Body of Law (Body of Law #1) (4 page)

“Yes,” Roger huffed. “And suggesting his manhood doesn’t work properly—in front of a full courtroom. Very bright.” He sighed and tried again. “At least you got the one you wanted, ah? And, boy, do I see why you wanted her…”

I was glad Roger’s voice trailed off from there. I was even gladder to watch him walk away, unsure how I would respond if he made a lurid comment about my intern.

My
intern. What a concept.

I walked back over and retrieved my briefcase, making a quip to the receptionist about how displeased I was with the situation. Violet didn’t flinch, didn’t react at all. So perhaps she wasn’t as sensitive to criticism as I recalled. Or maybe she was simply oblivious to it? Before I could assess either alternative, she greeted me directly, saying hello with a warm voice and a polite smile.

I told myself to focus and snapped for my mail. Without thinking about it, I handed Violet my briefcase, though I would have been lying if I said I didn’t think twice about the electricity that passed between us when our fingers touched. How did she do that to me? It was almost as if she had done it on purpose. I clutched the mail in my hands—two could play at that game. I glanced down at the first correspondence before throwing it over my shoulder. The only downside to this was that I couldn’t see her face, the shock and annoyance I could practically feel radiating off of her.

Maybe I couldn’t get out of this project. But I sure as hell could get her to quit.

Chapter 4

Sebastian

Despite the wrong directions I gave her, Violet managed to find the coffee vendor? anyway, spilling dribbles of it on herself as she rushed to get it to me.

“Here you go Seba—Mr. Scott.”

I smirked to myself at her hesitation.

At every dinner and holiday her father had forced her to endure with me, I had been Sebastian to her. But now, given our employer/employee relationship, I could feel the uncertainty from her. Seeing that awkwardness I’d remembered was somehow reassuring. But at the same time, if she wanted to be in criminal law, she would have to learn to be less transparent.

I took the coffee from her and reminded myself not to look at her legs. At the rate I was going, however, this mantra alone would not work. I’d have to keep her as far away from my office as possible. “This is cold.”

She looked at me sideways. “You haven’t even tried it yet.”

“My nerves do work, Daisy.” There had to be at least a couple dozen names for women based on flowers. At those rates I wouldn’t have to address her all summer. I waved my hand in her face before snapping my briefcase shut. I had told her I was due in court in 20 minutes, but the truth was, it was closer to an hour. I wanted time to go over her file the way I should have and, with Nicky’s help, I was hopeful. “I can feel the heat—or lack thereof—coming from the cup. Try again. Black, two sugars, and a drinkable temperature.”

“Of course, Mr. Scott. I’m sorry about that.” She glanced at me. “And, um, it’s Violet, by the way.”

I pretended not to hear. “Did you at least manage to hide Morgan’s mail?”

At this, she beamed, her dimples deepening. The sight made my heart race, as if I was waiting for a jury’s verdict— they were beautiful, indeed. But it was interlaced by just how much I enjoyed her smile. I had seen and been with beautiful women before, so why was she so instantly alluring? Was it because she was younger? Because I had watched her grow up? Because she was off limits?

“I did,” she said proudly. “Under the chair cushions in his office.”

In his own office? It was clever, I had to admit, especially for her first day. But what impressed me more was that she continued to smile, though I gave her no praise. Every summer, there was at least one intern who went home crying and another who quit. And while I didn’t agree with some of the crueler and more unusual methods of mentoring, I didn’t understand giving every kid in the class a trophy just for participating. Like small dogs, I had seen my fair share of talentless undergrads who needed to be petted, told how pretty they are, and fed a treat whenever they did something even remotely worthwhile. Violet Donovan being satisfied with herself just made me want to praise her more.

But of course, I didn’t

Instead, I waited like a child on Christmas, counting the seconds until she came back to me. To her credit, she was faster this time, with less coffee spilled, too. But just as she walked through the doorway, I stood up to leave.

“Y-you don’t want your coffee?” She almost sounded disappointed.

