Page 2 of Breaking the Lawyer

The not-really-dance-floor is fully packed now, bodies moving in sync with the beat. Not my scene. I opt to circle around it, making my way toward the bar instead.

I can’t say I have a plan per-se, but how hard can getting a man’s number be? Compliments, conversation, confidence—the three Cs never fail me.

Except… Pretty much everybody seems to already be coupled up, either dancing, or cozying up, or getting lost in this particular kind of conversation that screams, ‘Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but wanna fuck’?

I'm so lost in the one thing Tyler warned menotto do—gawking—that I don't notice the man directly in front of me until we collide, my shoulder bumping hard against his back.

"Shit. Sorry," I mumble, steadying myself.

He turns, one eyebrow raised."No problem." His eyes—dark and assessing—run over me from head to toe. "Though you might want to watch where you're going. You look a little lost."

I straighten up, taking in the stranger. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a sharp jawline and a mouth that seems perpetually on the edge of a smirk, and there’s a small dimple on one of his cheeks. His hair is dark and styled in that effortless way that probably took half an hour to perfect, and his shirt—a deep blue button-down—fits him like it was tailored specifically for the contours of his body.

Objectively good-looking, I suppose.

"Maybe a bit." I find myself admitting.

He leans against the bar. "Like a cardinal in a flock of crows."

"My friends bet me I couldn't get a guy's number," I blurt out, because might as well. It wouldn’t be him anyway—way out of my league. If we were playing the same sport, that is.

He laughs. It's a rich sound, coming from deep in his chest, and it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that lets me know he’s probably in his early thirties. "Your friends were right."

My head jerks back."That's rude."

"It can't be rude if it's the truth." He puts zero effort in trying to conceal his amusement.

"You're punchable, you know that?" I say before I can stop myself.

The corner of his mouth twitches and he drops his voice lower. "Pretty sure you’re not supposed to do that. You wouldn't want to do anything illegal now, would you?"

"Everything feels illegal in this place," I mutter, glancing around.

Especially myself.

His smile widens, revealing a row of perfect teeth. "First time?"

"That obvious?" I ask, feeling my cheeks warm slightly.

"Like I said—cardinal, crows." He extends his hand. "I'm Christian."

"Brooks," I reply, taking the offered hand. His grip is firm, his palm warm. The handshake lasts a beat too long before I pull away.

"So, Brooks," Christian says. "What's your plan? Going to bat those pretty eyes at some unsuspecting guy and hope for the best?"

I blink, then fake-cough a few times, stalling.

Bat my eyes? Myprettyeyes? Typically, this would be my part of the script. Being on the receiving end feels… I’m not sure. I haven’t decided yet.

“Actually,” I say, then pause. Can I do it? Can I flirt back? How hard can it be? “Actually,” I repeat, “I’m going to seduce you.”

Shit. Guess I can’t do it.

Christian nearly chokes on his drink. "Excuse me?"

I take a deep breath. "You heard me." Might as well roll with it, right? "I'm going to make youwant togive me your number."

He sets his glass down, turning to face me fully. The movement brings him closer, and I catch a whiff of his cologne—something warm and expensive that makes me think of leather-bound books and crackling fireplaces.

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