Page 34 of Take the Bait

He smirked and shot her a sidelong look so steamy she nearly orgasmed again. Dang it! She hadn’t meant the question to come out that way.

Thankfully, he answered innocuously, “Graduation gift from law school.”

Jeez. Her parents had given her a set of suitcases from a big box store. And that had been a financial stretch for them. She’d been really touched by their gift.

This car had probably cost more than her parents’ house.

No wonder Cam was right at home at WMP. And no wonder the firm was recruiting him. He was their kind of people.

Truth be told, she felt like a fish out of water at the fancy firm. She didn’t have a closet full of designer suits, she didn’t wear expensive jewelry and perfume, and she wasn’t anywhere near as slick and urban and sophisticated as her coworkers, most of whom had Ivy League diplomas hanging on their office walls.

Honestly, she had been starting to wonder why she’d been hired at the firm at all, given her humble background and the modest law school she’d attended.

Her first paycheck had been a huge deal to her. She’d never seen a check that large before and neither had her parents. Her mom had cried when she’d sent her folks a picture of it, and her dad had been choked up when he told her how proud he was of her.

Just thinking of that moment sent a surge of warmth and pride through her.

WMP might have its flaws, but she sure couldn’t complain about her salary?—

Huh. Apparently, she was more shallow and materialistic at her core than she’d realized until this very second. It turned out she could be bought and paid for, too. A disturbing thought. She’d always envisioned herself the champion of the downtrodden. A seeker of justice.

She couldn’t very well throw rocks at Cam for selling out and jumping the aisle to work at WMP for big bucks if that was exactly what she’d already done by choosing not to be a public defender and going the private practice route.

“Why the frown?” Cam startled her by asking.

“I was just pondering my general moral turpitude.”

He laughed. “Moral turpitude, huh? Because you accepted a ride in my car in the middle of a downpour or are we talking about something else?”

“What gave you the idea I’m talking about anything else?” she challenged, trying to turn the subject—and her thoughts—to something not anywhere near as sexy as this car or its driver.

“You did bring up your deplorable morals in practically the same breath you announced you have a bag of sexy lingerie at your feet. I think my question is reasonable and has merit.”

If she wasn’t mistaken, the car swerved a little before he jerked it back to the center of its lane. Rats. A subtle misdirect hadn’t distracted him. It was time to force a change of subject. She peered outside for something innocuous to talk about.

“Where are we?” she blurted.

It was raining so hard she couldn’t really make out the street signs. But the neighborhood didn’t look the least bit familiar. Not that she was any great expert on New York City, of course, after living here only a few months. It was a huge place, sprawling across dozens of distinct neighborhoods. It was fully possible the route from the restaurant back to her apartment would traverse areas she’d only commuted beneath in subway trains.

“We’re almost there,” Cam said casually.

She sat back to let him concentrate on driving. The conditions outside really had gotten treacherous. He navigated slowly through street flooding deep enough to wash over the curbs onto the deserted sidewalks.

She did frown, though, when he turned into a narrow, dark alley, the beams of his headlights only cutting a few yards ahead into the darkness. Rows of fences lined the narrow passageway.

Fences? Those implied yards. As in patches of grass where dogs pooped and kids played. There were precious few places in this concrete metropolis that rated actual backyards.

Heaven knew, her neighborhood didn’t have any. Even the tiny playground that passed for a park between the endless apartment buildings crammed together on her street was paved with asphalt and devoid of anything that grew out of dirt.

Cam reached up to his sun visor and pressed a garage door opener. She started when he took a tight turn and an actual garage door rose slowly a few yards ahead of them. A four-story brick row house loomed above the dark opening.

“This isn’t my building!”

“Correct. It’s mine. We did agree to watch our favorite movies and compare them, did we not? I figured we’d be more comfortable having our movie marathon at my place.”

“This mansion is yours?”

“It’s hardly a mansion.”

---