“Nope” I reached in my file cabinet for a random case file. Long closed, it was nothing more than a useless piece of paper to me; I still looked at it as though it was gold. “I changed my mind. But while I’m gone, make ten copies of this affidavit.”

I was halfway out the door when her soft, meek voice stopped me.

“Just make some copies? That’s all?”

I shrugged. “Well, it is seven pages long, Rose, and I like my affidavits handwritten. So you’d better get started.”

Chapter 5

Violet

By the end of my first week, my hand was cramped so bad I would have claimed carpel tunnel if I thought anyone would have listened. Worse yet, I knew very well Sebastian didn’t use any of the documents he insisted I write out. Most of the time, he’d throw them right out in front of me, crumbling them up and shooting hoops into the garbage.

I had to admit, though, in a weird way I admired his creativity. Every day he came up with strange and unusual ways to push my buttons, ways to get on my nerves or just plain piss me off. If it wasn’t the way I answered his phone, it was an accusation of not sorting through case files fast enough. And every time I asked to go to court with him, he just laughed—shooting staples or throwing paper clips at me.

By the time Saturday came around, I had never been so grateful for a day off in my life. And, for the first time since I was an undergrad, I slept in, snoozing well past noon and yanking a pillow over my head when the sunlight tried getting me up. All in all, the feat was hopeless, especially once my phone started ringing—a sound difficult to ignore no matter how badly I wanted to dream.

“Hello?”

“Meet me downtown. Grand Avenue.”

The voice of Sebastian Scott erased the grogginess from my head. I cleared my voice and sat up straight. Was it possible I was dreaming? “Mr. Scott? Wh—why are you calling me? How did you even get this number?”

He sighed impatiently. “Reception, obviously.”

Nicky
. I cradled my head in my hand. All week long, she’d kept me from walking into wrong rooms and getting people’s names wrong, easily saving me from embarrassing myself dozens of times. Yet, she was still the head of reception and I should have known that her job came before any potential friendship.

“That backstabbing ginger.”

He laughed. Sebastian actually laughed. It was the first time in our week together that he’d laughed at something I
said
instead of something I
did—
with me instead of at me. And it startled so many memories that I hardly believed I’d heard it. In fact, I didn’t believe it, trying to justify the sound by telling myself that maybe the phone was on speaker and the warm chuckle belonged to someone else.

“Buy the girls in reception wine and spa baskets and they’ll tell you anything you want to know, too.”

I bit my bottom lip. Not only was it the first solid piece of advice he’d given me as my mentor, but it was the first time he had spoken about me in the present tense. By the end of my third day at Gardner, Burkes & Gates, I’d given up on any possibility that he would come to remember me, let alone recommend me for a permanent position.  

“Good to know.”

“Indeed,” he mused. “And if you hurry, I’ll even tell you who drinks what.”

I smiled into the phone. “Sounds like a deal.”

***

I hurried to get dressed, unsure if bra straps from my tank top were acceptable around him, even if it was a weekend. But because I hadn’t done laundry in two weeks, my clothing options were limited: for bottoms, the only clean items I had were a pair of skinny jeans and a shorter pair of shorts I only kept as a last resort. I sighed and glanced outside my apartment window. At midday, the heat of early June was practically radiating from the pavement, inspiring kids to run up and down the sidewalks with water guns and spray bottles, laughing as they chased each other. It was definitely a day for shorter shorts.

I was racing down the third flight of stairs when the fluttering started, a combination of déjà vu and nervousness circling through me like a carousel on high-speed. Unsure and excited, I moved even faster, practically jumping out of my skin to get a cab instead of just trying to catch a bus. Why was I so on edge? So energetic when there was probably nothing but more drudgework ahead of me? As far as I knew, Grand Avenue was in the heart of the shopping district. Sebastian probably wanted me to watch him try on socks, but I was still excited. Did I have some subconscious desire to be tortured? An untouched fetish to be controlled? Who knew? The truth was, I hadn’t explored my sexuality very much, or at least as much as I’d wanted to. A drunken one-night stand and my semi-serious boyfriend in high school didn’t even come close to counting toward exploring…

Of course, it could have just been the taste of nostalgia flavoring my decision, but I was still attracted to Sebastian. He had been the first face I ever saw in my dreams, and for months on end, it had been his hand I’d imagined when I laid in bed at night, using my own.

