Page 70 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she met his gaze. “When I turned in the documents, the clerk might’ve recognized me, but I can’t be sure. I certainly didn’t play on my position. Yes, it’s a quick date, but I don’t think waiting will be the answer. You said mediation is out, so this is the only remedy.” She paused. “Does she have enough money to hire a lawyer?”

“Between what I just gave her and what I gave her before, there should be enough. Why?”

“I just don’t want her arguing she didn’t have the same resources you and I have. Money’s not supposed to be an influencing factor in our impartial judicial system, but it can be.”

Yeah, I get that.“I paid that lawyer to draw up the documents. Should I ask him to be in court with us?”

She tilted her head and scrunched her nose, then shook her head. “This isn’t supposed to be like a trial. We’re not calling any witnesses, and the petition is straightforward. The judge will ask questions of both of you, which you’ll answer as honestly as you can. You’ve laid out your arguments, and the court will afford Sissy the same opportunity.”

“What if the judge finds in her favor?”

“It sounds trite, but we cross that bridge when we get there. You need to be prepared to compromise.”

His gaze intensified, and she tucked another errant strand of hair behind her ear.

“I can’t compromise, Remy.”

“Okay.” Her expression was neutral. “Two weeks, then.”

Needing to change the mood, he eased one of her feet from under his thigh. He took it in his hands and kneaded it.

“Isn’t that gross?”

“You’re wearing socks.” He slanted her a grin and winked. “Plus, I like doing things that might bring you pleasure.”

“Not going to happen, buddy. All I can think is that my feet must smell.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “What about a different kind of massage?”

Her blush assured him she knew what he had in mind.

“Um, okay.”

Her hesitation endeared but her acceptance warmed his heart.

“How does this work?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” Her answer was quick but still measured.

Bit by bit. Step by step. One day she’d answer that question without reservation.

“I can absolutely give you a massage with your sweatshirt on, but it’ll be more comfortable if you take your shirt off.”

“More comfortable for who?”

He winced at the tinge of sarcasm in her voice. Had he overstepped the proprietary boundaries they’d set out? He opened his mouth.

She relented. “Where do we do this?”

“On the bed is fine. I’m not a professional.” Well, that was a stupid statement.

“Okay. So I go in, take off my shirt, and lie on the bed?” Her brow furrowed.

“Facedown. You can pull the sheet up if it would make you feel better.”

“I’m not sure anything will make me feel better about this, but you’ve piqued my curiosity.” She stood and stretched. “Give me some time, but not too much—I might chicken out.”

---