Текст книги "Love Unspoken "

Автор книги: Lisa DeJong

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter 2

“Mrs. Mason, I’m glad you’re here,” Beatrice announces as I walk past her desk. “River Holtz has called three times already this morning asking what time you can fit him into your schedule.”

Beatrice has been part of the firm since we took over after Cole’s fathers’ retirement a few years ago. In fact, I think she was Robert Mason’s secretary for twenty years even before then. She knows what she’s doing.

“Who is River Holtz?” I ask, dismissively thumbing through a fresh stack of mail.

“Didn’t your husband tell you? He’s in town and wants to work with you on an acquisition. A club developer, if I recall.”

“Oh yes, he mentioned that. What time does he want to meet?” Her nose wrinkles slightly as she pushes her glasses up.

“That’s sort of why I’m glad you’re here.”

“Spit it out, Beatrice.”

She sighs. “He’s waiting in your office. And did I mention, he’s not very patient?”

“Shit,” I mumble under my breath as I smooth out my black sleeveless pencil dress. “Do we have a file on him?”

She hands me the small file. “This is all I could find.” She says, staring at me the way my mother used to when I was too quiet at the dinner table or when I came home way earlier than my curfew.

“Are you okay, Mrs. Mason?”

“Why?”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you swear in all the years I’ve known you,” she responds quietly. She’s good at her job—not because she types the fastest or works long hours, but because she studies everything around her. She knows what needs to be done before we even tell her…she more than likely knows us better than we know ourselves.

“I’m just tired,” I answer, pushing away the depressive feelings that I thought I’d left at home this morning. Our relationship can be fixed by a BandAid … it has to be. The seven-year itch probably just hit a couple years too soon.

I start walking toward the heavy mahogany door, which is open just enough to get a good glimpse at my early, unexpected visitor.

“Hey, Marley,” Beatrice says quietly from behind me.

I turn around feeling annoyed. Not so much at her but because I have a man in my office who I still don’t know shit about and I haven’t even had my coffee yet. Cole literally fucked that up this morning. “What is it?”

“He’s probably not what you’re expecting.”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “I wasn’t expecting anyone this morning. I have two depositions to work on. He picked the wrong day to just stop in.”

She wrinkles her nose again. “That’s not quite what I meant.”

“Out with it,” I say, glancing between her and the door.

“He may have just gotten out of prison from the looks of it.” She pauses, smiling just a bit. “He knows how to wear a pair of trousers, though. If you can get a look from the back—”

“Beatrice!” I shout as quietly as I can to still prove my point. She raises her hands in defeat.

Without another word, I take one last look down at my simple black dress and open the door to my corner office. It’s easily the best in the whole suite.

My mouth gapes at the sight of the man standing at my window, peering down at the city streets. He’s got the ass of a professional soccer player, which is probably why Beatrice noted his trousers. His well-pressed white shirt is rolled up to his elbows showcasing a full sleeve of tattoos that reach his knuckles.

Definitely not my typical client.

I clear my throat, drawing his attention. My eyes widen, but I quickly gain back control. He’s got these light blue eyes—almost like glass. “What can I help you with, Mr. Holtz?” I ask, walking around to sit behind my desk. I’m going to need something to ground me.

He puts one hand in his pocket, running the fingers of the other over his perfect pink lips. “I have a deal that I need to close within the next forty-eight hours. I was hoping to work with Cole, but I hear he’s conveniently out of town.”

He hasn’t moved from the window so he’s perfectly aligned with my chair; the way his eyes shift from my legs to my eyes while he speaks doesn’t escape me.

“Why so quick?” I ask, pulling out a pen to take notes.

“When I want something, I get it. This is a special property, and I know that I’m not the only one who’s going to go after it.” I point to one the chairs that sit in front of my desk.

“Would you mind taking a seat so we can go over a few details?” He grins, walking towards my desk. His palms lay flat on the edge as he leans in close. His light brown hair falls forward, bringing my attention back to those eyes.

“I don’t like being told what to do.”

“I asked,” I chime back, biting down on the tip of my pen. He sits on the edge of the desk a few feet away from me.

“This is where I want to sit. Now, what do you need to know?”

