Читать книгу Legal Desire - Lisa Childs, Lisa Childs, Livia Reasoner - Страница 10

CHAPTER TWO

TREVOR SINCLAIR’S OFFICE was huge, but when the door was closed, shutting her inside and alone with him, it felt small. And Allison felt trapped.

It wasn’t just his physical size that overwhelmed her. She was tall, too. He was even taller, well over six feet. And he was muscular with shoulders so broad that he probably had to turn sideways to get through doorways. The only thing bigger than his size was his personality. He had a deep, booming voice that resonated inside a courtroom and outside it. He also had an energy about him, a restlessness that made Allison restless, too.

She hated that restless feeling even as much as it, and he, fascinated her. Or maybe that was why she hated it—because she didn’t want to be fascinated. And she certainly didn’t want to be attracted to him.

“I thought this meeting was with all of the partners,” she said, glancing at the closed door, willing the others to return. Sure, she had been outnumbered with the four of them, but she’d liked her odds better with all of them than with being alone with Trevor Sinclair.

Admittedly, it wasn’t just him she didn’t trust. She didn’t trust herself.

He shook his head, and his hair brushed across the collar of his black shirt. His hair was too long. Her fingers itched to run them through the dark auburn strands. He looked more like a rock star than a lawyer.

But then as a lawyer, he was a rock star. The minute he stepped into a courtroom, he commanded all the attention. He played it just like a rock star played the stage.

“My meeting was with all the partners,” he said. “Your meeting is with just me.”

Just me...

Nobody would ever refer to him as just him. He was so much more, and she had no doubt that he knew it, that he was fully aware of how damn handsome he was. Like a rock star, he had fans of his work as a lawyer and his prowess in the bedroom. She’d heard stories about him as well as his partners. They were legendary lovers.

Her skin heated at the thought of Trevor Sinclair touching her, of him stroking his big hands over her body. Of his lips moving over hers.

He didn’t have the thin lips so many other men possessed. Trevor’s lips were full and wide and moved easily into big, wicked grins. How would they feel against hers? Or on other parts of her body?

She suppressed a shiver, just like she’d tried when she’d felt his breath touch her hair moments ago. His breath had been hot and scented with coffee and something sweet, probably from the tray of goodies sitting in the middle of the conference table.

He must have noticed her glance at it because he gestured at that tray as he moved toward her. His legs were heavily muscled, too, his thighs straining against his dress pants as he walked. His body looked strong, powerful.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

She was—but apparently not for food. Maybe she’d denied herself too long. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex and not just because it must have been a while ago but because it must not have been very memorable.

She suspected that it would be memorable with Trevor Sinclair. With his body, his mouth, his big hands, she had no doubt sex with him would be very memorable.

She shook her head. “No, I’m not hungry,” she lied, willing herself to deny her hunger for him. She would not mix business with pleasure.

But for a few moments, when all the partners had been staring at her, she’d wondered if her business with Street Legal was about to end. Even if it did, she still wouldn’t risk a sexual relationship with one of them.

Least of all Trevor Sinclair...

How would she feel if she were in bed with him?

Even more overwhelmed...

And vulnerable.

Allison hated feeling vulnerable. She wouldn’t date someone who might affect her too much, who might make her want too much. She knew that only led to disappointment and heartbreak.

“Good,” he said.

She blinked, trying to focus on what he was saying. It was hard to focus with him standing so close. He had moved quickly from the door to the table and she hadn’t had a chance to step back. Not that she would have. Allison never backed down. “What?”

“I’m glad you’re not hungry,” he said, “because now we can get right to it.”

She blinked again because it didn’t make sense. Get right to what? Sex?

No. She didn’t want that. Not with him.

All she wanted was another assignment, and that had to be the reason he’d requested this meeting. That had to be the reason the other partners had left.

“You took on a new case?” she asked, and excitement surged through her again.

It was much safer for Allison to focus on business. And she actually enjoyed business with Trevor Sinclair. His cases involved taking down big companies, making them pay for any harm they might have done the public or the environment. Helping him made up for the other Street Legal cases, like Ronan Hall’s messy divorce ones or Stone Michaelsen’s criminal ones.

But he shook his head. “Nope. I’m not taking on any new cases right now.”

She felt a pang of disappointment, which was followed quickly with curiosity. “Then why did you want to meet with me?” she asked.

Alone?

