Page 62 of Legal Seduction
Chapter Seventeen
SIMONBLINKEDANDtried to focus on his computer monitor. It was late. Or early. He didn’t even know. Since Bette’s two-week notice had ended, he’d been working around the clock—doing his work and hers. He’d finally brought in a temp, but it was easier to do most of the work than try to teach the new guy, especially when it was so hard for Simon to see anyone else at Bette’s desk.
That was why he’d begun doing most of his work before and after the office opened for business. Then he didn’t have to see the temp or anyone else for that matter because there was only one person he really wanted to see. But she hated him.
And he could hardly blame her. She undoubtedly felt used and betrayed. That was the part he’d hated most about being a con artist. It was why he’d run away from his father. And when he’d been forced to con people in order to survive on the streets, he’d made certain they never realized he’d conned them, so they wouldn’t feel that way.
The way Bette felt...
He wanted to make it up to her, but he didn’t know how. Anything he did would just come across as another con to her, as his trying to seduce her again.
Oh, how he wanted to seduce her. His body ached for hers, for the release only she could give him. He could have called any other old girlfriend. Hell, he could have taken up half the office staff on the blatant invitations they’d been issuing since Bette left. But he wanted no one but her. She was the one.
He rubbed his hands over his face. God, he was losing it. He didn’t believe in that bullshit soul mate stuff. Hell, he didn’t believe in love. But then he’d never felt the way he felt about Bette...
It was new. It was different. Hell, it was love.
He needed a drink. The guys had been trying to get him back to The Meet Market for weeks. Maybe he would call them up and see if they were available. He’d been spending too much time alone, and it was making him lonely, which was something he never was, even when he was alone. Before he could reach for the cell phone sitting on his desk, he heard the ding of the elevator doors opening onto the floor for Street Legal.
Someone was here.
Probably Stone. Or Trevor. Or all three of them. Ronan wouldn’t dare come see him alone, not unless one of the other two was available to pull Simon off him. He still wanted to pound the shit out of him for going after Bette, for accusing her of betraying the firm and most of all for telling her that Simon had just been conning her the entire time.
She must have been devastated if she cared about him at all. Did she care?
His heart began to pound fast at the sound of heels tapping across the hardwood floor. The guys didn’t wear heels. Half the time they didn’t even wear dress shoes. Stone wore boots and Trevor and Ronan wore tennis shoes. It wasn’t one of his partners who’d gotten off the elevator. And it certainly wasn’t Miguel, who sounded like a train coming when he approached.
But just because whoever had arrived was probably female didn’t mean it was Bette. It was probably one of the employees who’d blatantly offered to take her spot in the office and out of it.
Or maybe it was someone else...
He remembered what he’d thought the last time he’d caught someone coming into the office after hours. That he’d caught the mole. He’d been wrong that time. But perhaps this time he would find out who was really betraying Street Legal.
Because while Ronan was wrong about Bette providing that material to Muriel Sanz, someone else from the office definitely might have. He needed to get focused on that again, on discovering who the mole might really be. And he needed to focus on his work. But she was all he could think about at the moment. She was all he could think about every moment of every day.
The tapping stopped right outside his door. But there was a long silence before the knob turned and the hinges creaked as the door opened.
He wasn’t armed. Even on the streets he’d never needed a weapon beyond his mind and his mouth. But now he was beginning to wonder if he should carry one. How desperate would the mole be if he or she got caught?
As desperate as Simon was to see Bette again?
Because he imagined she was the one standing in the open doorway. Even though the person’s face was in shadow, the silhouette looked like her curvy one. But if she was wearing a skirt and cardigan, it was covered by an overcoat with the belt bound tightly around her small waist.
His pulse quickened. And while he was more afraid than he’d ever been, he knew he didn’t need a weapon.
If this was Bette, he had no way of protecting himself from her. The visitor stepped forward into the light cast by the lamp on his desk. And his heart slammed against his ribs.
It was Bette. Her hair was piled on top of her head. But it wasn’t tightly bound. And she wasn’t wearing her glasses, either. Her long, thick lashes fluttered freely as she blinked and looked at him as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.
He ran his hand over his face again and felt the stubble. He’d forgotten to shave today. Maybe yesterday, too.
Damn, he probably looked like hell.
She continued to stare at him as if she barely recognized him. He couldn’t stop looking at her, either, but because she was so damn beautiful. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen...
“Where are they?” she asked.
He cocked his head. “Who? It’s after hours. Everybody’s gone for the night.”
