Читать книгу Rules Of Engagement - Jamie Denton Ann - Страница 10

JILL’S WORDS registered and hung between them, dimming the brightness of his angel’s halo. Fool’s gold, he thought. And he was an even bigger fool for allowing himself to feel desperate enough that he was seriously considering her outrageous proposal. “You’re kidding, right?”

She bit her bottom lip and shook her head slowly. “It’s really a very long and boring story,” she said, leaning over to pull a yellow pad from her briefcase. She slipped the cap off an expensive pen. “Let’s start with the charges against your employee. What’s his name?”

“Eddie Burton,” he said, then shook his head. “But I haven’t agreed yet.”

Delicately arched golden brows shot up and her big blue eyes rounded in surprise. “But I thought you needed an attorney?”

“At the cost of selling my soul to get one?” he countered dryly. He didn’t have a choice. Of course he’d do whatever she asked, even if it meant he did have to sell his soul to keep the MasCon contracts. When the guys had come into the shop earlier that evening, he’d promised them he’d look out for Eddie so long as they showed up for work the next morning.

Confidence and amusement mingled within the depths of her gaze. Only the quick, rhythmic drumming of her long slender fingers against the legal pad betrayed her nervousness. He found her slight case of anxiety endearing.

“I’m not asking for your soul, Mr. Pr—Morgan. You’re not really going to be my fiancé, just provide a convincing facsimile. Your time in exchange for competent legal representation. Seems like a fair trade to me.”

He wasn’t so sure. Time away from the company could cost him a lot more than shelling out a few bucks for a lawyer. Not that spending a few days with her would be a hardship. Quite the opposite, considering his immediate physical reaction when he’d found her on his doorstep.

Therein lay his problem. He was attracted to her, damn attracted when he couldn’t afford the distraction, no matter how much awareness rumbled through him whenever she flashed those baby blues his way.

He propped his feet on the edge of the old coffee table and leaned back into the love seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Let’s assume I agree to do this. What exactly are you expecting?”

She set the pad and pen on the table, wrapped her arms around her middle and leaned forward. “We need to be a real couple, one convincing enough that my family doesn’t become suspicious.”

The ramifications of that statement slammed into him. His imagination tripped through a few dozen ways he’d like to be coupled with her. “Mind telling me why?” he asked, attempting to focus on the conversation and not what she’d look like with her hair down and those delicate hands moving over his body.

Her gaze shifted toward the fireplace, then back again. When she looked up at him, her eyes filled with a despair that nearly had him coming off his seat to offer her comfort.

Not a good sign, he thought with a frown. The last thing he needed to do was get involved with a woman, no matter how enticing. Between running the company, the problems on the MasCon job, and taking care of his kid brother and sister, his cup runneth over.

A light blush stained her cheeks. “So they won’t know I’ve been lying to them for the last seven months,” she said quietly.

“Isn’t that just a little unethical, even for a lawyer?”

She gave him a wry grin. “I take it you haven’t heard that lawyers are notorious for twisting the truth,” she said with a quirk of her pink mouth. “Let’s just say I’m trying to avoid a complication at home. Your presence will go a long way in helping me achieve that goal.”

His frown deepened. “Complication how?”

She blew out a stream of breath that ruffled her wispy honey-gold bangs. “I’m not a bad person,” she said, a note of defiance in her tone. “I never meant to lie to my family. It was just easier to let them believe there was someone important in my life. I’m a preacher’s daughter, which probably means I’ll have to spend eternity somewhere hot and sweaty for lying to them. I’m also the first and only Cassidy to ever leave the family fold for the ‘wickedness of greener pastures,’ as my father says. Another one of my many sins, I’m sure.

“I’m nothing like my sisters,” she added, making him wonder if this was another black mark against her. Her words painted a picture of a stern, fire-and-brimstone preacher, more condemning than forgiving.

“That’s not so unusual in families,” he offered. His sister and brother were more like their intellectual father, while Morgan preferred to work with his hands. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, considering the three of them were raised by the same absentee mother. As much as he’d resented his mother’s choice of a career over her children when he was growing up, at least he’d inherited her work ethic.

“I’m the sixth of seven daughters, all married except Carly, who’s changing her marital status in three weeks.” She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, drawing his gaze to her legs. Legs that had his hands itching, wanting to see if they were as silky smooth as they looked.

“I’m also the only one unattached, serious or otherwise. That alone is an even greater sin according to the residents of Homer,” she added, a rueful smile lurking around her mouth when he looked at her again. “My family has been trying to convince me to return to the fold and exchange my career for a husband and my briefcase for a diaper bag. That’s not who I am.”

Maybe if you took a little more interest—

That’s not who I am.

He shut down the memory before it had a chance to fully surface. He had more immediate concerns than dwelling on a past he couldn’t change.

“You haven’t thought of telling them what you just told me?” he suggested.

“I’ve tried. I thought I was making progress until my sister Alison married a year ago. The pressure really started then, but since Carly’s gotten engaged, it’s been unbelievable. My father is determined to see each of his daughters married to a ‘respectable pillar of the community,”’ she said, her last words spoken in a mock baritone.

