Unravel Me

Tori St. Claire

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the

author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,

living or dead, is coincidental.

or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact

the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

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Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Edited by Liz Pelletier and Kaleen Harding

Cover design by

Heather Howland

Ebook ISBN 978-1-62266-423-8

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition November 2013

To my sons, who walk beside me in this journey and are the biggest cheerleaders I could ever hope

to have. I love you so very much.

Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Acknowledgements
Author Bio

Chapter One

One drink. Just one drink.

Then Cassandra Blaire could return home and cozy up with case files, like she really needed to be

doing tonight. Instead, she’d let her secretary Stephanie convince her into a blind date with some
friend of her current go-to guy. A pity date, probably, given she’d spent the last three years since her
husband’s death focusing on work and not her social life.

Sure, she went out now and then… Okay more then than now. But she’d done the settling down,

meeting someone else’s needs, for ten years. It was time to see to her own desires, and really the only
desire she had currently was to win this Cooper case so she could alter the successful criminal
practice her husband had built into a family law practice. And that meant preparing to meet the pitbull
opposing counselor tomorrow, not drinking it up with a stranger.

But she’d committed, and she couldn’t back out now. Stephanie would never let her hear the end of

it.

Cassie glanced up at the twinkling Christmas lights strewn across the popular restaurant’s front

entrance. One glass of wine. She could excuse herself after. Besides, the little bit of alcohol might
unwind some of the nerves that kinked the closer her meeting with her legal adversary grew.

She shoved open the car door to a blast of cold winter air, set a black heel on the parking lot’s

asphalt, and climbed out. After shutting the door, she smoothed the short length of her black skirt over
her rear and approached the entry. Loud laughter blended with Christmas carols as she stepped
inside.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the hostess greeted her warmly. “Did you have a reservation?”
Cassie forced a wide smile. “Jefferson. For two?”
The woman ran a manicured nail down her guest book. A crinkle appeared in her brow as she

turned the page. “Jefferson, you said?”

“Um…yes. Eight o’clock.”
The hostess shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see anything listed.”
Cassie blinked. “Are you certain? I’m sure it was here at eight.”
With a sympathetic smile, the young woman nodded. “I’m sure. And I don’t have any available

tables either to fit you in.”

Well, didn’t that just beat everything. She’d been stood up. After supposedly hounding Stephanie

for the set-up, the jerk didn’t even have the courtesy to cancel. It really shouldn’t have bothered her—
after all, she didn’t know the guy—but the rejection still stung. That kind of crap hadn’t happened
since college.

She let out a heavy sigh and scanned the bar area. Logic said she ought to go home, but she was

here now, and her bruised ego definitely could use that glass of wine.

“I’m really sorry,” the hostess said again.

Cassie shook her head. “That’s okay. I’m only going to have a glass of wine at the bar.” She

shrugged out of her coat, looped it over her arm, and struck off toward the crowded alcove, avoiding
looking at the dining room full of couples and the rose-topped tables bathed in candlelight. So much
for a kindling up a holiday romance. Not that she’d really been hoping. But if it had happened,
celebrating with someone would have been nice.

While the crowded dining room wasn’t a surprise, the bar’s elbow-to-elbow crowd was thicker

than she remembered in years past. Maybe it was the significant snow that had descended on the
mountains. For the past month, it seemed like every place in Vail, Colorado brought more tourists
than usual. More single, male tourists, to be specific.

Then again, maybe she’d just been paying more attention. Christmas was in another two weeks, and

it didn’t seem depressing anymore. Her house no longer screamed Chris’s absence every time she
turned out a light. And her big four-poster bed had stopped feeling so damned empty. All it did was
remind her she hadn’t ever wanted the monstrous thing anyway. Though, admittedly, she’d made
peace with the objections now that she could sleep flat out in the middle of the huge mattress.

Oddly enough, she’d realized a lot of those sort of things—she’d done an awfully good job at

compromising what she wanted when she married Chris Blaire. His sudden death had shattered her.
But rebuilding awakened parts of her she hadn’t realized she’d let go of.

Cassie strode to the bar and shouldered between two men in business suits.
“Can I help you, miss?” the bartender asked as he plucked a glass off the shelf and set it under the

beer tap.

“Ah, yes, I’ll take a—”
The feel of warm fingers brushing across her ankle brought her up short. She stumbled a step and

looked down. Two heavenly blue eyes locked with hers. Blond hair tumbled loosely over his
forehead, and as he grinned, an impertinent dimple broke free. She barely registered the square of
plastic beneath her toe that he pointed at with his free hand before his fingers slid a fraction higher,
and electricity shot through her system. Gasping, Cassie grabbed for his shoulders to keep from
toppling over backward.

…

Brad Steele sucked in a sharp breath as the leggy brunette braced her weight on his shoulders. The
sensual fragrance of exotic flowers and citrus assaulted him far more dangerously than the slender
knee that bent just beneath his chin. A few inches more, and he’d be nursing a cracked jaw. What in
the hell had possessed him to grab her ankle, as opposed to merely tapping her on the shoulder?

Her damned legs. He’d taken one look at those long, toned limbs and lost his ability to think. One

need dominated: to touch. The credit card he’d dropped seconds before she appeared at the bar posed
the perfect opportunity.

But the blanket of slender curves now draped around him brought his nose a breath away from her

thigh, and her perfume was playing wicked games with his mind. He cocked his head before sheer

instinct could override common sense and attempted to disentangle himself enough to look her in the
eye. “Sorry. You’re standing on my credit card.”

She regained her balance, pulled that delectable ankle from his fingers, and set her black stiletto

back onto the floor. A soft laugh tumbled off full lips. “You scared the hell out of me.”

His grin deepened as he picked up his credit card and straightened. Luminous tawny eyes met his,

and his gut doubled in on itself all over again. Sweet heaven, where had she come from? One minute
he was sipping a vodka martini, wanting nothing else but a full meal after a long flight. The next, she
appeared out of nowhere.

Not a bad prospect for his first night in town. Veil, Colorado, might just prove interesting. At least

for the short week he’d be here. Snow and warm hot female would make a week of negotiating with
opposing counsel definitely more enjoyable. He eased back into his seat.

“I didn’t mean to. With the noise…” He shrugged. “What are you drinking?”
Her gaze tripped down his body, roving over his dress slacks and shirt, which was rumpled from

several hours on a plane. The slow perusal, followed by the keen interest in her eyes when she met
his gaze again only served to ramp up his rather neglected libido. Yeah, Veil might prove interesting
after all. So much more than he’d expected out of this Midwest tourist trap.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked.
“Is it the suit?” As the man beside him vacated the bar, Brad leaned an elbow on the polished

wood. He crossed an ankle over his knee. “Or the accent?”

Rich and husky, her laughter caressed him like fine velvet. “Definitely the accent. I deal with suits

every day. New York?” She moved into the space in front of him.

At the same time, the man behind her took a backward step, forcing her to twist sideways. The thin

fabric of her black dress brushed Brad’s knuckles. Again, her perfume tickled his nose. He breathed it
in, sifting through the fragrances he knew. Jasmine. He couldn’t define the other aromas, but jasmine
brought him to his knees every time.

“Yeah. Manhattan,” he answered, hoarsely. He cleared his throat, nodded at the bartender, and

asked again, “What are you drinking?”

“A glass of Moscato. So what brings you in town?” Mirroring his position, she set her coat on the

bar and leaned on it. The ankle she crossed over the leg that held her weight put her thigh shockingly
close to fitting between his knees.

Brad checked himself, torn between taking a step back and moving closer. He didn’t really want to

confess work brought him halfway across the country. The last woman he’d casually been with had
latched onto his profession, tracked him down at the Blackson and Goodwell law firm, and made
things quite uncomfortable for a while. Though he wasn’t keen on lies, he didn’t want to experience
that again with an impending promotion to partner on the line. “Just checkin’ out the slopes.”

Good Lord. He was no stranger to women, by any means, but it had been a long damn time since a

few minutes of casual conversation had left him aching to explore curves and softness. But the
tightness in his gut and the sudden strain behind his fly couldn’t be ignored.

A faint frown touched her brow, then quickly cleared. “Oh? How long are you staying?”
This time, when her gaze roamed over his body, the flicker of attraction became unmistakable. And

the interest in her question was impossible to miss. In a heartbeat, he recognized a game of seduction
he knew all too well, and he fell easily into the cadence. He shifted so when he brought his arm up to
gesture at the bartender, his fingertips grazed her elbow.

The way she drew her lower lip between her teeth and indecision puckered her brow, however, set

his system on red alert. If he barreled forward, she’d run. Instead, he backed off and gave her a casual
grin. “I’ll be here through the weekend. Then it’s back to the big city.”

The bartender moseyed to their position, and Brad ordered another martini along with her wine. He

turned back to his stunning companion, picked up her delicate hand, and ran his thumb over her ring
finger. “So, if you’re local, why are you out solo on Valentine’s?”

A tremor ran through her palm, but she didn’t miss a beat. “Better than sitting at home, right?”
Oh, hell yeah. If she’d stayed at home, he wouldn’t be staring into the most compelling light brown

eyes he’d ever seen. For a moment, the stark uniqueness of that chestnut color held him spellbound.
He stared, soaking in the warmth of her hand against his, feeling his breath harden with each passing
second. Her lips parted. Alongside the elegant column of her neck, her pulse beat strong and quick.
Momentary nervousness, however, made her smile waiver, and she once again drew her full lower
lip between her teeth. A vision of that softness beneath his mouth wound Brad’s entire body into a
frustrated knot.

“Cash or plastic?”
The bartender’s voice jerked Brad out of fantasy, and he released her. With his opposite hand, he

passed the man his credit card. “Keep it open.” Turning back to her, he gestured at an open bar table
in the corner. “Join me?”

The hesitation that passed across her face made something foreign inside him twist uncomfortably.

Surely he hadn’t read her wrong. Dear God, don’t let her refuse.

With a slight dip of her chin, she let out a breathy, “Yes.”

Chapter Two

Cassie slid into the seat, scarcely able to believe she’d accepted the handsome blond’s invitation.
She couldn’t really be entertaining the idea of a one night stand with a stranger, could she? This was
not the sort of thing a mature, professional, widowed woman would do. Particularly not with a huge
meeting tomorrow. This kind of spontaneity could only lead to trouble.

But damned if the idea of one wicked night, no holds barred, held excitement. He was hot—no

other description fit. His broad shoulders hinted at college football days and filled out an expensive
suit that had to have been custom-tailored. He exuded an air of assertive confidence. Yet at the same
time, the day-old stubble on his face and the impishness of his dimpled grin spoke of a devil-may-
care attitude. No doubt he knew exactly what he wanted…and exactly how to get it.

Moreover, the way his hungry gaze ate her up sparked primal urges of her own. She’d been craving

that kind of passion for entirely too long. What could it hurt to indulge?

It could hurt a lot of things.
As he moved to stand at her shoulder, he rested one hand casually on the back of her chair. His gaze

skipped down the deep V of her neckline. Cassie ordered her conscience to hush and leaned forward
a smidgeon, knowing the loose fabric would gap and give him a flash of bare skin beneath.

At thirty-one, she was tired of pretending she’d died along with Chris in that skiing accident. She

had needs, and she could fulfill them with a stranger who’d leave town in a few days. A man who
wouldn’t jeopardize her heart again. No commitments, no entanglements, just…fun. Three years had
passed, void of fun.

“So…” Her companion cleared his throat. With effort, he pulled his gaze back to her eyes. “What

do you do?” he asked.

“I’m an attorney.” Cassie flagged the bartender again.
“Really?” He paused a beat, looked at her as if he considered some deep revelation, then added,

“Me, too.” His grin escaped once more. “But let’s keep that between us. Who do you work for?”

Cassie shook her head. “Let’s not go there, shall we?” Even as the cool words slipped free, she

surprised herself by the answer. Lifting her eyebrows, she sucked up her courage and smiled over the
rim of her wineglass. “That’s professional. This…” She took a long, slow sip, then finished, “Isn’t.”

As a slow burn infused her bloodstream, Cassie slid her gaze to her sexy companion. He regarded

her noncommittally, but the flare in his vibrant blue eyes made her throat turn dry. The wry crook of
one corner of his mouth left no doubt in her mind he’d let her glimpse that spark of desire
intentionally. That he was completely aware of how he affected her.

“You know, I heard someone say once that lawyers make the best lovers.” He winked, and she had

a moment’s hesitation. Was she really going to do this? She stared at his full lips for a beat and
realized the truth. A nuclear war wouldn’t stop this from happening.

The discovery sent chills racing over her skin. She squirmed in her seat. At his husky chuckle, heat

touched her cheeks.

His dimpled grin was nearly her undoing. Her heart tripped erratically. At once, the room was too

crowded and much too hot. When she had to sit down with opposing counsel for the entire afternoon
tomorrow, too sleepy to keep her eyes open, she was going to hate herself for following through on
this. But that darned dimple sealed the deal—no way was she going home alone tonight.

A thrill raced down Cassie’s spine..
Yes. I’m doing this.

Brad shifted position in the chair he’d requisitioned when they found the table a half-hour or so ago.
But it was useless—he was so aroused he couldn’t create enough room behind his fly to be remotely
comfortable. The woman was fascinating. Their conversation illustrated she was clearly well-
educated. Assertive. Yet there was a shyness about her that sucked him in each time it peeked through.

No. Not shyness, he countered as she lowered her lashes. Submissiveness. Like there was some

part of her that naturally deferred to him…and he could tell she wasn’t quite sure she wanted it to.

He wasn’t quite sure he wanted it to either. That could be dangerous. The kind of dangerous that

would make her unforgettable. And he had no intentions of getting sidelined by a woman he couldn’t
tuck neatly away into the corner of his mind where pleasant, but altogether uninspiring, memories
resided.

He picked up the bottle of wine and topped her glass off with the last of it. When it was empty, he

fully intended to escalate this little tango to the next level. He leaned in close, tucked his fingers into
her free hand. “You know, you haven’t told me your name yet.”

She shook her head, sending her long silken hair spilling over one shoulder. The curled ends

cupped her left breast. Bare breast, he amended. She’d bent forward often enough he’d realized there
wasn’t a trace of satin or lace beneath.

“I don’t intend to.” She pushed the plate aside casually. “You don’t need to know mine; I don’t

need to know yours.”

Oh, holy hell. If she had any idea how incredibly hot that was, or just how it made his already at-

attention cock harden further, she’d run before he could get his hands on her. No commitments, no
promises he had no intention of keeping. Just raw, carnal pleasure. No prettiness about it.

Yeah. He was swimming in dangerous waters. He couldn’t remember ever being this turned on. But

damn, it made the prospect of tangling the sheets with her that much more enticing.

A perfect arrangement. One his cock was more than eager to satisfy. He fought a grimace as he

shifted his weight to his opposite hip. “I can play by those rules. Have any more I need to know
about?”

“Nope,” she answered simply. Her grin appeared with her next blink, and she dropped her hand to

his knee. Slender fingers traversed his inseam to the base of his thigh. Her voice lowered intimately.
“But I have an offer to propose, counselor.”

“Oh?” The fantastically erotic husky way she addressed him had heat barreling through his veins.
“In exchange for anonymity, there are no masks behind closed doors.”

No masks… It took a moment, but the blatant suggestion that brimmed in her eyes settled around

him fully. No boundaries. No need to keep up appropriate facades. No expectations on behaviors.

Sweet angels above, he’d died and gone to heaven. It was like she’d ripped a page right out of his

personal book of fantasies. One night where he could let down everything. Sure, he’d had more than
his fair share of memorable sex. But there were…rules of engagement. Certain delicacies that most
women expected.

Yet this one, this strange combination of confidence and hesitation, didn’t want any of those

expectations. She’d just given him a blank check and demanded he take it to the bank.

He dropped his hand to her wandering fingers, catching them a hairsbreadth from the swollen length

of his cock. Bending his head toward hers, he brushed his lips across her cheek and whispered, “My
hotel’s fifteen minutes away. I’ll call a cab.”

Her fingers laced with his. She turned her face to his, her mouth a breath away. God, how he

wanted to taste her.

“I have a car. My house is closer.”
When he quirked an eyebrow, surprised by the invitation into her home, she pulled away with a

light laugh. “And I have neighbors who will come to my rescue if I scream.”

Ah. Okay then. Brad grinned. The faster he could get his hands on her, the better.
Forcing himself to not leap to his feet, he slid out of his seat and motioned for the bartender. His

heart beat a strangely uneven cadence as she rose and slid into her coat. He hadn’t been this keyed up
since high school. But between the two martinis, the restaurant’s intimate atmosphere, and that
damned jasmine perfume, all he could think about was sliding his hands over those never-ending legs
and sampling those bare breasts with his mouth.

The bartender brought him his credit slips, and Brad quickly signed his name on one. The other he

stuffed into his wallet. Fastening her hand in his, he escorted her from the bar toward the front door.

He had just cracked it open when the hostess called out, “Oh, wait!”
Biting back a mutter, Brad glanced over his shoulder to find the young woman hustling after them, a

long-stemmed red rose in her hand. “You forgot this. It’s complimentary for our guests tonight.”

Brad glanced at the rose, hesitating for a moment before he accepted the blood-red bud. In thirty-

five years, he had never once given a woman flowers, except his mother. Come to think of it, he’d
made it a point to never put himself in a place where he’d had to acknowledge the holidays. He was
devoutly single. Work demanded too much of his time, and frankly, he’d never really found domestic
life appealing.

His date’s attention drifted to the flower. What the hell—there were always firsts. He passed the

rose to his companion without production. One rose couldn’t harm much, considering he didn’t even
know her name. It was about as romantic as those corny hearts drizzled across their dessert.

Her smile as she accepted the rose, however, nearly knocked him to his knees. His gut cinched, and

his breath lodged like someone had wrapped steel bands around his ribs.

In that moment, he would have sold his soul for the price of her name.

Chapter Three

As Cassie hit the remote to unlock her Cherokee and reached for the door, strong masculine fingers
wrapped around her wrist. A gentle pull drew her to a halt, and she slowly turned to face her
companion. His step forward forced her to take a step back. His body followed hers, and he braced
one arm on the doorframe, caging her between hard planes of muscle and the cold unyielding steel of
her vehicle. His body hovered near hers, his expensive suit pants barely brushing her knee. But oh
how she felt his heat. It radiated into her, calling to her hands, begging her fingers to slide around his
neck and draw him closer.

His darkly sensual expression sent chills rushing down to her toes. He bent closer, whispering his

lips across her temple. “I’ll drive.”

Her breath caught audibly. Drawn to the temptation of his mouth, her chin tipped up. Her lips parted

of their own accord. A bit of logic filtered through the sudden haze of sexual awareness that clouded
the rest of her thoughts. “You don’t know where you’re going.”

Somehow, he’d wrestled the keys from her grip. They jangled in the quiet as he lifted his hand and

drew the key fob slowly down her neckline, between the upper valley of her breasts. His voice was
hoarse as he murmured, “I like to drive, sweetheart.” Taunting her with an undefined promise, he
grazed his lips closer to her ear.

Part of her objected to that remark. But a deeper, untapped portion of her buried spirit surged past

barriers she’d erected too many years ago. That neglected fragment latched on, creating vivid, erotic
images of the many alternate meanings his simple comment could hold.

She pressed her hand to the sexy stranger’s chest to keep her knees from buckling. Her body

swayed into his, but as if he had anticipated her weakening, he edged ever-so-slightly away, denying
the satisfaction of contact. Her nails curled; his linen shirt bunched into her palm.

He feathered his lips across hers, then with a maddeningly wicked grin, stepped back. “Let’s go.”
Struggling to swallow, Cassie managed a short nod. As she turned, his palm connected with her

bottom. The playful swat could hardly be called more than a pat, but heat spread slowly through her
veins. She refused to rub the offended spot and hurried around the fender to climb into her side of the
car.

He’d already started the engine when she slid inside the Jeep. She laid her flower on the dash.

“Take a left out of the lot, then a right six blocks down. Up the hill, second house on the right.”

He nodded and backed out of the lot. Turning onto the main street, his hand fell to her thigh. His

fingers crept beneath the hem of her short dress. The contact was too much for her over-sensitized
brain, and she clapped her hand on top of his.

He drew his hand back. “Everything okay?”
“Yes.” Nothing was wrong. But if those fingertips glided any higher, she’d crumble apart. All she

wanted to do was part her knees, lean back, and let him ease the ache between her legs. And while

she was more than willing to go through with this, she didn’t want him to know just how easily he
affected her. A tiny bit of wonder might do him good.

He kept his gaze on the road, turning at the stoplight. But his continued silence as they climbed the

tree-laden hill, warned her she needed to do something quick, if she intended to convince him she was
really okay with their agreement. Yet what could she say? Sorry, you just overwhelm me? Not
hardly.

He glanced her way. “It’s okay to change your mind. I’m not going to go all psychotic on you. I’ll

turn around and we can go our separate ways. No hard feelings, no objections.”

Cassie reached for his hand. “I’m all right. I promise.” To emphasize her words, she pressed his

palm to her thigh once more.

He blew out a tight breath then flashed a dimpled grin. “Is this permission?”
The laughter in his voice left her grinning in return. She nodded. “Indulge as you wish.”
“Believe me, I intend to.” His fingers nudged the sheer fabric out of his way as they climbed higher.

Slowly, maddeningly, he scalded a path to the crease of her hip.

Oh, sweet, sweet heaven. Everything inside her began to tingle. She bit down on her lower lip to

silence a bubbling moan and closed her eyes.

And then he stopped. Not dipping down to glide beneath the edge of her panties and stroke her

damp flesh. Not trailing back to her knee. He merely drew his finger back and forth through the crease
where her leg bent. Goading her. Teasing until it became a physical impossibility to sit still.

With a frustrated whimper, Cassie shifted in the seat.
For a moment, she questioned her sanity. This man knew his way around women. Obviously

understood the art of pleasure. And there was no doubting that he intended to maintain the upper hand.
She’d wanted a bit of dominance. Wanted to stop thinking when it came to sex and let a man hold the
reins.

But now that she was getting a taste of what it felt like to lose her control, she wasn’t entirely

certain the experience wouldn’t have ever-lasting effects. Ten minutes alone with him, and he already
had her wanting to beg for more.

…

Brad nosed into her driveway, cut the engine, and passed her the keys. He waited for her to exit the
Cherokee first. When her door shut, he drew in a very necessary deep breath. If he didn’t watch
himself, he’d spiral into reckless abandon. And frankly, though they’d part as strangers, he wanted her
to remember tonight. To remember him.

But she was so damned alluring she made focusing on keeping his libido in check almost

impossible. He just wanted to sink home and forget himself for a while.

When she set a foot on the bottom step of her lighted front porch and glanced back at the car, Brad

stepped outside. The cold February air washed across his face, helping to temper the heat in his
bloodstream. He took a moment to breathe and found himself confronted by her house. Brad blinked.

The stone façade blended into thick trees, disguising its immense size. Two stories, and easily a good
6,000 square feet judging from the lights he could see deeper in the snow-tipped branches. Tall
picture windows overlooked the sleepy street, the warm inviting light within adding ambience to
what was already a picturesque getaway. This virtual mansion put his 18

story, Manhattan apartment

to shame.

His gaze crept back to where the owner stood, seeing her in a new light. She might just be the only

woman he’d ever slept with who couldn’t benefit from his money. But how had she managed to afford
this hulking monstrosity? His paycheck was no small beans, but she had to be bringing in an easy
million a year to afford this luxury.

“This is gorgeous,” he murmured as he joined her on the front porch step.
She chuckled and shrugged delicate shoulders. “Thanks.” Her keys jangled as she slid them into the

lock. “It helps to have in-laws that are builders.”

“In-laws?” He frowned. This ended here and now if she was married. His mom had stepped-out on

his dad, and he would have nothing to do with cheating.

A faint, far-away expression touched her pretty, chestnut eyes before she put her shoulder against

the door and opened it. “My husband died three years ago. Skiing accident.”

“Oh.” The minute the word left his mouth, he mentally kicked himself. So not the appropriate

response. “I’m sorry.” Damn it. Bringing up dead husbands was a sure-fire way to put a damper on
desire. From the look on her face as she dropped the rose into an empty vase on the nearby table, she
didn’t care for the subject either.

Brad stepped inside and shut the door, no longer interested in inspecting the fantastic architecture.

He caught her by the hand, tugged her around to face him. Setting two fingers under her chin, he tipped
her face to his. “Are you absolutely sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yeah.” Her smile struggled but finally broke free. “More than okay.”
Thank the saints above. He’d never forgive himself if he ruined this now. The car had been

awkward enough and already had him second-guessing for a moment. Presently, he intended to make
damn sure that deceased husband was the last thing on her mind. Sliding one hand to the slope of her
hip, he stepped in closer. “I’m dying to kiss you,” he murmured.

Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I wish you would.”
Brad swept his thumb across her lower lip, aching to feel that softness beneath his mouth. But

before he gave in to the temptation, he wanted her like she was in the car—a heartbeat away from
asking for his touch and squirming for relief. “You’ll have to wait a little longer.” He curled his
fingers at her waist, drawing her dress into his hands, easing it up her amazing thighs. “Let me know
when you can’t take it anymore.”

A shiver rolled through her body. Long lashes dusted her cheekbones as she closed her eyes and

nodded. If he thought he could pull himself back once he gave in and sampled her sweet flavor, he’d
kiss her right now when she least expected it and put an end to his own torture. But a nagging voice in
the back of his mind warned once he went down that path, once he made intimate contact, he’d

tailspin out of control.

Instead, he leaned away from her graceful curves and focused on gathering her dress into his hands.

He exposed her shapely legs inch-by-inch, mesmerized by her smooth, olive-toned skin. When he
uncovered black lace panties, his gut hollowed out. He didn’t need to touch to know she was
completely shaved beneath. And that flimsy scrap of lace did nothing to hide the evidence of her
arousal that glistened at the inlet of her thighs.

Gritting his teeth against the straining of his cock, he roughly instructed, “Raise your arms.”
She complied without hesitation, and he jerked the dress over her head. It tumbled out of his hands

to land at his feet. Brad stared, momentarily incapable of thought. She stood before him wearing black
stilettos, matching panties, and nothing else. Her breasts were only large enough to fit his palm, but
they were pert and full. Rosy nipples stood at attention, hard little buds he couldn’t wait to feel
against his tongue.

And he had no intention of waiting.
As thought slowly returned, he bent and drew one into his mouth. Her back arched, and she let out a

moan that threatened to undo him. Closing his eyes, he swirled the nub around his tongue, suckled just
enough to bring her forward onto her toes. When her fingers latched onto his shoulders and her nails
pricked through his shirt, he couldn’t contain a satisfied groan.

That’s it, baby. Let me take you there.
He fitted his hand at the small of her back and held her steady, taking time with her breast, leading

her into the fire that scorched through his bloodstream. He wanted her to fall apart in his hands. But
the sexy little sounds that rumbled in her throat were picking away at his resolve. Before they could
burrow beneath his skin and do damage, he let her nipple slide off his lips.

Straightening, he exchanged his mouth for his hand and cupped the weighty softness of her breast.

Her eyelashes lifted. Wide, wondrous eyes held his. Eyes a man could get lost in if he looked too
long.

Brad nuzzled the side of her neck. Ran his tongue over the bounding vein alongside her throat. She

shuddered, and her head tipped backward, spilling her glorious hair over his fingers at the small of
her back. He slid his hand up her spine and through those long silken lengths. Tilting her head to the
side, he grazed his teeth across her dainty earlobe. “I bet you taste like chocolate,” he whispered.

Her quiet whimper tightened his body into hewn steel.
“Sweet like the wine tonight.” He took her nipple between thumb and forefinger and gave it a slight

twist. The gasp she let out ricocheted through him. To hell with waiting—if she wasn’t going to ask,
he’d take matters into his own hands. He tugged on her hair, tipped her face to his. “Kiss me,
sweetheart.”

The feathery brush of her lips snapped through him like a live current. He willed himself to remain

still, waited for the parting of her lips, the hesitant stroke of her tongue. It was everything he could do
to not crumple her close and savage that pretty mouth, though God knew he wanted to. He counted
backward from ten, then twenty, giving her time to get comfortable with him. Then, he surrendered to

the wild need that gnawed at his gut. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he dragged her body flush
with his and took control of the kiss.

Her hands skimmed up his chest and her nails scraped his scalp. A throaty groan rumbled between

them, but Brad didn’t know who made the sound. He dropped his hand to her bottom, squeezing as his
hips thrust forward. She ground against his swollen cock. A shock of ecstasy surged down his spine.

Fuck—he was in trouble. He’d known he would be, but he hadn’t anticipated anything quite like

this. Hadn’t expected that one kiss would leave him wanting to shove her against the wall, wrap her
ankles around his waist, and sink inside her with abandon. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time
he’d experienced true abandon. His past relationships were too mired in conflicting needs and
desires. But this woman…good God, he’d never encountered a connection like this.

Brad tore his mouth from hers in desperate need of a measure of distance.
“Tell me,” she managed between gasps.
He chuckled. “Sweetheart, you’re doing everything just right.”
“No.” She shook her head, her voice clearer. “Tell me.”
Oh, holy crap—he couldn’t possibly be interpreting that correctly. Not that he had any objections.

Truth to tell, the last woman who had satisfied his darker need of domination had been in college. He
just wasn’t entirely certain this woman, this successful woman who knew how to take care of herself,
really knew what she was asking. Likely this was some temporary fascination that she’d run from
once it became uncomfortable.

There was only one way to find out—test the water with something relatively non-threatening. He

trailed a fingertip down her breast and flicked her nipple with his thumb. Inclining his head toward
the wide window behind them, he suggested, “Let’s move this somewhere else, first.”

“My room’s upstairs.”
Brad clasped her by the hand, led her up the polished pine staircase, and arched an eyebrow on the

landing.

“Left. Right side of the hall.”
There was one door, and he escorted her inside. He closed it behind them with a nudge of his heel.

As he unbuttoned his shirt, he nodded at a large, four poster bed positioned across from a stone
fireplace. She went without instruction, turned the heavy quilt down, toed-off her heels, and sat on the
edge of the mattress.

He tossed his shirt on the footboard. Soft down compressed as he set a knee on the bed. Leaning

into her, he guided her to the pillows with the weight of his body. When she was completely supine,
her hair spilling out around her shoulders, he straddled her thighs. Those wide compelling eyes held
his, no hesitation flickering in their depths. Maybe she did know precisely what she’d meant.

Still, he couldn’t be certain. Asking her to take them away from prying eyes wasn’t exactly like

asking her to yield to a total stranger’s desires.

Cupping her breasts, he manipulated her distended nipples with his thumbs until her lashes fluttered

and she arched her back. Those damnable teeth sunk into her lower lip again as she fought to stay

silent.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured thickly. “I want your hands here.” He gave her breasts a gentle

squeeze.

She didn’t flinch as she formed her fingers around his and lifted them into her hands.
At the sight of her soft flesh giving beneath the caress of her hands, Brad bit back a groan. Good

God, he wasn’t just in trouble. This beautiful, compliant woman would wreck him before the night
was through. He didn’t need this. Couldn’t confront discovering someone who could satisfy cravings
he kept buried when he lived half a continent away and his dreams of partnership were in sight. If he
had any sense at all, he’d kiss her soundly and excuse himself from the night before he became
wrapped up in something that couldn’t go anywhere. Hell, he didn’t even know her name. And she
had no intention of sharing it.

But God help him, he couldn’t stop. It had been too long. He’d suffocated his needs for too many

years. Pushed them into a dark corner where he meant to forget them.

Beckoned by a force stronger than his will, he slid down her body and dipped the tip of his tongue

into her navel. His hands crept to her hips to shimmy her panties down her thighs.

Chapter Four

In ten years of marriage, Cassie had done everything right. She’d played by the rules, become a strong
independent woman and a dedicated partner in the law practice she and her husband built straight out
of college, he specializing in criminal law, while she focused on family. She’d been a loving wife.

But not once had she ever known passion. Not until this moment, as one sent-from-heaven stranger

instructed her to fondle her breasts, and she’d witnessed the gleam of white-hot desire burning in his
vivid blue eyes. That ignited fire flared into her, unlocking doors she’d barred, fantasies she’d
forgotten, and a yearning to please him that satisfied her own longing to surrender to a man’s will.

He fastened his hands at her hips, pinned her legs in place with his body. His gaze met hers,

darkened by arousal. “Ground rules,” he murmured huskily.

Cassie nodded, fighting back the urge to shift her hips, to lift them closer to the breath that

whispered across her swollen feminine flesh.

