A Good Kind of Trouble (A Trouble in Twin Rivers Novel Book 1) (10 page)

She gave him a smile that showed off deep dimples. “I grew up watching them and they just seemed to have so much fun at work. I wanted to do that. Plus, I read
All the President’s Men
at an impressionable age.”
 

“Did you ever think you might do something else?”
 

Maybe she’d gone into journalism because of family pressure and losing her job would be a blessing in disguise. But she shook her head and his hopes vanished.
 

“No, never. I practically grew up in the newsroom, watching my dad work. He’d let my brother and I help out on election night and it was so exciting. I just loved it.”
 

“Is your brother a reporter, too?”

“No, Adam’s a firefighter in Ventura,” she said. “I guess there’s a similar impulse, to run toward the trouble instead of away. Though I think Adam’s wife would prefer if he’d drive a desk instead of a fire engine now that they’re having a baby.”
 

Ben smiled at her enthusiasm for her job and her family. At the same time—knowing about her precarious job situation—his gut churned.
 

Should he tell Lindsey that she was about to lose that job she loved so much? How could he dash that enthusiasm? Had he ever been excited about work? Maybe at one time. When he was in law school, he worked in the school's legal clinic helping people fight their landlords. He went out and documented the complaints—a leaking, sagging ceiling that a landlord refused to repair, a back porch off the townhouse that had a gaping hole in the floor and a family of raccoons living underneath.
 

In one house, he had nearly electrocuted himself with a kitchen light switch that had obviously been wired incorrectly. The landlord's solution was to tape a sign above it that said: "Warning. This switch is broken." In a house full of children, half of whom couldn't yet read, the kids had quickly developed a fear of all electrical appliances. Ben's solution was a lawsuit that brought the landlord to court to answer for his neglect and a resulting judgment that the house be repaired and brought up to the building standards. His fee for that was one credit on his law school transcripts and a home-cooked meal by the single mom who lived with that faulty switch for eighteen months before Ben sued the landlord.
 

It was the last case he’d been proud of.
 

He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell her. Maybe tomorrow he'd find a way to let her know that she was about to lose her career, her calling, the job she loved.

“You really love what you do,” he said.
 

“Yes. I can’t imagine doing anything else. It’s a way to make a difference. People are busy and they can’t attend public meetings or state legislative votes. So we go, tell them what’s going on and what effect events will have on them, why they should care,” she said, then smiled and looked away. “I know that sounds really naive.”
 

“No, it doesn’t,” he said. “It’s nice to hear someone likes their job.”
 

Lindsey rested her chin on her hand, her head tilted slightly.
 

"Why did you go to law school?" she asked.
 

It was a question Ben had avoided for the last seven years.
 

“I read
To Kill a Mockingbird
at an impressionable age,” he said.

She laughed. “When was that?”

“Around the time I realized that I didn’t like working in finance.”

“You worked in finance?”
 

“For a couple years after college,” he said.
 

“Did the book inspire you to go to law school?”
 

“No, not really. I just knew I didn’t want to keep working in banking.”
 

In truth, law school was the only acceptable excuse he could come up with to leave a well-paying job in corporate banking. He wasn’t happy working as a banker, but wasn’t sure what other job would satisfy him. Then he remembered Atticus Finch. On an impulse, he applied for law school and to his surprise, got accepted.
 

“Is law not what you thought it would be? Why do you hate it so much?”
 

“I don’t hate law, not really. I just hate my job. More specifically, I hate my clients. They’re just corporations, insurance companies, trying to save a few bucks by not paying people who were hurt in accidents,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I work at least sixty hours a week or more with people I largely despise. I read contracts and look for loopholes, or I look for ways to insert loopholes. I volunteer to take cases that let me go to court, even though that means I'm defending insurance companies in personal injury cases."
 

Lindsey appeared to mull this over, absently twisting a lock of hair. "Have you thought about looking for another job?"

"Yes. All the time. But from what I can tell, jobs for which I am qualified are all pretty similar to my current position, except with different jerks at different desks."
 

"Oh, that's too bad," she said.
 

"I did think about just quitting and opening my own firm, taking cases that I want to take. I wouldn't mind helping people incorporate businesses, get started with their dreams. It's really the only time people are happy to engage a lawyer. Otherwise, people only go to lawyers on the worst day of their life."
 

Lindsey sighed and blew a lock of hair away from her face.
 

"Well, that's certainly true for me."

"This is the worst day of your life?"

It had been a hell of a day. Jailed, chased by a bike messenger, her car vandalized, and then a car chase through the city and the park. And she couldn't even go home after the worst day of her life. Even after that parade of horribles, she was still holding herself together—her freshly washed skin glowed in the light from the reading lamp, her eyes were wide and bright, and she smelled delicious.

"I hope so." She said it so earnestly that Ben had to smile.
 

He couldn't resist. He leaned in closer. "Let's see if we can't improve it... "

His lips were incredibly soft against hers and Lindsey leaned in for more. It was just like when they had kissed in his car—that immediate electricity rushing through her and instant, intense lust left in its wake. But this time, there wasn't a gearshift between them, only a stack of bond contracts.
 

She leaned closer, Ben's hand on the back of her neck sending a warm rush through her. A moan escaped her lips. It was as if he had a map to all her erogenous zones, every site on her body that eroded her resolve and weakened her knees. His lips traveled from her mouth, to her ear, then started down the side of her neck and she was lost.
 

Lindsey shifted on the couch, feeling the cushions give beneath her as she swung a leg across his lap, straddling Ben. His lips never left her skin, his hands continued their exploration of her body. She moaned as he ran a hand down her back, then to the curve of her ass and below, where his fingers found bare skin below the hem of her shorts. She writhed against him and arched her back when his lips traveled down her neck.
 