I knew thinking about him like this again wasn’t wise. As soon as I got home from the office, I had nothing to do but let all my thoughts of him bubble to the surface until they brimmed over. I was forced to satisfy myself if I wanted to even hope to think about anything else. Seeing him as I stepped out of the cab wasn’t going to help me later on. Dressed more casually, he looked different than he did in the office, even different than he did from when he was in college. I stopped dead on the sidewalk and took a moment to drink him in. Wearing an ice-blue button-down rolled just below his elbows, he’d left the first two buttons undone, as if begging me to rip the rest of it open. I crossed and uncrossed my arms. If I wasn’t careful, my body language would give me away.

At the outdoor café where he sat, steam rose from a small coffee cup. He was holding a newspaper but his eyes were hidden by Montblanc aviators, making it impossible to tell if he was actually reading it. The mystery of not being able to see his eyes, of not knowing where he was looking, made him that much sexier. And when I realized it, my feet started moving toward him before I could stop myself.

Sebastian waved me over the moment I was close enough to smell coffee beans. I read the headline on his newspaper before speaking. The last thing I wanted to seem was eager to suck up.

“Okay.” I sighed. “What am I doing here?”

“Well a hello and a happy Saturday to you too, Lily.”

I grounded my teeth together. “Violet.”

“We’re here because you don’t know how to dress yourself and I’m stuck looking at you for the remainder of the summer. So I’m seeking to remedy the problem.”

Sebastian looked me up and down in the fashion I was becoming accustomed to. And though I should have found it degrading, I found it more humorous than anything else. It was as though he was doing it deliberately to annoy me—a schoolboy pulling a girl’s pigtails. I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head.

“And here I thought you might teach me something of significance…”

That look of indifference he normally carried so well turned to one of surprise. “A mouth on you today?” He stood up and grinned. “That won’t make getting rid of my daydreams any easier…” he mumbled but I heard him anyway.

I smiled. How bad was it to flirt with my boss? And how bad was it that I actually wanted to do so much more than that?

“Anyway.” He sighed. “I’ll have you know, learning how to dress for a courtroom is important.”

My eyes rolled before I could stop them. “There’s nothing wrong with the way I dress.”

“Sure, if you were the head of a homeless coalition.”

“I’ll have
you
know I did a lot of volunteering for the homeless coalition when I was in high school.”

“I know.” He grinned. “I
did
read your resume.”

I blanched. Of course he read my resume. How could I think I’d have one up on him?

“Listen.” Sebastian sighed, his eyes rolling from behind his sunglasses. “This is very simple; if you want to be seen with me, you need to look professional.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the way I dress,” I lied, and tried to hide my red cheeks.

He shook his head and chuckled warmly, confirming the laugh I had heard over the phone. “If you dress like a child, you’ll only continue to be treated like a child. Now come along…”

Before I could protest anymore, he opened the door of a small but sophisticated shop and ushered me inside. And though it was only the second time we had touched in the last week, the feel of his hand on my lower back made the flutter evolve from a ripple into a current. As intense as the feeling was, it still wasn’t a sufficient warning for the sensation I began to feel between my legs.

We were barely in the door before a tall blond stepped forward to greet us. Well, to greet Sebastian, anyway.

“Mr. Scott, how nice to see you again!”

“Nadine, always a pleasure.”

His hand left my lower back and, at the same moment, I noticed the way he looked at her. It took all of half a second to see she had been with him and when I did, a bitter taste filled my mouth. I crossed my arms and swallowed the urge to vomit.  

“Nadine?” I wrinkled my nose at the sound of her name.

“Yes, and I leave you in her
very
capable hands.” He tilted his head with a twitch of his eyebrow. “I know this from firsthand experience.”