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I feel my cock twitch just thinking about running my hands over her curves as I bite down on one of her plump lips, but I quickly shake the thoughts from my mind, reminding myself it’s not that kind of meeting.
“Damn,” I whistle reading over her education, “top of her class at Northwestern and Harvard Law. Yeah, she’s definitely not the kind of woman who would give me the time of day unless she’s forced to.” I chuckle at the thought. It’s no wonder she’s a Type-A boss babe; she’s kicked ass to get to where she is in life. Although I know damn well I’ve seen her eyes lingering on me a time or two. I know I attract attention—a man my size usually does—but I also know the difference between a curious glance and a lingering stare, even if it’s filled with regret once our eyes lock. If I had to guess, I’m the kind of guy a woman like her hooks up with when she’s going through something or after a breakup. Then they settle back down with a custom-suit-wearing Mr. Wall Street and pop out a few kids in the suburbs.
“Exactly what you don’t want,” I mutter to myself as I flip the page and read about her 10-year-old daughter, Chloe. Seems like her dad isn’t in the picture and hasn’t been for several years—piece of shit. My heart goes out to Juliette even though I don’t know the circumstances. Can’t be easy raising a child alone. Yet another reason that explains why she’s more closed off. Part of me feels bad for assuming she was a man-hating ice queen. Clearly someone has given her reason to be the way she is.
I’ve always known she’s uptight. For being hot as fuck, she’s certainly never flaunted it or tried to be sexy in front of me. She’s buttoned-up, serious. I can see why Jimmy liked the fact that his younger sister Harper is one of her best friends. Back in her wild days, before she married our coworker Luka and had a baby, Harper was a firecracker and a half. She always had her big brother tied up in knots because she refused to be told what to do.
My phone buzzes. “Hey,” I say, answering it after one ring.
“You get the dossier?” Jimmy asks.
“Yeah, looking it over now.”
“Listen, I know I already told you this last night, but she’s not too keen on having a shadow, especially since she has a kid. I think she was hoping I’d just tell her she was overreacting or not to worry when she explained things to me last night. She clearly regrets mentioning it to me now since I told her it warranted our services. So if she seems standoffish, don’t take it personally.”
“Never do,” I say, flipping through another page. “I’ll stay out of her way . . . as long as she cooperates. That gonna be a problem?”
Jimmy hesitates.That’s never a good sign.
“Shouldn’t be, nah. I think she’ll wise up. Just try to be understanding. She has to think about her daughter’s safety as much as her own, so those mama bear instincts might cause her to be a little more bristly than most. Besides, I can imagine she doesn’t want to stress Chloe out or scare her, so odds are she’ll want to keep your presence between you and her.”
“I’m sure I can handle it. How serious do you think this is? We both know the reputation of the law firm she’s going up against, and we’ve seen our share of people being bullied, harassed, and intimated by big business to the point where they get hurt.”
“Yeah, that’s why I called you in. As much as I want to think this is simply a scare tactic from a bunch of asshole lawyers, we know better and I won’t take that risk. Besides, this isn’t just a drop-in-the-bucket kind of case—this is hundreds of millions of dollars in payouts and legal fees. Usually, they stop at a threatening phone call or even a note, but slashing tires and leaving something on her porch is a step too far in thethis is about to be a full-blown fucking shit showsituation.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. How far are we taking this, Jimmy?” He knows what I’m asking without me having to say it outright.
“All the way, Alex. Whatever it takes to keep them safe.”
“Noted. And how sugar-coated am I keeping things with Miss Pierce? Did you tell her that this is serious enough that she might end up in a safe house should shit really hit the fan?”
“Need-to-know basis. If she isn’t cooperating and you feel you need to scare her into it, then by all means . . . but for now, let’s try to handle this a little more gently. I don’t want Chloe getting freaked out.”
“Sounds good.”
“One other thing, Alex,” Jimmy says slowly, “don’t try to pull any of yourcharmon Juliette. I know you wouldn’t cross a line—and shit, I’m one to talk considering my wife was once my client—but of all people, she’s not the one you want to even attempt to give the illusion that you’re flirting with her.”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, man, we both know you use your fucking looks to get into women’s good graces—earning their trust and shit. Just keep it above board. We don’t need to give her another reason to hate having you in her life.”
“Well, shit, thanks for that pep talk. And yeah, youareone to talk,” I laugh. “Trust me, I’m still confident in my long-term decision to love ‘em and leave ‘em after one, maybe two nights at most. The last thing I want is a woman to dominate, and I’m pretty fucking confident that a woman like Juliette Pierce would get off on eating my balls for breakfast . . . and not in a fun way.”
“You’ve got a way with words, my man,” Jimmy laughs on the end of the line.
“Speaking of,” I say as I glance out the window and see her open her front door, waving toward me, “I think she’s ready to talk. I’ll give you a call a little later, let you know how it goes.”
I place the folder beneath my seat and open the door, walking across the street and up the front steps of her small porch.
“Miss Pierce.” I hold my hand out toward her. “Alex Rockwell.”
“Juliette is fine.” She offers a tight-lipped smile. “And yes, Alex,” her head cocks to the side, “we’ve met before.”
Call me crazy, but I can sense a touch of snark in her reply, and it causes a smile to pull at one corner of my lips. “Yes, we have.” I slide my hands into the pockets of my jeans as I stare down at her petite frame. She pulls her cardigan a little closer to her body in a nervous gesture. She’s already dressed for the day, hair and makeup done. Her blonde hair is in long curls cascading over her shoulders, her makeup soft and understated. “Are you going to invite me inside?” I nod toward her.
“Sorry, come in.” She steps to the side, holding the door open as I walk into the beautiful two-story townhome. The sun hits the statement chandelier above us, causing a cascade of rainbow dots to sparkle across the black-and-white-tiled floor. These are the timeless homes of New York, elegant yet understated—the ones you see in those fancy architecture magazines. I can’t even begin to imagine what a place like this costs, but if I had to guess: more than I’d make in two lifetimes.
“Beautiful home.” I don’t hide my gaze as it travels over the heavy hand-carved banister. I reach my finger out to touch the lacquered wood.
