Cool and untouchable. “I thank you for your time, sir, and expect to receive your bill in due course.” Though God knew she’d have to throw herself on the mercy of his accounts team to negotiate just how the heck she’d cover it. Perhaps in instalments, while she got back on her feet. A faint sweat threatened to break out on her brow.
Hendrix moved quickly, crossing to the door and blocking her from leaving. “You’re offended. Why?”
She didn’t bother to deny it, but nor did she meet his eyes. “I’ve learned the hard way that nothing in life is for free. I need a lawyer. A divorce lawyer. I’m not asking for favours. I’m not asking for a miracle. I simply want to be legally free of a man I once thought I cared for.”
Hendrix pushed aside the grudging sense of respect her words had inspired. He didn’t want to admire a thing about this woman. She was nothing to him but a pawn. A means of exacting revenge on the man he had every reason to hate. “Fine.” His smile was smooth. “What if I charge you the same rate as Clint would?”
She pulled at her earring, obviously uncertain. “But why?”
“Because you need a lawyer. And I am one.”
“Yes. You have the letterhead to prove it,” she remarked with a wry shake of her head. “Surely you’re far too busy to take an interest in this.”
He shrugged, and Chloe’s attention drifted to his impressive torso. “I don’t like the idea of a beautiful woman being bullied by someone rich and powerful. I am, and always have been, a friend of the underdog.”
She dropped her hand to her side. “Is that what I am?”
“I’m afraid so. Your husband isn’t just rich. He’s got friends in high places.” He thought of the miraculous disappearing blood test – the one piece of evidence that would have proved William’s guilt in the death of his sister. His resolve hardened. The prospect of revenge being so neatly at his fingertips was glorious. “Fortunately for you, that doesn’t worry me.”
His smile was laced with arrogance. She found it oddly reassuring.
“So? Do we have a deal?”
Her breath was burning through her. For some reason she couldn’t comprehend, she was struggling to form a sentence. But she was capable of nodding, albeit jerkily.
“Excellent. Please take a seat, Chloe. I’ll have my assistant get your file sorted now.”
“And apologise to Mr Douglas?” She said with an enquiring lift of her brow.
He laughed softly as he left the office, moving across the palatial entrance. If his assistant was surprised by his request, she was too well-trained to show it. She simply nodded and turned her efficient attention back to her computer. But Hendrix needed a moment to compose himself before returning to Chloe.
He lingered just long enough to get a plan firmly in his mind, and then pushed back into the office.
* * *
“It’s not like that, Georgia,” she said with a small frown.
“Then what is it like? Why is he taking such an interest in you?”
Chloe focussed on running the mascara wand over her lashes. “He’s a friend of the underdog.”
“Mmm.” Georgia studied her friend with a knowing look. Chloe Ansell-Johns mightn’t see how men looked at her, but Georgia, short, slightly over-weight with fiery red-hair, had been the wall-flower that men ignored, partly because they were tripping all over themselves to catch Chloe’s eye. Was it possible that this high-powered lawyer wasn’t interested in her?
“He’s just coming over here because of Ellie. This is a meeting. Nothing more.”
Georgia’s scoffing noise was accompanied by a slow inspection of Chloe’s outfit. Jeans that hugged her slender legs like second skin and a lilac shirt that flattered the mauve shade of her eyes and rich tan of her skin.
“I can see that. What did you say you’re cooking?”
Chloe met Georgia’s eyes in the mirror, unable to keep the smile from her peach coloured lips. “I had the ingredients, Georgia.”
“For a bouillabaisse?” Her scepticism was obvious.
Chloe laughed. “Okay, fine. I wanted to make something nice, okay? He’s doing me a huge favour.” When Georgia didn’t say anything, Chloe spun around to face her. “It’s just dinner.”
“Sure it is.” Georgia shook her head, but she was grinning at her friend.
At Chloe’s scowl, Georgia raised her hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Come on, Chloe. When was the last time you were with a guy? It’s not a crime to be interested in someone.”
“It is when you’re married,” Chloe demurred, turning her attention back to her reflection. She fluffed her blonde hair, watching as it teased out a little, to give it volume.
“He cheated on you!” Georgia pointed out, slamming her hand onto her hip and glaring at her friend in frustration.
Chloe’s unflinching blue gaze settled on her friend. “I’m well aware of that fact. I found him in bed with her, remember?”
“Yes. Exactly. So why are you staying faithful to a guy you hate?”
“I don’t hate him,” Chloe denied out of habit. He was, after all, the father of her child. “I just don’t want anything to do with him anymore.”
“Even more reason to get back out there. And I don’t care what you say. There is no way someone like Hendrix Forrester makes house calls. Not unless he’s interested in more than your case.”
“Where exactly is ‘there’, George? Where should I get out to? Because I never enjoyed dating before I met my husband. And he was not a good advertisement for falling head over heels in love.”