His devilish grin returned as he shifted his weight to one elbow and traced a fingertip over her

mound. “It’s okay to ask, but I won’t guarantee I’ll comply.”

She swallowed to clear the cobwebs from her throat. “Anything…else?”
A slight frown touched his forehead. “Have you submitted before?”
“Not…really.” Ugh, this was not the sort of conversation she wanted to have at this moment.
He dipped his mouth and pressed a chaste kiss to the juncture of her thigh. When he lifted his head,

he arched an eyebrow. “You said no masks.”

“I did.”
“Then this is me, unmasked.” He paused to trace the sensitive skin with the tip of his tongue. “I’ll

try to take it easy on you.”

A shiver snaked down her spine, and she could only manage another weak nod. This was what she

wanted. No play-acting, no temporary roles. And she could surrender to him. Because he didn’t know
who she was, because she didn’t need to be the confident, always-in-control woman that her
profession demanded. Because he posed no threat, and she couldn’t become attached enough to
sacrifice her own desires when he’d be gone at dawn.

For one night she could revel in the freedom of being nothing but a woman.
“Flatten your feet,” he murmured as he bent one knee until her foot pressed into the mattress.
She slid the other into place.
“Part your knees, and don’t forget about your hands. I don’t want to have to remind you again,

beautiful.”

Oh damn—he expected her to remain coherent enough to keep her fingers in motion, when she knew

that heavenly mouth was about to descend upon her needy flesh? With another hard swallow to pull
her thoughts back into line, Cassie lifted her breasts into her hands and stimulated her nipples.
Closing her eyes, she allowed pleasure to seep into her bloodstream.

“That’s the way. Just like that.” His breath scalded across her exposed center, sending chill after

blissful chill shooting through her veins. With two fingers he parted her folds. His hair tickled the
inside of her thighs as he bent his head. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

Dutifully, she lifted her lashes. His fathomless blue eyes locked with hers. Holding her gaze, he

dipped his chin and slowly swept the tip of his tongue from her opening to her clitoris. A strangled
gasp escaped. Her knees threatened to lock together, to hold him in place, but somehow she found the
strength to keep them apart. As his gaze dropped to her breasts, scolding glinting briefly, she gave
them a squeeze. Approval came with his short nod.

“Good girl.” He brought his free hand across her abdomen and swirled his index finger over the

hard nub between her legs. “You’re going to come, sweetheart. And then I’m going to lose these pants
and slide deep inside you.”

She barely had time to process his words before he raked his tongue across her soaked flesh again.

He lingered at her clitoris, replacing that masterful finger with a slow swirl, a gentle suckle. Her
body arched into the heat of his mouth, and she let out a low moan.

“Because if I don’t come soon myself, I’m going to crack into pieces.”
There was something fantastically erotic about his confession that gripped Cassie with such force,

she writhed beneath him. Each word he uttered pried off another layer of the walls she’d built around
her soul. Like somehow he’d connected with her mind, and knew exactly what she needed, exactly
what it would take to send her off like a fire-cracker.

His mouth fastened on her again, his teeth scraping against her clitoris. Hard enough that she

squirmed, but miles away from pain. And those amazing eyes never left her face, silently forbidding
her to look away or escape from the riot of sensation behind lowered lashes. Heat washed over her
body, lifting her higher, raising her up to a dangerous precipice. In between the ebb and swell, she
remembered his instructions and massaged her breasts, toyed with her nipples, adding to the rising
ecstasy.

She arched against his mouth, opened hers legs further. “Please…” she murmured.
The ache only deepened as he ignored her plea and added weight to the arm across her abdomen.

Holding her to the bed, he tongued her again.

It was too much. The mesmerizing quality of his heated gaze and the taunt of her own hands

threatened to suck her under and eradicate her ability to move. Her stomach clamped down hard, and
she twisted her head to the side, breaking eye contact. She dragged in one ragged breath after another.

“You’re not looking at me, beautiful.”
Cassie gave in to a plaintive whimper. “I…can’t…”
“You can.”
His voice held a note of warning she didn’t dare ignore. She forced her gaze back to his, unwilling

to test those waters just yet. She wanted to please him. Liked knowing he found pleasure in watching
her. But it was so damned difficult to think like this. To remember how to do anything but drag in
gulps of air.

“Don’t look away again.”
She opened her mouth to assure him she wouldn’t, but as her lips parted he slid a thick finger inside

her. Her womb contracted around that invasive digit, and satisfaction lit his eyes. She fought the
surrender. Battled to maintain his heavy-lidded stare and plucked at her nipples.

“Now, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Let go now.”
Before he had finished the quiet demand, she was already cresting. When he encircled her clitoris

with his tongue once more, a cry tore from her throat, and her entire body curled forward. Dark spots
stole across her consciousness. No longer in control of her own actions, she fisted her hands into the
sheets and trembled against his beautiful mouth.

…

Brad bit back oaths as his body threatened to follow hers into orgasm. He’d wanted to watch her
release, but in a hundred years he hadn’t imagined it would be so forceful. Had he known, he’d have
thought better of the idea.

He breathed through flared nostrils, bowed his head, and beat his willful body into submission.

When the throbbing in his cock ebbed, he withdrew his finger from her wet flesh and made quick
work of his trousers. As he angled his arm to toss them aside, he remembered condoms. Muttering
another oath, he fished out his wallet, plucked out the packet within, and ripped it open. His breath
came racing out in a hiss as he drew the condom over his jutting erection, the pressure of his own
hand enough to send pleasure burning down his spine once more.

Damn—she’d really done a number on him. His shoulders shook as he waited for the rush of

ecstasy to fade before he turned to her once more. One glimpse of the sated softness in her expression
had his gut cinched into knots. She really was beautiful. More so than he’d even initially considered.
Natural, not the high-maintenance, modern, city women he was accustomed to. He couldn’t even tell if
she wore makeup or not.

And God, he was dying to kiss her again.
Following sheer instinct, he moved over her long lean body and lowered his mouth to hers. Gone

was the feral abandon she’d given him earlier, replaced now by a sweet languor that allowed him to
savor her rich flavor. He breathed in the intoxicating aroma of her jasmine perfume, and in a rare
self-treat, allowed her to sink into his full awareness.

The feel of her satiny skin beneath his comforted a different ache, one he couldn’t recall

encountering before. The way her arms looped around his neck, holding him in place, was a
perfection of its own. But all that closeness only cranked the burgeoning need in his veins up another
degree. His cock twitched against her inner thigh.

Brad lifted to his elbows, took himself in one hand, and aligned his erection with her wet center.

With a prolonged thrust, he slid deep within her heated flesh. He closed his eyes on a hoarse groan.

“Mm,” she murmured as she lifted her hips, taking him even deeper.
“God, you feel good,” he whispered through a closing throat. He shifted his hips, pulled back a

fraction. “So damned good.” Unable to resist the call of her heat, he withdrew and eased into her
slick sheath again.

She answered his thrust with a lazy undulation of her hips. Though her movements lacked her

earlier abandon, the catch of her breath and the spark in her voluminous gaze told him it wasn’t for
lack of interest. She was merely enjoying herself. Taking time to savor the new sensation.

And oh, how he wanted to let her. But that was out of the question right now. Later he’d let her have

all the time she wanted. He was unraveling by the second, and he’d be damned if he pounded his way
to bliss before she was ready to join him. He bent his head, closed his lips around her nipple, and
slipped his hand between their bodies to stroke her clitoris.

Her body’s eager response shouldn’t have surprised him. But the instantaneous clench of her womb

around his cock caught him off guard. He stilled, a heartbeat away from spilling himself, sucking in
one gasp of air after another.

Gradually, he regained enough of his senses to retract his hips and push in deep again. She met his

thrust with a hard press of her own hips. He didn’t scold her for pushing him on. He’d deal with that
later also. At the moment, it felt too damned gratifying. He was so ready he’d swear he would
explode through the top of his head.

He pulled his fingers free, braced his weight on his hands, and increased his tempo. Driving harder,

shortening his thrust. Delighting in the jagged gasps that tumbled off her lips.

Ecstasy built in the base of his spine, spread slowly through his abdomen. He felt her flesh grip.

Recognized the tightening of her legs against his thighs. Almost there. Almost to the same point of—
her womb crimped around him again, and a whimper bubbled free.

“Now, sweetheart…” he gritted out through clenched teeth. Aw, hell, he couldn’t hang on. “Fuck…

Now.”

With one hard drive, he thrust in high to stroke her sweet spot. Her nails scored into his shoulders

as release claimed her once again. The quiet cry that slipped from her lips slammed him into
oblivion. Distantly, he recognized the sound of his hoarse shout. Felt the strength leave his arms. He
sank into her, lost to perfect pleasure.

Time stood still as his cock pulsed in time with the clench of her flesh. Sound filtered through the

haze of thought-numbing orgasm. Feeling drifted back into his arms, and he lifted his forehead off her
shoulder. Her face tipped toward his. When she smiled, his heart skipped several dozen beats.

Not wanting to consider that strange, erratic cadence behind his ribs, he captured her mouth in a

gentle kiss.

She was still smiling when he lifted his head. And his heart once again skittered unexplainably.
Brad eased into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. Frowning, he removed the condom,

tied it off, and dropped it in the nearby trashcan. She’d wrecked him, all right—he was having
palpations for God’s sake. He’d have to check that out when he returned to New York. Sure, he’d
slacked off with his routine at the gym lately, but he couldn’t be that out of shape.

“You’re not…leaving are you?” she asked quietly.

That was enough to snap him out of his thoughts. He turned back to her, sank into the mattress, and

gathered her into his arms. Her head came to rest on his chest. “Not hardly. I told you I’d go easy on
you. At first.” Smoothing a hand down her long hair, he nuzzled the crown of her head with his cheek.
“Get some rest, beautiful. I’m far from done with you tonight.”

Chapter Five

An unending, nerve-grating buzz dragged Brad from exhausted slumber. He cracked one eye open to
unfamiliar scenery and lay unmoving in total disorientation. Thick, rough-hewn timbers rose from the
corners of the softest bed imaginable. Light peeked through heavy blinds, dull and grey, not quite full
sun. The scent of jasmine filled his nose.

Jasmine.
Memories snapped into place. The sexy brunette writhing beneath him. Kneeling on the edge of the

monstrous bed as she answered his gruff instruction to lock lush lips around his heavy erection. The
endearing way her wide eyes filled with not just her own pleasure, but a beguiling desire to fulfill his
and a gut-wrenching dose of innocent trust.

Groaning, Brad connected the aggravating buzz with the cell phone he’d thrown on the nightstand

and rolled over to shut the damned thing off. He was in Colorado, not New York. He’d just spent the
single most amazing night of his life with a beautiful stranger.

Now he faced an entire day locked in a conference room, battling custody arrangements with the

rigid, no-nonsense Cassandra Blaire, Esquire. On little more than two hours sleep. In all his years of
practicing family law, he’d never even heard her name until this case landed in his lap. He quickly
learned despite her lack of recognition, the woman was ice, and meticulously devoted to detail. He’d
spent more time fighting with her via email and fax than many of his other opponents, and out of
frustration demanded a week of face-to-face negotiating. After last night, he sincerely regretted that
decision. Nothing sounded less appealing. Not to mention, finding his brain on a serious lack of sleep
would be an impossible chore.

Sighing, he forced himself upright and swung his legs off the edge of the bed. As he stared at the

carpeting, blinking through the burn in his eyes, a hearty aroma drifted to his nose. It occurred to him
then, the bedroom was otherwise empty. His nighttime companion had already fled this magnificent
bed.

Was she…cooking?
The idea piqued his curiosity enough to overcome his leaden limbs and bring him to his feet. He

struggled into his trousers, slid his arms through his shirt, but left it unbuttoned, and ran a hand through
his hair, then rubbed at his eyes. He knew no woman who dragged herself out of bed and did anything
more than stop at Starbucks for breakfast. Hell, breakfast wasn’t even part of his vocabulary anymore.
Coffee, yeah—and he’d trade an entire month’s salary for a steaming mug right about now. But real
food?

Good grief, now that he thought about it, aside from his mother, no woman had ever cooked for him,

be that breakfast, dinner, or anything in between.

He stumbled into the hall and followed his nose. The aromas intensified, triggering memories of

childhood and bacon and eggs with pancakes on Saturday mornings. A strange warmth lighted

somewhere behind his ribs, spreading with each step he took.

When he reached the kitchen, that unexplainable warmth became stifling. Her back to him, she did,

indeed, hover over the stove. She wore a comfortable, sage green, terry cloth robe that was anything
but sexy, but somehow managed to flag his cock to half-mast attention. That uninspired garment fit
her. Not just size, shape, and all the technical ways. But the woman he’d discovered beneath a classy
dress and four-inch heels. She possessed a quaintness he found compelling. A simplicity that set her
above the polished, career-driven women he encountered on the New York streets and within
crowded Manhattan courtrooms.

Dragging his eyes away from her, he glanced at her home. Bare timber adorned high ceilings so

artfully he couldn’t tell if they were decorative or part of the house’s framework. Warm colors bathed
the walls, and the earthen-tone furniture added another layer of mountain appeal. Part country, part
crisp modern design. Comfortable from every glass-front bookcase to every woven area rug. Granted,
he’d only glimpsed a small portion of the sprawling home, but it didn’t take much to recognize her
style would span corner-to-corner.

Domestic in every sense of the word.
He swung his attention back to her and the open kitchen she occupied. She was cooking for him. He

cleared his throat as it began to tighten.

She looked over her shoulder with a smile that twisted him up inside. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” he managed through his bewilderment, and stumbled up to the granite-topped counter.
“I have to leave for work here in a little bit, but I thought you might be hungry.” She let out a soft

laugh. “I know I am, after last night.”

“Yeah.” A lazy grin worked its way free. “You were the only thing on my menu.”
The faint color that touched her cheeks fascinated him. She’d let him explore every inch of her

delectable curves. Willingly submitted to his need to control her pleasure. Offered herself, even.
Now she was shy?

Suddenly, not knowing her name was unacceptable.
But damn, if he asked, he’d look soft. Like he was more attached than one night should reasonably

make him. Why did she matter so much?

Brad didn’t like the answer that crept through his thoughts. Because no woman had ever connected

with him like she had last night. No one had opened themselves the way this breathtaking brunette
had.

No one had tried.
“Have a seat. I’m almost finished.” She gestured at the counter where two stoneware mugs sat

beside a gurgling coffee pot. “Coffee’s done. Do you want cream or sugar?”

Still struggling through a fog he couldn’t logic, Brad shook his head and mumbled, “Black’s good.”

What on earth was the matter with him? He’d had incredible sex. This was coffee, eggs, bacon. He
was leaving in a few minutes, and he’d never see her again. Her name shouldn’t make a damn bit of
difference at this point.

Before he could push his thoughts into line and move to the coffee pot, she was already setting two

mugs at the table. He managed to collect himself enough to make it to his seat, but sat heavily,
absently frowning as he stared out the window at the snow-covered trees. Uncomfortably, he realized
it wasn’t so much that he wanted to know her name, but that he wanted her to know his.

Fuck. What the hell did that mean?
“You okay?” she asked as she pulled out the chair beside him.
It meant he needed more sleep. Grumbling inwardly, Brad shoved his disjointed thoughts aside and

grinned. “Just exhausted.”

“Yeah, me too.” She cradled her coffee in both hands, took a long drink, then her eyes crinkled

behind the rim of her mug. “Last night was amazing.”

Brad chuckled. “You can say that again.” He glanced down to find a plate in front of him.

Momentarily caught off-guard, he blinked. Once more, the full reality of morning hit him in the gut.

They sat at her table, in front of a picturesque landscape, as sunrise lighted the hills with color.

Another hour later, he could have easily had the stock report in his hand, perusing it while he psyched
himself up for work.

Holy hell this was the living picture of domesticity.
He gulped down that thought, and the tightness behind his ribs eased. “Thank you.” Picking up a

strip of crisp bacon, he paused a moment, then met her gaze. “For everything.”

Her eyes twinkled with her sultry smile. “Thank you.”
Once more his gut doubled inward. He popped the bacon into his mouth, determined to write the

whole oddness off as a combination of jet lag and mind-boggling sex. In another hour, after he’d
returned to his hotel room and showered, everything would be back to normal.

…

Cassie ruffled a towel through her hair and hastily swiped on a touch of mascara. The last thing she
needed was to be late today. She’d studied family law in school, but the bulk of her practice’s
success came from Chris’s reputation in criminal matters, and most of her time was spent helping him
or picking up the lesser, more minor cases.

Her opportunities at family law were limited to the very basic cases. But last year, she decided to

put her skills to use, follow her passion, and grow into a specialized family law practice. The high-
profile Cooper case was her opportunity to make that dream a reality. Jennifer Cooper was well
known—and well-loved—in Boulder.

If Cassie managed to prevent Jennifer’s little girl from being swept away to New York and came

out on top, Cassie would make a name for herself. Brad Steele, however, had a reputation for eating
attorneys alive. Being rushed and flustered when she arrived for their meeting wouldn’t make it easy
to gain the upper hand.

She hurried out of her bathroom, gave her crisp black pencil skirt a quick tug, and slid into a pair of

sensible black heels. Nothing overt. Strict, by the rules, professionalism. She didn’t intend to have a

New York hotshot thinking he could push her around.

Her quick steps faltered as the man who’d possessed her body and soul all through the night

appeared in her path. He lounged one shoulder against her front door. He’d buttoned his shirt, but his
hair was still rumpled. The wrinkles in his expensive suit pants brought all their love-play to the
forefront of her mind, and that adorable dimple made her belly flutter. The things she’d let him do to
her…

The things she’d wanted to surrender to…
He straightened as she descended the stairs. His warm grin devastated her rankled composure. She

tripped on the bottom tread and hurtled precariously forward.

His strong hand caught her at by the elbow, breaking her fall. “Easy there, beautiful. Your neck’s

too pretty to break.” Drawing her against his body, he brought her to steady feet and grazed his lips
over the sensitive spot beneath her ear.

Every strong hard inch of him enveloped her. In one beat of her heart, warmth infused her system.

Sheer instinct tipped her head, and she gasped against the sudden yearning to have his mouth all over
her again.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered into her hair. “Last night was unforgettable.”
A whimper rose to the back of her throat, but she forced it back down with a swallow. She had to

say goodbye. If she didn’t, if she followed through with the urge to ask him to meet tonight, she’d get
attached…more than she already was. Her last bout of attachment led her here, and she had no
intentions of going backward again.

One night had exposed her to more of her true self than she cared to part with.
“I’ll remember you,” she whispered unsteadily.
His mouth grazed hers, lingered for a moment, and then his hands slid from her body as he stepped

away. “Yeah, me too.”

So this was it. She’d drive him back to his car, and they’d never see each other again. Her stomach

twisted.

Oh yes—she definitely didn’t need to invite him to come back tonight. Hoping for a casual smile,

she opened her front door to find her car already running in the driveway. She blinked and looked to
him for an explanation.

He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s cold out. It was covered in new snow.” His confidence faltered for

a brief second as he shoved a hand in his front pocket and dropped his gaze to his feet. “You cooked
breakfast…”

How absolutely sweet. Cassie leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Who’s driving?”
His grin returned in an instant. “I always drive, sweetheart.”
She laughed, his humor erasing the cobwebs of dismay. With more confident steps, she strode down

the heated walk to her drive and slid into the passenger’s seat of her car.

The drive passed all too quickly. When they arrived at the restaurant, he parked next to a black,

economy rental. Hesitating a moment, he swiveled in his seat, brought his hand to her cheek, and

brushed aside a lock of her hair. A wistful smile replaced his typical devilish grin. “You take care of
you.”

Once more, Cassie’s heart lodged uncomfortably behind her ribs. She pulled in a deep breath to

ease the constriction and forced herself to grin. “Good luck, counselor.”

He bent across the console, dashed his lips across her cheek. And then he was gone, the cold

morning air replacing the space he’d occupied, his tiny, black car backing away.

Damn it all if a small portion of her soul didn’t want to go with him.

Chapter Six

A shower hadn’t erased Brad’s funk. His system still felt out of whack, his head still fogged. He set
his third mug of coffee down on his hotel room desk, braced his hands on the polished wood, and
stared out the window. For the first time in his professional life, he didn’t care that he was already
five minutes late. He couldn’t find the motivation to shrug into his suit coat.

He considered phoning his legal assistant and asking her to research all the attorneys in Vail,

Colorado, find their graduation photographs, and fax them all to his hotel. But that came dangerously
close to stalking.

Problem was, so did showing up on the brunette’s doorstep uninvited. God help him though, he

wanted to see her again, despite her insistence they’d have only one night. He didn’t know what to do
with that. He couldn’t recall a time when he hadn’t obtained what he wanted.

The room’s heater kicked on, and in his peripheral vision the silk flower on the desk swayed. His

gaze slid to the fake blue rosebud, an idea taking root. If he put things in her hands, she might follow
through. Probably not—she’d been adamant not to disclose her name. But it sure as hell beat doing
nothing at all.

He jerked open the desk drawer, fished out the complimentary notepad, and picked up a pen.

Taking care with his usual sloppy handwriting, he scrawled out a brief note: I have a red tie that
would make an excellent blindfold. Call me. He added his hotel room number and folded the note
neatly in half.

Snatching up his keys, he hurried out the door. Cassandra Blaire would just have to wait a little bit

longer. He’d buy her lunch or something as an apology. Besides, they’d set aside the entire day, and
they wouldn’t meet with her client until one. All they needed to do this morning was go over the
required elements of the custody arrangement so they could review those portions during that meeting.
Well…that and Brad needed to discuss his client’s recent objection to the little girl spending holidays
with her mother until she reached the age of ten. Cassandra’s client, Jennifer, would take a lot of
convincing. But Brad learned long ago he had greater success face-to-face. He’d convince Cassandra
and Jennifer to see things Miles’ way, one way or another.

Tucked behind the wheel of his car, Brad punched his GPS’s search function to locate a flower

shop. To his relief, the result that popped on his screen told him the nearest one was five blocks
further than where he’d turned onto the sultry brunette’s street. He followed directions, managed to
avoid three red lights, and dashed inside the store.

A woman with pink stripes in her blond hair greeted him with a cheery smile. “Can I help you,

sir?”

“I need a long-stemmed red rose.” Withdrawing the note from his lapel pocket, he pressed it onto

the high counter. “And I need this tied around the stem.”

Within moments, she returned with a thornless rosebud that was so deep in color it looked as if the

petals were rimmed with black. At the base of the stem, tucked just above the last crisp leaf, she’d
wrapped a matching ribbon and threaded it through a punched hole in the corner of his note.

Brad tossed his credit card on the counter, tapped his toe while he waited for it to process, then

scrawled his name. He nearly broke into a jog as he hurried back to his car. He tapped the address he
remembered into the GPS, just to insure his memory didn’t fail. The short miles that passed as he
navigated to the luxurious house on the hill were intolerable. But when he pulled into her driveway
and stared at the front door, he glanced at the rose in the neighboring seat, hesitating.

She wanted anonymity. Yet the idea of being a nameless face in the dark no longer held appeal. If

she followed through, he wanted to hear his name slide off her lips. Wanted to look into her eyes and
know, without question, he was the one bringing her pleasure. Not the memory of a husband she’d
lost.

But if he broke her rules, would she run?
Fuck it. He’d never know without taking the risk. And he hadn’t made it this far in life by playing it

safe.

He tugged his pen from his coat pocket and scrawled his name beneath his phone number. Feeling

far more comfortable about pursuing another night with the fascinating woman, he jogged up her porch
steps and laid the rose in front of her door.

All that remained was to wait and see if she called. She wouldn’t be off work until at least dinner

time. Which meant he could set her aside and focus on the case he’d come here to hash out.

…

Cassie’s patience rapidly disintegrated as the clock approached nine. Mister Hotshot New York was
almost an hour late. If he’d at least possessed the courtesy to call, she could have typed the judgment
order that was due at the end of the week and phoned the courthouse clerk to set a court date for Joe
Thompson’s speeding ticket. God, she couldn’t wait to be freed from traffic court.

The lingering agitation from her less than satisfactory goodbye with the sexy stranger didn’t help

her darkening mood. She should be over the moon, ecstatic that she’d finally experienced what she
secretly craved. Yet after such a fulfilling night she felt… empty. The aches in her body left her
strangely bereft, instead of reminding her of the pleasure she’d experienced at his masterful hands.

A light rap on her office door dragged her from melancholy. Plastering a false smile on her face,

she called, “It’s open.”

Her secretary stuck her head in. “Brad Steele is here now, Cassie.”
About damned time. She rolled her eyes. “I don’t suppose his highness offered any explanations,

did he?”

Stephanie giggled. “No, but when you get a look at him you’ll forgive everything.”
Cassie arched an eyebrow.
Her secretary glanced over her shoulder, then mouthed, He’s hot. Fanning herself, she grinned.
Joy. Why wasn’t she surprised that good looks accompanied the arrogant jerk? He probably felt he

was above women. That he could smile and charm his way out of any situation. Well, he had a
surprise coming if he thought she’d cave that easily. He should know better, given their recent paper
war. She nodded to Stephanie. “Send him back, though I ought to make him wait just for the sake of
doing so. When you get a chance, would you mind running down to the corner and grabbing a caramel
mocha for me?” She carefully rubbed at the corner of her right eye. “I can’t seem to wake up.”

“You’re going to have to tell me about this later, you know.” Stephanie peered down her nose at

Cassie. “You come in ten minutes late, excuse it all with some random babble about meeting a guy,
and lock yourself in here—you think I’m going to just let that one go? How long’s it been, Cassie?”

“Three years,” she mumbled.
“And that’s not worthy of your first fifteen minutes in the office?”
She waved her hand, shooing her out. “Go. We’ll talk about it later.” When she could come to

terms with what she’d done. When thinking about last night didn’t hollow out her gut and make her
wish she had a chance to see him again.

Smirking, Stephanie backed out through the door. Her distant voice drifted down the hall. “I’ll take

you on back, Mr. Steele. Would you like coffee? I’m heading on a run here in a minute.”

Cassie couldn’t make out his answer, but she heard her secretary’s giggle all too clearly. She

groaned inwardly. The last thing she wanted to deal with was her secretary bending over backward to
please an inconsiderate, hotshot, lawyer who couldn’t find the decency to phone and tell her he was
running late. Particularly not when she’d cut her morning short just to make it here on time. If she’d
known, she could have asked her handsome stranger to join her in the shower, taken her sweet time
lathering his body, or letting him lather her.

Her stomach bottomed out at the thought of the way his hands would have molded around her

breasts. His fingers would have been slick and warm as they slid between—

Cassie’s thoughts skidded to a halt as broad shoulders filled her doorway. Her eyes widened as she

took in rumpled blond hair that her fingers knew all too well. Vivid blue eyes washed with equal
shock, and all the masterful control he’d so blissfully woven around her shattered, as his oath
whispered through the room. “Fuck.”

For the love of God, this wasn’t happening. He’d told her he was on vacation. She’d trusted him

with her body. Oh sweet heaven above, the last time he took her, he’d drawn everything out until she
was almost in tears and had begged him to give her release.

Instantaneous heat flooded her cheeks.
Brad quietly closed the door and ran a hand through his hair. “Cassandra, look—”
She gave him an adamant shake of her head. “Oh, no. Don’t say a word.” Rising to her feet so she

didn’t feel so powerless beneath his intimidating size, she gripped the edge of her desk. “Don’t say a
damned thing.”

Chapter Seven

No, no, a thousand times no. The woman he had roused throughout the night, who he hungered for so
badly he couldn’t stop, was not Cassandra Blaire. What a cruel trick for the fates to play. She was
opposing counsel; he could get fired for fucking his client’s wife’s attorney. Hell, they could both be
disbarred. Standards of conduct for family law litigants specifically forbade sexual involvement with
opposing counsel.

This was wrong on so many levels. There were piles of state regulations on involvements like this.

All of which spelled disaster for both of them, even if it had been an honest mistake. Why the hell
hadn’t he pushed for her name?

Brad set his briefcase by his feet and held up both hands in acquiescence. “Listen, Cassandra—”
“Cassie,” she snapped, “and you told me you were on vacation. Checking out the slopes sound

familiar?”

He flinched. Precisely why he didn’t make it a habit to lie. One way or the other, falsehoods

always came back to bite him in the ass. How could he have been so stupid?

“Cassie, obviously, we didn’t make good decisions.”
Cassie. The inappropriate thought smacked into his awareness. Her name was Cassie. It certainly

fit the woman he’d met last night better than Cassandra.

Brad grimaced inwardly. This wasn’t the time to be analyzing names. If he didn’t handle this

carefully, if she were as furious as she sounded, this could go from bad to devastating, fast. But
damned if he wasn’t having a devil of a time putting the two women together in his head.

“Good decisions,” she echoed with a wry smirk. “No, we sure didn’t. But at least one of us might

have figured out the coincidence if the other hadn’t claimed to be in town for skiing.”

Talk about unfair. No way was he swallowing that accusation and accepting the entire blame. He

took a challenging step toward her. “If one of us hadn’t suggested we keep our names silent, we
wouldn’t be in this position at all!”

She tossed her hands into the air. “Well, how was I supposed to know?”
“How was I supposed to know?”
As his voice boomed through the room and bounced off tall shelves of legal references, the door

squeaked open behind him. He whirled around at the same time Cassie’s head snapped toward the
intruder. Her secretary poked her head inside. “Um, everything okay in here? You need a referee? I
can hear you at my desk.”

Son of a bitch. Brad clenched a fist and dropped into an overstuffed leather chair. He propped his

elbow on the arm and braced his forehead against his palm, shielding his face. Just what he needed—
someone else discovering his colossal fuck-up.

“I think we’ve got it covered,” Cassie answered, her voice returning to its normal tone of cool

reserve. “Just a misunderstanding. We’re ah…working through it.”

He peeked over the back of his hand. That was certainly one way to put it. When her secretary

glanced between them, he nodded, confirming Cassie’s declaration. Thankfully, she backed out of the
room, though she didn’t look at all like she believed Cassie’s words.

Brad lowered his hand to his lap and lifted his gaze to Cassie. She regarded him coldly, the light in

her wide eyes hard and brittle. He huffed out a sigh, bent forward to lean his elbows on his knees, and
ran his hands down his face. “Look, I’m sorry. An hour ago, we were both going to put this behind us.
So let’s leave it there. That’s all we can do.”

Her back as stiff as a board, she lowered herself into her chair. “Clearly, I didn’t exercise the best

judgment.” She looked at where her hands rested atop a deep red blotter, not at him, and her words
came out clipped. As if she still held him accountable, despite her attempt at accepting half the blame.

Brad frowned. They’d made a monumental error in reason, but her anger didn’t make sense. He

wasn’t solely to blame here. “What are you so pissed about?”

“What…am I…” She reared back in her chair, spluttering. “You… I let you…I believed you!”
Like a boulder dropped from the sky, understanding crashed over him. That dawning had him

cursing himself all over again. She’d entrusted her body to him. Trusted he wouldn’t bring her harm.
And he’d unwittingly betrayed her. Fuck.

He pulled his overstuffed chair close enough he could rest his forearms on her desk and lowered

his voice. “Cassie.”

When she refused to look at him, he reached across the polished mahogany surface and laid his

hand atop hers. “Look at me.”

Slowly, she lifted her gaze.
“Look, what happened is between us. This isn’t high school—I’m not going to tell stories in the

locker room. We’re consenting adults.” As her gaze slipped back to their joined hands, he gave he
squeezed gently. “Damn it, it’s not like I want the entire world knowing what turns me on either.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. But with her short nod, the tension disappeared from her

spine. She relaxed by obvious degrees. He should let the subject go. They couldn’t explore this
further anyway. Still, the way she refused to hold his gaze bugged the hell out of him. He laced his
fingers through hers. “Talk to me.”

She tugged free from his grasp and tucked her hand in her lap. “It’s not important.”
“Like hell it isn’t.”
She bent sideways and hefted a three-ring binder off the floor, onto her desk. “No. It’s not.” With a

brief, but pointed, glance at him, she added, “Not anymore.”

“So it would be if we weren’t standing on opposite sides of the courtroom?” Damn it, why couldn’t

he just let the subject drop?

“It doesn’t matter, Brad. You’re right. An hour ago we were good with leaving everything behind

us. That’s where it belongs.” She flopped the binder open. “Your last email said your client was
amenable to the proposed holiday arrangements, with Anna staying here in Colorado, with Jennifer,
for the holidays until she reached the age of ten.”

So that was it, business as usual. It was the rational choice, the only option open to them. To pursue

this, whatever it was, would be a colossal violation of ethics. If they did, and the partners at Blackson
and Goodwell were to find out, he could kiss his partnership goodbye.