Jill as a rebellious teen, anxious to spread her wings and experience life on her own terms, wasn’t difficult to imagine. She had a quick, witty sense of humor, something her fire-and-brimstone father no doubt resented and attempted to oppress.

“What about your mother?” he asked, sensing there was a softer influence somewhere in her past. When he’d been in her office that afternoon venting his frustration on his friend, he’d seen a compassion in her gaze that was unfeigned.

“My mother wouldn’t dare offer an opinion contrary to Dad,” she said, a hint of distaste in her voice. “She’s so…1950s.”

“You need to tell them how you feel.”

Her expression lined with worry, and she smoothed her hands over her skirt again. “It’s not that easy. When I went home for Ali’s wedding, all I heard about was how my sisters were all living good, respectable lives. I, on the other hand, am probably seen as one step away from damnation for my wicked, independent ways.”

He’d been having some pretty wicked thoughts himself, from the moment he’d first caught a glimpse of her. Against his will, she’d drifted in and out of his thoughts for the better part of the afternoon. Now that she was seated across from him, the wickedness had escalated to erotic proportions. His angel had propositioned him and he was powerless to resist, thanks to his latest battle with the alligators nipping at his heels. By asking him to pretend to be in love with her, she’d innocently created a dangerous situation. As far as he was concerned, shifting the pretense of lust into passionate reality held enormous appeal, something he wasn’t altogether certain the independent lady lawyer would appreciate.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued, drawing his attention back to their conversation. “I love my family, but I don’t think I can stand to go through another family gathering with the town parading their single men in front of me like it was a cattle auction. And I don’t need to hear how I should settle down and have a passel of kids, or—”

“That still doesn’t explain why you told them you were engaged.”

“I didn’t tell them I was engaged,” she said, her brows pulling together in a frown. She let out another sigh, this one filled with frustration. “My parents are very traditional, so when Carly and Dean got engaged, my folks hosted an engagement party. I couldn’t send my regrets without disappointing my baby sister, but when my own grandmother attempted to fix me up with the grandson of one of her oldest friends, that was enough.”

He hid a smile at the outrage tingeing her voice. She obviously perceived the fix-up as a betrayal by her grandmother. “So then you told them you were engaged.”

“No. I told Luther that I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so I fudged the truth and told him I was already involved, but I meant with my career.”

“The demanding mistress,” he said, unable to keep the hardness out of his voice.

“One thing led to another,” she continued, unaware of his bitterness, “and I couldn’t say anything without hurting Luther and possibly damaging a fifty-year friendship between our grandmothers. And then my family assumed…” She let out another frustration-filled puff of breath and leaned back against the cushions. “Suffice it to say, this has turned into a nightmare of epic proportions.”

“Tell them the truth,” he said. Wasn’t the truth always the best path? At least that’s what he’d taught Raina and Will.

She dropped her head against the back of the sofa and briefly closed her eyes. “God, I wish I could.”

Two things struck him, hard. Jill Cassidy wasn’t a liar condemned to purgatory for all eternity, as she believed. He could tell by the simple fact that she had no trouble opening up to him, a virtual stranger. The other was more difficult to face.

He wanted her. He couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t need to rationalize, analyze or otherwise examine his attraction to her. He’d never been one to dissect his feelings, and he wasn’t about to start now. If he wanted something, he went after it, and more often than not, he got exactly what he wanted. The thought of being cast in the role as her fiancé, with all those unconscious touches, secret smiles and the unspoken dialogue between lovers connecting on their own level, held a lot of appeal.

She turned her head slightly to the side and looked at him with those big, clear sapphire eyes he wanted to see filled with heat and need. “I hate lying to my family. Don’t get me wrong, I do love them, and the last thing I’d ever want is to hurt them, but to be honest…it’s been a relief going home recently without having to worry about the bachelor parade.”

He shifted on the love seat and leaned forward. “Have you eaten?”

She glanced at her watch. “I had a pasta salad over eight hours ago. Since we still need to go over Eddie’s case, I could do the food thing.”

“I don’t have anything fancy,” he said, rising. “Leftover stew okay with you?”

She stood and smiled. “Lead the way. My stomach’s been demanding attention for the past twenty minutes.”

He waited while she bent to retrieve her pad and pen. The sight of her very feminine posterior pressing provocatively against her navy linen skirt had his heart ricocheting around in his chest. He looked away before he started drooling like a starving mutt.

“Morgan?”

He dragged his gaze back to her face. Still bent over the table, her delicate hand resting on the legal pad, she looked up at him, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

He frowned. “Yeah?”

“Would you mind terribly if I took off my shoes?” she asked, straightening. “It’s been a long day.”

He shrugged. “Sure, go ahead,” he said, figuring her odd request was probably one of those midwestern nuances about a lady in the presence of a gentleman—something his casual, Southern California upbringing couldn’t hope to understand.

His smile was strained at best as she slipped off a pair of stylish navy pumps and sighed, curling her toes into the carpet. Her toenails were painted, and he was a sucker for painted toenails. He looked closer and nearly groaned.

