Page 28 of Legal Attraction
CHAPTER EIGHT
SUNSHINEPOUREDTHROUGHthe wall of windows in Ronan’s office. Street Legal’s offices encompassed the entire top floor of a building in Midtown. The space was like a loft with high ceilings open to the rafters, exposed ductwork, brick exterior walls and rough-sawn hardwood floors.
Ronan stood at his desk. He had the kind that he could raise, so he could forgo a chair. He didn’t like sitting. It was hard enough staying in his seat in a courtroom, which he managed to do only as long as he had to, when the opposing counsel had the floor.
He flipped through the file on his desk, reading over the court transcripts he’d printed out, and he snorted in derision at his opposing counsel in this case. The defendant’s attorney had posed no challenge for Ronan at all.
She hadn’t raised any of the arguments that Ronan would have, had he been Muriel’s attorney. But he hadn’t been. He’d been working for her ex.
He remembered Stone’s comment at the meeting. The reason Ronan’s partner had questioned Muriel’s intelligence wasn’t because she was a model but because of the man she’d married. Stone didn’t have a very high opinion of Ronan’s former client, and as Ronan reread his real case notes—not the forged ones Muriel had given to the bar association—his opinion of Arte Armand sank, as well.
Why the hell had he represented this schmuck?
Oh, yeah, he’d felt sorry for the guy. Arte had been a broken man when he’d come into Ronan’s office. He’d sobbed out his misery over how horribly his new bride had mistreated him.Newbride...
They hadn’t been married very long at all. Less than a year. The prenup she’d had him sign should have held up—would have held up—had she not been proven at fault in the divorce. Had Ronan not proven her at fault.
Had she been at fault? All those witnesses had claimed she was, that she had treated Arte as horribly as he’d said she had. But if that was true, why had he stayed with her?
Because he hadn’t been able to leave, just like Ronan’s father hadn’t been able to leave his mother? That was why Ronan had taken the case, because Arte had reminded him of his father. But his father had loved his mother for years before she’d started cheating on him. They’d had a child together. He’d had reasons to stay.
What had Arte’s reasons been? Money? Or love?
He’d claimed he’d loved Muriel. But if that were true, why had he wanted to hurt her so badly? To publicly humiliate her? And why had Ronan helped him do it?
That twinge of discomfort and regret he’d been having turned into a gnawing ache in his chest now. Had he been wrong? No. That wasn’t possible. Not with all those witnesses claiming how badly Muriel had treated her ex...
But as he read their testimony in the transcripts, he noticed how similar their stories were, which had previously convinced him of their veracity. Now he wondered...were they too similar, almost as if every one of them had been reading from the same script?
He felt a shiver of unease chasing down his spine. It wasn’t because of the transcripts but because someone stood in the doorway of his office. He turned toward where Muriel leaned against the jamb, watching him.
How had she gotten past Miguel, their receptionist-slash-bouncer? Then he remembered that it was Sunday. Miguel didn’t come in on Sundays. Nobody did but Ronan and his partners. Stone had come in, too, to prepare for his upcoming murder trial. And Trev was working on something, as well. Only Simon hadn’t come in—probably because he was still in bed with Bette.
Ronan wished he was still in bed with Muriel. He shouldn’t have left her Friday night. Right now—as he stared at her, looking so gorgeous in artfully ripped jeans and a sweater with shoulder cutouts—he didn’t know how he’d left her at all when she’d been lying there naked in the sheets tangled from their sexual romp.
Remembering how she’d looked—her silky skin flushed from their passion—his body tensed, and his cock hardened. He wanted her again. Still...
She was so damn sexy and looked almost posed against that doorjamb, the way she had posed for that photo shoot. Then she moved, her hips rolling as she walked slowly toward him.
His hand shook slightly as he closed the file—her case file. He didn’t want her to see what he’d been reading. He didn’t want her to know that she was getting to him, giving him doubts.
He had to clear the desire from his throat to ask, “What are you doing here?” But the question came out brusquely, his voice still gruff.
“It’s good to see you, too,” she remarked sarcastically.
It was better than good to see her. Despite her face being everywhere, he’d missed her, and that unsettled Ronan. It wasn’t like him to miss anyone but his friends. And he and Muriel were not friends.
They were enemies. Weren’t they? She’d turned him into the bar association, and he had...
What had he done?
And what was she doing? She stopped next to his desk and glanced down at the surface of it.
He flipped over her file. “I’m working.”
“I’m sorry.” She held up her palms, but he didn’t mistake it for a gesture of surrender, especially when she added, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you ruining someone else’s life.”
“I’m not,” he said. At least, he hoped he wasn’t. “And I didn’t ruin yours.”