He liked her, but not enough to sacrifice everything he’d been working for since graduation day.

She was right—none of it mattered anymore. Last night was nothing more than a beautiful memory
meant to be forgotten.

Flipping the book around, he tapped a finger on the paper. Now was not the time to mention his

client’s change of mind. “Let’s review the standard components first.” A bitter chuckle escaped and
his mouth twisted with a sardonic smirk. “All this money spent on love. Now what do they have to
show for it? A pile of pretty things, a piece of paper that says he never cared about them in the first
place, and one little girl who will inherit two mansions, not just one.”

On no level had he prepared to witness the shock that filled Cassie’s pretty, chestnut eyes. He’d

expected her to chuckle and agree, like the rest of the family law attorneys he’d worked with over the
years. But as her mouth opened and closed, and she struggled with a response, he realized he’d once
again said the wrong thing.

Thank God, her secretary interrupted the overwhelming silence by sauntering in with two travel

mugs of coffee in hand. Her intrusion saved Brad from having to back peddle out of a minefield. He
hurried to stand and fished his wallet out of his back pocket. “What do I owe you?”

The young woman set both mugs down on Cassie’s desk. “I got it.” She patted his arm, let her

fingers linger three seconds too long. “You just let me know if you need anything else, cutie.”

Brad choked back a groan. The day had officially become a disaster. He did not need to deal with a

flirtatious secretary on top of everything else. Particularly not Cassie’s secretary.

When she retreated, and he sank into his chair, he found Cassie smirking. “What?” he grumbled.
“She thinks you’re hot.”
He couldn’t resist goading her. “Am I?”
Cassie gave a nonchalant lift of her shoulders. “I plead the fifth.”
The lilt of her voice teased, but the light in her eyes held the same burn of appreciation that sucked

him in at the bar. His gut laced into knots. Aw, hell. He was torturing himself. If he possessed a lick
of sense he’d ask her where the fax machine was and get the hell out of this enclosed office.

Instead, he shrugged. “She’s too assertive for my taste.” He waited a beat, then deliberately added,

“I like my women a bit more…obedient.”

When Cassie surprised him with a blush, satisfaction thrummed through him. He flashed her a grin.

At least her eyes weren’t shooting daggers anymore. Though the bright gleam in those chestnut depths
only thrust him down a dangerous path he didn’t dare consider.

He stifled a chuckle and gestured at her file folder. “Shall we go over the standard inclusions

now?”

With an unintelligible mutter, Cassie began to sort through the documents.

Chapter Eight

At twelve-thirty, Brad strolled into Cassie’s office with Chinese takeout in tow. She watched the
confident way he crossed the beige carpeting, the unhesitating way he took possession of her leather
chair. Even the simple act of opening their lunch held the undercurrent of command. No wonder
Stephanie simpered every time he flashed her that devastating grin.

No wonder her own nerve-endings stood at attention every time his vibrant blue eyes looked her

over a heartbeat too long.

He passed her the box of beef and broccoli. “As you requested.”
As she took the steaming box, her fingertips brushed his. Tingles raced up her arm. His gaze

snapped to hers as if he too had felt the uncomfortable charge. Shoot, it wouldn’t surprise her if he’d
waited too long to let go on purpose. Regardless, the slow burn that crept into those vivid blues
eroded logic. She ached to feel those strong hands slide over her body. Hiking her skirt up as they
explored her thighs. Pushing aside the panels of her blouse to expose her breasts for his masterful
mouth.

Cassie choked down a groan.
All she was doing was torturing herself. He was her opposing counsel, the man who had given her

more headaches than she’d had in all her years of practicing law. He was smart, talented, and
wouldn’t hesitate to go in for the kill if she let her guard down. And if she lost, she’d be stuck in
traffic court until she retired. Worse, she suspected he was avoiding the proposed custody
arrangement for a reason. Jennifer Cooper would be here shortly, and Miles had yet to approve the
email Brad had sent listing the standard inclusions on the parenting plan. They needed to insure both
sides were in agreement. Otherwise, Jennifer’s appointment would be wasted.

“Yoo-hoo? Cassie?” He cocked an eyebrow.
Crap—he’d been talking to her. “Hm?” she asked with a touch of chagrin.
One corner of his mouth turned up in a lazy knowing grin. Damn him, he was fully aware of the

effect he had on her.

“Where are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m not your sweetheart.” She forked a sprig of broccoli and stuffed it in her mouth. Things would

be so much easier if he’d stop using the endearment. All that word did was create whispered echoes
in her mind of the night before.

God, she needed fresh air. Just a little breathing space before she had to spend the rest of her

afternoon locked up with him. Why did life have to be so unfair, so infinitely bound in rules? Why did
the one man who freed her from an emotional prison and inspired blissful spontaneity have to be
someone she couldn’t indulge in?

She pushed the thoughts away and steered her focus to the work at hand. “We need to discuss this,

Brad, before Jennifer arrives.”

“Did that email come yet?” he asked, gesturing to her computer.
Because her office network wouldn’t let Brad’s laptop connect, she’d ended up emailing Miles

while Brad looked-on over her shoulder. Cassie set her lunch down and swiveled her chair to the
computer. Two clicks brought her email program to the front, and she scanned her inbox for Miles
Cooper’s name. It had arrived thirteen minutes ago. “It’s here.” Thankfully, just in time.

Before she could open the email and hit print, Brad had vacated his chair and moved behind her.

He reached around her shoulders, his right arm trapping hers, and took control of the mouse. His
cologne played havoc on her senses. The close proximity of his face, however, stripped her of
conscious thought. The sensual contours of his mouth drew her in. All she had to do was turn her
head…

Cassie swallowed hard and swiveled her chair around to offer Brad some privacy. “Want me to

step out?”

“Nah, we’re good. Nothing I can’t share in here. That’s why I had you all-caps the statement his

response would come to you, not me.”

Nodding, Cassie looked back at her computer. Miles Cooper’s email filled up her monitor. He

agreed to the standard components, but to keep things moving forward, he would waive his immediate
concerns about Jennifer retaining legal custody as well. Though he felt strongly it would be in Anna’s
best interests to be relocated, entirely, to New York.

Cassie held in a disgusted snort. Considerate bastard.
The bottom half of his email, however, made her frown. It included a vague reference to a status

update on terms he’d mentioned to Brad. They’d discussed all the terms numerous times. Cassie
tapped a nail on the screen. “What’s this?”

Brad’s groan was quiet, but present never-the-less. He closed the email and returned to his seat. “I

was going to email you last night. But then…”

The way his gaze slowly roamed across her breasts made her want to squirm. The familiar ache

began in her womb again, and to her shame, her nipples pebbled beneath her blouse. Approval glinted
in his eyes.

“Anyway,” he continued, “Miles wants to revisit the holiday terms.”
Unable to work a word past her closed throat, Cassie nodded. They could revisit them all they

wanted; Jennifer wouldn’t budge. Anna was all the family she had.

“Evidently, Miles’ parents want to experience some of the holidays with…what’s her name…

Anna? He has rejected the proposal your client submitted.” Reclining in the chair, he folded his arms
behind his head. “I have revised terms I’m to propose to you and Mrs. Cooper.”

Cassie blinked. “Not going to happen.”
“Cassie, wait, hear me out. They aren’t unreasonable. They are—”
“You were just going to drop this on me with Jennifer present?” Cassie’s voice rose as anger

surged through her veins. “No heads up, no nothing? And you expect my client will just concede to
Miles’ wishes? When it’s not even him who wants to see Anna, but his parents?” Picking up her

phone, Cassie punched in Jennifer’s number. “You should prepare yourself for a long afternoon,
counselor.”

…*

As Cassie spoke to her client, Brad let the sound of her voice sink into his awareness. It was so very
different from her whispered impassioned words, and yet, so very similar. Despite her barely
concealed anger, he loved the musical cadence, the roughened smoky edges to warm and friendly
tones.

Her mouth was every bit as fascinating. As he watched full lips move, no matter how illogical it

might be, all he wanted to do was drag her out of that chair, into his lap, where those soft curves
could meld around him. Their present disagreement mattered little; he’d win and he would have her
all over again.

What drew him in was his ever-deepening respect for the attorney who sat behind that too-big

desk. She knew her job, was no meek representative when it came to her client’s wishes. Even if she
didn’t have a powerful reputation, an earlier phone call that had come in from counsel who obviously
opposed her—let alone this call—told Brad all he needed to know about Cassie’s professional
abilities. He could honestly say if she were in New York, he’d be honored to work with her on a
case.

Which went a long way for him. He seldom encountered attorneys who stirred his respect. Much

less attorneys he didn’t mind working with.

But she wasn’t in New York, and they’d never work together. And as for all the other things he’d

like to do to her, she’d made it clear—no matter what her body wanted, she wouldn’t cross
professional boundaries. They were opposing counsel, and he couldn’t fault her for her ethics. Still,
he wanted one more kiss. One more stolen moment to indulge in all her heavenly sweetness. It wasn’t
impossible, just…tricky. They’d have to be extra careful and extremely discreet. Just once more.

She hung up the phone and returned to her lunch. “She lives five minutes away. She’ll be here

soon.”

“How soon?” To his own ears, his voice sounded husky. Damn, he really should have his mind on

the case.

Her hand stilled over the container of Chinese. Slowly, her gaze lifted. Her teeth pricked her lower

lip the way they always did when her confidence faltered, and the angry heat in her gaze softened.
“Soon,” she answered quietly.

“Cassie, come here.”
By the pained expression on her face, he’d have sworn she fought a whimper. Whether it was

delighted or not, he couldn’t say. He suspected she wanted to obey as much as he craved her
compliance.

Her response was a strained whisper. “No.”
“We have to talk about this.”

She adamantly shook her head. “No, we don’t. We already have.”
“All we did was dance around it. Why’d you ask me to go home with you last night?”
She blinked. The fork she held began to quiver. Hastily she set it and the box down, and tucked her

hands in her lap. “I think that’s rather obvious.”

Brad wasn’t buying it. He’d learned enough about her today to realize the woman sitting across

from him didn’t make it a habit to invite random strangers home with her. Her ethics ran too deep.
She’d wanted something specific last night, but she was going to fight telling him every step of the
way.

Fine, then—he’d convince a confession out of her.
He pushed to his feet and moved around her desk to stand behind her chair. Sliding his hands over

her shoulders, he bent his head toward the side of her neck. Not touching, merely insinuating he might.
“Did you get what you were after?”

”Stop.” Though she protested, she didn’t jerk away. “We need to focus on the case.”
He brushed his lips against her throat. “Answer me first. Did you get what you were after?”
Her nod was jerky, hesitant.
“So what was it?” He slid his hands forward by a fraction, dipped the tips of his fingers inside her

unbuttoned collar. Lowering his voice, he murmured, “If you merely wanted to submit to a man, you
could have done so long before last night.” Ever so lightly, he brushed his lips against her throat.
“What was it you wanted, sweetheart?”

This time, she distinctly whimpered as she tipped her head back and shifted beneath his hands.

So…damned…responsive. Brad bit down on the inside of his cheek to temper the delicious burn that
infused his veins. Logical or not, he had to have her again.

“Spontaneity,” she murmured. Arching her back, she pushed his fingertips closer to her breasts. In a

voice he had to strain to hear, she added, “Freedom.”

“Freedom from what?”
“Logic.” She closed her eyes, shifted her hips.
He sucked in a sharp breath. Giving in to the gnawing need to feel her beneath his lips, he pressed

an open-mouthed kiss to her neck then drew away before he collapsed under the weight of his own
rising desire. “It doesn’t get more illogical than this.” Sliding his palms over the satin fabric of her
blouse, he gave her what she wanted and lifted her breasts into his hands.

“We’re opposing counsel. We could lose our licenses if we aren’t discreet. It’s a hefty risk, but you

want me.” He grazed his teeth along the shell of her ear. “And I’m aching to be inside you again.”

She tipped her head, brushed her lips against his. Though denying that kiss was like slicing off a

finger, Brad turned his head away. “Not until you tell why you’re fighting this between us.”

One heavy knock at the door shattered her compliance. She bolted upright, shrugging off Brad’s

hands, leaving him swearing beneath his breath.

“Yes, Stephanie?” Cassie called a little too brightly.
“Mrs. Cooper’s here.”

“Send her in.”
Reluctantly, Brad backed away from Cassie’s chair. She might have gotten off easy, but she hadn’t

escaped. One way or the other, before he left Vail, he would have her writhing in his hands again.

Chapter Nine

The meeting with Jennifer strained Cassie’s nerves beyond repair. Not only had they yet to discuss
the new terms Miles wanted, Brad sat too close in the conference room, touching Cassie at every
slight opportunity. Benign little flickers of contact, accidental to anyone who didn’t know they’d slept
together. His fingers grazed her hip when she rose from her chair; his knee leaned into hers beneath
the table; his fingers dipped a hair too low when he helped her out of her suit jacket. She could have
coped with any one of them, but combined, they all stacked on top of each other until her nerves
crackled and popped.

She did her best to ignore the way he leaned across her, pressing his chest too intimately against

her shoulder while passing Jennifer a document. “I believe you want to take a look at this, Mrs.
Cooper.”

Cassie twisted to better examine it, but try as she might she couldn’t decipher it.
“Oh my God.” Jennifer’s quiet exclamation shattered through the veil of cordiality. “Where did that

bastard get this?”

Cassie snatched the document. Before she could finish scanning it, Jennifer shot out of her chair.
“It’s not true! My brother was never arrested for those charges. It was all a grotesque rumor.”
Setting her hand on Jennifer’s wrist, Cassie guided her back into the tall-backed dark blue chair.

“Let me handle this, Jen.” She read through the document again, processing a hand-written account of
how her brother, a teacher in New Mexico, had molested a nine-year-old girl in his fourth grade
class. The writing was imperfect, that of a child’s. Stapled to the front page was a newspaper
clipping that detailed the allegations and announced Mr. Fisher’s termination.

Cassie lifted her gaze to Brad’s. It was all she could do to keep her voice level. This he should

have prepared her for. “What theatrics are you pulling now? Whether the allegations are true or not,
Mr. Fisher is a New Mexico resident. It’s irrelevant to any custodial arrangements between the
Coopers.”

Brad leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap. “Perhaps your client would like to

explain the correlation. Or,” he gestured at the telephone, “we could ask Anna to come in today too.”

What the hell? Cassie chewed on the inside of her cheek, desperately trying to keep an explosion

under control.

“No!” Jennifer cried. “Anna will not be dragged through this any more than her father already has

done.”

Again, Cassie patted her client’s arm. The ongoing feud between Jennifer and Miles had nearly

traumatized the poor little girl who couldn’t understand why her father changed the locks and gave a
twenty-year-old college student the new key. Why her daddy didn’t come home to see her. Why he
made her mother cry.

She inclined her head toward the conference room door. “Jennifer, could you give Mr. Steele and

me a moment, please?”

Jennifer rose, unsteadily. With a curt nod, she fled the room, dabbing at the corners of her eyes.

When the heavy wooden door closed firmly behind her, Cassie, stared at Brad. “What the hell are you
doing? Did you think you could just waltz in here and bully everyone into Miles’ demands? You son
of a bitch, you owed me the forewarning.”

Brad’s cool resolve faded and a dark frown settled on his brow. “You mean to tell me you really

don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?” As her voice rose, Cassie rose out of her chair. She leaned on the conference

table, bracing her weight on her hands to hide their furious trembling. “This isn’t a courtroom, Brad.
You don’t get to call fantastic witnesses who drop convenient bombs.”

“Wait.” Brad held up both hands. “Just wait a damned minute.”
“For what? You to concoct some other slimeball excuse?”
“Hey.” He stood as well, leaning forward to meet her across the table. “I’m not a slimeball. I

legitimately thought you knew and you were avoiding the discussion. How the hell was I supposed to
know your client didn’t tell you?”

“Maybe you could ask.” Cassie waived a dismissive hand, arguing wouldn’t accomplish anything.

“Regardless, what does this have to do with their custody arrangements?”

A genuinely pained expression crossed Brad’s face as he lowered himself into his chair again. He

ran both hands through his hair before meeting Cassie’s stare. “Anna’s brother spent the last few
winter session breaks with Jennifer and Miles. Anna told her father he came into her room one night.”

As the air fled Cassie’s lungs, she dropped into her seat. Holy shit. Jennifer hadn’t mentioned this.

She struggled for her composure, tried to separate instinctive emotion from her role as Jennifer’s
attorney. When she spoke, her voice held a hard edge. “Do you know for certain Anna said this, or is
it something Miles made up?”

It was Brad’s turn to sit on the defensive. He smacked a hand on the bleached oak tabletop. “My

client would never—”

“Never? He’s slithered through this whole damned thing. Can you guarantee Anna made these

claims? Why wouldn’t she tell her mother? She just waltzes in to Daddy and drops this bomb without
Jennifer knowing? I find that hard to believe, Brad. Particularly since Daddy-dearest was rarely ever
home when they were married. He was too busy with his college intern in New York.”

Brad’s mouth snapped shut, giving Cassie a small measure of satisfaction. She straightened in her

seat and smoothed the paper before her. “This isn’t something I take lightly, but you need to give me
time to discuss it with Jennifer. I refuse to let you intimidate her into a modification of the proposed
plan until it’s been thoroughly investigated.” She took a deep breath, and narrowed her gaze.
“Furthermore, you need to inform your client that you have an obligation to report any accusation like
this to appropriate authorities and insure he’s willing to put his daughter in the position of discussing
this in detail.”

That ought to do it. If Anna had made a claim like this, any good father would make the hard, but

necessary call. If Miles were just concocting stories, he might reconsider.

Brad nodded gravely. “I’m aware of my responsibility, Cassie. I’ve been doing family law a long

time. I just received this about an hour before I flew out. Like I said, I genuinely thought you knew.”

She returned his nod. “Now, you’ve dropped a bomb on my client. I expect your immediate

apology, and she and I will discuss this extensively before tomorrow morning.”

“So, I’m dismissed, am I?”
With a tight smile, Cassie answered, “Pretty much.” She folded the paper in half and tucked it

inside her hardbound folder. “The next time you think of bulldozing through a meeting with one of my
clients, think again. Or I will file ethics complaints.” She pressed the intercom button on the
conference phone. “Stephanie?”

“Right here, Cassie.”
“Send Mrs. Cooper back in, please.”
“Will do.”
Brad remained silent as Jennifer entered and resumed her chair. Her agitated gaze skipped between

Cassie and Brad, and her hands furiously twisted together atop the table.

“Mrs. Cooper.” Brad rose to lean across the table again. “I’m immensely sorry for upsetting you.

I’ll allow you to discuss things with Ms. Blaire and we can reconvene before I return home.”

Jennifer gave him a nod, sniffling. “I brought those files you wanted on the properties we own

together. Cassie said I should.”

“Those can wait,” Cassie said kindly.
“No, I’ll get them for her.” Brad flashed another winning smile at Jennifer, who, to Cassie’s

chagrin, seemed to melt beneath it. His devilish dimple didn’t help. He flashed that damn thing like he
knew it made women weak in the knees. Check that—he most certainly did know.

“Thank you.” Jennifer pushed away from the table and started for the door once more.
Cassie sighed as Brad walked out of the room on Jennifer’s heels. The quiet gave her a much-

needed moment to pull her thoughts together. She stared at the legal library lining the far wall, sifting
through the conflicted nature of her mind. The case, she quartered off to a portion of her mind where
she could examine it with Jennifer, once Brad was out of the office.

Which left her with the chemistry that crackled between them. Even at odds, as they had been a

moment ago, her body yearned for his touch. Challenging him, standing up to him, only fueled the
desire that simmered in her bloodstream. Because she knew how glorious it felt to yield completely.

He wanted her. She wanted him. Opposite sides of the case were irrespective; this wouldn’t just

disappear no matter how she wished it might. It could be so easy.

No, not easy, but exciting. A brief affair, secrets kept in the sunlight, shared in darkness. But Brad

would never understand the terrifying prospect of spending another night with him. Beyond everything
else riding on the line, he knew her now. She knew him. She couldn’t let go of her control when she
had to face him professionally.

If she tried to explain the other, far more frightening reason she needed distance, things would end

before they ever started. She could fall for him so easily. Had already developed a nonsensical
attachment. He wanted simple, uncommitted sex—she couldn’t give that now that she’d experienced
the magic of his hands.

She set her chin in her hands and massaged her temples. This had become one giant headache. Talk

about a Valentine’s surprise. If there was such a cherub named Cupid, if he’d played any part in
pushing her and Brad together last night, he deserved to be shot with his own arrows.

Stephanie intruded on Cassie’s solitude. Though she knocked on the door, she didn’t wait for

acknowledgement and pulled out the chair Brad had occupied. “What gives? You’re more frazzled
today than you were on Brady Stuart’s adoption hearing.”

“At least I won that one,” Cassie murmured absently.
“Huh?”
She shook her head. “Never mind. I’m fine, really, Stephanie. Brad Steele is just a lot to cope

with.” That put things mildly, to say the least.

“I bet he is.” A touch of suggestive admiration fringed her words. “I wonder what he’s doing

tonight.”

Despite her better sanity, Cassie groaned. She dropped her hands and shot Stephanie an are you

serious look.

“What? You can’t tell me that man doesn’t make you the least little bit curious whether that body’s

for show, or if he knows how to use it.”

Oh he knows how to use it. As the thought scampered through Cassie’s mind, her cheeks heated.

She dipped her head to cover her blush with her long hair before Stephanie could pick up on it.

Unfortunately, she moved too late.
“Oh my God. It’s him.” She made a squeak that sounded more like she’d inhaled a tart. “That’s who

kept you up all night.”

Cassie narrowed her gaze and summoned her most authoritative voice. “One word and you’re job

hunting. He dropped a serious bomb today. This case just exploded and I can’t risk having our secret
get out.”

Stephanie scoffed. “Give me a little credit. You think I want to be the one responsible for that can

of worms?”

Precisely why Cassie couldn’t follow through on Brad’s suggestion they give in to this thing

between them. The whole situation was one giant, rotten can of worms waiting to explode. If anyone
found out, or even suspected, the Bar Association would be all over them. Sure, they might be able to
pull it off, but the risk? High stakes gambling had never been Cassie’s thing. She needed to stay
focused on the case and forget all the other ways Brad Steele affected her.

Heavy footsteps in the hall silenced both women. Cassie swiveled as Brad neared the conference

room door. Jennifer Cooper hadn’t brought one folder of information. She’d filled two paper ream
boxes filled with folders.

They thumped against the table as Brad freed his hands. “Remind me to kick Miles.”

“No comment.” Suppressing a smirk, Cassie eased to her feet and peered over the edge of the

topmost box. “What in the world are we supposed to do with this?”

“Well…” Chuckling, Brad reached in and retrieved one ratty manila folder. “We dig through these

for address, initial purchase price, and building date, and make our lists.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Lists plural? Why not just one?”
He dropped the folder back into the top box, lifted it, and set it down directly in front of her.

“Because, as your client informed me, these are the ones she wants to keep. And those,” he gestured
at the other box, “are the ones she’s proposing to give to Miles.”

A ball of dread rolled around in her gut. “He wanted to sell them all, right?”
“Yep.”
“Is he going to be okay with a percentage?” She already knew the answer—a resounding no. They

had already done this once before. Good Lord, it was like recreating the past three weeks worth of
work all over again. Add in the problems now with Anna’s custody…how had this become such a
nightmare?

Brad shrugged. “We’ll find out. Let’s get them itemized first, because he’ll want to know which

ones she’s set her sights on.”

“What a mess,” Stephanie remarked as she rose from her seat. “Glad I don’t have to deal with that

filing nightmare.”

“Wrong.” Cassie halted her assistant by grabbing her elbow. “This is what you get paid to do.”
“Me?” Stephanie squeaked.
“Yes, you. I’ve got the other mess to deal with. Bill me double-time if you must, but we’ll need

these files organized.”

Brad shrugged his shoulders. “I can match her rate for expediency.”
Cassie nearly burst out laughing at Stephanie’s shocked expression. Nine times out of ten,

Stephanie believed her sole purpose was to retrieve coffee and answer the phone in between filing
her nails. Actual work? Cassie would have fired her years ago, if she didn’t prove her mettle when it
really mattered.

Stephanie swallowed hard, grimaced, and picked up a stack of file folders. “Right. I’ll ah…cancel

my plans this evening.” With a forced smile, she stalked out of the room, letting the heavy oak door
bang behind her.

Brad leaned across the conference table, his mouth coming dangerously close to Cassie’s. A heavy

moment of silence passed as his gaze searched hers. Her breath hitched. Her lips parted. She willed
herself not to sway forward and erase the breath or so that separated them. It was shameful how
easily he commanded her body without ever saying a word.

“Schedule me for a working dinner. We can discuss the claims on Mr. Fischer more thoroughly.”

His gaze dipped down her neck, slid slowly over her breasts. “It would be far more enjoyable.”

Chills spread over her skin. God, he was killing her. Didn’t he have any idea how hard it was to

say no?

She gave herself a mental shake. Of course he did. He manipulated her like he had some inherent

right to do so. No wonder he won in the courtroom. At this rate, he’d have her caving in more ways
than one. She closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and grabbed at her determination. Braving that
weighty, suggestive stare once more, she found the ability to wrap her arms around her box and take a
step backward with a shake of her head. “I prefer to do my own investigative research.”

Brad’s lashes lowered, and something very close to regret washed across his handsome face. For a

moment she doubted her sanity in refusing him. He looked like her rejection actually bothered him.

She checked her natural response to adapt just to please him and forced herself to walk out of the

room. That instinctual behavior to allow him to mold her as he desired was exactly why she had to
leave.

…

Outside the prominent bay window, an engine started. Brad glanced through partially closed white
miniblinds to see Cassie’s Cherokee backing out of her parking space. He envied that freedom—with
the partners lurking over his shoulder he didn’t dare take time off at liberty. But she worked for
herself. She could open her office, or close it, as she desired. Judging from the way Stephanie’s
phone had rung all morning, Cassie obviously wasn’t hurting for clients, either.

He paused as he eyed for the folder she’d left behind that contained her notes on the meeting. He’d

never expected she would be clueless to Mr. Fischer’s past, or the fact he spent his holidays here in
Colorado. She was right—he should have forewarned her. But he had to give her credit, she’d put
him effectively in his place. Strangely, he didn’t mind. And until that moment, he’d held an unfounded
belief that attorneys who avoided large firms and opened their own practices did so because they
couldn’t make the cut. Nor had he ever realized—truly realized—the benefits to private practice.
Cassie called the shots here. She could choose her clients and caseloads. And she could adapt her
schedule to the things that were important to her.

Like her former marriage. Like taking time to cook breakfast in the mornings.
He frowned, curiosity nagging at him, and reached into his coat pocket for his cell phone. He dialed

the mobile number she’d given him before he’d left New York.

“What now?” she asked with no small degree of irritation.
“Just curious about something. If you hadn’t had to meet with me this morning, would you have been

here at eight?”

“Is last night part of the equation?”
“Yeah.” He tucked his phone against his shoulder and took in the rustic coziness of her meeting

room. The same rough-hewn timbers he’d seen in her house, lined the ceiling. The woodsy effect
combined with small brass embellishments—the doorknob, the window pulls, tiny plaques on her
reference library—and added a touch of elegance. Just like her.

“No. I don’t usually have appointments until 9:30, and court is rarely ever on Mondays. Why?”
“Just wondering. Thanks.”

“Oh-kay…Anything else you need?”
A smirk tugged at his mouth. “Not that you’re willing to give.”
That earned him a fast disconnect. Chuckling to himself, he grabbed his folder of notes off the table

and exited the room. “See you in the morning, Stephanie,” he called as he crossed the reception room.

“Oh, you’re off too?”
“Have some phone calls to make.” Like to Miles, to stress the severity of his claims.
Brad shouldered open the glass front door and stepped out into the bright afternoon sun. Even with

a good two feet of snow blanketing the ground, it felt warmer here than New York winters. Odd.
Maybe it was the sunlight. Or maybe just the wide, open space unhindered by the tall, block-to-block
skyscrapers that always cast shadows over the streets.

Whatever it was, as he glanced around at the neighboring strip mall office buildings, the distant ski

lifts dotting the hills, and the skyward-reaching pines with their caps of snow, another foreign,
entirely unsettling pang struck behind his ribs.

Chapter Ten

Cassie pulled into her driveway, tired, frustrated, and confused. As a rule, in case her clients needed
something urgently, she rarely left the office before five. But she’d had to escape. Had to find space to
think, to sift through what she instinctually wanted, and what she knew she couldn’t emotionally or
professionally afford. And she needed to plan a strategy to deal with the drastic claims against
Jennifer’s brother.

She sat for several minutes with the engine running, staring at the garage door she only ever used in

the summertime. The grey-white expanse was evidence of how Chris had taken over her will. She’d
wanted the garage to keep the snow off the cars. But its backward slope, and the direction it faced,
only made it a wonderful snow block. Chris had despised shoveling the deep layers when they
accumulated, and so, she’d given up on using the garage, because she didn’t want to ask him to go out
of his way.

With his gallant way of spoiling her to death, he would have broken his back clearing snow to keep

her from picking up a shovel, but he would have resented the chore. His hard work would conclude
with thorny remarks that would go on for days. If she’d attempted to do the shoveling herself, he’d
have been insulted. So their arrangement remained—even after she skidded on the ice three years into
their marriage and broke her ankle.

Perfect on the surface. Not so perfect on the inside.
She punched the button on the garage door opener. He’d been gone three years. She should have

been using the garage long before now. Just like it shouldn’t have taken her two years to decide to
follow her passion when it came to law.

Darkness engulfed her as she pulled in. Brad offered her everything she wanted—crazy spontaneity,

freedom with her body, and passion…oh, the passion. It wasn’t like they were talking long-term. One
week, maximum, didn’t leave much of a risk of being discovered. All she had to do was reach out and
hang on for the ride.

But it was the ride she feared. The greater concern of becoming so attached to Brad that she lost

herself all over again. The very real likelihood that when he left, he’d take her heart with him. The
fact that he already had her considering crossing ethical boundaries that she’d never have considered
two days ago. What kind of damage would he wreak on her if she let this thing between them
continue? What she wanted, what she needed was founded in trust, and there was simply no way she
could trust a man who clearly didn’t intend to let this go beyond temporary fling. Much less a man
who, as opposing counsel, was required to keep secrets and didn’t hesitate to pull punches as he
desired. Today alone screamed she couldn’t trust his motives. He might have apologized and claimed
he thought she knew, but his reputation preceded him—this wasn’t the first bomb he’d ever dropped
to sway things in his favor.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and eased out of the Cherokee. A long soak in the hot tub

would do her wonders. Once she’d relaxed, she could think this through. Weigh risks and analyze
potential outcomes.

Cassie trudged up the steps to her back door, reached for the handle, and groaned. Damn. She’d put

the chain lock on inside. Muttering to herself, she hit the garage door opener, raced out beneath it as
the heavy metal lowered, and made for the front porch.

When she set her foot on the steps, the toe of her heel nearly crushed a perfectly formed red

rosebud. Bewildered, she bent over and picked up the flower. Dangling from the long stem, a note
fluttered in the breeze.

She unfolded the paper, her heart tripping. Only one person could possibly have left her flowers.

And he would have had to have done so before he arrived at the office.

She scanned Brad’s neat handwriting, and her heart lodged in her throat. The vision that burst

through her mind sent immediate heat rushing through her limbs. Kneeling on the bed as she had the
night before. Unable to see his intentions, subjected to whatever he wished, experiencing his desires
only by touch.

Oh.
As a ragged breath escaped, her knees wobbled. God, he was killing her. Bit by bit he tapped into

her innermost fantasies and promised to fulfill them. And she didn’t even have to say a word…he
innately knew.

The sudden brittle ring of her phone sliced through her hazy thoughts. She fished in her purse,

withdrew her cell, and answered without checking the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?”
Oh good grief, she so didn’t want to talk to Chris’s oldest brother right now. It just seemed…

inappropriate. “I’m good, Clinton. Getting ready to tackle a mountain of work.”

“Well, I won’t keep you. Just wanted to check in. You ready for the weather tonight? It’s going to

be bad. But that’s Colorado for you. Always snowing somewhere. Guess the tourists—”

Weather? Cassie frowned as she unlocked her front door. “What weather?” she asked, cutting off

his rambling diatribe. He was kind, but sometimes he really didn’t know when to stop talking.

“We’re s’posed to get some heavy ice, more snow. They’ve already shut down the public schools

for tomorrow. You’d think when they left ‘em open for twelve forecasted inches, eight wouldn’t close
them. I guess it’s the ice. Anyway, I stopped by today to check on your generator. I need to replace an
intake hose—looks like it’s rotted.”