Georgia squashed the sympathy from her expression because she knew her friend didn’t want it. “He’s a bastard, honey. Not all guys are like him. In fact, most aren’t.” At Chloe’s look of disbelief, Georgia spoke a little more loudly. “And dating is fun.”
Chloe laughed. “But you’re far more outgoing than I am. You actually enjoy flirting and getting to know people. I can’t think of anything worse than divulging my deepest, darkest secrets to someone I don’t know.”
“You get to know them.” Georgia reached forward to lift a loose strand of fair hair from Chloe’s back.
Chloe could see no way out of the conversation without at least appearing to agree. “Maybe. Perhaps once the divorce is through.”
Georgia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I guess I should get out of your hair. Which, I can’t help but notice, looks particularly nice tonight. Almost like you’ve gone to special effort for your date…”
Chloe whipped around, her expression guilty. “It is not a date.”
Ellie wandered in at that point, a box of r
aisins in one hand and a hairbrush in the other. “Saved by the toddler,” Georgia winked, scooping the little girl up and tickling her tummy until she giggled.
“I knew I had her for a reason,” Chloe joked.
The sound of the doorbell had Chloe’s heart pounding into overdrive. “He’s early,” she muttered, feigning inconvenience.
“Almost like he couldn’t wait to see you,” Georgia murmured with a teasing wink. “I’ll just go let him in, shall I?”
Chloe braced her hands on the top of her table. Georgia was wrong. It wasn’t a date. It was a meeting. Sure, he’d come all the way out to Brooklyn on a Saturday night, but that didn’t mean anything. Except that he was a good guy. A guy who wanted to help her. She straightened, and sucked in a deep breath, willing herself to relax.
It was not a date.
CHAPTER THREE
Out in the small but nicely furnished lounge area, Georgia couldn’t help but subject Hendrix Forrester to a lazy inspection. Chloe had been emphatic that it wasn’t a date, and yet the lawyer had brought wine. He was also an absolute stunner, something which had probably warranted mentioning.
“How do you know Chloe?” Hendrix asked, handing the wine over and studiously ignoring the small form perched on the red head’s hip.
He had a deep voice, smooth and rich like caramel.
“We met when she moved in. I live downstairs. I help out with Ellie whenever she needs it,” Georgia smiled down at the little blonde, and Hendrix could no longer pretend she didn’t exist. Reluctantly, he drew his dark gaze to the child, and an ache he hadn’t realised he carried, deepened.
She must have been about the same age as his sister’s child. Had she lived, of course. “She looks like her mother,” he said quietly, scanning the big blue eyes and perfectly shaped mouth. The little girl was looking up at him enquiringly, and the smile he gave her was a natural response.
“Yes. I never met William, but Chloe says Ellie is nothing like him.”
Hendrix scanned the toddler’s face, looking for hints of her heritage. Though he hadn’t seen William in years, his face was permanently scorched into his memory. He could recall it with total accuracy even now. There was something, perhaps, in the tilt of her head. More in her expression than her looks. Other than that, her lineage was well-concealed.
Good.
He wasn’t sure he could have come face to face with someone more strongly reminiscent of the man he loathed and despised.
“Hello, Hendrix,” Chloe said, moving into the room with all the appearance of calm. She picked up toddler paraphernalia as she went; blankets, Duplo bricks, and a barbie doll. “It always amazes me how quickly the flat can revert to a state of toy explosion. I swear, I only just picked all of this up a moment ago.”
“She’s a prodigious mess-maker,” Georgia grinned, her eyes flicking from her friend to the lawyer. Whatever Chloe might say, there were definitely sparks between them.
“Chloe,” his smile was easy. “Nice to see you again.” And it was, he realised with surprise. Until that moment, he hadn’t realised that he’d been looking forward to this. To seeing her pretty, open face and staring into those enormous eyes of hers.
It was because she was his ticket to revenge, he assured himself. Nothing more.
Her long lashes fanned against her cheeks. “Thank you for coming here.”
“No problem.” She looked good. Comfortable and natural. Infinitely desirable.
“Georgia’s a brilliant jewellery designer. She works in a co-op part time.” She was babbling again, like the first time she’d met him. “That’s why I couldn’t come to you. I mean, in the days. She’s been working.”
Oh, God. She was mortified. Something about the dark seriousness of his stare completely robbed her of her usual self-possession. It was as though he saw through her, past all her defences and shielding, to the very heart of her being. She was a child again; anxious, ill-at-ease and vulnerable.
“I like the trip. It’s no trouble; I assure you.”
She nodded, striving for confident.
“Mama, me sleep.” The sweet, high-pitched voice of Ellie drew all of their attention to her.