You have got to be fucking kidding me. I buzz Beatrice.

“Yes, Mrs. Mason?”

“Bring me some coffee. Lots of coffee.”

“I’d like one too,” River says before Beatrice has a chance to respond.

“I’ll be right there,” she says before the phone clicks.

“First, give me the address of the property.”

He picks up a manila envelope and tosses it across the desk. “It’s all in there.”

“And the seller?” I ask.

“That’s in there, too.”

“So, why do you need me? This is what real estate agents are for, no?” My eyes are stuck to the door. If Beatrice doesn’t bring my coffee soon, I’m may lose it.

“The property isn’t zoned as a nightclub. What I want to do is run a restaurant through the early evening hours then transform it into the hottest night club in town. You’re going to be the one to make that happen.” The way his thigh muscles pulse through his slacks is distracting.

“Can you please take a chair?” He pulls a pencil from my desk, twirling it between his fingers. Not five seconds later, he snaps it between them.

“I’m fine. Besides, the view is better up here.” His eyes trace my legs, stop on my breasts for a split second before finally finding mine.

“I don’t know if I have time to take on your case.” It’s mostly a lie.

“But you will. Cole promised me that he’d get it taken care of and he’s not here.” I pull my reading glasses on and unclasp the manila envelope.

“Give me a few hours to look through this, and I’ll get some documentation ready for the council. Can I call you when I have something?” When he doesn’t answer, I look up to see him staring at me, thumb skimming over his lower lip.

“Are you sure you’re married to Cole Mason?”

“As far as I know. Do you have a problem with that?” He grins. Cocky ass.

“No. He just seems like he deserves worse…and you deserve better.”

“There’s this line,” I start, motioning my finger between us. “You’re not allowed to cross it.”

He laughs. “I wasn’t hitting on you. I can have any woman I want on any night that I want her. A married lawyer doesn’t even rank on that list.” I stare back down at the paperwork before he has the chance to see through me. A lawyer must not hit the top of Cole’s list lately either.

“You can leave now,” I announce, not bothering to look up.

“There’s one more thing.”

“I’m listening.”

“There’s a club opening tonight. The guy who runs it went through something similar with the city. Thought it might be good for you two to talk.” I look back up, but it doesn’t last long. I can’t place it but there’s something about the way he glares at me.

“Leave me his number, and I’ll get permission to talk to his attorney.”

“Do you always stare blankly at your desk when you have paying clients in your office?” he asks, voice smokier than it had been.

He dares me.

I accept. For the first time, I stare long enough to actually see the color of his eyes—a blue so pale and vivid they remind me of a laser beam.

“I do when they don’t have appointments.” Those laser eyes narrow in on me and scan my entire body.

“It’s a good thing you’re not my type.”

“And why’s that?” He leans a little closer.

“I won’t be tempted to fuck you. I’d hate to have to hire a new attorney.”

My mouth gapes. Beatrice picks this exact moment to come in with two piping hot cups of coffee. Her eyes lock on mine. If she doesn’t see how badly I want him out of here after all these years of working together, she hasn’t paid enough attention.

“Mrs. Mason,” she says as she sets the cups down on my desk. “Your 9:30 appointment is waiting.”

I smile. She’s good. “Thank you. Tell him I’ll be done in a couple minutes.”

“Will do.” Her gaze catches mine one last time just as she walks out the door. She winks. That woman is definitely restricted from retiring. Ever.

My attention shoots straight back to my client. “You’re crude.”

“See, you already know everything there is to know about me.” His pink lips press to the black coffee cup.

“By the way, I’m not leaving you his number. You’re coming with me tonight.”

Oh, hell no!

“I have plans.”

“Cancel them.”

I laugh out loud, spinning around in my chair. “My work is done in the office or the court room. Rules are rules, and I’m not bending them for you.”

He scoots closer. I back my chair up.

“I’ll pay double your regular hourly rate,” he chides.

“I’m not a hooker, Mr. Holtz.” I’ve had other clients who have tested my patience—most of them do—but no one has ever come at me quite like this. I worked at a small firm right out of law school that took on petty criminals. Those cases we could make a few bucks on without having to do much discovery. Some of the men would stare at me, especially if they’d been in lock up for more than a few days. River Holtz is different. Power and money sway.