He stared down at her for a long moment, his deep green eyes intense. She could feel the heat of his muscular body. An answering wave of heat rushed through her as her pulse quickened. Maybe she should have stayed in the chair Simon Kramer had pulled out for her because then Trevor might have sat down, as well. Then he wouldn’t be so close.

“I wanted you to come here,” he said, and his deep voice sounded even deeper than usual, “because I have a proposition for you.”

A proposition? That had nothing to do with a case?

If it wasn’t business, didn’t it have to be pleasure?

She sucked in a shaky breath.

And he flashed one of those wide, wicked grins of his, and his green eyes sparkled with amusement and something else.

Desire?

No.

Maybe she was still sleeping. Maybe she was dreaming—that Trevor Sinclair was propositioning her...

Her mouth fell open, her lips—which were nearly as red as her hair—parted on a gasp. Her pale skin finally flushed with color while her pale eyes also darkened as her pupils dilated.

He had her. He’d caught the notorious ice queen off guard with his remark. She wasn’t so cool now. He had flustered the usually unflappable publicist. He laughed. “Not that kind of proposition, Allison.”

She shook her head, tumbling the red waves of her hair around her slender shoulders. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Trev was standing close to her, so close that he knew everybody who had called her the ice queen, himself included, was wrong. He felt the heat of her body even though he hadn’t touched her. He really wanted to touch her. Hell, he really wanted her.

So he turned and slid onto the table right next to where she stood, and his knee bumped against her thigh. She stepped back, though.

She obviously did not want him touching her.

He chuckled again at her reaction. “You thought I was propositioning you for sex.”

“Of course I didn’t think that,” she haughtily replied, her pointy little chin lifting in disdain.

“What if I was?” he wondered.

All restless energy, he stood up again, and he was close enough that his suddenly very tense body brushed against hers. How could he want her even knowing that she was the mole? How the hell could he feel any desire for her let alone so much that it had tension winding tightly inside him?

Of course, even though she was the mole, she was stunning. Maybe trying to seduce the truth out of her wasn’t the bad idea he’d thought it was when Simon had tried it with Bette, and Ronan with Muriel.

“Would you be interested?” he asked.

She blinked as if trying to clear her vision before staring up at him. “Would I be interested?” she repeated. “In sex with you?”

And he almost thought she was considering it—until she laughed. That laugh—clear and sharp—cut his pride like a knife.

“Why is that so damn funny?” he asked.

“Because you’re joking,” she said purposefully.

Trev was suddenly very serious—so serious that he leaned a little closer to her. Their bodies brushed again. Her breasts touched his torso, just below his chest. He felt the mad pounding of her heart and the heat of her body again. She definitely was not an ice queen. He wasn’t getting frostbite at all. He was getting hot.

Damn hot for the unscrupulous little publicist.

So hot that he couldn’t resist his impulse to reach out. He slid his arm around her slim waist, and she moved her body more fully against his, clearly wanting him back. Then he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.

Her lips were like silk, so smooth and soft. He nipped and nibbled at them, devouring her as that desire consumed him. He wanted her lips to part, so he could deepen the kiss, so he could slide his tongue inside her mouth.

But he wanted more than that inside her. He wanted to bury his throbbing cock inside her, too. He’d never been so turned on before by just a kiss.

But she wasn’t just kissing him...

His scalp tingled as he felt her hands in his hair, sliding through it, clutching his head to hers. Then, finally, she parted her lips, deepening the kiss.

And he knew her image was just that: Allison McCann was no ice queen. She was all fire and passion.

He tasted so damn good, just like she’d thought he would, like coffee and sugar. His tongue slid between her lips, stroking over hers. She would probably taste like the mint she’d swallowed when he’d jerked her into his arms. While one of his arms was wound around her waist, the other was around her back, as his hand cupped the back of her head, holding it against his as he kissed her.

And her fingers were in his hair, tangled in the thick strands of it. She wanted to slide her fingers down his face, over his muscular chest to the buckle of his belt.

She wanted to undress him. Wanted him to undress her...

She wanted more than a kiss. She wanted him to release the tension he’d built inside her. She wanted his tongue other places than her mouth.

She couldn’t believe that she would want that, that she would want him. And it seemed mutual. She felt his erection straining against the fly of his jeans as he pressed his long, muscular body against hers—as he kissed her.

Trevor Sinclair was kissing her. And she was kissing him back.

That wasn’t just unprofessional—it was career and emotional suicide. Just the kiss.

If they did any more, if they crossed the line any further...

