Page 22 of Legal Seduction
Chapter Six
SIMONLIFTEDHIShead from hers and tried to clear it. He needed to focus on anything other than her beautiful face. She wasn’t wearing her glasses today. She probably wore no makeup, either, but her pale skin was flawless, her lashes long and thick and as deep a brown as her hair. She didn’t need makeup, not with her natural beauty.
Apparently, she didn’t need her glasses, either. At least not all the time. But until last night he’d never seen her without them. Were they necessary? Or just part of her disguise?
He felt like she’d been wearing one the past two years. Like she’d deliberately been trying to mislead him about who she really was.
Because he’d had no idea how hot she was, how wet and responsive...
He suppressed a groan that burned the back of his throat, like she’d burned him up the night before with her passion. Who the hell was Bette Monroe really?
Her hair was down, too, falling in long, rich, brown waves around her slender shoulders. Even with the long fleece robe covering up her substantial curves, she was damn sexy. Then the sash of that robe slipped out of its loose knot, and the fleece parted to reveal dark green silk and lace.
His breath escaped in a gasp, like he’d been sucker punched. Not that he knew what that felt like. Nobody had ever sucker punched him before. He was always too aware, too prepared, to get suckered.
Until now.
Until Bette Monroe.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he asked, his voice gruff with desire.
Her face flushed with embarrassment, and her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the sash, trying to retie the fleece robe.
He caught her fingers in his and tugged the sash free of the loops. Then he pushed the robe from her shoulders. Her bare shoulders...
He wasn’t certain how the hell the negligee wasn’t slipping right off her body. Then he noticed another bow on her back, tied between her shoulder blades. If he undid that bow, the negligee would drop to her feet. His fingers twitched. He wanted to untie that bow so badly.
But that was probably her plan, keep him so sexually charged that he couldn’t think straight, so that he wouldn’t catch her in the act of stealing case files. Why else was she wearing lingerie around the house?
Unless...
He glanced around the apartment. “Are you alone?” Or had she stayed home because she was entertaining a lover?
Her brow furrowed slightly. “Yes, I live here alone. I don’t have a roommate.”
“Then how can you afford this place?” There were doors off the main living room, so it had at least one bedroom. Street Legal paid their employees well enough that she should have been able to afford more than that tiny two-bedroom in Queens that John Paul had admitted they’d shared with another roommate, apparently his boyfriend.
So maybe she’d saved up some of that money but she couldn’t have saved enough to be able to pay the rent for a one-bedroom in the Garment District with a full kitchen. She actually had full-size appliances, not just a two-burner stove top and half-size fridge like she’d shared with John Paul and his partner. There was also a big bay window where a table would fit if she had one. She didn’t. But then she’d obviously just moved in. Boxes sat on the hardwood floor. Maybe that was why she’d called in to work—so she could unpack.
He looked back at her and arched a brow as he waited for her answer.
She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “That’s really not any of your business.”
He nearly growled in frustration. “That’s what you said about your reason for resigning.”
“I don’t have to give you one,” she reminded him. “Your own contract says that.” She gestured to where the document was laid out on her reclaimed-wood coffee table. While the place wasn’t totally furnished, he liked the pieces she had. He liked her taste but not just in furniture.
He could taste her on his lips yet. She tasted like some kind of citrusy tea and dark chocolate. A cup and a piece of foil with chocolate crumbs on it sat atop the coffee table, as well.
“Why don’t you want to give me one?” he asked. Usually people told him why they were quitting.I’m in love with you and I know you’ll never love me back.
It’s too hard to work with you.
You expect too much.
Bette had claimed none of those reasons. In fact, she’d never complained about the workload or about him. So why did she want to leave?
“Like I told you before,” she replied, “it’s my business. Not yours.”