Good old Clinton—even if he had caught her at an awkward personal moment, he was forever

taking care of her. Tending to things she never even thought about. She couldn’t help but smile. “That
wouldn’t surprise me. I don’t think we used the thing save for that first winter here.”

“You gonna be around this evening? If not, could you leave a key in the garage? I need to get down

to your box and cut the breaker to give it a test run.”

“Oh, yeah.” Cassie tossed her keys on the front table, dropped the rose in the vase with the

previous night’s flower, then meandered to the kitchen for some water before they shriveled. “I’ll be

here. Locked in the office and buried in work, but I’ll be here.”

“I figured you would be, but I thought I’d ask.”
She grimaced. If that wasn’t proof she needed to get back into the swing of living, she didn’t know

what was. Clinton actually expected her to be home. Shoot, the fact he was still maintaining stuff
around the house evidenced her virtual seclusion. Sighing, she leaned on the garage entrance. “I’ll be
here. Stop by whenever.”

“Okie dokie, kiddo. I’ve got to do a final walkthrough with some new buyers tonight. I’ll drop by

after.”

“Sure thing, Clinton.” Joy. So much for doing some case-law research and calling it an early night.

She’d have to put the hot tub off. When Clinton finished with his tinkering, he’d likely keep her talking
for a good couple of hours. Before he arrived, she wanted to have everything ready for tomorrow, so
she could call it a night.

…

Brad tossed a file folder aside and frowned. Buried in between his notes on the Cooper case was
Cassie’s client folder. He must have accidentally scooped it up when he left the office. And she’d be
pissed as hell, likely, to discover he had it.

Sighing, he set it aside unopened and flopped back on his hotel room’s leather sofa. Outside, the

sun glowed orange-red, and he had yet to accomplish anything of significance. He’d taken a nap,
showered, checked the stock market, and flipped through the notes he had on Miles and Jennifer
Cooper’s case.

His gaze pulled to where his cell phone lay on the coffee table—again. He needed to call Miles. If

he could keep Cassie from making rounds through his head, he might actually get something done. But
she refused to stay locked in a corner.

His stomach growled. Brainstorming a solution Miles and Jennifer would both agree to would go

so much faster with pizza. For two.

He snatched up his phone and fired off a text message to Cassie: Am I still a slimeball?
His phone remained silent. Sighing, he leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. This was

insane. She’d given him a clear red-light. He should let her alone and leave her be. Why he couldn’t,
he didn’t understand.

Nor did he care to think about it.
His phone vibrated, and he glanced down at the lighted screen.
I haven’t decided.
A beat later his cell vibrated with another incoming message from her.
The flower’s pretty.
So she had found it on her doorstep. He’d begun to question the wisdom in leaving it behind, but

given her determination to keep things professional between them, her silence hadn’t particularly
surprised him. That she was mentioning the rose now, however, did. He stared at his phone, debating

how to acknowledge her remark. Or if he should at all.

She’d probably take any mention of it as him trying to push her again. He chose to let the subject

rest. As he debated what to respond with, his gaze slid to where her folder rested on the cushion
beside him. He’d rather just see her—blindfold or not. To hell with it, she might be angry but
confessing might afford him the opportunity.

His fingers moved across the keys again. You left your notes in the conference room. I grabbed

them on my way out. Dying for food. I’ll bring pizza…

Brad resisted the sudden urge to pray she’d say yes. But dear God, he wanted her to accept.
He nearly forgot how to breathe when the phone buzzed against his palm.
You have my folder. That’s convenient for you.
Great. He sighed and shook his head. Not that he could blame her—he’d be suspicious as well. But

what to say to assuage her irritation?

Before he could come up with anything appropriate, his phone buzzed again.
Only if you add anchovies.
Anchovies? Brad blinked. So not what he’d expected. He’d take it though. She wasn’t telling him to

get lost or calling him a slimeball again. Maybe miracles did happen.

I can do anchovies. On my way in 10.
Before she could change her mind, or tell him she hadn’t been serious, he shut his phone completely

off. If she did send a message backing out, he could honestly say he hadn’t received it when he
showed up on her doorstep anyway.

In five minutes flat, he had her folder on the passenger seat and was behind the wheel, heading for

the Papa Murphy’s—build it yourself, cook it at home—pizza shop that he’d seen on the corner, three
blocks away. It took another twenty for the employees to get his raw pizza put together and packaged,
but before the sun could fully sink behind the horizon, he was heading up Cassie’s mountainside road.

He drove slower than he had on his mad race to her door this morning. Took his time studying the

landscape. As he pulled into her drive, the warm light seeping through her windows gave off a feeling
Brad could only describe as cozy. It was the last place in the world he could ever imagine he would
like. But there was something about this little house in the woods he found significantly appealing.

He shut off his car and took the pizza to her front door, then returned for his briefcase and her notes.

When he had everything sitting on her porch, and the pizza back in his hands, he rang the bell. His
pulse ticked away like he’d just run a marathon while he waited for her to answer. With his luck
lately, she’d answer the door, snatch her folder, and send him back to the hotel.

The irrational surge of nerves annoyed him. Get a grip. He told himself it didn’t matter if she did

send him away, that there were plenty of women in New York he didn’t have to coerce. Sure, they
didn’t offer the same freedom to be himself that one night with Cassie had, but they at least
appreciated his company. And it wasn’t as if he was looking to stick around. This was temporary
pleasure. Definitely not permanent.

In the end, the longer he stood in the cold, waiting for her shadow to move across the room and

answer the bell, the more jittery he became.

When Cassie finally opened the door, the fist around Brad’s lungs let go, and his breath rushed out

in relief. “Hey,” he managed with an uncertain smile.

She stepped back, swung the door open wide. Her pursed lips told him she wasn’t entirely glad to

see him, but he stepped inside. He’d made it into the front hall. Progress was progress—he’d take
what she offered.

“Did you read it?”
Okay maybe not so much progress. Brad shifted the pizza box so her folder protruded from beneath.

“No. I don’t cheat.”

“Uh huh. Not what I’ve heard.” She pulled the folder free and set it on the entry table.
What she’d heard? No…he wasn’t going to ask. He didn’t want to argue. Instead, he tapped the

pizza box. “Can I put this in your oven?”

Cassie arched an eyebrow. “Do you cook?”
“Well…no. But I can follow directions on a pizza.” He smirked. “It’s not exactly rocket science,

sweetheart.”

Chuckling, she took the box out of his hands. “I’ll handle the convection oven.”
Convection…yeah. Probably best if she cooked. Most days he did good with stovetop Hamburger

Helper. He lingered in the entryway a moment, admiring the sway of her hips as she ascended the
stairs to her kitchen. It struck him then what she was wearing—pajama pants and a loose tank top.
Nothing that screamed sexy, and yet, the outfit held allure. The pants clung to her shapely bottom,
highlighting her already mouth-watering curves. While that ordinary black tank snugged across her
breasts…which he realized were free from constraint when she turned the corner and he witnessed
her in profile.

Beneath his jeans, his dozing cock stirred to life. Choking back a groan, Brad returned to the front

porch and the cold air there. He was not going to make this sexual tonight. If he stood any slight
chance of ever getting that woman back in bed, he needed to connect with her some other way first.
Hence the pizza and work.

He lugged his briefcase inside, took an immediate right turn into her spacious living room and its

incredible floor-to-ceiling windows. Turning to join her upstairs in the kitchen, he noticed another
glass-paneled wall that he’d missed the night before on the rear of the house. Beyond, terra-cotta
pavestones created an expansive back patio encased by small, boundary floor lights. He moved to the
sliding glass door, curious as to how the patio lacked any trace of the previous night’s snowfall.

An overhanging balcony answered the quandary. Tucked beside the open-backed staircase that led

above sat an in-ground hot tub that bubbled gently. Alternating red and blue lights slowly dimmed on
and off.

If he’d known she had a hot tub, they’d have made use of it last night, damn it. He’d love to get her

in the water. Hell, he’d make a pact with the devil to see her skin aglow in that soft lighting.

Had her husband made love to her there?

Brad scowled at the totally unacceptable thought. Of course her husband had enjoyed her in that tub.

No guy with a libido wouldn’t have.

Still, it bugged him that another man had known that sweet perfection.
He turned away before his mind could run away from him. Maybe some other time he’d bring up

the hot tub. When he could be certain he wasn’t some replacement for a ghost from her past. Opening
his briefcase, he called up to her, “I thought we could throw together some alternate proposals for our
mutual clients.”

Chapter Eleven

Brad tossed his crust into the empty pizza box and stretched out on the floor, his elbow on the pillow
beneath his chest, his head in his hand. Cassie grinned up from an over-stuffed neon orange file
folder. “Make yourself at home,” she teased.

“I am.” He stretched out his legs, rolled onto his back, and folded his arms behind his head. “I need

a break from research.”

She let out a laugh. “A break? I’ve been quoting and you’ve been listening.”
“Exactly.”
Chuckling, he turned his head to look at her. She sat cross-legged on top of a matching floor pillow

with a significant stack of open references by her left knee. Her long hair spilled over one shoulder
and brushed against the top of her thigh. A lovely picture in and of itself, but her smile, and the bright
happy light behind her eyes, made her breath-taking. Happy—she was legitimately enjoying their
evening, despite the heavy workload that remained between them.

“So you have more dedication than I do.” Brad shrugged. “This is too damn comfortable to think

about that mess. I’ve dealt with molestation cases. They never fail to twist my stomach.”

He nodded down the length of his body to the stone hearth and the unlit fireplace. If he breathed

deeply enough he could catch the faint scent of ash. The last time he’d seen a real wood-burning
fireplace had been in his childhood home. “You use that much?”

“Not much since Chris died.”
Chris. So that was his name. His gut tightened unexplainably. “Why not?”
From the corner of his eye, he observed the way she set her folder aside and turned to stare at the

fireplace. An emotion he couldn’t name flickered across her expression. Regret? Remorse? Sorrow?

“I don’t really know,” she answered quietly. “I guess I just don’t think about it. I’d rather use the

one in the guest room and cozy up in the bed.”

Oh yeah—that sounded heavenly. But her explanation didn’t quite make sense. Curious, he rolled

onto his elbow again. “You have a fireplace in your guest room, which you like, but not the master
bedroom?”

The faintest touch of pink crept into her cheeks. It vanished, however, as her brows puckered with a

slight frown. “Yeah.” She heaved a sigh, pushed her hair behind her shoulder. “Chris didn’t like the
idea of our clothes smelling like campfire.”

That had to be the single-most ridiculous thing Brad had ever heard. He arched an eyebrow. But the

wistful look that settled into her pretty features gave him pause. Not wanting to know, but needing to
hear the answer, he asked, “Do you miss him?”

She blinked as if he’d asked her whether elephants danced in the rain. Then her expression gave

way to another curious frown. “Sometimes the stillness in the house makes me wish he were here.”

It was Brad’s turn to frown. He hadn’t anticipated such a blasé answer. In fact, he’d expected her to

say yes.

Cassie continued before he could prompt for an explanation. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved him. But

after he died, I realized our marriage was one pretty shell. When you took it off the shelf and opened
it up, it was hollow inside.”

“How so?” The question rolled free before he could stop it.
Leaning back on her hands, she stretched her legs out in front of her. Her ankle came to a stop

beside his hand. “We were really good friends. We got along well, hardly ever fought. But we never
really connected, either.” She chewed on her lower lip for a moment then added, “I think we both
settled.”

No man in his right mind would ever consider Cassie as settling. If someone legitimately thought he

could do better, the guy had an ego that knew no bounds. “That’s crazy, Cassie.”

“Really?” She tipped her head to the side curiously. “In all the clients you’ve dealt with, all the

cases you’ve handled, you’ve never met that couple who gets along so perfectly you can’t really
understand why they’re getting divorced? You haven’t encountered the, I’m just not in love with him,
reason for separating?”

Brad chuckled. “’Course I have. But that’s not settling—that’s a delusion with love. Everybody

wants it. Then it’s never what they expected. And people move on, chasing something intangible, and
they pay me lots of money to give them freedom.”

A wry twist settled into the corners of her mouth. “That’s awfully cynical. You don’t believe in

love?”

Plucking at a carpet fiber, Brad considered her question. “I don’t know about love. I’ll pass on

marriage…though I always kinda liked the idea of having a kid.” He shrugged again. “But I don’t
really have time for kids, so it’s really a non-issue.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her wide eyes thoughtful, gnawing on that bottom lip once

more. “What’s wrong with marriage?”

He let out a hearty laugh. “What’s wrong with marriage? Look in your file cabinets at the office. I

can count on one hand—make that three fingers—the number of marriages I’ve seen that have lasted.
My grandparents on both sides, and the elderly couple that lived next door to my mom growing up.
Relationships are nothing but paperwork in the making.”

“That’s sad,” she replied quietly.
“Yeah, it is sad what people do to each other.”
“No.” Shaking her head, she collected the empty pizza box and rose to her feet. “It’s sad no one’s

ever loved you enough to inspire you to believe in them.”

As she started up the stairs Brad blinked. What the hell? How had she just turned that entire

conversation around? He scrambled to his feet and looked up the staircase to where she crossed the
upstairs hall. “What makes you think I don’t believe in people?”

“Because if you did, you’d know what it feels like to want to hold on and never let go.”
“I know what it feels like,” he muttered. Hell, he experienced that longing every time he touched

her.

“What?” she called down from the kitchen.
“Noth—” No. He wasn’t dodging this conversation because she might take it the wrong way.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he joined her on the upstairs landing. “I said I know what that feeling
is.”

She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Oh?”
As she dropped the box into the trash can, he closed the distance between them. Setting his hands

on her shoulders, he looked her in the eye. “Why do you think I kept you up all night? Why I texted
you tonight?”

The humor in her eyes vanished. Her lips parted, and she went utterly still.
“I know what it’s like to not be able to get enough, Cassie.” Against his will, his voice lowered to

a husky, intimate tone. “I touch you and want to hold on. But I’m not seeing white dresses and tuxedos.
I’m aching to kiss you, to run my hands over your body, to sink deep inside you and hear you call my
name.”

His hands moved of their own volition, sliding down her arms, over her hips to cup her buttocks

and trap her in place. He took a step forward, bringing his body against hers. His fingers dug into the
toned muscle beneath his palms. She shuddered against him. “I want that, and that’s not marriage.”

“No.” Her gaze fastened on his mouth. “No, it’s not,” she whispered.
Brad brushed a kiss across her temple. “It turns you on to hear me admit I want you, doesn’t it?”
Again, she shivered. Ever so slightly, her chin dipped in a slow nod.
“Say it,” he murmured against her hair. He ran his hands over her bottom. “Admit you want me.”
A quiet, strangled cry of frustrated surrender broke from her throat. Her arms wound around his

waist. “I want you, Brad,” she whispered.

The simple admission launched raw lust through his veins. In a heartbeat, his cock was hard, his

body straining against the primal urge to satisfy that hard-won confession. He bent his head and let his
mouth hover over hers. “Kiss me, sweetheart. Prove it to me.”

She lifted to her toes, brought her fingertips to his face, and captured his mouth. Unlike her verbal

reluctance, no hesitation came with the stroke of her tongue. She claimed what she wanted with
greedy abandon, slid her hands to the sides of his head, and tangled her fingers tightly into his hair.
Before Brad could choke the sound down, a groan tore from his throat. Something feral and untamed
broke inside him. His hands roved over her back, crushing her against his body. He wedged a knee
between her thighs, aligning them even closer. His own fingers latched into her long hair, wrapping
around those silken lengths until he’d gathered a fistful, and held her in place so he could take what he
wanted from her mouth. Still, it wasn’t enough.

In one swift move, he spun her around and pinned her against the wall. Her startled cry connected

with his brain. He tore his mouth away, sank his hips hard against hers, holding her in place. Their
labored breathing rasped between them. She held his gaze, silent acceptance reflected in her stare.

And Brad became lost in those wide, wondrous eyes. Mesmerized by the softness of her

expression, the touch of wonder that reflected back at him, he brushed his knuckles across her cheek,
traced her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “Cassie,” he whispered.

The rest of the thoughts that flitted through his brain refused to form words. He tried, but they were

too disjointed to be coherent. Instead, he drew her into a gentle kiss.

Distantly, an out-of-place sound filtered into his awareness and dragged him out of splendor.

Brows furrowed, he lifted his head, listening.

Three heavy thumps came from her front door. He arched an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”
“Oh, shit! Clinton.”
Before he could ask, she ducked under his arm and bolted for the front door. With a disparaging

sigh, Brad forked his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know who this Clinton was, but right now, he
could kill the man.

Moving to the top of the stairs, he watched as Cassie opened the door for a man in his late thirties,

who stepped inside as if he frequented Cassie’s house. His warm hearty smile accompanied the
affectionate embrace he gave her. As he pulled away, however, and his gaze skipped up the stairs to
where Brad stood, that smile slipped. More than a little suspicion glinted in his expression.

Cassie beckoned to Brad. “Clinton, this is Brad Steele. He’s a…friend of mine.”
Friend—every guy in the world knew that was a line. And judging from the way the corners of this

man’s mouth pulled against a smirk, he wasn’t a fool. The tangles in Cassie’s hair didn’t help, either.
Add in her twisted tank top and the way the tie to her pajama pants now resided on her hip made
friends look like a bald-faced lie. Let alone what one glimpse of his half untucked shirt and the way
his cock strained against the fly of his jeans said.

Brad descended the stairs anyway.
The friendly, laughing grin that greeted him, along with the outstretched hand, caught him off-guard.

He shook hands warily.

“Brad, meet Clinton, my former brother-in-law. He’s, ah, here to check my generator.”
Oh, fuck. He sincerely did not want to meet the brother of the ghost whose wife he’d presently just

been mauling. Not in this lifetime, or the next.

Brad forced himself to smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure’s mine.” He let go of Brad’s fingers and gestured at the stairs. “I’ll make it as quick as

possible, kiddo. Sorry for the bad timing.” He grinned at Brad. “Someone’s gotta take care of her.
Her job keeps her hopping, and sometimes she forgets the important things.”

“Ah…” Bright crimson colored Cassie’s face. “Okay.”
Surrounded by overwhelming awkwardness, Brad picked his jacket up off the back of the couch.

“You know, I’m thinking that fireplace is awfully dark. You’ve got wood outside?”

Cassie’s blush deepened as she nodded. “On the east side.”
“East side. Right.” He opened the front door. “Back in a few.”

Chapter Twelve

Brad pulled the rest of his shirttail free, took a deep breath, and pushed the burn of unsatisfied arousal
to the back of his mind. The cold winter air helped to cool his overheated skin, and he glanced up at
the night sky, blinking as light snowflakes fell across his face. Man, even in New York, where he saw
more than his fair share of snow, the flakes didn’t seem quite as big. Funny how mountains could play
tricks on the mind.

Muttering, he struck off down the walk, across the wide expanse of her driveway, to the east side of

her house, where stacked logs sat beneath an overhang that had obviously been designed for the
purpose of sheltering wood. Iron racks were bolted into a concrete pad, long enough to hold an easy
two cords. All but the closest end were packed full.

She wasn’t kidding when she said she didn’t use the fire much.
He bent to grab an armload. As his fingers grazed the rough bark, though, the side door opened.

“Hey, man,” Clinton called.

Brad stiffened. He was too damned old to get a lecture from an overprotective family member who

wanted to remind him he was rooting around someone else’s foundations. “Yeah?” he asked
cautiously as he looked over his shoulder.

“You think I could get a hand here for a second? This hose is too stiff to make the bend and stay

attached.”

“Uh…sure.” Brad backed away from the logs. Not what he’d expected. Not in the slightest.
Clinton’s grin was as warm and welcoming as it had been in the front foyer. “Sorry to interrupt and

all. I’ll help you lug in logs here in a sec.”

Okay—maybe he’d made the wrong assumption here. Brother-in-law or not, he didn’t seem to be

territorial. Even if his presence at Cassie’s house, to tinker with something in her garage, said they
were close. Brad let suspicion slide away and followed the shorter, stockier man inside. “Whatcha
need, where?”

Clinton pointed at a gas can on the floor beside a generator. One black rubber hose stood out at a

near ninety-degree angle, pointing toward the ceiling on one end. The other loosely connected to the
intake on the machine. “Shove that end on there. I need it to give a little before we cinch it all with the
clamps, but it keeps pulling loose.”

Easy as pie. Brad grabbed the hose and attached it to the can.
“You ever run a generator?”
“Nope. I live in an apartment.”
“Ah. Well…” Clinton paused to bend awkwardly around the machine. “We’ll get this fixed up, and

I’ll show you how. You’ll prolly need it tomorrow.” Despite his contorted position, he managed to
nod at the wall behind them. “I brought her extra gas this afternoon. So you shouldn’t run out, but her
neighborhood is notorious for losing power. I swear that transformer is overloaded.”

“Tomorrow?” Brad asked, trying to make sense of not only the direction of the conversation, but

why Clinton had started it in the first place.

The man glanced at him. “Don’t either of you listen to the weather?”
“Ah…”
A slow, easy smirk, spread over his face. “Yeah. I get it. I doubt I’d be watching television much

either.”

There was no mistaking his insinuation, and Brad found himself blinking, dumbfounded. He didn’t

know this guy from Adam. He was Cassie’s dead husband’s brother . And this conversation was the
strangest one he’d ever encountered. Considering he lived in the city that never slept, that was saying
something.

As he tinkered, Clinton rambled on. “We’re s’posed to get snow and ice tonight. Lots of it. You

might want to back your car to the top of the drive. Cassie’s too, for that matter. Otherwise digging
out of that driveway is a bitch. Trust me.”

Still struggling with the surrealness of the entire situation, Brad looked back at the closed garage

door. But Cassie’s Cherokee was nowhere in sight. His confusion must have registered on his face,
because Clinton chuckled.

“It’s through that steel door.” Lifting a hand he pointed at the door across the room. “I built this

smaller garage for lawn equipment and stuff. Put a firewall in between the two.”

“So where’s the mower?”
He laughed a bit harder. “She sold it. Hired some lawn company to take over the yard. I told her I’d

be more than happy to. But she wanted to stand on her own, I think, after Chris passed.” He shook his
head thoughtfully, then his hands began to move again. With a grunt, he let go and righted himself.
“She never wanted all the grass anyway, just the trees. Chris put the landscaping in.” Focusing on a
point on the wall, he added slowly and with a touch of sad affection, “Hell of a guy. Always wanted
to give her the best, but never paid much attention to detail.”

Stand on her own…She’d said their marriage was a pretty shell. More and more it sounded like her

husband ran over her.

Chuckling once again, Clinton stepped over the generator and gestured where Brad held the hose in

place. “You can screw that thing down now.” As he turned to pick up his tools, he continued. “She
didn’t want the lawn, didn’t want the cost. His suggestion was to maintain it himself to save the
expense. ‘Cept Cassie meant the cost of his time, not their money. Would’ve gone over better if he’d
hired a company to begin with. Instead, she made up that time helping him build his career instead of
working on her own.” He shook his head a moment, his hands stilling, then chuckled wistfully. “Guess
that’s changed now too. Pretty proud of her lately.”

Brad couldn’t stop his curiosity. It was none of his business, really, but he asked anyway, “Changed

how?”

“Family law was always her passion. She landed that big Cooper case recently. Jennifer’s sort of

the town’s Shirley Temple. Everyone loves her and that little girl. If Cassie manages to keep Anna

with her mom, she’ll be set up nice for the future.” He shrugged once more and locked his tool box.
“Nice to see Cassie doing so well. Chris made a name for himself in criminal law to give her all this.
Every damned stone was for her, just didn’t realize it wasn’t the stones that mattered.”

No…her husband hadn’t run her over, Brad realized. The man had failed to pay attention. He had

her needs all backward. Brad gave the clamp’s fastener another twist, straightened, and dusted his
hands on his jeans. Another realization struck as he stared down at the generator. Sounded like Cassie
needed to win this case. Which didn’t bode well.

“Eh, sorry for rambling. It’s Cassie’s business. I shouldn’t be running my mouth. Here.” Clinton

reached in front of Brad and tapped a bright yellow switch. “This kicks it on. Let’s go kill the power
and give her a go. Then we’ll grab that wood, and I’ll get lost.”

Brad chuckled. Yeah, he’d like the guy to go, but his random conversation was providing one hell

of an insight to Cassie. He fell into step behind Clinton, curious what other tidbits the man might
disclose.

…

Cassie’s insides turned to mush as Clinton’s pickup truck backed out of her driveway. The last hour
should have relaxed her. Instead, it only keyed her up. She was trembling from head to foot, and no
matter how hard she ordered her hand to release the front door knob and turn around, she couldn’t
convince her body to move.

She could feel Brad standing behind her on the bottom step of the stairs. Feel his eyes roving over

her backside, and she knew if she turned around, that jovial grin he’d bid Clinton goodbye with
would have vanished. The companionable light in his eyes would be dark and dangerous. Hungry for
all she had to give.

His kiss would demand everything.
“Cassie.”
The soft fall of his voice was exciting and terrifying at the same time. She closed her eyes,

tightened her fingers around the doorknob. I could lose everything.

One quiet footstep moved him behind her. A chill radiated through her shoulder, where his

fingertips brushed her skin as he pushed her hair aside. Another tremor raced down her spine as his
breath whispered across the side of her throat.

“What are you so afraid of?”
Warm lips closed over her collarbone. In a feather-light caress, he drew the back of his hand down

her upper arm. His body heat soaked into her backside, though he had yet to fully touch her.

Slowly, he slipped his arms around her waist and drew her back against his chest. Every hard inch

of his magnificent body aligned with hers in perfect splendor. His thighs framed hers. His strong arms
kept her from sinking to her knees. Against her shoulder blade, she felt the, steady beat of his heart.
The length of his erection nestled between her buttocks, opening a gaping cavern of want inside her
womb. She combated the need to angle her hips, push back against him, and guide the fingertips he

splayed across her abdomen lower, to the achy spot between her legs.

“Don’t run away from me,” he murmured as he dusted kisses across her shoulder. “Why are you

scared of this?”

She swallowed thickly. Forced her eyes to open. “Why can’t you just leave me be?” Though she

tried for a hard edge to her words, to her shame, her voice came out weak, lacking the conviction she
so desperately wanted.

Brad gave a slow roll of his hips that tucked his swollen shaft more tightly against her. A quiet

groan rumbled in her throat, and she let her head fall back against his chest, her strength now a thing
of the past. He skated one hand up her ribs and covered her breast with his warm palm. “Is that what
you really want?”

Not in a hundred years. She wanted this. But the idea of letting go of everything now that he knew

the real Cassie, not the put together, always-in-control woman she was supposed to be, terrified her.
She summoned a lie instead. “We could be disbarred,” she whispered.

“Not if we’re careful.” His fingers gave her breast a gentle squeeze, and he dipped the hand at her

waist a hairsbreadth lower. “I’ll go if that’s what you want. I’ll walk out that door, and tomorrow
we’ll be right back where we were today.”

Again his lips skimmed across her shoulder, lingering where her tank top left her bare. “Me

wanting to bend you over your desk. You fighting to avoid me. Both of us yearning for this.” He thrust
between her buttocks again slowly, dragging out the contact, making her burn for him in ways she’d
never burned for any man. “Is that what you want?”

“No.” The truth came out in a broken whisper. Her hips rotated involuntarily. “I want this.” Her

voice caught, and she swallowed once more. “But…I don’t…know how…”

His mouth left her shoulder, and he released her breast. With far more purpose in his hands, he

turned her around to face him. Concern touched his intense, blue eyes, along with a heavy shot of
confusion. “How to what, sweetheart?”

She stared at the base of his throat, unable to look him in the eye as she confessed the embarrassing

truth. “How to let go of myself when you know me. We’re not strangers anymore. Total freedom is…
lost.”

For the briefest millisecond of time, a frown creased his brow. Then, he stepped away, caught her

hand, and led her into the front room where they’d left their work. He pointed at a throw pillow.
“Wait there.”

Befuddled, she sat on the overstuffed down, watching him through a narrowed, mistrustful gaze.

“What are you doing?”

Brad shrugged. “Lighting this fire.”
Cassie blinked. He was doing…what?
He took a knee in front of the hearth, pulled open the glass doors, and tossed in a log. “When I’m

done here, I’m going to light the one in that guest room you mentioned. And then…” He ripped off a
sheet of newspaper, balled it up, and stuffed it under the logs he’d stacked. “Then you’re going to tell

me where you’d rather talk.”

Talk? They’d gone from sex to talking? “Why?” she blurted out.
Brad drew a long matchstick across the container and held it to the paper. When it caught, when the

flames began to lick at the dried wood, he tossed the stick in, pulled the chain curtain shut, and
swiveled to face her. “Because you aren’t comfortable with me. And we’re going to talk until you
are.”

A shudder gripped her. Damn, how could he make something so benign, sound so harmful?

Chapter Thirteen

There was something immensely satisfying about building a fire. Particularly when Brad hadn’t done
so since Boy Scout camping days. That he could remember how gave him a sense of accomplishment.
Accomplishment that eased the disconcerting knowledge that Cassie was uncomfortable with him. Or
maybe with herself. He intended to discover which before the night was over.

He stepped onto the bottom stair and entered the living room, to find her sprawled out on the floor,

the pillow tucked under folded elbows. She stared at the fire, lazily kicked her feet back and forth
through the air. At the sound of his footfalls, she pushed herself back into a sitting position.
Apprehension filled her eyes.

Talking had never been his thing. Not when it came to women, at least. But it had become

imperative to break down her walls and get to the root of why she was resisting taking things further.
She was smart and savvy; he didn’t buy her paltry excuse about the career risks, even if Clinton had
all but said Cassie needed to win this case. No, there was something else, some deeper reason. His
gaze scampered over her thin frame as he considered where to start.

She didn’t mind the casual interaction when they were focused on work. Didn’t hesitate to throw in

a joke that caught him off guard, or tease when he wasn’t expecting it. As long as he didn’t touch her,
as long as the interpersonal boundaries weren’t breached…she would be completely at ease.

So he’d start there. Even if the prospect of doing so killed him. His voice hoarsening before he

could spit out the first word, he gestured at her pajamas. “Take those off.”

Her dainty mouth dropped open. She quickly snapped it shut and blinked at him. “I thought we were

—”

Brad arched an eyebrow. “We are. Now, please, work with me.”
Cassie stopped talking. As her hands dropped to the hem of her shirt, he gave her a short nod. “All

off.”

While she shimmied out of her clothes, he shucked his own and grabbed the heavy quilt from the

back of the nearby sofa. He spread it on the ground, close to the fire, then sat down cross-legged,
determined to ignore the way his cock hovered at half mast. Cassie regarded him from her perch atop
her pillow, a faint flush to her skin. He patted a spot on the blanket in front of his knees. “Come here,
beautiful.”

He nearly groaned aloud as she unfolded those devastating legs and rose to her feet. Her skin

shimmered in the warm firelight, highlighting the definition to her well-toned muscles. God, he
wanted to run his hands down those silken lengths.

She sat in front of him, mirroring his position. He ordered his gaze to stay on her face, though

everything inside him begged him to look lower. To see if her rosy-tipped breasts held the same
warm glow of light, to drink in the pretty pink between her legs. Not his most brilliant moment to have
her unclothed and in front of him, where her parted thighs called to his fingers. He cleared his throat.

Reached between them to clasp her hands. Drawing her arms forward, he placed her palms atop his
thighs. They rested gently, not supporting her weight. But that light touch was enough to lift his cock to
full attention. It bobbed uncomfortably against his abdomen.

Fuck. He was going to die this way. He took a deep breath, looked her in the eyes. “Don’t move,

unless I tell you to,” he whispered.

She gave him a hesitant nod.
“We don’t need to be strangers. In fact, it’s better if we aren’t.” Lifting a hand, he traced the gentle

curve beneath her left breast. Launching sheer agony through his body, her nipples pebbled at the light
caress. “I know how to touch you. I know what you like.” He flicked his thumb over that distended
nub. Choked down a groan when her chestnut eyes flashed in the firelight. “I know if I do this just
right”—he took her nipple between thumb and forefinger and gave it a tiny twist—“you get so wet it
makes me dizzy.”

Proving the truth in his words, a shudder rolled down her spine. Her lashes lowered heavily. His

cock pulsed with the evidence of her arousal, and a bead of moisture rolled down the tip. Yes,
indeed, she was going to kill him. But he was driving to a point, and if it broke him in half, he
wouldn’t stop until he reached his destination.