“You’re tired, baby?” Chloe nodded at her little daughter and moved to take her in her arms. She squeezed her tight to her chest. “Auntie George is going to put you down for a sleep, darling one. I’ll come and give you a kiss soon.”
“My wants Elsa.”
Chloe threw Georgia a knowing look. “I’m sure you do. That’s up to Georgia. I love you.” She kissed Ellie’s soft, smooth forehead and then handed her to Georgia. To Chloe’s delight, Ellie snuggled into her friend’s shoulder and began to sing, in an off-key warble, Let it goooooo, let it gooooo.
“Thanks for that,” Georgia called over her shoulder, as she slipped out of the front door. “I’ll be singing the Arendelle top twenty all night.”
“Welcome to my world,” Chloe responded, latching the door in place and sliding the bolt across. She spun around to face Hendrix, trying not to give too much credit to the fact that they were now alone. In her small apartment. “She’s obsessed with Frozen. For a little girl who knows maybe thirty words, she’s got the cast of the show down pat.”
He grinned. “That’s the one with the blonde, right?”
“And the red-head,” Chloe nodded, and moved passed him. “She’s cast Georgia and me as the leads, and she’s Olaf, I suppose.” She laughed at the silliness of it. “Kids, huh?”
He ignored the jab of pain. His sister’s baby had never been. He had no place mourning her.
“I brought some wine.”
“To a meeting?” She queried, her blue eyes searching his face expectantly. Though what she hoped to see there, she couldn’t have said.
He shrugged. “It seemed appropriate.”
Chloe wasn’t sure how to respond, and so she said nothing. It was a red wine, with a cork. “I don’t have a corkscrew,” she apologised. “I’m used to bottles with screw tops.”
He gripped his hands to his heart in an impersonation of pain. “I never took you for a philistine.”
“I’m not a philistine so much as a very occasional wine drinker on a rather tiny budget.”
“I see,” he said with a conspiratorial nod. “Then you sound like you are in need of education.”
Her heart turned over in her chest. “I am, huh?”
“Yes.” He stepped into the kitchen and relieved her of the bottle. Her fingers, though, did not release their quarry. Instead, they both gripped the one item, and their eyes latched together.
Hendrix kept his focus on the prize. Seducing her was his goal. The look in William’s face would be his reward. Some compensation for what had happened. Pain, in exchange for pain. “You see,” his voice had an almost hypnotic depth, “Wine isn’t simply something one drinks.”
“It isn’t?” She was still holding the bottle, her eyes turbulent in the midst of her expressive face.
He shook his head in silent rebuttal. “It is an experience. Different people taste different things. Different people like different things.” His eyes dropped, clinging to her lips. “Some people like light, intangible flavours. Something that dances on the palette and is gone in an instant. Others,” his eyes dropped, lower still, to the soft swell of her cleavage concealed by the lilac shirt. “like a more forceful experience. Something that assaults their senses and brings them back to life.”
Her stomach rolled. “I don’t know what I like.” Her voice was a breathless husk, and she realised that she’d pushed her body forwards, towards his.
“Fascinating,” he murmured, scanning her lips once more. “I would suggest that means you have not experienced enough.”
Was she alone in the double entendre? Her mind slipped to the possible inference, and her insides quivered responsively. But she needed to pull the conversation back. She was in danger of letting her own attraction swamp the situation. “I’ve never drunk much wine. I was only eighteen when I came to
the States. I married William before I was twenty. I wasn’t even legal.” Her cheeks flushed at the phrasing and she released her grip on the bottle.
“And now?” He held it in both hands, studying her thoughtfully, as though the answers he sought might seep from her skin. “Do you want to experiment?”
Her body was tingling with unfamiliar emotions. She cleared her throat and cast him a reproachful glance. “I don’t know.” She reached for a tea towel and clutched it protectively in her hands. “I have Ellie to think of. Everything I do is about Ellie.” She was grateful for the fact she was preparing dinner. It gave her something to do, when she could no longer bear the intensity of his gaze. She lifted the lid off the luxurious seafood stew and stirred it thoughtfully.
“You cooked?” He asked, coming to stand just behind her.
“Of course.” Her eyes flew to his face. “I mean, it’s dinner time, isn’t it?”
He thought of the date he had for later that night. A famous actress at an even more famous restaurant. Dinner, seduction and uninhibited sex were all guaranteed. And yet he found himself nodding at Chloe. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Oh, good.” Her relief warmed him in a way he resented. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat. But I made enough. So I’m glad.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I told you already. I babble when I’m nervous.”
His laugh was little more than a whisper. “Do I make you nervous?”
He was reclining with indolent ease against the door of her kitchen, looking the complete opposite of how she felt. “I suspect you make most people nervous,” she retorted thickly, reaching for two bowls and placing them onto the melamine counter.
“What makes you say that?”
Betrayed by the CEO Page 3