She stepped back, jerking herself out of his arms.

“No,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady despite how hard she was shaking with desire.

Breathing hard, he stared at her blankly, his brow furrowed beneath the fall of the hair she’d tousled with her fingers. “What?”

“If your proposition is for sex, my answer is no,” she clarified. And she fought to still her trembling. She couldn’t afford to let him see how badly he’d affected her, how badly she wanted him, because then he might call her bluff. He might pull her back into his arms and prove that she wanted him just as badly as he’d seemed to want her.

But she must have fooled him because he nodded. “That’s right. I forgot that you said you hate lawyers.”

She flinched with regret that she’d let that slip out once in a meeting with him and Stone Michaelsen. That had been nearly as unprofessional as letting Trevor kiss her. And kissing him back.

That had just been stupid, and Allison was rarely stupid. But she’d wondered for a long time what it would feel like to have that wide mouth of his against hers. It had been even better than she’d thought. What would it be like if they’d gone further?

She nearly shivered as sensations raced through her. And now she regretted pulling away as soon as she had. Maybe she should have let the kiss go on...to more.

“So I guess it’s a good thing I might not be a lawyer much longer,” he said.

She sucked in a breath. She hated lawyers but she knew they were necessary, especially good ones like Trevor Sinclair. “Why not? Did you get turned in to the bar association like your partner?”

His brow furrowed.

Maybe he hadn’t known she’d been aware of that. But she had sources everywhere and she couldn’t afford any surprises in her work.

He shook his head. “I didn’t do anything to get reported to the bar,” he said. “And neither did Ronan. That complaint was bogus.”

She wasn’t so certain about that. But she nodded as if she agreed with him. “Then I don’t understand.”

“Somebody forged those documents they claimed were from Ronan’s case files—”

“No,” she interrupted him. She didn’t want to talk about his partners. “If you’re not losing your license, why won’t you be a lawyer much longer?”

He chuckled. “I’m not losing my license,” he assured her. “I’ve decided to give up law in order to run for public office.”

Now it made sense the comments she’d overheard his partners making to him as they’d exited the office, all some version of wishing him luck. For a second she’d thought those comments might have been in regard to her. But until he’d kissed her, she hadn’t been able to imagine why he might have needed luck with her.

Unless he’d planned to seduce her.

He hadn’t. He had probably only kissed her because she’d stung his pride. She shouldn’t have goaded him. But there was something about Trevor Sinclair, something that caused her usual guard to slip.

She fought now to put her guard back up as he studied her face. She wasn’t certain if he was looking for her reaction to his kiss or to his news. She hid them both under a mask of mild curiosity as she asked, “What does your running for public office have to do with me?”

“I want you to help me,” he said. “I want you to run my campaign.”

That proposition was nearly as ridiculous as his wanting to have sex with her. Hell, she would have preferred that proposition to this one. She laughed again.

“I’m serious,” he told her.

And as was the case with him, her professionalism slipped again and she admitted, “There’s one thing I hate more than lawyers,” she said. “Politicians.”

“I don’t need you to love me,” he said. “I just need you to help me win.”

She laughed again. She wasn’t certain what was funnier. The thought of her falling in love with him or the thought of her helping him win an election. But her laughter sounded a bit hollow as it echoed inside his big office. And she forced herself to stop before it passed from hollow to hysterical.

She shook her head. “I’m a publicist,” she reminded him. “I’m not a campaign manager.”

“I know what you are, Allison,” he said. And for a second something cold and determined passed through his deep green eyes.

She shivered.

Then he blinked and replaced the look with a twinkle of amusement. “And you’re all I need right now,” he said. “You’re who I want.”

She wanted him, too, but not like this, not as a client. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sinclair. I can’t help you.”

“You don’t think I could actually win an election?” he asked.

She sighed. “No, I think you could.” And that was the problem.

But he obviously couldn’t see it. His brow furrowed again as he said, “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t play politics,” she said. Not anymore.

“You’re a publicist,” he said, throwing her words back at her. “That’s all you do is play politics.”

No. She didn’t have to play politics. Not ever again.

“I’m not interested in this assignment,” she said. And she stepped back, heading toward the door. “I’m sure you can find someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else,” he said. “I want you.”

If only he’d really meant that personally and hadn’t kissed her just out of wounded pride.

She laughed again—at herself—because her pride was wounded. And once again her guard slipped and she found herself admitting, “You would have had a better shot at me agreeing to a proposition for sex than playing politics.”