“If I dipped my fingers between your legs, Cassie, would I be right?” he asked hoarsely.
Her answer blended with her breathless exhale. “Yes.”
Brad cleared his throat again as a blistering haze threatened to steer him off course. “If I can give

you better pleasure, because we aren’t strangers, what are you afraid of?”

When she didn’t immediately answer, Brad leaned forward and swirled the tip of his tongue around

the hollow beneath her ear. He grazed his teeth down her neck at the same time he allowed his hand to
drop from her breast to her belly button. Splaying his fingers, he stroked the sensitive skin just
beneath that dimple with slow sweeps of his index finger. “Cassie, do you want me to touch you?”

Her entire body vibrated. “Yes.”
He swept his index finger down another inch and stroked her again. “I’m not going to until you

answer me. Why are you afraid of this?”

Several unending seconds ticked by as he watched her fight the explanation. She closed her eyes,

sank her teeth into her lower lip. Beneath his hand her abdomen tensed, along with her hips. He
refused to yield, but maintained the slow, back and forth slide of his finger.

Surrender hit with her harsh exhale that stirred the tendrils of hair around her face. “Because…

you…unravel me.” Whimpering in that sexy little way that told him her body craved more, she tipped
her pelvis forward, creeping toward the sweep of his fingertip.

Brad stilled his hand. “Uh-huh, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I said don’t move.”

…

Cassie wanted to scream. Brad was right—he knew exactly how to touch her. Which meant he knew
he was driving her out of her mind. And that he’d managed to wrest free what she least wanted to

confide only added to the feeling that she was splintering apart. She’d given him power over her with
that admission. What if he used it against her?

She held her breath, waiting for the flash of need in her bloodstream to subside. When the muscles

in her lower back unclenched, and she settled against the blanket again, Brad grazed his fingertip
across her skin once more.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “I unravel you?”
Cassie nodded, unable to form any verbal response.
“You like the way it feels, right?”
She licked her lips, her mouth dry as cotton. “Yes.”
“Then why? Explain, beautiful.”
She swallowed again, searched for words. “I…” Shaking her head against the words that refused to

cooperate, she chewed on her lower lip again.

Brad cocked an eyebrow, but his caresses continued. He was being patient, and for that, she wanted

to kiss him. But kisses weren’t in her future if she didn’t start talking. Sighing, she glanced down at
where their knees touched. “My whole marriage was logical. I let it be that way. I let him define me.
Last night…”

A shiver gripped her as Brad inched his fingertip lower, tickling over the top of her mound. When

she found her voice again, it trembled like the rest of her. “Was the first night I haven’t felt like I was
in chains, and I was finally able to be myself. I have a submissive side and I don’t want to be stifled
again. Nor do I want to be taken advantage of because of it.” There, she’d said it. She’d survived the
admission.

“Cassie?” he asked so quietly she almost missed the sound of his voice.
Lifting her gaze to his, she waited for him to continue, feeling wholly exposed, wholly vulnerable

beneath that penetrating blue light.

His free hand came up to cup the side of her face. Tenderness infused his expression. “Did your

husband satisfy you?”

Humiliated to the core of her being, Cassie closed her eyes and tried to turn out of his grasp. He let

her, but his unrelenting caresses didn’t give her the escape she wanted. His strokes dipped lower,
dusting a breath away from where she craved his touch the most.

“What a fool he was.” A touch of some unidentifiable emotion fringed Brad’s voice. “He didn’t

pay attention to the treasure you are. Look at me.”

She pulled her gaze back to his.
“No. Look at me. All of me. There’s no way I’d ridicule you for the secrets you give to me when

you surrender your body. And I would never take advantage of you that way either.” He chuckled, and
the wry twist to his mouth hinted that he disliked the truth as much as she did. “Hell, sweetheart, I’m
shaking I want you so badly. But I’ll sit here all damned night, hard as stone, a breath away from
losing it if you breathe too hard, until you’re ready.”

It took every ounce of courage she possessed to confess, “I don’t want that control, Brad. I’m tired

of holding the control.”

“I know you don’t.” As he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, his breath whispered into her

hair. “But you’re clinging to it. I can’t take it out of your hands. You have to surrender it to me. And
as amazing as last night was, knowing each other will make it so much better.”

Flash after flash of the way he’d manipulated her body, knowing precisely what she wanted, what

she needed the night before, cycled through her mind. Before she could fully recover from the
immediate constriction of her lungs, Brad’s fingertip made the final descent she craved, and he
stroked her clitoris.

Shock radiated through her body. A blissful haze enveloped her mind. She shuddered against his

hand and gasped for air. “Please… please…” Giving up on words, Cassie moaned. What she wanted,
she couldn’t define. She didn’t know what, precisely, to ask for.

“God, you’re so perfect.” The sandpaper quality of his voice sent another violent tremor rolling

through her body. “Lean back, sweetheart.”

As strength threatened to leave her spine, she willingly lay back on the blanket and clenched her

hands in soft cotton. Her hips undulated against his slow, steady strokes. Heat spread over her skin.

“It’s just a week. No obligations or expectations. You can indulge for a few days, can’t you?”
Complete freedom to indulge in her most-secretive desires. There was no threat in that. Cassie

nodded, as she whispered, “For a few days, yes.”

One thick finger slid gently into her aching depths. He retracted slowly, only to push in once more,

stroking her just where she needed to feel him the most. “Close your eyes. Don’t think. Just enjoy it.
Let me take care of you.”

A raspy moan tumbled from her lips, and she turned her head aside, allowing pleasure to guide her

down the treacherous path he proposed. She lifted her hips, arched her back.

“That’s the way, sweetheart. Don’t hold back. Let go,” Brad coaxed tenderly. He slid his free hand

up her inner thigh, parting her legs wider. His breath scampered across her damp flesh. She braced
for the heady assault she knew would come. Her grip tightened on the blanket. Her womb clamped
down like a vise.

When that glorious mouth settled into place, ecstasy tore through her body, and Cassie cried out his

name.

Chapter Fourteen

Still reeling from the easy way Cassie went off like a rocket, Brad grabbed at his faltering control and
eased to his knees. The softness of her face tugged at his heart. He wanted nothing more than to spread
her wide and drive hard into her until she screamed his name again, but tonight had to be for her.
Even if it was as much for him.

He scooped her into his arms and rose to his feet.
She struggled to free her legs. “What are you—”
“Shh.” With a little bounce he repositioned her so her head rested against his shoulder. “Trust me.”
The fight went out of her, and she snuggled into his embrace. Her fingertips rested above his heart,

and the gentle way she traced her nails over his pecs made him smile. So precious—she was a rare,
and valuable gem.

Brad carried her up the stairs, down the opposite hall, and into the guest room, where the logs from

the fire crackled low in the stone hearth. A nudge from his heel shut the door, and he laid her carefully
on the bed.

She stretched like a cat, arms above her head, back arching. But the graceful movements only

accented the weighty fullness to her breasts, and he found himself fighting down desire once again. It
simply blew his mind how she pushed him to the edge of his limits with so little effort.

“This is nice.” She rolled onto her side horizontally across the bed, and smoothed a hand over the

thick comforter. “So much nicer than being in this bed alone.”

If he had his way, she wouldn’t be spending time in this bed alone ever again.
The thought registered as he rounded the footboard. Where had that come from? He was leaving at

the end of the week. Whether she slept in here again, whether she took another lover in this room,
didn’t matter. It had to be that way, unless he wanted to sacrifice all the years he’d put into the firm.

What mattered was here and now. He might not be able to control what she did when he left, but

damn it, tonight belonged to him. He moved to the foot of the bed with more purpose. When she
looked up at him, the innocent trust reflecting in her eyes stole his breath. His chest crimped painfully.

“On your belly,” he instructed, all too aware of the gravel that had taken up residence in his throat.
Without the slightest hesitation, she rolled onto her stomach. He took a moment to drink in the way

the flickering light that danced across the perfect curves of her bottom. The way shadows accented the
curve of her narrow waist and the slope of her hips. Hips that were meant for his hands to grip as he
sank deep inside her heavenly warmth.

“Knees, now, Cassie. Lift up.”
She glanced over her shoulder with a touch of confusion wrinkling her brow, but she did as

instructed and lifted to all fours. Brad nearly groaned aloud as she presented her pretty rear end.
Dewy moisture gathered on her inner thighs, bringing the way she’d shattered against his mouth to the
forefront of his mind, and his balls pulled in tight. Pleasure thrummed through his veins.

His voice hardened by another degree. “Good girl. But next time, like this.” Locking his fingers

around her ankles, he tugged her down the mattress until her toes dipped off the edge. He wrapped an
arm around her waist and lifted her hips up, maneuvered them backward. When she went to brace
herself on her hands, he gave one curvy cheek a sharp tap with a solitary finger. “No. I didn’t say rise
up. Keep your chest on the bed. I want to see you like this.”

She sank into position, and he molded his hands around her hips. Like this, she aligned with him

perfectly. All he had to do was lift a bit on his toes, and he could glide into her body and take her as
hard, or as gently, as he desired. He splayed his fingers across her bottom, massaging the muscle
there, watching the way her nails slowly curved into the comforter. When she pushed back against the
pressure of his hands, he took them away, bent over her, and pressed a kiss to the base of her spine.
“Cassie. I told you not to think. Do it again, and I’ll walk away.”

Though she didn’t say a word, the way she shivered told him all he needed to know. He drew his

lips over the rise of tight flesh, flicked his tongue against the crease where her leg met her bottom, and
dipped one finger between her legs. Sweet heaven she was wet. So very ready, and he’d hardly
touched her at all. This time, he couldn’t hold in his groan.

“Tell me,” he whispered as he drew his finger between her slick folds, “are you uncomfortable

with me, like this?”

“No.” She drew a sharp breath as he stroked her again.
“It’s easy, isn’t it? To just let go. Stop thinking about everything. To be yourself with me?” Moving

a half-step closer, he withdrew his hand and replaced his finger with his cock. With one gentle thrust
he pushed himself through her slick flesh.

“Yes.” The word hissed between her teeth, and the muscles in her lower back tightened.
Holy hell—talk about erotic. He’d had no idea one flex could reduce him to caveman instinct. But

the need to claim her, to possess her, overrode all thought. He pulled his hips back, pushed forward
again, stroking her clitoris with the tip of his erection and pressing so close her bottom brushed his
abdomen. Brad gritted his teeth and ground out, “You do like it, don’t you, Cassie?”

A quiet sound of pleasure drifted off her lips. “God, yes.”
“If you knew half of the things I want to do to you like this…” His own violent shudder stole his

words. “You’ll enjoy them all, sweetheart. I guarantee it.” And he fully intended to satisfy several of
them before he let her surrender to exhaustion.

“Please, Brad.” She gasped again as her lower body tensed. “Please let me move.”
His fingers clamped into her hips, holding her in place. “You stay right like you are.”
“You’re killing me.”
“Mm.” He stroked her again. “You’ll be just fine.” Withdrawing, he took himself in hand and

aligned his erection with her opening. Burying just the tip inside her wet heat, he stilled and dropped
his hand around her waist to reach between her legs. His fingertip pressed against her clitoris.

A moan tore off her parted lips. Around his circumference she became even slicker.
Her body’s sweet surrender was enough to snap what remained of his control. He gripped her hips

and drove hard inside her. She let out a sharp cry. Brad smoothed a hand up her spine. “Did I hurt
you?”

“No… Oh, God… I need to move.”
“No, you don’t.” He trailed his fingers around her ribs, cupped one breast. As he toyed with her

hard little nipple, he slid his opposite hand down her tight belly, between her legs once more. “Trust
me, Cassie. Surrender to me.”

Ignoring the fierce demand of his throbbing cock, he stayed still inside her and swirled his thumb

around her clitoris until he felt the clench of her inner walls. The grip and release that told him she
was on the edge. The hard rise and fall of her chest matched his own labored breathing. Good thing
too—he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Brad…” she called. “I… It’s too…”
“You’re fine, sweetheart.” Taking her hips in hand once more, he angled his backward and

withdrew almost completely. “Just fine.” As the strangled words left his lips, he braced her in place
and slammed home hard.

Cassie turned her face into the mattress and keened.
With a hoarse groan, he yielded to his need to chase release. Holding her in place, he glided in and

out of her sweet sheath, all thoughts of gentleness cast aside. All that mattered was satisfying the burn,
appeasing the mewls of pleasure she couldn’t contain. Those sounds sank beneath his skin. Ecstasy
coursed down his spine. He sensed he was rushing down a dangerous path, barreling head-long for a
crash he wouldn’t ever recover from. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t define why, but
he needed this. Needed her surrender.

Barely managing to form words between hard breaths, he choked out, “Now, Cassie.”
She moaned, but hung on, her breathing shallow, her entire body quaking.
Brad clenched his fingers into her hips so tight he knew she’d be bruised in the morning. “Damn it,

Cassie. Now.”

”Brad!” She exploded around him.
In the same heartbeat, release stormed through his body so forcefully, his knees buckled. He braced

himself on her arched hips and closed his eyes to a throaty, drawn-out groan.

He didn’t know how much time passed as he lay there whispering sweet words against her damp

skin. Hell, he didn’t even know he was whispering until the sound of his own voice filtered through
the buzz in his head. Robbed of strength, he turned his head to press a tender kiss to her spine.

Cassie disobeyed his instruction not to move and reached behind her to rest her fingertips on his

bicep. If it hadn’t been for her gentle squeeze, he’d have scolded her again. But those delicate fingers
expressed affection he knew she couldn’t voice. And he understood that though she had lost herself
every bit as powerfully as he had, she needed contact.

He found the strength to ease out of her depths and crawl onto the bed. Gathering her into his arms,

he rolled onto his back. His lips found hers, softly, sweetly. Connecting with her in a strangely tender
way that satisfied a portion of his soul he hadn’t realized existed until her tongue tangled lazily with

his.

That languor didn’t last, however. The air washed over his skin, cooling him off from head to toe.

An odd tingling sensation tickled his cock. Bit by bit, his body stiffened as he realized the reason
why, and he drew the kiss to a close. His heart skipped several panicked beats. Possessed by the
need to sate himself inside her, he’d forgotten a condom.

The hand that toyed with the ends of her hair froze. “Cassie?”
“Hm?” She smiled up at him, her expression sleepy.
His throat inched closed. “Please tell me you’re on birth control.”
“Oh.” Yawning, she nestled into his embrace again. “Yeah. And I haven’t had sex in three years,

remember?”

That’s right—he’d been the first. In so many ways.
Warmth stole over him, unwinding the knot his lungs had become, and replacing the stark fear that

had invaded his veins. He pulled his hand through her long hair once more. “I’m clean too,” he
whispered against the crown of her head.

“I trusted you.”
Yeah…she had. He tightened the arm that wound around her waist. She felt so soft, so good like

this. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and…hold on forever. Her words echoed in his memory. Aw
hell—this is what she’d meant. He wouldn’t go so far as to say she’d given him her love, but she’d
given of herself. And damn it, he wanted to believe in her.

She snuggled closer. “A girl could get used to this.”
“Mm.” Brad dusted a kiss over the top of her head. “Me, too.”
Tipping her head up, she grinned. “For a few days at least?” With a soft chuckle, she burrowed

back into his arms.

“Yeah,” he murmured. Just one week of the sweetest perfection he’d ever known.

Chapter Fifteen

Brad awakened to stillness. This time, there was no disorientation—he knew he lay tangled in
Cassie’s bed. During the night, he’d come to terms with the fact that touching her was as necessary as
breathing. He reached across the mattress to sate his unending craving. His fingers, however, closed
around her pillow.

He lifted on an elbow and frowned. Yesterday morning, the sunlight hadn’t been so bright.

Yesterday morning he’d felt like he’d been run over by a steamroller, the need for sleep had been so
great.

Yesterday he’d awakened to the buzzing of his phone…which he hadn’t set last night. Shit
“Cassie?” he hollered.
Brad kicked his legs free of the covers and sprang from the bed. Frantically, he searched the room

for his clothes, then groaned when he remembered he’d left them in the front room. Great, she was
probably waiting for his lazy ass to get out of bed so they could get to the office—if she hadn’t
already left. Damn it. This wasn’t how he’d intended to start his day. He’d planned to wake up before
they had to be anywhere, drag her into the shower, take her under that hot spray of water, and then
help lather her body clean.

So much for a luxurious morning. He strode to the door. A clatter of metal brought him up short in

the hall. “Cassie?” he called more loudly.

“In the front room.”
Brad made his way down the hall to the overlooking balcony and found her kneeling in front of the

stone hearth. In her hands, she held a pair of heavy iron fireplace tongs. “What are you doing,
beautiful?”

“Trying to light this fire.” She shoved at a log in the hearth with the tongs, sending ash gusting back

into her face. “Damn it.” Using the fat sleeve to her robe, she wiped at her face. “The power’s off,
and I’m cold. But this log didn’t catch right, and I can’t get it to move out of the way.”

Her words made sense, but they completely contradicted the high-pitched whistle of a tea kettle that

came from the kitchen. “How are you cooking if there’s no electricity?” The minute the question
spilled free, he wanted to kick himself. Gas range—he knew it before she ever supplied the answer.
And if the electricity was out, it must have snowed as Clinton said it would, which explained why
Cassie was still in her robe.

Brad descended the stairs and glanced out the window, confirming it was still snowing, before he

made his way to the hearth and tugged on his jeans. He crouched at her side, plucked the tongs out of
her hands, and set them aside. Turning to her, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Morning.”
He dipped his head, brushed his mouth across hers. “The next time you’re cold, wake me. I wasn’t
finished with you yet.”

Her frown was immediate and troubling. “I thought I’d—”

He captured her lower lip between his teeth to give it a not-so-gentle nip. “Ease up, I was teasing.

Mostly.”

She nodded, rocked back on her heels, and huffed out a breath as she tucked her hands in her lap. “I

don’t know the rules, Brad.”

Rules? Frowning, he cocked his head. “What rules?”
“To…this.” She motioned her hand between them. “I thought you’d be more comfortable with the

fire.”

“Sweetheart.” Sighing, he sat down and drew her between his spread legs. Great, she’d taken his

remark the wrong way. Winding his arms around her waist, Brad scattered kisses over the exposed
skin at her neckline. “Thank you. I wasn’t scolding you, and if that’s breakfast I smell, I could
prostrate myself at your feet.”

“I doubt that.” Her chuckle made him smile.
“Well…within reason.” He nudged her hair aside with his nose and feathered his lips down the

length of her neck. “There’s only one thing you need to remember. I need to indulge in you before I go
to sleep, and I want to do so again when I wake up.” He caught himself and quickly amended, “For
the week I’m here, that should cover it. Deal?”

As a shiver tripped through her, he eased her out of his lap and gave her bottom a playful swat.

Smirking, he winked. “I’ll take care of the fire. You handle the stove—unless you like your food
blackened.”

The teasing was enough to erase her troubled expression and unleash the power of her smile. She

eased to her feet with a laugh. “Yes…sir,” she quipped sarcastically as she sauntered from the room.

Beneath his loose fly, Brad’s cock jumped to attention. Oh hell. She’d pay for that remark later. As

a rule, he didn’t like his women submissive outside the bedroom, but he sure as hell could find a way
for her to put that word to good use.

He bent to deal with the fireplace logs, yet the totality of their situation descended on his shoulders.

Slowly, he bent on one knee and stared at the glowing log. Two days ago they were complete
strangers. Yet for a moment there, when he’d held her close and outlined his expectations, he’d
actually glimpsed a future with her. Hell, what he’d said even sounded somewhat long-term, not at all
a reflection of their real circumstance or the fact he’d be leaving in a handful of days. He was in her
house, building a fire in her hearth, while she ran around in a bathrobe and worked on breakfast.
Awfully domestic.

Strangely though, it appealed on some untapped level of his subconscious. He liked her. He liked

this. They were compatible in so many ways—professionally and personably. Not to mention
sexually they were two halves of the same coin. Every fascinating discovery about her made him want
to learn more.

And he didn’t have time to learn everything he wanted. Even if they worked out an arrangement for

the duration of this case, he still had to return to New York. He needed 200 more billable hours for
the promotion to partner. Hours one good long litigation case, like this one, would yield. He’d

worked too hard to even consider staying in Colorado with her.

Not that he was really considering. He just…
He just hadn’t expected last night would bring such satisfaction and leave him craving for even

more.

Brad sighed and shoved the log in the fire. Damn it, this couldn’t go any further than the few days

they had together. Then there was the fact that as much as he now knew she needed to win this case,
he didn’t have any intention of losing. He needed the win as well. And when he pushed, when he put
on his litigation suit and employed his skills, she was bound to take it personally. This existential
peace they’d discovered wouldn’t last beyond the bedroom.

Damn, he needed a means of putting a comfortable distance between them before his thoughts

tangled any further. Problem was, distance didn’t equate to comfort—as he’d explained to her last
night. But if he failed to do so, she would remember him all right. She’d remember him as the asshole
who abused her body for a handful of days before he disappeared.

Satisfied the fire would catch, Brad stood and dusted his hands on his thighs. “Cassie, I’m going to

turn on that generator.” Maybe he’d shovel some snow as well. A bit of solitude would help him sort
through options.

Or so he hoped.
Cassie appeared on the overhead balcony. “You don’t want to eat?”
“I will in a bit. Go ahead without me.”
“Okay.”
The confusion that registered in her features made him want to kick his own ass, but somehow he’d

lost control of this situation. What had started out benign, full of intoxicating pleasure, had become
complicated when he least needed complications in his life.

He summoned a false smile, hoping it appeared somewhat reassuring. “I won’t be long.” God,

don’t let that be a lie.

…

Cassie frowned at the interior garage door. Something was definitely not right. The power had
blipped back on a good twenty minutes ago, and Brad hadn’t returned inside. She could hear him
rustling around out there every now and then, but nothing indicated he’d be returning any time soon.

Why?
She drank from her coffee cup, tucked her feet beneath her on the sofa, and stared at the blazing fire.

His entire demeanor had changed after she’d admitted she didn’t know the boundaries. If he hadn’t
been so blatantly abrupt about tending the generator, she’d go outside and see what he was up to.
Maybe he was restless. Maybe being confined with her and unable to leave made him uncomfortable.
Heck, he’d walked away from food moments after saying he’d fall at her feet for breakfast.

What in the world had crawled under his skin? He didn’t seem like the touchy type.
Another muffled thump came from the side of the house. That did it—she was going to investigate.

Tucking her robe around her more tightly, she opened the door and braved the cold cement floor. The
garage door stood wide open, tiny snowflakes rolling inside to dust the top of the Cherokee she
couldn’t see around. On her toes, she jogged toward the wide open bay.

Brad hunched over near the east corner, ankle-deep in a snow bank that pressed against the house’s

exterior, a snow shovel in his hands. Behind him spanned a three-foot wide stretch of cleared
concrete. He heaved a shovelful to the side at the same time a breeze blew. Icy particles billowed up
to pelt him in the face. Spluttering, he wiped it away with his coat sleeve.

Cassie giggled. “What are you doing?” She bounced from one foot to another to keep her bare toes

from turning into clumps of ice.

He leaned on the shovel. “The better question is what are you doing? It’s below freezing out here.”
“Yeah, well, I heard noises.” She shifted her weight again, tucked her chin deeper into the robe.

“You don’t have to do that. I can call someone when the roads are cleared.”

“Nope.” Shaking his head, he extended an arm toward the open garage and the banked snow that

had collapsed inward when he raised the door. “Didn’t know that would happen. Can’t shut it till I
clear it out.”

Ah yes—Chris’s reason for not using the garage. Cassie’s grin dimmed. “I can get dressed and

come help.”

“Nah, I’ve got it. Feels kinda good to do some manual labor.” He grabbed the shovel once more

and scooped up another heap. “Go on in and stay warm. I’ll take a break in a little while.”

He actually didn’t mind clearing the drive by himself? Cassie blinked. Surely he was just being

polite. Chris, and Clinton, and her neighbors to the west side, all despised her poorly designed
driveway.

Her hesitation must have shown through, because Brad paused again to give her a grin. “Hey, at

least we don’t have to clear the cars right? By the way, do you have any de-icer? There’s a layer of
ice beneath this snow. I’m not sure the tires will grab.”

“I…have no idea. Clinton put in a new walk last year that’s heated. I never use the garage.”
Brad cocked a curious eyebrow but turned back to the snow without voicing whatever question ran

through his head. Probably better that he hadn’t asked; she still wasn’t comfortable with admitting all
the things she had last night. He didn’t need to hear another example of how she’d caved to Chris’s
good, but poorly executed intentions.

“I’ll keep the coffee hot.” She turned to leave, then stopped. “You sure you’re okay doing that? I

really don’t mind helping.”

“I’m good. Honest.” As if to emphasize his point, he heaved another heavy shovelful away.
Maybe for now, but in another hour or so, she’d be willing to bet he’d be swearing. Though she had

to admit the idea he might actually enjoy the chore filled her with an odd sense of delight. If things
were different, if he weren’t a temporary pleasure, she could get very comfortable with him hanging
around.

Too comfortable.

A heavy weight pressed around her ribs. She was falling for this guy who’d broken down her

barriers, shown her the beauty of irrational passion, and embraced her secret yearnings. He fit her.
And no matter how she might like to keep him around, the brutal truth remained, she would have to let
him go.

She only hoped that when he left, he didn’t take too much of her along with him.

Chapter Sixteen

Tired and body sore, Brad sat before the dimming fire, watching Cassie sleep. She lay curled on the
blanket in front of the hearth, still dressed in her terry cloth robe, a handful of papers strewn before
her fingertips. The pen she’d been writing with still rested in her hand. Her folder lay open beside her
elbow.

The sight of her sleeping so peacefully intensified the strange internal warmth that had kept him

shoveling snow long after the cold sank into his bones. He refused to analyze that strange contented
heat. Just as he’d been refusing to consider its source for the better part of the afternoon. He’d known
her two days. Attachments couldn’t form that quickly.

And yet…
Pushing aside the thought, he resisted the urge to stretch out at her side and rouse her into

wakefulness. He’d like nothing better than to roll her over, pull apart those fuzzy lapels, and burn off
the icicles in his bloodstream until he purged her from his system. Instead, he moved to his briefcase
and picked up a fat folder. He’d need to check in with Miles via email later tonight. Gut suspicion
warned him Cassie might legitimately be on to something regarding Miles’ claims. But right now,
he’d take advantage of his commitment to let Cassie rest and think through a logical, rational
agreement both clients might find acceptable.

Hell, he hadn’t even considered this damn case since he’d walked in Cassie’s door last night, and

that bothered him more than his inability to control his desire. Work had to come first. Each hour he
billed put him one more closer to the two hundred necessary for partner status. He could goof off and
laze away with beautiful women after he’d achieved that goal.

He thumbed through his notes, searched his memory for terms he’d negotiated in previous,

complicated situations. But his thoughts kept drifting. What if Miles hadn’t made up the claims? What
if Miles didn’t want to drag his daughter into a gruesome process of discovery, backed off, and Brad
negotiated terms that put a child in direct contact with a predator?

Huffing a sigh, he snatched up his laptop and began the chore of digging through the Internet and

public case files for more information on Mr. Fischer’s past allegations. Maybe, just maybe, if he
treated Cassie to a memorable evening in the hot tub, he could convince her into somehow discussing
this with Anna. Or at the very least, convince her to let him sit in on her meeting with Jennifer.

No. That was a lowball ploy she’d expect. He refused to go down that road, wouldn’t even allow

the question to arise. But there had to be some way to gain her cooperation.

Damn, his shoulders hurt. Shoveling snow took more out of him than he’d expected.
He straightened his spine, rolled his neck. If she wasn’t interested in the hot tub, he might have to

visit it alone—though the idea didn’t please him. He’d much rather enjoy it with her and a bottle of
wine.

Wine.

Brad closed his laptop, and his gaze inched back to Cassie. Yesterday, Clinton had mentioned her

husband demanded a wine cellar in the house’s design. A cellar he’d subsequently stocked to
capacity. Would Cassie mind if he went snooping in that maze of rooms downstairs?

To hell with it—if she kicked him out it would make everything easier anyway.
He set his computer aside, stood, and quietly made his way to the stairs. If he could dig up some

noodles in her cabinets and a jar of spaghetti sauce, he might even pull off an edible meal. Fifteen
years had passed since he’d braved a kitchen, but he was pretty sure he could handle boiling noodles
and heating up premade sauce.

Which meant he would need red wine. Something a little floral, a little nutty. A good Chianti would

be perfect.

…

Warm hands moved up Cassie’s calf, pulling her slowly, deliciously from dreams of snow into the

languorous heat of a snapping fire. She opened her eyes with a low sound of contentment, to find Brad
seated beside her knees, his fingers working over her leg. He’d shed his long-sleeved shirt, and his
torso twisted at an angle that gave her an enticing view of the muscles that rippled in his back as he
leaned into the massage.

“Mm…” She shifted beneath his hands, stretched her arms over her head. A lazy smile eased

across her mouth.

“Hey,” he murmured as he glanced over his shoulders. His hands crept higher, kneading into the

back of her knee, inching to the tight muscles at the base of her thigh. “Have a good nap?”

Oh yeah—he’d made more than one appearance in her dreams. Her cheeks heated.
Brad smirked. “That good, huh?” His fingertips crept another inch into the gaping closure of her

robe. “Was I in them?”

Oddly, she had no trouble telling him the truth. “Yes.” Considering how a mere twenty-four hours

ago she’d stumbled over every confession, it surprised her how easy it was to be honest.

“What was I doing?”
“Mm.” She wriggled into her robe, her smile returning to her face. “All kinds of amazing things.”
That earned her a raised eyebrow along with his usual devilish smirk. “Did I have my hands on

you?”

Cassie nodded as she closed her eyes to the magic of his hands. She loved the way he touched her.

Sometimes rough, sometimes gentle, always unfailingly confident. His masterful fingers worked into
her quads and hamstrings, eliciting a delightful bout of chills.

“Did I have my mouth on you?”
“Mm-hm.”
A low rumble of satisfaction accompanied the tightening of his fingertips. “Where?”
“All over.” And he was doing it again—turning her on by doing nothing at all. Fire snapped through

her veins, warming her all the places he wasn’t touching. Her body hummed to life, fine-tuned by the

power of his voice, the underlying command in his words that refused to let her hide behind shame.

“Where?” he insisted more firmly.
That tone—she turned to putty every time he took the upper hand. Sweet heaven.
“On my lips,” she whispered.
His hands drifted higher, his fingertips coming to rest just beneath her dampening sex. He made no

move to touch her intimately. But that weight at the juncture of her legs taunted as powerfully as if he
had. His voice was just as quiet. “These?”

“Oh, yes.” Forty-eight hours ago, the breathy, aroused quality of her answer would have

embarrassed her. Now she didn’t care. He’d taken that from her, that fear of being laughed at, of
being misunderstood. She trusted him to keep her secrets.

Brad let out a low, throaty grunt and slid his hands down to her calves. “I’m going to do so again

later. Right now though…” He blew out a hard breath and rose to his knees. Extending one hand to
help her up, he winked. “I have dinner waiting. And as much as I’d like to dine on you, you won’t do
much to prevent the wine from going to my head.”

“Wine? Dinner?” Sitting, she blinked in confusion. “You said you didn’t cook.”
“I made an exception.” With one easy tug, he pulled her to her feet and tucked her hand into his

much larger one. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you up. I hope you don’t mind
that I borrowed a bottle of Chianti.”

He’d also evidently explored her house while she was asleep. She should mind. She should feel

uneasy that he’d roamed through her rooms, discovered God only knew what about her personal life.
Strangely, however, the fact he’d made himself at home sent a rush of pleasure through her veins.

“And,” he added as he led her up the stairs, “I turned the jets on in the hot tub. We’re having dessert

in there.”

Boy, he was full of surprises. But Cassie didn’t know what startled her more, that he was being so

charming, or that this little passionate rendezvous had suddenly taken a very romantic turn. Intentional
on his part? She doubted it. To him, it was probably just another way of trying her out in some new
fashion. If he had any idea how the promise of wine, hot tub, and amazing sex made her heart swell
and filled her head with pictures of whispered promises, he’d run like hell.

For that matter, she ought to run like hell. Away from him before he dealt her permanent damage.
He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen and guided her around in front of him. The riot of her

thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she looked at the table set for two. Spaghetti waited on their plates.
Napkins adorned the back of their chairs. And two tall tapers he’d evidently dug out of her china
cabinet drawer flickered in the otherwise dark room.

No, this was indeed artfully planned romance. The question was—why?
She turned an inquisitive gaze on him.
He avoided eye contact and gestured at the table. “Your seat awaits, beautiful.”