“Your husband told me you’re the best. I want the best, and I’m willing to pay for it,” he adds, softening his expression. His rebel-like good looks probably haven’t hurt either.

I can practically hear Cole telling him that on the phone…hear his voice. It boils up some of the memories from this morning, but I quickly bury them away.

“My husband is a smart man.”

“Prove it,” he says, obviously baiting me.

Cole is going to hear about this tonight. He’s knocked me so far out of my comfort zone it’s not even funny.

“Where and what time?” One side of his lips curl; he wins.

“I’ll pick you up at ten.”

“Ten?” I ask, almost falling out of my chair. Court starts at eight tomorrow.

“That’s what I said. He’ll meet us at 10:30 after the opening festivities.” I pass him a piece of paper and a pen.

“Write down the address. I’ll meet you there.”

“I said I’d pick you up,” refusing to take them from me.

“And, I’m meeting you halfway. I’ll go to the club with you, but I’m driving myself. Take it or leave it.”

Shaking his head, he grabs the pen. “He didn’t mention you were stubborn.”

“He didn’t tell me you were so difficult,” I hit back. He passes me back the pad of paper. The address is familiar, but it’s at least a half hour from my house.

Tomorrow is going to suck.

“Don’t be late,” he says as he stands. “Or you’ll see how difficult I can be.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Holtz. I have a client waiting.”

“Don’t you need me to sign some sort of a contract or something?” I force a smile, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Let’s see how tonight goes. I get to pick my clients the same way you get to pick your lawyer.” His thumb runs along his lower lip, drawing my attention.

“This is going to be interesting.”

“Yes, it is,” I answer back, opening the door for him. If that isn’t enough of a hint, I don’t know what is. He reaches his hand out before crossing the threshold. I take it, reluctantly. He uses his strength to draw me in close—on the edge of too close.

“Wear something nice,” he whispers, his warm breath hitting my cheek.

Speechless, I watch him walk out the door still feeling where his fingers touched mine. I wonder if he noticed the waiting room is empty. I wonder if he felt my eyes on him the whole way out. I wonder a lot of things about River Holtz.

“Beatrice!” I shout from the doorway.

“Coming!” she yells back. Her smile falls when she sees my face. If stress were a spring trend, I’d be wearing it like Gisele.

“I need you to gather everything you can on Mr. Holtz. Everything.”

“Anything else?” she asks.

“Yeah, can you call Laurel and tell her I’m not going to make girls’ night?” She reaches forward as if she wants to take my temperature. Wine is my religion.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’ve been better,” I say honestly. “Do you know when Cole’s plane lands?”

“He booked his own flight. Should I try calling him?”

Shaking my head, I reply, “No, he’s only been gone a couple of hours. He’s probably in the air. I’ll try him before lunch.”

“Good idea.”

As she walks away, I stand in the same spot watching her but not really seeing her. Life has never been this lonely. To an outsider, I have it all—the job, the husband, and the house—but inside I’m nearly empty. Hell, I’ve been running on these fumes for over a year.

I can’t go on much longer…not like this.

FIRST, I HAVE TO THANK the one person who made this—and ever other book I’ve written—possible: my husband, Michael. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have the courage to keep at this, or the time. Thank you for everything you do to keep the household going while I’m “working”.

To my kids, I love you more than words can ever express. Thank you for understanding when Mommy has to work instead of play. It just makes every moment I get to spend with you that much better.

To my assistant, Melissa, thank you for everything you do for me. You’re not only my assistant but a great friend, even if you do “meh” me every now and then.

To my Laura, Lisa, Allison, and Kara, thank you for helping me shape this book into what it is. Even if your “team” didn’t win, you will get your happily ever after in the novella.

I also have to thank my editor, Chelsea, for keeping me away from clichés. My formatter, Kassi, for always making the pages pretty. Regina for giving me a cover that I love. And my agent, Jill Marsal, for supporting me along the way.

And last but not least, the bloggers and readers who have been with me over the last couple years … you helped make my dreams come true. THANK YOU!