Red.

A startling, deep, sensual red.

He was an even bigger sucker for anything red on a woman. Red like fire, representative of the sensual heat women generated when fired up just right.

He blew out a slow stream of breath that did nothing to quell the image of Jill lying before him in a red satin teddy awaiting his pleasure. “This way,” he said, then headed into the kitchen, hoping to rein in his runaway erotic fantasies along the way.

She followed and perched on the thin cushion of a bar stool with her legal pad in front of her. “Okay, tell me about Eddie. I’m assuming he’s still in custody.”

He pulled a large pot from the cabinet. “In a minute,” he said, crossing the kitchen to the refrigerator to retrieve the leftover beef stew. No matter how selfish, the last thing he wanted to discuss right now was Eddie’s legal problems. He wanted to know more about Jill. Considering the headaches and the frustration Eddie’s twenty-first birthday party had cost the company, and him, another few minutes of conversation that would no doubt reveal more about his blackmailing, resourceful angel wouldn’t cause a bit more damage.

He dumped the stew into the pot, then set the burner to low. “There’s still something I don’t understand,” he said, crossing back to the refrigerator. He pulled out two sodas, lifting them for her inspection.

She shook her head and tapped her half-full glass of water. “What’s that?”

Unspoken dialogue between lovers…

He shook the thought from his mind and concentrated on their verbal communication. “Couldn’t you fabricate some reason as to why your fiancé can’t make it?”

She started tapping her fingers on the pad again. “Since this entire mess started, I’ve been home twice, both times with a convenient excuse as to why my intended had to stay behind.”

“So what’s one more excuse?” he asked, pulling out the bar stool across from her.

“Because the good reverend made it crystal-clear he expected to ‘meet my young man.’ An auspicious occasion such as Carly’s wedding is no doubt the perfect time to inspect and interrogate his future son-in-law.”

Morgan knew he was playing with fire by agreeing to her terms, but he really didn’t have much choice. He’d promised his men he’d take care of the problem, and he wouldn’t disappoint them. “All right,” he said, a reluctant grin tugging his lips when hope filled her gaze. “Eddie’s being arraigned in the morning. I guess you’ve got yourself a fiancé.”

Her smile was perilous to his central nervous system, and brighter than California sunshine.

She reached across the Formica countertop and settled her hand over his forearm. A current of electricity sparked and sizzled between them. “Thank you, Morgan,” she said quietly, a light frown creasing her brow.

Did she feel it, too? he wondered as her fingers slowly slid from his arm. Had she been experiencing that same sensual pull that had been plaguing him since he’d first set eyes on her?

“Yes, well.” She looked away and gently cleared her throat. The moment passed, but the truth remained. There was a definite sexual attraction at work. Whether or not they explored the possibilities was another matter altogether. Regardless of how much he wanted the angel with the heavenly body and red polished toenails, one simple fact remained: any carnal liaison they might take pleasure in would be temporary. Jill Cassidy was a career woman, and he’d made the firm resolution years ago to never have a serious, lasting relationship with corporate ladder types.

“About Eddie,” she said, her tone and persona shifting from personal to more efficient and businesslike. “It’s my understanding he’s been charged with three misdemeanors. Drunk in public, disorderly conduct, and destruction of private property. Nick also mentioned the property damage is a couple of thousand dollars. Do you know if Eddie has the means to pay the property damage tomorrow?”

Morgan stood to check the stew, providing her with the sketchy details of the impromptu birthday celebration gone awry. “I’ve already paid the damages,” he said, snagging a wooden spoon from the drawer. “This is his first offense. He’s a good kid and my best foreman. I’d hate to see one night of poor judgment haunt him for the rest of his life.”

She dropped her pen on the pad. “That was extremely generous of you,” she said, a gentle smile curving her lips. “Since you’ve already paid it, there’s a good chance I can get the two remaining charges reduced to municipal ordinance violations and a small fine, if not dropped completely. I really need to talk to Eddie, though, since he’s my client. Would you mind arranging a meeting for me?”

Morgan returned to the bar and sat. “Tonight? Out of the question.”

She crossed her arms and leaned against the back of the bar stool. “Why?”

“He told me he was going to his folks’ place for the night, and I don’t have their number. I’m meeting him at the courthouse tomorrow morning.”

She shrugged, then moved again, shifting in her seat so she could prop her feet on the stool next to her. “Well, unless you have more details for me, I guess that’s about it for business until tomorrow morning.”

Why that simple statement ignited his imagination, he couldn’t be sure, but he moved away from the bar and served up two bowls of stew to gain some distance. After setting one in front of her, he sat, wondering why he didn’t feel a greater sense of relief. He’d solved one of his problems by keeping the promise to his men that he’d make sure Eddie had a good lawyer. The men would arrive on the job site at six o’clock sharp, as he’d promised Dan Castle. Yet, instead of the relief he’d expected, another more dangerous emotion continued to jockey for his attention.

Lust for the lady lawyer with the red toenails.

And he was a sucker for a lady in red.