Page 23 of Legal Desire
But Allison’s last name wasn’t really McCann, so he couldn’t be her paternal grandfather. Like Hillary Bellows, she must have taken her mother’s maiden name.
Why?
He needed to find out more about her. So he didn’t have time for the business meeting and he told Miguel that.
The younger man arched a brow in an exact imitation of the way that Simon always did. “But this is the usual meeting.”
Meaning that the meeting Trev had called yesterday was unusual. And it had been.
Miguel stood there, obviously waiting for an explanation. Usually Trev wouldn’t have hesitated to bring in the receptionist on what was going on, but this whole mole problem had made him even less trusting than he normally was. Not that he suspected Miguel of any wrongdoing. He’d known the kid since he had been a wrongdoer. Then Trev and the others had helped him turn his life around; he wouldn’t have turned on them.
Still, Trev hesitated.
Miguel wouldn’t betray them, but he was a man, so Trev suspected a pretty face might be able to manipulate information out of him. And Trev hadn’t seen another face as pretty as Allison’s...
And her body...
It was perfect. She was perfect.
That made her dangerous as hell—not just to Trev but to any other breathing male.
“I don’t have anything to say,” Trev said. And he meant about yesterday’s meeting.
Miguel understood because hurt flashed in his dark eyes. Then he nodded. “I’ll tell Simon that...”
“Tell him I have no new information,” he directed the receptionist.
Miguel nodded. If he suspected Trev was lying, he didn’t call him on his bullshit like Allison McCann had the night before. He just turned and walked out of the office.
Trev had some new information. But it wasn’t enough. It didn’t provide him with any clues as to why Allison had changed her name or her reason for hating lawyers so much that she would have betrayed their practice like she had.
Why was she the mole? What had she hoped to gain by ruining their reputation?
More work?
Job security?
What the hell was she after?
He wished it was him, but she’d had no problem throwing him out last night. She’d warned him that there would be no emotions involved. She hadn’t lied about that.
Why had she lied about who she was?
Allison studied her assistant as he flitted nervously around her office. Edward darted forward to place a cup of coffee on the corner of her desk. Usually she needed it after a sleepless night. But last night she had slept—eventually—only to awaken abruptly when she’d dreamed of Trevor Sinclair, of being in his arms.
She’d awakened to find him gone. Herself alone. She’d wanted to believe that what had happened between them had just been a dream. But she’d been able to smell him on her sheets, on her pillow.
She’d wanted to stay in that bed, with her face buried in that pillow. Somehow, she’d forced herself to get up and shower. She’d had to come into work because she had to do something that was long overdue.
“What the hell were you thinking?” she asked Edward.
He jumped and sloshed coffee over the rim of the cup he still held. It pooled on the corner of her desk. He hastily wiped it up. “Didn’t you want coffee?”
“I’m not talking about coffee,” she said. “I’m talking about your telling Trevor Sinclair where I live.”
“I never told him,” Edward said.
Trevor had claimed the same thing, but Allison had been certain he was lying.