…

As Cassie eased into her chair, Brad took the seat opposite. He hadn’t realized until a moment ago
what this dinner must look like. When he’d had to change the generator over to their restored power,
and the kitchen had gone dark for a few minutes, the candles seemed natural. One thing led to another.

Now, he wondered whether he’d gone too far.
With a mental shrug, he dismissed the nagging discomfort in his gut and picked up his fork. He

wouldn’t toast—that would be overboard. But he could carry on a conversation and pretend he hadn’t
acted so…so…foolishly about dinner. He twirled his spaghetti against the side of his plate and
changed the subject to a safer topic. “So tell me, why did you go into private practice instead of
working with a large firm?” Maybe she’d give him some more insight about her life.

Her fork hesitated in front of her mouth, but there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in her answer. “I

wanted kids. I could have a family if I opened a practice with Chris. Or so I thought.” She popped her
bite into her mouth, chewed, and chased the bite with a sip of wine. “You know the demands of firm
responsibilities. You’ve given up on the idea of kids completely.”

“And you haven’t?” He bit down on his tongue a fraction too late—the words leapt free before he

could hold them in.

“No. There’s still a part of me that hopes I’ll find someone compatible enough to build a life with.

Though that seems rather unlikely given my demanding schedule.” Smiling, she sipped again from her
wineglass and set it down. “Chris worked long hours. Drove himself like he worked for a firm. I
hated it. I can’t imagine a man would feel different, unless he was also an attorney, and most of the
ones I’ve encountered don’t want families. I’m sure you can relate to that.”

Well damn. The most unintimate conversation he could imagine had just become a minefield. A

violent need to object lodged in the back of his throat. Except, he wasn’t quite sure what he objected
to: her correct assessment he didn’t want a family, or her assumption she wasn’t compatible for one
herself.

Chapter Seventeen

Cassie curled her fingers into Brad’s thick, blond hair and pulled in a deep breath, willing her body
to follow his demands. But with his cock firmly tucked inside her, the agitating waters of her hot tub
swirling around her over-sensitized skin, and his hands massaging her breasts, she realized she was
fighting a losing battle. She couldn’t sit still much longer, much less focus on the mundane
conversation she’d started to keep from disobeying and surging into release.

“You’re on your way to…a…partnership…” She trailed off with a hiss as he shifted his weight and

nudged the top of her womb. How in the world was she supposed to sit still? He couldn’t be immune
to this, despite his outward calm.

“Yes.” He plucked a wine glass of the edge of the hot tub and lifted it to her lips. “Drink,

beautiful.”

God, he even made sipping wine intensely erotic. And damn him if he didn’t act like they were still

in her kitchen, aimlessly chatting with three feet of table separating them. Cassie sipped slowly,
rolled the wine around on her tongue, then swallowed. She had to get her mind off how incredible he
felt before she took matters into her own hands and satisfied the building need to climax. She’d lost
track of how long they’d been joined together, but it seemed like she’d been on the edge for hours.

“I need two hundred hours.” He set the glass back on the edge and dipped his hands beneath the

surface to set them on her waist. Fingers gripping loosely, he pivoted her hips in a slow side-to-side
twist that left her gasping. “It’s all I’ve ever worked for.”

So that explained his pit bull approach to casework. The revelation certainly didn’t bode well for

her coming out on top of this case either. He’d fight until the bitter end.

The thoughts were chased away as Brad slid his hands up her ribs, cupped her breasts, and gave

them a gentle squeeze. “Long hours don’t leave much time for enjoyment.”

How well she could relate to that. She focused on the sound of his voice, avoiding the tickle of his

breath against her damp skin. A never-ending tremor inched down her spine, and she closed her eyes,
riding it out. When it ebbed out through her toes, she swallowed thickly and licked her lips to moisten
them. “So true.”

“Tell me, Cassie. Do you enjoy this?” The light in Brad’s eyes darkened to deep indigo as he

scooped up a handful of water and rained it over her breasts.

“Yes,” she managed breathlessly.
As he flicked a droplet of water off her nipple, he managed to tweak it just so. Cassie gasped, and

her hips thrust forward of her own volition. She pulled in another deep breath. “Please, I can’t sit
still. I need to…move.”

“Mm. Yes. Yes, you do.” His voice assumed a gravel-like quality, and he ducked his hands beneath

the water to slide them beneath her bottom. Lifting her up by torturous degrees, he tipped her body
forward so his thick erection stroked her deep within. Her breasts grazed his muscular chest.

Cassie gripped his shoulders, dug her nails into his skin. Ecstasy spiked to an intolerable high. “I

can’t… I need…” With a quiet moan, she rocked her hips against him.

In an instant, those strong fingers fastened harshly on her hipbones and stopped her pleasured

undulation. “You can.” Bending forward, he used the tip of his tongue to lick a droplet of water off
her shoulder. “You will. Until I say otherwise.”

But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t stop the clenching of her inner walls, couldn’t temper the fierce

rush of indescribable pleasure. God help her, she was trying. She wanted to hold back, wanted to
please him in that most basic way. But her body wanted nothing more to do with waiting.

Despite the biting pressure on her hips, she rocked against him again. “I can’t.”
“You can.” He released his hold on her. “Now scoot up higher.”
It was torture to comply, but she followed his directive. Once more she grabbed at rational thought

and pulled conversation back to a manageable topic. “Why were you so slow to respond to my
emails? I thought you were the anti-Christ.”

His low chuckle scraped pleasantly across her skin. “It’s part of my strategy. Make opposing

counsel wait long enough and they concede more easily.” Fingertips fanned over her bottom, gently
caressing back and forth, back and forth.

Cassie’s body crimped inward. God, he could say that again. She been waiting so long she was

ready to concede anything he wanted. How could he not be?

“Initially, it wasn’t worth my time, either. I tried to get it reassigned, but everyone else was full.

Unfortunately,” he leaned in to trail his tongue along the shell of her ear, “you were a victim of
circumstance.”

One word he said stood out over the ripples of pleasure that flowed through her veins. Wasn’t. Had

he changed his mind? “Wasn’t?” Another gasp ripped free as Brad rocked his hips backward and slid
slowly into place again. “Is it… now?”

“Oh, yes,” he murmured. Water trickled over her cheek as cupped it in his hand. “You are

absolutely worth my time, Cassandra Blair.” He trailed his lips across her collarbone, gently lapping
up the droplets that lingered on her skin. “I could rack up dozens of hours here, like this, with you.”
He closed his mouth and grazed his teeth across her tender skin. “I could even be convinced into pro-
bono time.”

His quiet honesty made the throbbing in her womb impossible to govern. Though she knew this was

temporary, that he wasn’t talking about a future with her, he wanted her. Maybe just for amazing sex.
Maybe just as a means of passing the time. Maybe he’d forget her the instant he returned to New York
and his partnership chase. But for however long this lasted, he valued spending time with her.

Knowing she was truly desired, the intensity of the moment doubled. She didn’t just feel him deep

inside, but around her, enveloping her in the magic of his hands, the wonder of his mouth, the freedom
to surrender. She tipped her head back, closed her eyes.

“Cassie, don’t let go.” His hands gripped her elbows, preventing her from leaning back so she

could sate her burning needs.

A gasp tore from her throat as she fought to hang on. But he was too much. This was too much. If

she didn’t climax, her heart was going to burst into pieces.

“Don’t.” His fingers bit into her skin with the gruff instruction.
“I…can’t help…” A vise locked into place around her throat as one of the jets shot water across

her abdomen. Sensation blistered through her, carrying her off on a rolling wave of pleasure. Heat
pulsed through her veins. Her inner walls clamped around him.

“Cassie…” Beneath her bottom, she felt his thighs tense as his own voice took on a rough edge.
He was fighting it, too. Fighting her pleasure because if she sailed over the edge, he’d go right

along with her. She held power over this man. Not power she wanted, not power he would ever
willingly yield, but her connection to him defied the few short days they’d known each other. And not
once had she ever experienced this sort of mutually consuming passion. Not until now.

Ecstasy pummeled into her, and Cassie couldn’t fight the staggering blow. She tightened her grip on

Brad’s shoulders, opened her eyes to ground herself. But the bright desire that glinted back at her
dealt another fierce rush of sensation. It was no use…she couldn’t stop the surge of thought-
obliterating pleasure. With her ragged exhale, climax stole through her body.

“Aw, fuck,” Brad muttered. His low groan tore over the whir of the hot tub as he joined her in

release.

…

Cassie lay limp in Brad’s arms, her head tucked against his damp chest, long tendrils of her hair
floating in the water behind them. Each ragged breath she took scampered across his skin, joined with
the steam rising from the water, and clouded into the air. He held her gently, not angry enough to push
her away. Truth to tell, she’d looked him in the eye and something tugged so hard inside him he’d
have let her peak on the next breath. But her willful abandon diminished what had promised to be one
of the most powerful orgasms he’d experienced in a long time.

His cock pulsed inside her with the last of his release, and he dragged a kiss across her temple. He

should be annoyed. She’d driven him to the point of no return without permission. And yet…he
couldn’t remember a time when he had climaxed simultaneously with a woman. There was something
entirely profound about doing so.

Still, he couldn’t let her get in the habit of pushing him beyond his own limits.
“You didn’t listen,” he whispered.
She flattened her hand on his chest and dragged herself upright as she answered, “I couldn’t.”
Yes, she could have. She’d resisted far more the last few days. But the soft glow of affection in her

gaze made him consider she might be telling the truth. That, somehow, she’d experienced the same,
unexplainable sharp pang behind the ribs when she’d looked at him and lost all discipline.

The thought threatened to do unspeakable damage, so he pushed it aside.
“I’ll have to reprimand you.”
She blinked, and sated contentment gave way to wary apprehension. “Do what?”

Brad traced a fingertip down one delicate cheek. “You disobeyed me, beautiful. It demands

punishment.”

Those gorgeous chestnut eyes went wide. But the panic that stole over her expression didn’t slip

into her voice, thank God. He didn’t want her afraid. Apprehensive was good—he much preferred the
threat than actually executing a reprimand. He took care to keep his voice anything but gentle. “I
won’t hurt you, but there’s a lesson to be learned here. This is who I am, who you asked for when you
said no masks. If it’s not what you want…”

The tip of her tongue swept across her lower lip an instant before her teeth grazed the full softness.

She shook her head. “No. I want you. I just…”

Her brows furrowed, and her expression took on emotion Brad couldn’t interpret. Regret?

Confusion? Hesitation? Close, but nothing he could guess seemed precise enough. He leaned in and
pressed a firm, chaste kiss to her mouth. “You just didn’t listen.”

Easing her off his lap, he stood and stepped over the edge of the hot tub. “It’s discipline. I expect

you to maintain, because the pleasure is so much more intense for both of us when I choose to release
you from it.”

He reached for a towel, stole a glance at where she sat in the hot tub. She watched him quietly, that

mysterious emotion on her face having given way to an expression of serene contemplation. He
wrapped his towel around his waist and held his hand out to her. “If you’ve changed your mind, I’ll
sleep in the other room tonight and leave if the roads are clear in the morning.”

Slowly, her fingertips glided into his palm. She rose to her feet with equal hesitation. “No,” she

answered quietly. “Don’t go.”

Chapter Eighteen

Cassie bit down on her tongue to stifle a scream. It wouldn’t help her anyway—Brad had already
made it clear that he had no intention of listening to her pleas and guiding her over the final crest.
She’d lost count of the number of times she rose to the edge, thought for certain he’d grant her release,
only to take his hands and mouth off her completely and leave her hanging until her heart resumed a
normal, steady beat, and the fire in her veins ebbed.

She writhed beneath that fantastic mouth, vibrating internally with each murmured sound of

appreciation he made, and dug her hands into the sheets beneath her. If this was punishment, it was
too delicious to protest, even if she was half out of her mind with need.

Her determination slipped as his tongue speared her deep. She bucked against him, gasping.

“Brad…please…”

No smile fringed his eyes as he once again took his mouth off her. Despite the burgeoning weight of

his erection that announced he was as primed as she was, he rose to his knees between her thighs then
backed off the bed. The firelight behind him cast shadows over his muscular frame that gave him a
dangerous, shadowy appeal. A log snapped, and Cassie’s entire body throbbed.

“Stay there,” he instructed hoarsely.
Disbelief seeped beneath her inflamed senses as he turned for the door. He couldn’t be leaving her

like this. Before she could offer a protest, he stepped into the hall and shut the door behind him. Not
again. The last time he’d disappeared, he’d come back with a bowl of ice and spent a torturous
amount of time dragging cube after cube across her heated skin. Using it to create a mind-numbing
conflict of hot and cold sensations that turned her into putty.

She edged onto her elbows and drew in a shuddering breath. Waiting. Anticipating. Disconcerted

about that missing light in his eyes and the determined way he kept his dimpled grin tucked behind a
stoic, unreadable expression.

The creak of the door opening grated across her skin. He carried something she couldn’t make out

through the shadows. She watched him move across the room, unable to tear her eyes off that
unidentifiable object.

When he set one knee on the bed and knelt over her, her ability to breathe failed completely. A pair

of her pantyhose looped between his strong hands. She stared at him with wide eyes. “What are you
doing?”

He gestured for her to sit. “Up.”
Like strings on a marionette, her body obeyed the beckoning. Warily, she watched that length of

black nylon.

“Hands in front of your breasts, wrists together,” he ordered quietly.
“Brad, I’ve never—”
He arched an eyebrow. “Trust me.”

She snapped her mouth shut and did as he directed. He rested two fingers against the back of her

left wrist, used his free hand to loop the nylon around them both, before he slid his fingers free. Then
he tied off the toe of her hose, effectively binding her with just enough room to twist her wrists but not
fully separate them. His harsh breath fell over her shoulder, making her shiver.

“What are you doing?” she asked again.
Raising both brows, his gaze fastened on her as he dragged his mouth down the swell of her breast

and captured a nipple between his lips. One firm pull had her gasping all over again. Her entire body
throbbed from head to toe. A low moan escaped her.

Desire flashed hot in Brad’s gaze, but once more he withdrew. Moving behind her, he wrapped an

arm around her waist, drew her down onto the mattress, and tucked her neatly into his embrace. His
lips dusted over the side of her neck. She parted her legs at the feel of his thick erection pressing into
the backs of her thighs, and with a nudge of his hips, he tucked that hard length against her aching
flesh.

The arm he held around her waist tightened. “Get some sleep, Cassie.”
Sleep? He’d lost his ever-loving mind! She needed to orgasm so badly she could cry, and he

wanted her to sleep?

Full understanding crashed into her. Discipline, punishment…Oh, God. He wasn’t just proving that

she could control her body, but that he had total control over it. He wouldn’t grant fulfillment tonight,
no matter how aroused he might be. He intended to make her wait. And by binding her hands, he made
it impossible for her to relieve the pressure herself.

Cassie closed her eyes to a groan as another rush of heat infused her veins. Involuntarily, her hips

angled toward the mattress, yearning for one prolonged press that would end the excruciating torment.

Firm fingers trapped her hips in place. “No, Cassie,” he murmured. “Not tonight.”

…

Brad was in hell, no way around it. Cassie had finally drifted off in restless slumber, but it would be
several hours more before he could dampen his own arousal enough to sleep. That same unending
desire, which triggered at her slightest whimper, had him wrapped in chains.

He no longer had control over his reaction to her. Sure, he could hold back, force himself to

mentally withdraw enough he didn’t surge over the edge. But he’d lost the ability to keep the initial
rush of need at bay. It struck hard and fast and left him fumbling for explanations why.

And the sympathy that pulled through his mind, the tug to give in, take her punishment away, and

lead them both into release once more, bugged the hell out of him. He shouldn’t be that weak.
Couldn’t be that soft.

He eased out of the bed, careful to keep his eyes fastened on the fireplace instead of her naked body

and the way her bound wrists tucked innocently beneath her chin. What was it about her that picked
away at him until he couldn’t think straight? Why her as opposed to the many other women that had
drifted through his bed.

The answer struck as he tossed another log in the hearth and the fire crackled to life. And he didn’t

like it at all. In the process of setting her desires free, she’d granted him his own freedom. For too
long he’d played at this game, tumbled through a night of role-play, barely tapping into his darker
urges. Everything he’d needed lay in that bed. This was real, no longer a fantasy, and for the first time
in his life, he felt like he had no influence over what was happening around him.

He glanced back at Cassie, feeling the pull of arousal all over again. Frustrated with his inability to

quench that unending thirst, he stalked out of the room. He’d let lust and passion rule one too many
times lately, and if he intended to ever pull himself back together, he couldn’t give in so easily. He
had work to do, a promotion waiting that he’d chased his entire career. Yet instead of focusing on that
work—which his client was paying nearly a grand a day for the trip here—he was letting it slide,
giving it anything but his full attention. At this rate, someone would discover their involvement, and
he could kiss that promotion goodbye. He was fucking up all over the place.

He stumbled down the stairs in the darkness and turned on the living room light. Their clothes lay in

a tangled heap by the patio door, reminding him once more of the unexplainable way she’d
manipulated his body in that hot tub. The memory added to his annoyance. He stalked to his jeans and
jerked them on. Then he went to his laptop and powered it up.

Boundaries would reestablish if he concentrated on his priorities and pushed the enchanting,

sleeping woman upstairs from his mind.

Chapter Nineteen

By the time Brad gave in to the guilt of leaving Cassie to sleep alone and crawled into bed beside
her, the sun was peeking over the horizon. When his alarm roused him a little while later, the scent of
warm woman and jasmine erased his earlier dark mood. He nuzzled the hollow where her neck
joined her shoulder and slid one hand to her breast. With the majority of her punishment behind them,
all that remained was fulfilling her needs. A thought that brought his cock to immediate attention.

Still, he wasn’t ready to set her free just yet.
He gave her breast a gentle squeeze, rubbed his thumb over her dusky nipple. He could spend the

whole day doing nothing but touching her. It didn’t even have to be sexual contact—just the feel of her
soft skin against his palm soothed like warm milk before bedtime.

The sexy little sound she made as she wriggled her bottom against his erection nearly made him

change his mind. She hadn’t fought her restraints. He could excuse her willfulness now and satisfy her
body’s demands without compromising his objective. But this had moved beyond solely disciplining
Cassie. He had his own control to work on.

“Good morning,” he whispered into her long hair. “The plows were by a little while ago.”
She mumbled something else and nestled deeper into his embrace.
So much for waking up gracefully—if she was going to make him work for this, he intended to have

a little fun. He let his hand drift lazily down her midsection, to the juncture of her legs.

As he anticipated, one light caress brought her fully awake. “Brad,” she whispered.
Holy hell, sleep hadn’t done anything to ease her state of readiness. Moisture gathered instantly

against his fingertip. Brad exhaled with a hiss and withdrew his hand. Cassie let out a quiet, husky
groan.

“Easy, sweetheart.” Sitting up, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and helped her upright. “Not

much longer.”

Big brown eyes narrowed a fraction. “I hate you.”
The lack of conviction in her voice told him she wasn’t serious. When he met her gaze, he couldn’t

help but chuckle. Anger didn’t flare in those luminous depths. Desire brightened them to embers of
amber. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You won’t for long.”

She mumbled something beneath her breath. Probably an insult he didn’t care to hear.
“Are you finished reprimanding me yet?”
Brad shook his head. “Not quite.” Brad pulled her hands into his lap and unfastened the knot at her

wrists. When he finished unwinding the nylon, he gave her a grin. “I’ll finish it tonight. Meanwhile,
I’ll know if you take matters into your own hands.”

“Right. You’re going to follow me to the bathroom?”
Another woman’s flippancy would have annoyed him. On Cassie, however, grumpy worked well.

Her little pout fascinated him. His grin broadened. She could hate him now. Later, she’d take every

disparaging word back.

He slid off the bed. “You get this glow about you when you come, sweetheart. Trust me, I’ll know.”

Pausing at the door, he threw her a meaningful look over his shoulder. “Unless you want to start all
over…”

Cassie’s eyes flew wide, and she let out a noise that sounded distinctly like a squeak.
It was everything Brad could do to not burst out laughing. Today promised to be full of amusement.

He’d have her begging in no time. But right now, they had work to accomplish. When they finished at
the office, however, he’d bring her back here and fulfill every whispered plea she uttered.

He stepped into the hall and took a deep breath. Eight hours, and his own intolerable ache would

subside. Eight long, never-ending hours.

…

Hate was a very strong word, one Cassie avoided at all costs. And while she knew on one level she
recognized she didn’t hate Brad, on another, the way her body still hummed for his attention
thoroughly aggravated her. There was no plausible reason she shouldn’t be telling him up one side
and down the other that she didn’t appreciate his deliberate manipulations.

Not a one—except for the fact some part of her soul that she refused to acknowledge wanted to

please him and thrilled in the way he fine-tuned her to his desires.

Begrudgingly, she scooted off the mattress, determined to ignore the tightness in her skin. Her

breasts felt heavy, her legs akin to jelly. Somehow, he expected her to work like this.

Damn it—she wanted to scream.
As she turned for the attached bathroom, Brad poked his head inside the bedroom door. “By the

way, I’m taking you to breakfast. You’ve had a long night. Just relax and enjoy this morning.” He
ducked back out, and his voice rang low. “And I need to run by my hotel for some clothes.”

She would have snorted at the closing door, if she weren’t certain doing so would find her back in

the bed, at his mercy all over again. While back in the bed didn’t bother her at all, she wanted nothing
to do with a repeat of last night.

A shower was absolutely out of the question given her raw nerve-endings. Instead, she turned on

the sink and gingerly rinsed off with a washcloth. Then she ran a brush through her tangled hair. When
she felt like she’d pulled herself together at least somewhat, she braced her hands on the marble sink
top and stared into the mirror. She hardly recognized herself, though nothing outward had changed.
Her eyes held wisdom. At the same time, the weariness she’d seen so often the last few years no
longer stared back. She looked…at peace, if it were possible to recognize such in an expression.

Had these last two days brought her to that unreachable place of tranquility she’d yearned for? It

seemed impossible. She’d known Brad three full days. But in that short span of time he’d unlocked
her from a prison her marriage had constructed. He’d set her free, even if at times he stripped that
same freedom right out of her hands.

A smile worked its way past her sullenness. To hell with trying to fight getting attached—she

already was, and she loved that intimate closeness. Problem was, it would all come to an end. They
were fated to part from the beginning.

Exiting the bathroom, she threw on casual jeans and a dark blue sweater, and hurried to meet him

downstairs. At the top of the landing, however, her feet refused to take another step forward. He
stood near the door, the same way he had two mornings past, that same devilish grin on his face
reminding her of all the wicked secrets they shared. It wasn’t his adorable dimple that brought her to
a halt, however. It was the document he held in his hands and extended to her.

She blinked at him. “What’s this?”
He shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly. “I did some research last night. If Miles isn’t serious about

the claims he made and backs off, I thought we might as well have a starting place to come to some
reasonable agreements.” He tapped her folder that lay on the entry table. “You left the folder open
and I accidentally saw the top sheet of notes. I immediately closed the folder, but what’s done is done
and I apologize. Maybe we can use this mistake to help our clients?”

Cassie’s gaze pulled to the entry table, to her folder, then rested on the blooming rose in its crystal

vase. She ought to be furious. But the genuine remorse in his voice tempered the instinctive reaction
to tell him he had no right to go through her notes. The essential olive branch he offered wasn’t lost on
her either. Mr. Hotshot New York was trying to be amenable. “Thank you,” she murmured.

The list in her hands, however, concerned her. Reasonable or not, her duty was to represent

Jennifer’s interests. Jennifer’s interests involved keeping their daughter in the only home Anna had
ever known. Compromise wasn’t on the table.

She shrugged off the worry over his reaction—business was business; she still had a case to

negotiate. If it spoiled the morning, then so be it. “I can’t negotiate this. Jennifer is adamant about sole
custody until Anna is ten.” Cassie steeled herself for a fight and held his gaze, unblinking.

“If Miles is telling the truth, I can’t negotiate letting Anna stay where she is.” Brad paused for

several seconds, staring at his briefcase on the floor, continually nudging one corner with the toe of
his shoe. What she could glimpse of his expression was intensely thoughtful. “This is going to have to
involve Anna. We can’t shelter her.”

Cassie leaned on the banister. “She’s already been traumatized by all this. Jennifer won’t allow it.”
She could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he lifted his gaze to hers. “Jennifer won’t

have a choice if it’s reported. We both know I have to report it.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t exploded yet—this had to be a good sign. Maybe there was

hope they could work effectively as opposing counsel and set work aside when they came home.
Came home? Cassie checked the thought, shook it off with a hard swallow. When they finished with
work for the next few days.

To her further surprise, Brad shrugged. “Would she interview Anna at home, with a video camera

set somewhere Anna won’t see it? That’s a place to start, though it doesn’t eliminate the possibility
she’s been coached.”

Stunned he was being so agreeable, Cassie gritted her teeth to keep her mouth from dropping open.

She recovered in the next heartbeat and gave in to a wide teasing grin. “You’re being surprisingly
logical. Thank you, counselor. I’ll take your thoughts under advisement.”

Brad smirked. “You’re welcome. Now, let’s find breakfast. I started the Cherokee. We’ll have to

take it if we’re going to get over the mound of snow the plow piled at the base of your drive.”

Damn, he was being so thoughtful. It had been a long time since someone had given her such

consideration. Warmth lit inside her, separate and apart from the heat of arousal that lingered beneath
the surface of her skin.

“Brad, will you kiss me?” she asked quietly.
He pushed off the doorframe, his grin morphing into dark intensity. Stepping over his briefcase, he

reached a hand out for hers. “Any time you want.”

Oh, God. Her heart tripped into double-time. She descended the stairs, and he guided her into his

embrace, wrapping heavenly arms around her. She tipped her head back and rose to the balls of her
feet, meeting the bow of his head. Slowly, gently he captured her mouth. His lips played against hers,
teasing them apart without the unspoken demand she’d become accustomed too. This was softer, as if
he shared the same wish that the kiss could go on forever.

His tongue tangled with hers, his teeth caught her lower lip and lazily tugged. Desire fringed his

rich flavor, but he held that passion in check, seemingly content with this simple, yet oh so intimate,
embrace. Her fingers slipped into the hair at the nape of his neck, playing through the thick short
lengths, savoring everything he gave.

With a protesting grunt, Brad eased the spellbinding kiss to a close. “We better get going,” he

murmured as he feathered his lips across her cheek to her temple. “What are you hungry for?”

You. She knew better than to voice the instantaneous answer—he wouldn’t grant that now. Cassie

breathed in deeply and took a half-step back, bracing herself in the protective loop of his arms.
“Pancakes?”

“As you wish.” His grin returned in a flash of good spirits, and he released his enveloping hold. He

grabbed his briefcase with ease.

Amazed by this gracious, tender side of him, Cassie plucked her coat off the nearby rack, slid her

arms in, and opened the front door. “Banana pancakes?” she asked with no small degree of hope
shining through.

He chuckled as he stepped out onto the porch. “Sweetheart, you could ask for pickled ostrich, and

I’d find it for you this morning.”

But why? She hadn’t done anything but get dressed. Nothing that would warrant this unexpected

chivalry.

Brad started down the walkway—which she observed he’d cleared of snow yesterday as well.

“Let’s drop by my hotel, and I’ll jump in the shower real quick. Then we’ll find banana pancakes.”

She followed, mulling possible explanations for his odd behavior. In the end though, no matter what

rationales she tried, she couldn’t justify any. He was simply in a good mood. A damned good mood. If
luck were in her favor, his good spirits would make him forget her punishment wasn’t finished yet.

Chapter Twenty

Cassie glanced up from her laptop as Brad walked past her open office door, directing Stephanie to
finish typing Cassie’s tardy Judgment entry, while simultaneously barking into his phone at an intern
in New York about a client who hadn’t appeared for a deposition. It flat out amazed her how much
authority he could wield with the mere inflection of his voice. No doubt whoever held the other end
of the line was cringing in their chair, although Brad had done little more than use a stern tone.

He was in his comfort zone, in command of everything around him, and it showed. Even here, in her

office, he had Stephanie jumping. Oddly, she didn’t take offense. Instead of sitting at her desk,
painting her nails in between phone calls and putting off the Cooper files, she worked diligently,
showing off the skills Cassie had hired her for. Normally she only showed dedication when she began
to sense Cassie was reaching her limit of patience with the lackadaisical approach.

Brad ducked into Cassie’s office, still on the phone, and set a fax on her desk. DNA results on

different case of hers that she was working while they were waiting on Miles Cooper’s response to
the property division—the Armory’s paternity suit. Brad had circled a match in genetics and the
overall percentage that excluded the alleged father as a candidate. Beside the too-low percentage he
had written: Test Mom.

Cassie squinted at him.
“Yes, yes, I know he pays us well. But we can’t afford to take on clients, invest our time, and have

the client fail to show up for a key element in his case.” Brad tucked the phone against his shoulder
and motioned to Cassie for a pen.

She passed one across and watched as he flipped her test results around and made another note in

the margin. Inconclusive, conflicting data. Genetic mutations. Include Mom in a second test.

Oh. For an instant, chagrin gripped Cassie, along with a hefty dose of embarrassment. She should

have known that, shouldn’t she, if family law was where she intended to specialize? Stop it. He’s
been doing this far longer. You still have things to learn. Nodding, she took her paper back.
Monday, she’d follow up with her client.

Brad gave her a wry grin and deliberately dropped his gaze to her breasts, leaving it there until her

nipples pebbled. Heat infused her. She blew out a frustrated sigh that turned his grin into a knowing
smirk, and he left her office. He hadn’t attempted to take charge of her work—he’d have war on his
hands if he tried—but he hadn’t let her forget that when it came to her body, he was in command.
Damn him. All day he’d used her over stimulated senses against her. Touching when she least
expected it, leaning in too close and whispering a suggestive remark in her ear, taking her to lunch
and kissing her after with such abandon she’d have sworn he would peel off her clothes once they
were enclosed in the car.

He hadn’t. And she’d been suffering the effects since. Thank God he was discreet enough, she’d

swear even Stephanie wouldn’t have caught on if she wasn’t already in the know.

While they waited for Miles to return Brad’s email about how serious he was in following through

with his allegations, all Cassie could do was try to focus on this new development in the Armory case
and try not to think about Brad and what would happen later this evening.

She turned the DNA results around to study them more closely. Vaguely, she remembered reading a

case like this, where one look at the child revealed his father but the paternity test excluded the
obvious man. Including the mother in a second paternity test had accounted for unmatched alleles and
raised the likelihood of paternity to the court-required ninety-nine percent. It didn’t happen often that
genetic mutations threw off testing, but Brad must have dealt with complicated results frequently. It
would have taken Cassie a long while to reach the same conclusion of testing Mom.

She opened her Internet browser to read up on testing and dig for some case law. It didn’t miss her

observation he didn’t have to offer the knowledge. That he hadn’t done so with arrogance impressed
her. He had no way of knowing she wasn’t as experienced with complicated paternity cases, and yet,
he’d offered without hesitation. Cassie couldn’t deny it was nice to have a small bit of unsolicited
mentoring. If things were otherwise, she had to admit he’d make one hell of a partner.

A few minutes later, Brad appeared in her doorway again, sans phone. Hands tucked in his pockets,

he leaned against the doorframe. Cassie allowed herself a moment to drink him in. His charcoal grey
suit accented the light color of his eyes and added a touch of dignified age to his handsome face. She
squirmed in her seat.

“You about ready to get out of here?” His quiet tone carried heavy overtones of suggestion.
Was she ever. She pushed aside her work, hoping she didn’t appear too eager. “Yeah. I’m ready

when you are. You didn’t hear anything from Miles did you? I don’t want to push Jennifer until we
know something.”

“I’m going to check my email again, then we can head out.” He cocked his head, his expression

thoughtful. “I was thinking, I only have a few more days here. If you’re not opposed to the company,
I’d like to spend them with you.”

Opposed? Nothing could be further. A chill snaked down her spine. Brad in her house like he had

been yesterday. Part of her world, in every sense of the way. She swallowed hard. She should say no,
keep some boundaries between them. What if someone saw them and started talking? Her neighbors
could be terribly nosey. She was already attached, already half in love with him. If she let him stay,
there’d be no hope of avoiding heartache when he left.

But as usual, sense fled when he came within five feet of her. “I’d like that.”
Brad rapped his fingers on the doorframe. Desire flared in his vibrant blue eyes. “Okay. Let me

check my email, and we’ll swing by the hotel. I’ll check out. And then…” He let the words hang as he
moved his gaze over her body. “We have some unfinished business to take care of.”