Then he reached up, his hand behind her neck and pulled her down, kissing her deeply.
 

A thousand contradicting thoughts spun through her mind. What was she doing? Was she really doing this? With Ben? It had taken so long to get over the embarrassment of their date. Was it a good idea to get involved? Was this just a reaction to the adrenaline-filled day she’d experienced?
 

The cautious side of her brain was quickly shut down by the side that controlled lust. She wanted this—and more. Ben put an arm around her waist and eased her onto the couch so he was lying on top of her, the hard length of his body against hers. Her hand crept down the front of his thin cotton shirt, reveling in the feel of the firm muscled chest underneath. His eyes closed and his breath hissed as her hand sneaked beneath the fabric and touched his smooth skin.
 

“Lindsey," he said, pulling her closer and whispering in her ear. His breath sent shivers down her spine. "God, I want you."
 

Her head spun and her heart hammered in her chest. Ben's fingers brushed her cheek and she felt herself falling.
 

"Yes," she said with a gasp. She grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up and over his head.

He stood and pulled her with him. She wobbled unsteadily and leaned into his chest, touching her lips to the smooth skin and smiling at his sharp intake of breath. She felt a hand in her hair, gently tugging her head back so he could kiss her neck. His other hand was at the small of her back, pressing her closer to him. She didn't need the encouragement. She couldn't get close enough.
 

The feel of his hot breath, the slight stubble on his jaw against her skin—she let herself savor the feeling, not caring about their rocky beginning, her bad day, her stalker.
 

The sound of him whispering her name sent her over the edge.
 

They had stumbled the few feet from the living area toward the hall that led to the bedroom. Thank goodness he had a small condo, because if she didn't get him into the bedroom soon, they were going to be all over the floor.
 

"Hmm, bedroom?" she said, running her hands up Ben's bare chest, her fingers and her lips lightly skimming his warm skin.
 

"God, yes," he said. "Are you sure?"

She stopped kissing his neck and bit him lightly.
 

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, lifting her up and carrying her toward the bedroom.
 

A sharp pounding on the front door jerked her out of her passionate haze and they both froze, looking at each other.
 

“Did you hear—” she started to ask, but then the pounding started again.
 

“Ben!”

At the sound of the man’s voice on the other side of the door, Ben’s jaw tensed and his eyes closed. He shook his head and put a finger to his lips.
 

The banging continued. “Ben, I know you’re in there.”
 

Lindsey smiled at his frustrated expression. “Maybe you should get that,” she whispered.
 

He shook his head. “It’s my friend, Gordo. He’ll go away.”
 

Another rapid succession of loud knocks sounded.
 

“I’m not going away, Ben. I know you have beer in there and I just had the worst day ever.”
 

She felt his chest heave with a sigh.
 

“I will kill him,” Ben said. “But then we can be alone.”
 

She laughed. Ben pressed his forehead against hers and took a deep breath. “Let’s pick up right here after I get rid of Gordo.”
 

She smiled and gave him a kiss, then straightened her clothes and ran a hand over her hair. Ben found his shirt on the floor and pulled it on, turning back to her with a grim smile.
 

“Don’t go anywhere,” he said. Her knees nearly buckled at the dark promise in his eyes.
 

He opened the door and a dark-haired young man bounded in. “Christ, were you just going to let me sit out here? I’m having an existential crisis here—”
 

The man stopped mid-complaint when his eyes met Lindsey’s.
 

“Oh,” he said, turning to look at Ben. “Ooooh.”
 

“Gordo, this is Lindsey Fox,” Ben said. “Lindsey, this is my friend Gordon Marshall. We work together.”
 

Lindsey stepped into the living room and shook Gordo’s hand as the young man stammered a greeting. She tried to look composed while discreetly adjusting her clothes to make sure she was still covered.
 

“Jeez, Ben, I didn’t know you had company,” he said. “So you’re Lindsey? It’s nice to meet you.”
 

Lindsey smiled, her lust-fogged mind cleared by the embarrassment at being caught making out like a teenager. Maybe this interruption was for the best. She’d come close to losing control.
 

“Well, I’ll let you two be alone,” Gordo said.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. You’re having a crisis,” Lindsey said, picking up her papers from the floor.
 

“He’s always having a crisis,” Ben said, starting to push Gordo toward the door.
 

Lindsey picked up her bag and backed away.
 

“No, it’s okay, really. I have work to do. It was nice meeting you, Gordon,” she said, then turned to Ben. “Good night. And, uh, thanks again.”
 

She fled into the spare room before she could change her mind, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. She ran a trembling hand through her hair. What the hell was wrong with her? She’s alone with Ben for a few minutes and throws herself at him? If Gordo hadn’t shown up, who knows what would have happened.
 

Lindsey exhaled, blowing a piece of hair away from her flushed face. She knew what would have happened. And if the prelude were any indication, it would have been awesome.

Chapter Nine

"Are you sure you don't need a ride to work?" Ben asked. He parked the Jeep in Lindsey’s driveway and shifted in his seat so he was facing her. How did she look so damn pretty this morning? He’d spent a night tossing in bed, thinking about how she was in the next room. There wasn’t enough coffee in this county to make up for his sleep deficit.

She shook her head. “No, I let Sam know I’ll be in mid-morning after the garage drops off my car. I'll be fine. I've already made you late for work."
 

"If you can find the rest of those contracts, I'll take them with me and look them over later,” Ben said, getting out of the Jeep and grabbing her overnight bag.
 

She unlocked the front door and stepped into the empty house, then punched her code into the alarm keypad by the door.