Cassie struggled not to close her eyes and whimper. She’d do whatever he asked so long as he

didn’t engage in last night’s torture. But before she could say a word, Brad disappeared down the hall
to Chris’s old office. After they finally got his laptop connected, she’d allowed Brad to the empty
space in case he needed to consult with Miles privately. She leaned back in her chair with a muffled

groan.

…

Brad couldn’t curb the smile that took up residence when Cassie’s cheeks flushed with the telltale
stain of arousal. He had her exactly where he wanted her—primed and ready. A few minutes more
and she was his for the taking. He’d taunt her a little, because she enjoyed it, and then he intended to
make up for last night. Multiple times.

He eased behind his loaner desk. A shake of the mouse woke his laptop up. It prompted him for a

password. He entered it and tilted the screen back a fraction more to cut the overhead glare.

Miles’s email displayed in his in-box. Good. They could finally work in some productive

direction.

He clicked the email open, scanned the first few lines. But five paragraphs of text contradicted

Miles’s usual succinct style. Brad’s heart rate began to accelerate. Words rushed together. I’m sorry,
Brad…can’t sacrifice what I believe in…unacceptable conditions.

Brad reached the last paragraph, and his stomach bottomed out. Typed in bold face letters, Miles

had written:

I am adamantly opposed to allowing Anna to spend any time in Dale’s presence. Tell Ms. Blaire

I will fight Jennifer for every penny she has over this matter. You are my attorney, and I expect
you to represent my interests, not intimidate me with what pursing this will do to my daughter’s
wellbeing. Your recent communication has left me questioning whether you’re working for me or
pacifying opposing counsel.

No.
No, this wasn’t happening. What did he mean, by ‘recent communication’? The question was fair—

Did Miles want to pursue what might be traumatizing to his daughter? Brad had mulled his phrasing
over every way he could think of and found nothing offputting in the detailed account of what it would
involve. He would have done the same to any other client…wouldn’t he?

Or had he somehow been influenced by his involvement with Cassie?
Brad snatched at his phone. He stabbed in Miles’s number.
Miles answered on the second ring. “Cooper—what’s up, Brad?”
“Would you mind to explain why you think I’m pacifying Ms. Blaire?” Brad took extreme care to

keep his voice calm, devoid of the uneasy fear he’d said something that would reveal the truth of his
involvement with Cassie.

Miles expelled a sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to have you question my confidential disclosure.”
“You might have told me in confidence, but I am legally and ethically bound to further action. I

wanted to be clear on all this. I would prefer solid proof before we involve Anna.”

“I don’t need solid proof. The allegations are enough to sway a judge to my side. A child shouldn’t

be exposed to a potential predator when there is an obvious, natural, way to avoid it. That way, is
spending holidays with my parents.”

“Your parents. Not you.” Brad’s patience wavered and his words took on a scathing edge. “And

you forgot to tell me about it at the start of the case.”

“I didn’t forget. I neglected to tell you.”
“Cut the crap, you forgot, because Anna’s interests aren’t yours,” Brad snapped. He pulled in a

deep breath to temper his rising anger. “C’mon, if it was so important, you have to admit you’d bring
it up from the get-go. Yet now you’re willing to subject Anna to intensive interviews when she’s
already upset about the whole divorce.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. My attorney shouldn’t be trying to convince me into

accepting terms I don’t care for. It’s not like I don’t have the money to fight Jennifer. If I want to piss
it away on your fees, and fight this until she’s beyond bankrupt and can’t fight any longer, that’s my
choice. Stop pussyfooting around her attorney and step up with a bat.”

“Fine. I’ll contact the authorities tomorrow morning.”
A beat of silence passed through the phone. When Miles spoke, his words held a defensive edge.

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m merely trying to advise you on the ramifications of this course of action.” Brad hit the print

button on the email and shut down his laptop. The printer whirred to life behind him. “If you’re firm,
that’s how it goes. But I think you should consider Anna before you continue.”

“I’m firm. And I’ve already mentioned my concerns to Randall Blackson. He tells me you’re the

best New York has to offer. Don’t fuck me, Brad.”

Shit. Brad clenched a fist. A sharp pounding took up residence in Brad’s head. He cleared his

throat to tame his bounding pulse. Through gritted teeth, he ground out, “I’ll pursue it.”

“All right. Call me when you have an update.”
Brad didn’t bother with a farewell. He terminated the call and tossed his cell phone on the desk.

Fucking Randall. Breech of ethics, conflict of interest, potential disbarment—all of which he faced if
he continued to tangle the sheets with Cassie, not to mention one lost opportunity at partner. Why the
hell had Miles gone to Randall?

Brad closed Miles’ email and flipped through the rest that had come in today. As instinct warned,

Randall had also emailed. What the hell had he inadvertently said to give Miles the wrong
assumption? He was certain Cassie hadn’t influenced his decision; he wouldn’t have approached the
situation any other way with any other client. Cassie was right—Brad couldn’t guarantee Miles’
word. But wrong assumptions, explanations to the partners, requests for new counsel—Brad could
see his promotion swirling in the toilet.

He clicked open Randall’s email, his chest tightening with each typed word:
Got a call from a concerned Miles Cooper. He feels your caving to O.C. I don’t have to mention

these aren’t the kind of calls we want. Potential ethics violations are not something we take
lightly. Update me pronto. ~R.B.

Brad stared at the screen, his heart lodged in his throat. He had never given the partners cause for

concern, never screwed up. But he was now. That he was getting complaints at all would tip Randall

off. He was dangerously close to losing everything. Not only him, but if this took a wrong turn, Cassie
too. Fuck! He had to leave. Now. Get as far away from this mess as he could. For both their sakes.

“Cassie?” he called down the hall.
She appeared a few minutes later, took one look at him, and her expression filled with concern. “Is

everything okay?”

He couldn’t tell her—the words lodged in the back of his throat. No matter how he tried, no matter

how he knew he must, he couldn’t work them free. He tried to cover with a casual tone. “If Miles gets
back to me tomorrow and insists on following through, do you think Jennifer would consider sharing
holidays?”

Cassie let out a soft laugh. “Not hardly. Anna is the only close family Jennifer has. That’s why

she’s been so adamant about hanging onto the holidays until Anna is older and can decide where she
wants to spend them. She doesn’t want to be alone.” Her brow furrowed as she glanced at his laptop.
“Did he say something to indicate he might continue the fight?”

Brad opened his mouth, trying once more to confess everything. Instead, he heard himself answer,

“I haven’t heard from him yet.” The minute the words slid off his tongue, he told himself the lie
wouldn’t matter. By tomorrow morning he’d figure it all out, and Cassie would never know that he’d
received the emails from Miles or Randall.

Chapter Twenty-one

Brad kept a chokehold on the steering wheel as he navigated onto the main thoroughfare. He tried to
keep the tension out of his body, forced himself to smile at all the right times. But each passing mile
pressed the steel walls in around him. Tightening the space behind his ribs one torturous degree by
another. They were going to be discovered; Miles was going to press this in ways Brad couldn’t
mitigate; there was no option but to leave.

He had to have some space, a few minutes of private to absorb the impact of what just happened. A

few minutes to give in to the angry roar building inside his chest. He’d been banking on a few more
days; he didn’t want to let Cassie go yet.

He hit the brakes at a stoplight, nearly screeching the Cherokee to a dead stop with the touch of his

toe. “Cassie, I’m going to go ahead and drop you off first.”

“Okay.” Her brows dipped with confusion.
Guilt lanced through him. She deserved to know, had the right to the truth as Jennifer’s attorney.

Hell, for the sake of her own career, she needed to know. But goddamn, the minute he told her
Randall was sniffing around the case, she’d send him away—as she should.

Again, he soothed the agitation with the reminder he just needed some time with this. Then he could

confess the truth of their predicament. He’d be prepared to kiss her goodbye and walk away forever.

Fuck you, Miles.
Focus on her. On what’s waiting for you with her.
He drew in a deep breath and let it out long and slow. Prying one hand off the wheel, he wrapped

his fingertips gently around her thigh. Her hand covered his, and Brad’s pulse slowed by several
counts. That light touch had an amazing way of making everything right. He breathed easier as he
pulled into her driveway.

“Sweetheart, I want you to go into the bedroom, the one we’ve been sleeping in, and wait for me.”
A wry grin tugged at one corner of her mouth, but faint color touched her cheeks as she nodded.
Damn if the way her demure side didn’t light him up on the inside. She was so pretty when she

blushed. He ran his hand lightly up her jeans-clad thigh. Squeezed when he reached the juncture of her
hip. “Take off everything and get in the bed.”

“Anything else?” she asked suggestively.
Brad cupped her chin and tipped her face toward his. Leaning across the console, he kissed her

softly, needing her kiss as much as he needed a few minutes to pull himself together. She surrendered
her mouth with a quiet sigh that stroked over his skin as if she’d drawn a feather down his spine. A
pleasant shudder gripped him.

As a different sort of tension crept into his tight muscles, his groin filled with heat. Behind his

loose fly, his cock lifted to attention. Yeah, this was what he needed. Focus on Cassie, on releasing
her from punishment and the sexy little mewls she let out when she yielded her body. Not the fact

Miles had set the wrong wheels in motion.

Pulling away, he trailed his knuckles down the elegant length of her neck. His throat was dry, his

words rough, when he spoke. “I won’t be long.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she murmured as she reached for the door and opened it.
He watched her go, his insides lacing together tightly with each step she took. When she shut the

front door, disappearing inside, he rested his forehead on the steering wheel and gave into a gut-deep
si gh. Pacifying opposing counsel. Conflict of interest. Disbarred. Over and over the words
pummeled through his head. Mingling with them was the infuriating knowledge that Miles was pulling
out buried skeletons for his own, self-absorbed cause. Anna would suffer because of her father’s ego.
How the hell was he supposed to defend that stance to Cassie? She wouldn’t back down, and Brad
wouldn’t put it past her to take on Jennifer, pro bono, just to uphold the morally right position.

Worse, Brad couldn’t walk away from the case if he intended to claim his partnership. Everyone

else Brad had asked had already turned down the case, even those who would hugely benefit from it.
Their caseloads were too full right now. There was no way Brad could adhere to his own personal
ethics, or satisfy Cassie, without sacrificing the promotion he’d worked for his entire life.

Brad didn’t know how long he sat there, the engine running, exhaust curling into the chilly winter

air, before the knots in his shoulders transformed into the heavy weight of acceptance. He had to tell
her. But it could wait a few more hours. It was selfish admittedly, but he needed one more night with
her. In the morning, he’d get on a plane. Away from Cassie, he could shove aside the moral
compromise of doing the work he was hired to do and focus on his assignment. A month or so from
now, when this case resolved, he’d have his partnership. Then he’d be too busy to regret leaving
Vail, Colorado, and the incredible Cassandra Blaire.

Sitting upright, he dropped the Cherokee into reverse and backed out of her drive.

…

Brad hadn’t instructed Cassie to do anything other than wait in the bed, but she added a few more
touches she hoped wouldn’t earn her additional punishment. Arrangements for later, after he finished
with whatever he had planned.

She retrieved a bottle of Cabernet from the wine cellar and set it out to breathe on the nightstand

beside two glasses. She took a few minutes to dish up the last of the previous night’s spaghetti on two
plates that could be easily microwaved. She hesitated over lighting the bedroom fireplace to keep her
from getting chilled. He seemed to get a kick out of handling that task. Instead, she set two thick logs
on the mantle along with a new box of long matches.

With nothing else to do, she set about fulfilling his instructions. Her hands shook as she wriggled

out of her jeans. The cool air caressed her skin when she pulled off her sweater. She finally managed
to strip down to bra and panties.

Setting one knee on the bed, she debated over leaving her undergarments on until she heard the door

close. She’d stay warmer that way. If he found out though, she suspected he wouldn’t be happy.

Moreover, leaving them on was chicken. She’d never been particularly afraid of confronting her

body, and she wouldn’t become embarrassed now. She’d entrusted herself to him. And as long as she
didn’t let logic play tricks on her mind, she wanted to please him.

She backed off the bed and stripped out of her remaining clothing. When she was fully nude, she

crawled back onto the bed and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, flexing her toes to curb the
restlessness that stood her nerves on end.

In a dozen years she’d never have imagined that laying on a bed naked, waiting for her lover, could

be erotic. But the longer the clock down the hallway ticked away, the longer the sounds of a silent
house filled her ears, the more anticipation built. Her mind played fantastic tricks on her body,
taunting her with vivid images of how Brad might greet her. Entering the bedroom already fully naked
and lowering his fantastic body into hers. Taking off that suit at the foot of the bed, the sound of his
rustling clothes scraping delightfully over her skin. Would he touch her first? Or would he stand and
look a while, turning her to putty beneath the heated weight of his gaze?

She shifted a leg, discomfort building. What was taking him so long?
Cassie caught herself as her hand drifted over her abdomen. No, she wouldn’t help herself along.

Not so much because Brad had warned her off, although that played a part. But because the longer she
lay there waiting, the more she realized how right he was—the pleasure intensified when he
controlled it. She wanted him to lead her down that path, wanted him to set her free. After all, that’s
what had started this crazy, reckless affair.

She tucked her hands beneath the small of her back and crossed her ankles.
The sound of the front door thumping shut banged like a firing rifle. Cassie’s breath caught. Her

heart skipped into an erratic rhythm. Her entire body tensed. Brad. She let out a shaky breath.

His familiar footsteps ascended the stairs, moved steadily down the hall. The doorknob turned. At

the creak of hinges, her womb clamped, and she sank her teeth into her lower lip to temper the fierce
ache of yearning that streaked through her veins. He hadn’t moved inside, yet she could feel the way
his eyes roved over her body from the doorway. They would be dark, dangerously aware of every
miniscule movement she made.

“God, you’re beautiful.”
Like she’d touched an exposed hotwire, the low rasp of his voice sent an electric current thrumming

through her body. She bent a knee, shifted to escape the pleasant discomfort, and braved the intensity
of his gaze. Mistake. One look at the unmasked hunger in those vivid blue eyes hollowed out her
stomach and left her shivering.

As if he pulled himself from some faraway place, he gave a slight shake of his head. One corner of

his mouth turned up in a knowing grin, and he stepped the rest of the way into the room. The door
clicked closed with a bump from his heel. Approaching the bed, he unbuttoned his shirt.

Brad bent over her knees, hands braced on the mattress, his shirt lapels tickling her shins. “So

beautiful.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on first one ankle, then the other. “Tell me, Cassie,”
he murmured as he cupped her ankle in one hand and slid the opposite up her calf. “Why are you here

like this?”

God, he was teasing her again. Using those fingers to offer promises she ached for him to fulfill.

She pulled in an unsteady breath, tore her gaze away from the way he caressed her leg. “Because I
orgasmed when you told me not to.”

“Good girl.” Bending her leg, he brought her ankle to his lips and skimmed his mouth to the

sensitive inside of her knee. “Are you going to wait for me tonight?”

Yes. She closed her eyes once more, carried away by the chills that slid over her skin. Somehow

she managed to nod her head.

Brad gently lowered her leg, only to pick up the other and treat it to the same exquisite torture.

“Thank you for thinking of the fire.”

Cassie’s voice failed her completely. She swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in the back of her

throat. When it didn’t move, she nodded again.

“I’m going to light it.” Brad set her leg back down, then trailed a lone fingertip from her hip to the

arch of her left foot. “Then I’m going to pick up where we left off last night.”

A groan possessed her, part pleasured, part tormented. More of last night would destroy her.

“Brad?” she worked through her tightened throat.

“Yes?”
Lifting her head off the pillows, she looked down her body to meet his gaze. “Please…I don’t want

to beg tonight.”

A slow, sensual smile spanned across his heavenly mouth. “Maybe just once or twice. Trust me,

sweetheart.”

Cassie whimpered, but nodded again. He hadn’t hurt her, and she knew he never would. But, oh,

she was on fire already, a heartbeat away from pleading as it was. All day she’d waited for this
unspoken promise. All night she’d yearned.

He squeezed her foot affectionately. As he turned toward the fire, she called out to him once more.

“Will you…start with a kiss?”

When he turned to look at her, his expression held a touch of wonder. He hesitated, as if he

considered denying her request, then cocked his head with a slight frown. “That’s the second time
you’ve asked me to kiss you today.”

“Is that a problem?”
“No,” he answered, his frown becoming thoughtful. “Why a kiss? Not that I object. There are just

so many other things you could ask for.”

Cassie’s heart skipped several beats before she could find the courage to answer with the truth. “A

kiss is more intimate than anything.”

Brad’s vibrant blue eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn’t define. He turned and knelt in front

of the hearth, his voice a strained whisper. “I’ll kiss you, Cassie. I wouldn’t dream of doing
otherwise.”

Chapter Twenty-two

The mattress compressed beneath Brad’s weight as he braced his hands on both sides of Cassie and
crawled up her body to feather his lips across hers. He held himself far enough away they didn’t
touch; only his thumbs brushed against her shoulders. But oh, how she felt him. The heat of his bare
skin seared hers. His weight hovered, drawing her back off the bed, pulling her closer to the promise
of his strong arms wrapping around her.

Cassie’s lips parted in synchronicity with her thighs. She set tentative hands on his shoulders,

afraid he might lift away, and if he did, afraid she might cry. When he instead bent his elbows a
fraction, lowering himself more closely, she slipped her arms around his neck and became lost in the
splendor of his mouth.

His tongue tangled with hers, peeling away the edgy layers of anticipation until she felt more

exposed and unshielded than ever before. Strangely, that unveiling didn’t bring fear or hesitation. As
he did each time he touched her, Brad managed to give her liberty, to free her from restraints she
hadn’t even fully recognized until he stripped them away. He brought comfort, even as he rent holes in
her composure.

As if he shared her burning need for air, he drew the kiss to a leisurely close yet didn’t draw

completely away. He remained poised over her, his head bowed, eyes closed, fighting the pull of
desire one ragged breath after another. Awed that she could have such an effect on a man who prided
himself for his control, Cassie pressed her fingertips to his cheek. His lashes fluttered open. Vivid
blue eyes held hers, and powerful affection swelled behind her ribs.

“Brad,” she whispered, unable to put the surge of feeling into words.
Once more his eyes closed, but not before she glimpsed a flash of something very close to pain.

Before she could fully translate the odd light, he rested his forehead against hers with a touch of
unexpected reverence that stole the air from her lungs. She trembled, sensing something significant
had just passed between them. What, she couldn’t fathom. But it registered in the tick of the muscle
alongside his jaw, the tightness that infused his shoulders.

He backed away, dropping his mouth to her breast and denying her the ability to focus on what had

just transpired. One firm pull against her nipple shot bliss through her veins. Her fingers latched onto
his hair as her back arched off the bed. He let out a grunt of appreciation and increased the pressure
of his mouth.

Heaven and hell blended into one blessed paradise as the earlier throbbing in her body returned

with a vengeance. Cassie squirmed beneath his heady assault, desperate for any small measure of
relief.

Amusement crinkled the corner of Brad’s eyes as he glanced up her body. His chuckle vibrated into

her. Laughing—she didn’t know whether to scream or thrash, or do both at once, and he was laughing,
damn him.

Letting her nipple slide from his lips, he lifted his head. “What is it you want, Cassie?”
“You,” she managed on a groan.
“This?” He skated a warm palm over her ribs, across her abdomen, and rested his fingers against

the soft flesh between her legs. He circled her clitoris in one lazy stroke.

Oh, God. “Yes.” She arched her hips against the motion of his hand. “Yes.”
His devilish smile broadening, he slowly inserted one finger inside her, perfectly stroking her

central point of pleasure. “Or this?”

Cassie twisted her head, bucked off the bed. “Yes,” she murmured in between gasps.
“Or…” Dipping his head, he closed his lips around her nipple. He suckled, as he pushed in deep

again.

Not this again. She’d die if she had to endure what he put her through last night.
Whimpering, Cassie undulated against the sweet pleasure he gave so freely. She didn’t know,

couldn’t form rational thought. All she could comprehend was the burning need. The frightening way
he pushed her into complete abandon.

And yet she couldn’t. Even if she threw all logic aside and disobeyed his earlier instruction to wait

for him, Brad had once again denied her the ability by withdrawing his hand. A moan tore from her
throat a heartbeat before she rasped, “Please, Brad…”

…

Brad could barely hang on to the scant bits of his remaining control. Release pounded at him. His
cock was so swollen and ready it had become painful. He didn’t know how many times he’d brought
Cassie to the edge, only to ease her off at the last moment, but it had never seemed like enough.
Demons drove him. Phantoms he couldn’t name, and wouldn’t have even if he were able.

All he understood was the driving urge to scald her so deeply she didn’t just desire him, she

needed him. In all his life he had never felt this possessive compulsion, never cared to have anyone
develop such an intimate attachment. Until her. Until he went home with a stranger and discovered a
woman who had the power to sink so far beneath his skin he was certain he’d never dig her out.

He lapped at Cassie, murmuring sounds of appreciation with each pulse of her slick flesh. Her

body trembled beneath him. The moans that fell from her lips had become hoarse and plaintive. He
knew he had pushed her too far, and yet, he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t satisfy his own yearnings and
bring them both to the release their bodies required.

Tomorrow he had to walk away from her. He’d be damned if she forgot him.
Her back arched involuntarily, and she thrust her hips against his mouth. His fingers tightened on

her buttocks as his tongue speared her deeply, and she let out another mewl of pleasured torment. One
more stroke, one more graze of his teeth against her clitoris…

She began to crest, her breath catching in short, hard, gasps. Against his mouth, her flesh quivered.

He eased off, slowing his stroke, opening his eyes to take in the softness of her expression.

“Brad…God…make it stop…”

The roughened quality of her words, punched him in the gut, delivering a sound jolt of sanity. Son

of a bitch, there were tears in her voice. He never should have let it go this far. Should have at least
granted her release if he’d intended to keep her chained to the bed for hours. He could have indulged
countless times. And yet, he’d selfishly driven her to an uncomfortable place.

Fuck.
He wasn’t this bastard. He couldn’t turn tonight into torture. Wouldn’t. He’d experienced too many

staggering sensations when he’d eased that kiss to a close and stared into her expressive eyes.

Rising to his knees, he hooked her ankles over his shoulders and angled her hips. Gritting his teeth

against the searing ecstasy that waited, he yielded to the heady call of her body and eased the tip of
his swollen cock inside her. A high-pitched cry escaped her parted lips. Her inner walls contracted,
and he fought his own swift rise of imminent release.

But all capability to take his time with her had vanished long ago. He’d known the minute he felt

her heat surrounding him that he’d succumb to raging, white-hot desire. Slow and easy shattered under
the demand for fast and hard.

“Cassie, look at me.”
She vehemently shook her head as she clawed at the sheets. “Can’t…It’s…too much.”
Angling his hips, he withdrew, and plunged in again with one swift thrust.
“Brad!” Her voice cracked as she cried out.
“Hold on, Cassie,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t control it any longer. I’ve got to c

—” Words lodged in his throat as her flesh fluttered around him. Ecstasy raced to the surface,
hovered on the excruciating edge of no return. His body moved of its own accord, pistoning in and out
of hers like a well oiled machine. Each hard plunge coursed bliss through his veins. Delightful agony.

Perspiration broke out over his body, making the slide of their skin that much more gratifying. The

base of his spine began to tingle.

“Now, Cassie,” he croaked through a dry throat. “Now.”
At the instantaneous clench of her flesh, his thoughts blurred. He thrust again, surging blissful

delirium through his veins. Her scream filled his ears, and he felt the rise of his seed as his cock
swelled deep within her.

Her first orgasm had barely passed when she began to crest again. Astonished by her fierce

response, Brad’s lungs seized. With a strangled shout of his own, he plunged in hard, and sailed into
ecstasy. Drop by drop, the grip and release of her flesh milked him dry and stole the strength from his
limbs. Rendered helpless by the power of his climax, his knees gave, and he dropped forward, barely
catching himself on his hands before darkness encroached his vision. Blind to all but the singular
magic of Cassandra Blaire, he dropped his cheek to her breast and allowed her to consume him.

Minutes ticked by like hours as the sound of their labored breathing filled his ears. For a moment,

he’d have sworn his heart would stop. Now, satisfaction pulsed through his veins, though he was still
too weak to stand. But he couldn’t lay here like this forever, cutting off her air with the press of his
body. He grabbed at determination, forced himself to withdraw from her intoxicating heat, and rolled

onto his back at her side. He’d never come so hard in his life.

Eyes closed, he absorbed the aftershocks of orgasm as the air cooled his overheated skin. But bit

by bit, a nagging sensation infiltrated his gratified haze. Something wasn’t right. Cassie hadn’t moved.
Hadn’t snuggled closer as she usually did. Had yet to whisper a single word.

He turned onto his side and skimmed his hand down her belly. “Sweetheart?”
She rolled away, curled into a fetal position. Tremors still shook her body. “Don’t touch me.”
Brad’s stomach balled into a knot. There was more to that hoarse whisper than simple directive.

Loathing spread over her words. She shuddered again, and he choked down the sudden, violent need
to vomit. In his driving need to possess her, he’d taken things too far. Turned what was intended to be
pleasurable punishment into borderline abuse. Worse, he’d betrayed her trust.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop the bitter rise of bile and reached a hand out to her

shoulder. He had to make this right somehow. But when his fingers grazed her skin, she twisted out of
reach. Another shiver gripped her.

Fuck. “Cassie…”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Just leave me alone.”

Chapter Twenty-three

Cassie huddled into the rumpled sheets, too exhausted to pull them over her body. Flashes of searing
heat and spells of icy chills flowed over her skin. She couldn’t stop the resulting trembling no matter
how she tried.

And she couldn’t say another word to Brad without the tears that scalded her eyes spilling over.

Some time earlier she’d began to understand he was fighting something within himself. That
punishment had slipped away and twisted into something else not entirely unpleasant. But…

The but lodged in her throat and made it impossible to fight her tears. One salty droplet rolled

down her cheek. She couldn’t say she was angry—she was too numb to feel much of anything. Still,
she needed time to herself, to pull her fragmented thoughts into place before she could consider
discussing anything with him.

He’d used her body against her, for reasons she couldn’t comprehend, and she needed to come to

terms with that before she could decide whether or not she wanted to let him make it right.

Behind her, the mattress creaked as he rose from the bed. She listened to the rustling as he slid into

his trousers and stoked the fire. His usual movements seemed off, delayed and uncertain. A traitorous
part of her brain hated the fact her distance affected him. He liked to talk things out, to reach common
ground, and move forward. But damn it, she had every right to be furious. Every right to ask him to
leave and never come back.

Besides, she refused to cry in front of him. She didn’t want to hear his lecture on how she couldn’t

handle his desires. Right now, if he forced her to decide whether this was what she wanted or not,
she’d let him walk out the door without argument.

She needed time.
The rustling stopped. Heavy silence enveloped the room. “Cassie?” he quietly called from the foot

of the bed.

When she refused to answer, his sigh rose over the crackling fire. The door opened, clicked closed.

His footsteps disappeared down the hall.

Cassie let out the strained breath she’d been holding and closed her eyes as another tear slipped

free.

…

Brad wandered aimlessly through Cassie’s house, trying to stop the racket in his head. He deserved
her condemnation. But her distance bothered him on a level he couldn’t comprehend. It pained him.
No woman to ever cross his path had scraped their nails over anything more than his surface. Cassie,
however, dug them in and left scars behind.

Why? Because she’d cooked him breakfast and treated him to a simple consideration? Because she

gave him mind-boggling orgasms? Or because he sensed, on some level, she needed him, and in some

dark corner of his subconscious he wanted to be needed?

He flipped on the light in the kitchen, pulled a glass out of the cabinet, and went to the fridge for

orange juice. When he opened the door, however, his misery compounded. Staring him in the face
was yet more evidence of the tender nature he’d misused. Two plates of spaghetti waited for the
microwave. Neatly dished, covered with plastic, and stacked side by side.

Fucking brilliant, asshole.
He shut the fridge and glanced around, more than a little lost in the house he’d become so familiar

with. It was time to confront what had driven him tonight. Time to refuse to accept her distance and
spill his guts. Tell her what Miles and Randall said, tell her it bothered the shit out of him to have to
walk away tomorrow.

He didn’t want to go.
No matter how he tried to prep himself with reminders of all the good things that waited in New

York, the bottom line was, Brad wasn’t ready to leave Colorado. And yet, his decisions had been
ripped from his hands. He didn’t have a choice, and he didn’t know how to tell her he wanted more
time, without making promises he couldn’t keep. Instead, he’d behaved like a selfish bastard and tried
to escape the unsettling pain behind his ribs by convincing himself he could leave if he knew she’d
remember him. Now, she wouldn’t forget, but the memory would be a far cry from the one he’d
intended.

No longer in the mood for something to drink, Brad left her kitchen and wandered to her front room.

Memories of all the time they’d spent together here blasted through him as he crossed to the stone
hearth. She’d laughed, she’d confided in him, she’d given him her trust.

A photograph caught his attention on the overhead shelf, and he pulled it down. Cassie sat on a

man’s lap with her arms looped around his neck. A brilliant smile lighted her face as she laughed in
the timeless moment. This must be Chris. The husband who’d supposedly loved her, but painted her in
the corner that she’d intended to escape Valentine’s night.

Would she have gone home with another man, had Brad not been there?
He shoved the uncomfortable question aside. It tightened the already present knots in his gut. He

squinted at the photograph of her husband. He didn’t like this man. Didn’t like the way he shoved
Cassie’s needs beneath a rug, and certainly didn’t like the idea that he’d once heard Cassie cry out in
pleasure. Brad gritted his teeth. Her orgasms belonged to him.

Whoa. He blinked as the thought sidelined him. His? Territorial wasn’t his style. He hastily set the

photograph back in its spot on the mantle. Cassie didn’t belong to him. Getting tied up about who she
slept with was ridiculous. He was leaving tomorrow. They had no future.

Sighing, he glanced around at the house he’d come to feel entirely too comfortable in. He’d done

things with her he’d never imagined he might—shoveled a hell of a lot of snow, handled a generator,
made fires in the hearth. It had been so easy to fall into domestic routine. Odd, considering he’d never
once given a thought to settling down.

And he wasn’t now, he reminded himself.

He needed to tell her, before he dragged this out another day. Then, once he’d come clean and

convinced her to forgive his animalistic behavior, he’d spend the rest of what remained of the night
showing her how very sorry he was.

Flipping off the light switch, Brad trudged up the stairs. She’d heard him leave the bedroom.

Knowing her, she was probably sitting in the bed, waiting for him to return so she could give him a
good piece of her mind. Hell, he’d rather she do that than remain locked in infernal silence. At least
he’d know what he was up against to plan a counter strategy.

He pushed open the door, and his heart sank to his knees. One mysterious wave of regret after

another washed over him. She hadn’t moved, but the slow rise and fall of her shoulders said she
slept. She slept while he was beating himself up like an idiot. He couldn’t put his finger on why that
bothered him, but it gnawed at his gut like a hungry rat with dull teeth.

With a hard frown, he stalked to her side of the bed, prepared to rouse her out of that blissful

slumber and demand she listen to his explanation. But an instant before his hand touched her shoulder,
he retracted his arm. This was pointless, wasn’t it? He’d already made flight arrangements when he
dropped by his hotel.

She’d fallen asleep angry. All things considered, if he left now, there’d be no hope of winning her

forgiveness. They’d break clean, and though she’d hurt for a while, and he’d take the pain he caused
her to his grave, they’d both return to their normal lives. She couldn’t become a distraction if he
burned this bridge. And he certainly couldn’t be accused, or question himself, about going easy on
opposing counsel.

Grimacing inwardly, Brad determined to ignore the lance of regret that stabbed between his ribs

and backed quietly away from her side. He took care to dress without disturbing her, then checked the
fire to insure the cinders that remained couldn’t escape. When there was nothing left to waste time
with, he realized he was hoping she would wake on her own, and muttered a soft oath.

He crossed once more to her side of the bed and withdrew from his back pocket the printout of

Miles’s letter and the copy of Randall’s email he’d printed at the hotel. The crinkle of paper as he
unfolded them had him cringing, certain she’d sit upright at any minute. Luck was on his side,
however, and as he smoothed them against his chest, Cassie didn’t move.

Brad set the damnable things on her nightstand. Bending, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her

forehead. Then, he fished his phone out of his pocket and headed downstairs to call a cab.

Chapter Twenty-four

Cassie awakened shivering. The unfamiliar habit of waking in her guest room combined with the thick
fog that clouded her mind, and she couldn’t remember where she was…or why. Fleeting panic stole
over her. But as her heart launched into overdrive¸ another gust of wind whistled through the
fireplace’s open flue, and she shivered again. Full comprehension smacked her in the face, along with
a heavy dose of mortification.

God, the things she’d done last night…the things she’d said.
She shook her head against the rise of modesty. No. She would not be ashamed. It was part of who

she was, part of what Brad was. Yes, he’d gone overboard last night. Yes, she was still angry with
him. Angry enough she’d like to kick him in the shins. Yet not furious enough to turn the last few days
they had together into a stilted, awkward, professional-only involvement. However, they needed to
reach an immediate agreement on the type and execution of any further reprimands. She would not
allow him to inflict pain, physically or mentally. And if he objected—well, as he’d said, he could
leave now.

She suspected he wouldn’t. They’d had enough time together to understand some pretty intimate

things about one another. He’d had ample opportunity to test her pain thresholds, and other than a
playful lover’s swat on the rump now and then, he never had. He might be dominant, but she didn’t
think pain was his ballgame anymore than it was hers.

So where was the pig-headed jerk? She glanced around the room, noting fresh snow on the

windowsill outside. Shoveling maybe? If he was buried in a snow bank, figuratively, that would
explain the late morning sunlight and his failure to wake her up for a timely appearance at the office.

It didn’t, however, explain her cold skin and why the blankets hadn’t been pulled from the pillows.
Unease tugged at her.
She stretched to the foot of the bed and glanced at the floor. His clothes were missing. More

credence to the snow theory. More questions about the wrinkled, but still made bed.

Sighing, she pushed herself to her feet. The wobbly nature of her knees and the quivering of her

thighs startled her. But surprise gave way to another level of annoyance, when she managed to get her
feet under her appropriately. If she’d needed more evidence he’d gone over the top last night, she’d
just discovered it. If she walked funny all day, if he made one damn teasing remark, he’d have a full
blown fight on his hands.

She slid into yesterday’s clothes to hide from the chilly air until she could sort this all out and snag

a shower. As she turned to glance at the clock and determine exactly what time it was, two sheets of
paper that hadn’t been there when she’d fallen asleep caught her attention.

The churning unease in her belly transformed into a leaden ball. Instinct screamed she didn’t want

to look at that letter. Sense, however, dragged her to the nightstand. With an unsteady hand, she picked
up the type written sheets and studied the first. Her eye focused instantly on the bold-faced line at the

bottom.

I am adamantly opposed to allowing Anna to spend any time in Dale’s presence. Tell Ms. Blaire

Addressed to Brad. Signed by Miles Cooper. As her heart rate jumped into overdrive, she flipped

to the second page, absorbing Randall Blackson, Senior Partner at Blackson and Goodwell’s words.

Cassie’s knees buckled. She dropped to the edge of the mattress, before she toppled over. Denial

bounded through her head. She was imagining this. She hadn’t fully woken up; it had to be a bad
dream. He’d been turned in to the partners? Even if Miles Cooper knew nothing concrete—oh, good
God, Brad received these yesterday. The time stamp indicated shortly before they’d left the office.
Brad had asked about Jennifer.

He’d known! The slimeball had known all night long that questions had been raised and their affair

had to end. This was how he told her?

She shot to her feet and stormed out of the bedroom. “Brad!” She was seriously going to inflict

damage when she found him for this chicken-shit way of informing her they were finished. After last
night too! Hell, he knew her more intimately than she probably knew herself—he could have sat down
and talked with her. They’d have worked something out. Even if they agreed to say goodbye.

Maybe he didn’t want to work something out.
A chill stole over Cassie’s body, one that had nothing to do with the temperature. She shook it off,

doubled her stride down the hall to the stairs. Taking them two at a time, she barreled to the front
room. “Brad!”

Again silence answered. Instead of taking the longer route to the garage entry, she grabbed the front

door knob. It resisted her efforts of twisting. Cassie frowned at the locks. She never locked the knob,
only the deadbolt. Her stomach twisted inward.

Pushing past the uncomfortable churn, she reminded herself Brad had come in after she had through

a door she’d left unlocked. He wouldn’t know whether she locked the handle, the deadbolt, or both.
Logic said he was outside, buried in the fresh snow, charming his way into her heart with each
shovelful he threw.

Cassie yanked the door open. She opened her mouth to holler for him again, and glimpsed the

glistening, untouched snow that covered her lawn and driveway. Faint tire tracks near the curb
marked the place where a car had stopped in front of her house. No sign of footprints remained.

The world around her moved in slow motion as her gaze dropped to the printed emails in her hand.

Blood rushed through her veins, pounded in her ears. Her heart’s antsy erratic rhythm slowed to a
dull, unsteady cadence. He hadn’t left a note behind informing her they had problems imminently
looming. He’d left an impersonal letter to say goodbye.

Why? Didn’t she deserve enough respect for a face-to-face conversation?

Slowly, she backed inside her house. No longer trusting the strength in her legs, she sank to the

bottommost stair and scanned the letter again. Maybe she’d missed something. Maybe she’d
interpreted wrong. Maybe…

Maybe she was fooling herself.
He’d known last night. Still, he’d come here and turned her body into his personal playground.

Used her for the physical recreation she offered. But even then, after they’d come to know each other
so well, why hadn’t he possessed the courtesy to tell her personally?

Because he doesn’t want involvement. He doesn’t believe in love.
On the other hand, she believed too much. She’d opened herself to Brad, naively believing she

could keep him at a distance. All the while, he poked and prodded behind her emotional barricades,
taking them down brick by brick, and slowly coercing her heart back into life once more. Yes, she
knew all too well what love was; she’d loved her husband. And when she’d buried Chris, she’d
never believed her heart could know a greater pain.

But as she looked at the emails through watery eyes once more, anguish cleaved her heart in two.

She’d fallen for him. Sinker, line, and baited hook. In return, he smacked her across the face and
walked away without a single look back. Leaving her with two letters he hadn’t even taken the time to
write.

…

Brad let himself inside his apartment, hoping that once the familiar walls rose around him, the
ongoing ache behind his ribs would cease. He missed Cassie already, and he despised himself for the
way he left. He hadn’t pulled that kind of asshole crap since his first year at college. He’d nearly
gotten his head flattened for it by a senior fraternity brother.

If he’d taken the time to talk to Cassie, he might at least be able to enjoy the sound of her voice

through the telephone. The thought drifted through his head, along with a dozen other what ifs. All of
them useless.

The heavy, steel door thumped into place behind him, and he stood in the center of his apartment,

looking around. Grey light filtered in through heavy clouds that promised snow. His gaze canvassed
his untouched, immaculately clean, modern kitchen, the front room with its wood floor and black
leather furniture, the sharp lines and angles that boasted power and money.

There was no comfort here. No sense of home the way Cassie’s house pronounced it, though he’d

lived here the last four years and spent thousands in professional decorators to bring the place out of
the twentieth century.

Brad set his suitcase on the floor by the end table and went to the fireplace he’d used exactly twice.

He flipped the switch on the wall, stared unseeing as the flames curled around glass logs. No comfort,
no warmth…no peace.

Absently, he checked the accumulated messages on his answering machine. Two feminine voices he

didn’t exactly remember hoped they’d hear from him this weekend. He searched his memory bank,

pulling up pictures of purchasing a scotch and tonic for a blonde at Culvert’s Pub, leaving his card on
the table before he left. The other had made it to his doorway, where her shy smiles disappeared
when she backed him against the heavy door and wrapped her fingers around his dick before he’d
even fished out his keys. He’d quickly realized demure had all been an act, and sent her home,
suddenly remembering a deposition he needed to plan.

Brad deleted both before their messages concluded. The third message, from a young woman he

dabbled with when the urge for something more than his hand became too great, he saved. The fourth
voice mail, however, made his shoulders straighten. Randall Blackson wanted to see him Tuesday
morning, stressing he looked forward to talking more at the dinner party for Joseph Heagle, on
Saturday night. It seemed Joseph had gotten engaged on Valentine’s Day and, in a shocking revelation,
decided to decrease his caseload by over half for the next year or two.

As a result, the seven partners of Blackson and Goodwell had decided it would be in the firm’s

best interest to make a decision about Brad’s partnership before the end of the month. A decision they
couldn’t make with Miles’s concerns on the table, though Randall was certain they amounted to
nothing. “Matter of procedure, Brad. That’s all.”

Brad’s hand hovered over the play button. He should be grinning from ear to ear—he’d escaped

before disaster fully struck. Yet his smile barely possessed the strength to lift one corner of his mouth.
Yeah, the hollow feeling behind his ribs filled with something, but he couldn’t say it was exactly joy.
He dropped a heavy hand onto the delete button, then erased the young woman’s message as well.

Unsettled by his complete lack of reaction, Brad moved to the window and stared out at the

Manhattan evening sky. Grey clouds had finally yielded to their low-hanging purpose of a forecasted
four inches. Fat snowflakes drifted through the multi-colored lights, already gathering on the
sidewalks below. Finally, something moved inside him. Something bitterly sharp and uncomfortable
that began with the realization his doorstep would be spotless in the morning, the snow shoveled
away by someone else.

Brad leaned his forehead on the cold glass pane and reached into his pocket for his cell phone.

Before he could realize what he was doing and stop his fingers, Cassie’s log of text messages during
his stay in Colorado stared him in the face. His thumbs hovered over the keys. Then he let out a quiet
oath and gave into the need to connect with her once more.

You gave me the best week of my life. I’m sorry, Cassie.
Long moments passed as he held his breath, willing her to respond. Dim light gave way to the glow

of streetlamps and billboards and bright nighttime colors. Minute by minute, he began to realized she
never would. He set his silent phone on a nearby table and sank into an uncomfortable chair, staring at
the unproductive fire.

It was for the best, what he’d intended when he’d left without a word. He just hadn’t realized it

would hurt so damned bad.

Chapter Twenty-five

Two days later, Brad pushed away from the veritable mountain of work his desk had become and
frowned at his cell phone. He still couldn’t get it through his head that he’d destroyed things with
Cassie. Every time the damn thing chimed, vibrated, or beeped, he snatched it up, only to choke down
disappointment when someone else’s name showed on the screen. The only word he’d heard from her
was a cold, impersonal response to the email he’d been required to send, formally detailing his report
of Miles’ concerns and notifying her of an immediate hearing the judge had set for tomorrow
afternoon. She confirmed her schedule would allow. Nothing more, nothing less. He would have to
stand beside her in the courtroom, this mountain of terribleness between them.

Meanwhile, he was effectively dodging Randall at the office with claims of casework that couldn’t

be ignored, but he hadn’t accomplished a damned thing otherwise. Every time he tried, bitterness
made communicating with his client impossible. The three emails Brad had started to another client
who was deadlocked in a property dispute, all included biting sarcasm about not appreciating
generosity. In the last, Brad even caught himself lecturing about his client’s inability to recognize the
merit of his marriage. Thankfully, he’d deleted that one along with all the rest. Not exactly the best
way to convince a client he was their advocate and more ammunition for Randall, should someone
else become upset.

Sighing, Brad reclined in his chair and put his feet up on the desk, phone in hand once more. If

Cassie would just call so he could apologize. If she’d just return one of the uncountable text messages
he’d left.

Then what? They’d pretend until the Cooper case resolved, and then he’d start some long distance

affair while he eased into the role of firm partner? That was laughable.

A rap on his door brought him upright in his chair, his feet thumping to the floor. “It’s open.”
Joseph Heagle ducked his head inside. “You got a minute, Brad?”
“Sure.” Brad gestured at a chair. The ever-present tightness in his chest eased a little with his

friend’s inviting smile. “Pull up a seat. Hate the fact you’re pulling back, man. Are you…transitioning
out?” Everyone wanted to know and gossip pegged Joseph on the fast-track to retirement. If he’d been
anyone but Brad’s earliest mentor and a close friend, Brad wouldn’t have been so nosy. “I wish you’d
told me yourself.”

The middle aged man grinned as he sank into the overstuffed chair. “Tried. Check your phone log.

Called you right after I popped the question.” His grin broadened. “Mandy wanted to hear your
reaction.”

Despite the last few days, Brad found himself chuckling. Mandy was a hoot. Joseph had met her

last year, and the petite redheaded firecracker hadn’t wasted a minute on pulling Joseph into line.
He’d gone from notorious skirt-chaser with too much money to spend, to a regular charitable donor
who went camping on the weekends and ran three miles each morning. All with Mandy at his side.

Mandy, who was convinced Brad was beyond the ability to reform.

Because Mandy didn’t understand there just weren’t too many women who could satisfy his needs.
“Hey.” Joseph’s humor faded as he gave Brad a concerned frown. “You doing okay? I know

Randall contacted you. If you’ve decided partner isn’t in your plan, there’s no harm, Brad. No one’s
going to think less of you if you want to stay at senior associate. Everyone loves your work.”

Brad expelled a hard breath. “I’m fine.”
“So why the closed door the last two days? That’s more what I expect out of Angela Hart, not you.”
Brad set an elbow on his desk and ran his hand over his stubbly chin. They’d talked about a lot of

things in the last ten years, even the delicate balance of personal and professional responsibilities.
But he phrased his question carefully, not wanting to step on a hot spot, or worse, arouse questions
that might influence Joseph’s current happiness. “Don’t you find it a little odd to want to build a life
with someone, when we specialize in tearing lives apart?”

Joseph leaned back in the chair and crossed an ankle over his knee. “What’s eating at you, son?”
Suddenly, Brad felt juvenile and stupid. He pushed himself out of his chair, tucked his hands in his

pockets, and moved to the window. “It’s nothing. Just something I have to work through.”

“Something of the female kind?”
His gaze riveted on the tall peak of a neighboring high rise, Brad confirmed with a short, crisp nod.
“Chew on this, Brad.” Joseph rose and joined him at the window, mirroring his unfocused stare.

“There’s work, and there’s life. Life depends on work, but work won’t pull you back when you’re a
foot away from the grave. It would rather have you bleed.”

“How’d you know?” The question came so quietly, it took a minute for Brad to realize he’d

actually freed the words. When he did, he grimaced, certain the ridiculous quandary would earn him
Joseph’s hearty laughter. What thirty-five year old man asked another something so foolish?

But to Brad’s surprise, Joseph merely rocked to the balls of his feet. His gaze didn’t waiver off the

glass, and no amusement rumbled in his chest. “You know,” he answered with quiet reflection, “I
didn’t used to know the difference between a bass, a crappie, or a trout, and I didn’t give a damn.
Now, I can tell you what’s on the line by the way they bite. And I like knowing something that
useless.”

Brad shot him a puzzled frown.
“I like it because it’s stupid and crazy and something an old wrinkled bastard would teach his

grandkids.” He turned to Brad, leaning a shoulder on the thick glass pane, a wry smirk twisting the
corner of his mouth. “I didn’t plan on learning it. I went fishing because Mandy asked, and I all I
heard was another way to have her naked. I spent the whole damned second day throwing worms in
the water, in the goddamned rain, while she read a book in the rental cabin. I caught the worst cold of
my life and didn’t have sex for a full week.”

Brad covered his laughter with a cough. “Did you catch anything?”
Warm affection lit Joseph’s green eyes. “A bass, a bluegill, and a woman who made sure I had

Kleenex, Vicks, and homemade chicken soup.” With a shake of his head, he chuckled again. “Ask me

a year ago if I would have wanted to learn how to fish and I’d have told you I’d rather stab nails in
my eyes. It’s the crazy, illogical things that have no explanation, but you can’t stop from doing, no
matter how insensible they are.”

Like convincing Cassie to open up, even when he knew he shouldn’t. Brad flinched inwardly. God,

he missed her.

Joseph set a reassuring hand on Brad’s shoulder. “Sometimes, you just…know.” He released him

with a firm squeeze. “Now, back to why I dropped by. Randall invited you to the dinner party they’re
throwing for Mandy and I, right? It’s tomorrow night at eight. Randall’s invited everyone to his house.
You’ll be there?”

“Yeah.” Brad pulled himself from thoughts of Cassie and pushed away from the window. “I’ll be

there.” He already had flight arrangements made. It would be a grueling day of travel, but he didn’t
dare miss the reception.

“Got plans tonight? Mandy’s having some friends over from work. Want to drop by?”
Brad’s gaze dropped to his desk and the cell phone tucked beside his piled up, neglected work. The

Cooper case aside, he had more important business to take care of. Things that didn’t make sense but
threatened to pull him inside out if he didn’t do something. He wasn’t entirely sure what that
something was, but he couldn’t go another day without hearing Cassie’s voice. “No,” he answered
slowly. “I have a flight to catch. Court tomorrow.”

Chapter Twenty-six

Everything inside Cassie trembled as Brad made his way down the courtroom aisle and seated
himself at the table established for opposing counsel. She kept her gaze focused on the solitary paper
in front of her nose, unable to look at him for fear she’d either erupt in fury or break down in shameful
tears. One glance at that handsome face would be her eternal undoing. But she felt his approach as
surely as if he touched her.

Stay focused. He walked out on you.
“All rise,” the bailiff announced.
Repeating the mantra in her mind gave her the ability to lift her head and rise on unsteady legs as

the judge entered the courtroom. Brad cleared his throat and the sound ricocheted through her. She
gripped the edge of the table and willed her knees not to give out. Until now, she’d thought ignoring
his constant text messages and phone calls had been torture. Now, those attempts at contact were mere
beestings compared to standing beside him, wanting to hate him every bit as much as she wanted to
fall into his arms.

Judge Larker, a man who’d presided over a number of Cassie’s cases, motioned to the small

gathering inside the courtroom. She’d pressed and pressed until he finally agreed to the sensitive
nature of the hearing and barred everyone but counsel, Jennifer, and Anna from the proceedings. He
gave Anna smile that added youth to his aging features before speaking.

“You may be seated.” As they all sank into their seats, his focus swung to Brad, drawing Cassie’s

along with it. “Counselor you have voiced an extremely serious concern.”

Too late she realized her lapse in reason. The full effect of Brad barreled into her. Dressed in a

dark charcoal suit with a light blue shirt that accented the vibrant color of his eyes, he cut a
magnificent picture of confidence and power. His gaze skipped to her an instant before he nodded at
Judge Larker, and though Cassie was seated, she felt the world move beneath her feet. Her breath
lodged in her throat. Her lungs constricted like blocked straws. And her heart, her damnable heart,
skipped erratically.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Brad replied.
“He looks sure of himself, doesn’t he?” Jennifer whispered in Cassie’s ear. “Do you think he has a

conscience?”

Cassie patted her hand, reassuringly. She had every right to be bitter—Brad had opened Anna to a

world of trauma. But Cassie understood; Brad was obligated. He had been hired by a client to
perform a specific job, one which forced him to report to higher authorities the allegations Miles
claimed. Short of resigning—which he wouldn’t do with a partnership on the line—Brad couldn’t
acknowledge what conscience he might have. Though given his abrupt departure, she questioned
whether he possessed a conscience at all.

Judge Larker squinted at Brad. “I don’t see your client, counselor. In a grave matter like this, I

would expect he’d be present.”

Brad clasped his hands in front of his waist and nodded. “I stand in his behalf. A prior work

obligation demanded his presence and he couldn’t get away given the short notice.”

“Right,” Jennifer hissed beneath her breath. “We know how much he cares.”
“I trust then, Mr. Steele, you’ve informed your client thoroughly as to the due process we must

initiate? He understands the Court will appoint a guardian on Ms. Anna Cooper’s behalf, who will
conduct a series of interviews. A psychologist may be employed. If evidence is found that the
allegations are true, prosecution may follow.” Judge Larken leaned back in his chair and clasped his
hands atop his presiding bench. “He is aware he will have to make arrangements with his work and
testify, if such occurs?”

Brad nodded again, the picture of perfect respect. “Yes, Your Honor, I’ve duly informed him.”
Leaning forward, Judge Larkin stared at Brad a long moment before speaking again. “I don’t like

theatrics in my courtroom, Mr. Steele. I have to admit I’m hard pressed to believe your client’s
claims given his lack of involvement in his daughter’s life. If this all is discovered to be a waste of
money, and more importantly my time, I will be less inclined to look favorably on future requests of
the Court.”

“Understood, Judge,” Brad replied.
“Well. That said…” Judge Larkin picked up his glasses, unfolded them, and pushed them onto the

bridge of his nose. He then picked up the documents Brad had entered as evidentiary discovery. When
he glanced up, he looked directly at Cassie.

For a moment, nerves possessed her. The last thing she wanted to do was look foolish in front of

Brad. What if she said the wrong thing? Misspoke? Stumbled over her tongue?

“Ms. Blaire.”
With a heavy exhale, Cassie pushed aside her unfounded insecurity. Family Law might be new to

her on many levels, but the courtroom was not. More than once she’d acted as co-counsel with Chris
and had spent her fair share of time under the bench’s scrutiny. She could do this. Brad, and the
personal baggage between them, was irrelevant now. She forced a smile. “Yes, Your Honor?”

“I presume, based on your initial response, you object to the allegations.”
“Frankly, my client finds them absurd.”
“Absurd?” Brad barked.
Judge Larkin shot him a heavy look of warning.
“Apologies, Judge,” he mumbled.
“Would you care to explain your client’s position, Ms. Blaire?”
“I’d love to.” Brad’s interruption gave Cassie courage she hadn’t expected. Feeling more sure of

herself, she swiveled in her chair and met his gaze with a challenging stare. “To begin with, counsel
withheld information, presenting it in a fashion which lends to the belief it was deliberately staged to
intimidate her into complying with his client’s custody desires.”

A muscle in Brad’s jaw ticked. His gaze narrowed imperceptibly, but Cassie noticed it all the

same. A small measure of pleasure drifted through her. Childish as it might be, she liked the fact
she’d already gotten under his skin. If he’d thought he would meet the submissive woman he knew in
the bedroom, he’d thought wrong.

“Secondly, Your Honor, his client has unreasonably fought every rational proposal throughout

every stage of this case. Often, he’s come up with irrational objections that we’ve quickly discovered
as false positioning.”

“I see.” The judge turned a page on the report he held. “Is that all?”
“No.” Cassie glanced at Jennifer, then let her gaze fall to Anna, who sat hunched in a chair beside

her mother, her eyes as wide as if she stared a hungry lion in the face. Cassie’s heart twisted at the
little girl’s haunted expression. “Anna and her mother are extremely close. To assume she’d confide
something like this in her father, not her mother, stretches believability. Furthermore, her bedroom
joins her mother’s, and Mr. Fischer couldn’t have entered without Mrs. Cooper knowing.”

“That’s presumption, Your Honor,” Brad interjected.
“The whole thing is presumption, counselor.” Judge Larking leveled Brad with a frown. “I will

address your concerns when Ms. Blaire is finished.” He glanced again at Cassie and encouraged her
with a nod. “Continue, please.”

Oh, that must have burned Brad immensely—to be cut short so bluntly. Cassie choked down a

satisfied laugh. He’d learn that domineering antics wouldn’t get him anywhere with Larkin. The man
was as disciplined as a Marine. And he expected the same in his courtroom.

“Mr. Fischer is present only a short time each year and resides in New Mexico. He was never

brought up on charges, the student’s testimony was proven to be a knee-jerk reaction to failing a test.
There’s no founding for these claims and no grounds to assume he’s conducted himself
inappropriately with Anna.”

“But it deserves to be investigated, Cassie,” Brad interrupted again, a strange passion in his voice.
“Counselor,” Judge Larkin warned.
Ignoring him, Brad continued. His gaze pinned her in place. “What if he’s right? What if you press

through this and something does happen to her? Can you live with yourself if that happens?”

Aware she should sit still and keep quiet, Cassie couldn’t stop her gut response. Before she could

control her tongue, she shot back a sharp retort. “Can you live with yourself if you drag her through a
series of invasive interviews and psychological analyses only to discover you were wrong? You
know your client, Brad.”

“Mr. Steele, Ms. Blaire.” Judge Larkin barked. “You are treading a fine line with my patience.”
Heat raced to Cassie’s cheeks. She broke her deadlock stare with Brad and dipped her head.

“Apologies, Judge.”

Brad remained silent, the power of his gaze weighing heavily on her shoulders. She fought the urge

to fidget. She needed to stay composed. Anything less would land her in the same position Judge
Larkin warned Brad about. But damn it, why couldn’t he see what damage he would bring to Anna?
She’d bet everything she had earned in life that he knew his client was manipulating the system just to

get his way.

“All right, counselor, since you can’t seem to resist commenting, do tell the Court why you are

convinced of this course of action.”

Brad unfolded his muscular legs and rose out of his chair to rest a hip on the corner of his table.

“It’s not so much that I am personally convinced, Your Honor. I acknowledge the questionable nature
of Mr. Cooper’s statement. But if the possibility remains at all that Anna could have said this to her
father, it deserves a formal investigation. And a father’s devotion and concern deserves to be
recognized.”

“Devotion!” Cassie launched to her feet, unable to stop her impassioned response. For weeks she’d

watched Anna suffer, draw inside herself so far that what remained was a mere shell. “This is his
daughter. He hasn’t seen her in over a year! His statement is based on his parents’ desire to spend
time with her, not his! Are you that inconsiderate, Brad?”

“Ms. Blaire—”
“Is your promotion worth the suffering of a nine-year-old girl?”
Brad’s expression tightened. “It’s not about my promotion.”
“Then what is it?”
“Ms. Blaire.”
Unable to stop herself, though she knew she should shut the hell up, Cassie flung an arm at where

Anna sat. “Look at her. She is a child. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged through this. Didn’t the
message you received from Mr. Cooper clearly state he would bankrupt my client to see his demands
met?”

Crimson color flooded Brad’s face. He straightened like someone shot a rod down his spine. “That

was a personal communication, Cassie.”

“One you put directly in my hands!”
”Not as evidence, Cassie. Not as official documentation on this case.”
“Oh, come off it. You know Mr. Cooper is full of shit, and you’re going through with this anyway.

Tell me it doesn’t relate to your damned promotion. Prove to me, and this Court, how it doesn’t.”

“Counselors!” Judge Larkin’s voice boomed through the courtroom.
Cassie snapped her mouth shut, but continued to hold Brad’s glare. Maybe she’d pulled a low

punch by bringing up the letter he left on her nightstand, but she was sick and tired of Miles Cooper’s
charade. And Brad’s ambivalence. Whether she understood his legal obligation or not, the entire thing
was absurd.

“I will remove you both from this courtroom if you can’t control yourselves,” Judge Larkin warned.

“And you, Ms. Blaire, will further watch your language.” He gestured between them, his scowl
deepening. “I don’t know what’s between the both of you. But you will not act like children in my
courtroom.”

He turned to Brad, his tone much lower. “Do I want to see this letter Ms. Blaire references?”
“No, Your Honor.”

His gaze narrowed sharply. “Perhaps I should rephrase the question. Do I need to see it,

counselor?”

Brad took a deep breath, held it, then let it go audibly. Cassie curled her nails into her fists. She

should have kept her damned mouth shut. Revealing that he’d shared that letter could land them both
in a passel of trouble. It was confidential correspondence between client and attorney.

“No, Judge,” Brad answered, shaking his head. “It was a personal correspondence. If you would

strike mention of it, I would appreciate that.”

“I’ll take it into consideration.” The aging man rubbed the bald spot on the top of his head, then

adjusted his glasses before tapping the document he held in one hand. “This strikes me as a bunch of
malarkey, if you want my honest thoughts. But I can’t let that inclination ride given the very sound
logic Mr. Steele presented. If there is a chance, then more discovery is warranted.”

Beside Cassie, Jennifer let out a sob. She reached for her client’s hand, squeezed it in reassurance,

even as her own throat constricted.

Judge Larkin pulled off his wire-rimmed glasses and folded them closed. “Mrs. Cooper, I

understand your concern for Anna. But I’m simply afraid I don’t have a choice here. May I ask you a
question directly?”

Jennifer cast a curious look Cassie’s way. She nodded, giving her client consent. “It’s fine. This is

just a preliminary hearing.”

“Y-yes, Your Honor,” Jennifer answered, fighting through a tremor in her voice.
“If it were discovered that your brother indeed engaged in inappropriate sexual contact with Anna,

how would you respond?”

Cassie blinked at the same time the color rushed from Jennifer’s face. She’d spent enough time in

Judge Larker’s courtroom to understand he was leaning in their favor. However Jennifer responded
would influence his decision heavily. And if she responded the way Cassie presumed she would,
Brad was about to go home to New York licking wounds.

“That’s easy, Your Honor. My brother and I are not close. The only contact I have with him is at

Christmastime, and then only because he likes to ski.” Jennifer let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “We
hardly see him, and certainly don’t have family time. I wouldn’t allow him inside my house if he was
a predator. I wouldn’t hesitate to lock him out. Anna is my world.”

The judge gave her a slow, thoughtful nod.
“That’s ridiculous, Judge. She’s provided the expected answer,” Brad muttered. “If she said

anything else, she’d destroy her case.”

“Mr. Steele, I’m going to say this one last time. Shut. Your. Mouth.”
Brad pursed his lips, nearly sending Cassie into a fit of giggles. For a moment, he resembled a

contrite child that she half expected to kick and launch into a tantrum. Oh, how sweet victory was.

But as he wadded up a piece of paper, his expression cleared to cool and impassive. He leaned

back in his chair, seemingly unaffected by the judge’s harsh reprimand.

“I’ve heard enough for the time being,” Judge Larker continued, swinging his attention back to

Cassie and her client. “Ms. Blaire, I am going to keep this matter under consideration as it relates to
the parenting plan. However, Mrs. Cooper, I am bound by regulations to have Mr. Cooper’s claims
investigated further. Let’s keep it as simple and non-threatening as possible. We’ll assign a guardian
and a child psychologist, who will both meet with Anna in your home, where she’s comfortable.
We’ll go from there, pending the results.”

Cassie expelled a quiet sigh as Jennifer nodded. Relief flooded through her. She couldn’t ask for

more from the judge; ethics demanded he look into the accusations. But he didn’t have to separate the
two processes. Still she couldn’t quite claim victory. No doubt Miles would find another means of
dragging things out if this tactic failed.

“Your Honor,” Brad said. “You can’t exclude one from the other. And you’ve tied our hands until

the results are presented. Nothing can move forward or resolve. I’d like to conclude this case as
quickly as possible.”

A traitorous flicker of hope burst behind Cassie’s ribs. She darted a glance at Brad. Did he want it

resolved so they might be able to sort things out between them? Don’t be foolish, Cassie. You’re only
setting yourself up for disappointment. His argument was likely just jockeying for position.

When he refused to make eye-contact with her, she knew the truth behind his request. The sooner he

wrapped this case up, the sooner he could claim his partnership. Her heart twisted painfully with the
realization.

“It’s my courtroom, Mr. Steele. I can do as I wish, within the boundaries of the law. And I assure

you, this is within bounds.” He pushed away from the bench and rose. “Good afternoon, counselors. I
will notify you both when a guardian has been appointed.”

Through blurring vision, Cassie stood as Judge Larker exited the courtroom. When the bailiff

dismissed them, Brad stalked out, long, purposeful strides carrying him out of the room. And, she
suspected, entirely out of her life. She couldn’t blame him this time. She’d landed the felling blow to
what remained between them by using his email to her advantage.

“Cassie, thank you.” Jennifer caught her in a sideways hug.
“Of course,” she murmured. Her heart was a small sacrifice compared to Anna’s suffering.

Chapter Twenty-six

Cassie dropped her leather satchel at the front door, toed off her heels, and wriggled out of her jacket
the minute she entered her house. Immersing herself at the office for the rest of the day hadn’t done a
thing to keep Brad out of her thoughts or make coming home any easier. Contrary to the last week of
constant text messages, her phone had become ominously silent. Proof she’d completely destroyed

any possibility of reconciliation. Not that she really wanted to reconcile. The man defied arrogant,
selfish jerk.

If she could just convince her heart of the truth, things would be so much easier.
She trudged to the kitchen, took last night’s bottle of wine out of the fridge, and poured a half glass.

She needed a hot bath—one of the few places in her house that didn’t hold memories of Brad was the
bathroom. Lord knew she’d never go near the hot tub again. But a hot bath would make relaxing
easier. Along with the wine. Then, maybe, she’d actually get some sleep. She’d changed her master
bedroom sheets this morning. At least she couldn’t smell him when she closed her eyes anymore.

God, she’d been so foolish. She’d known she would get attached to him. She should have refused to

let him come over the second night. But no, like a naive teenager, she’d given in because it was
impulsive and passionate and she’d never had any of that before. Now she’d wear the scars he left
behind. Why, why couldn’t she just shove him out of her memory?

She set her glass down on the countertop and stared out the tall window at the glistening snow. If

she’d known she could fall in love with someone so quickly, she’d have run for those white-capped
hills. Love—of all of the absurd, illogical things she could have done…

Cassie inhaled a deep breath, drained the last of her wine, and turned for the bathroom. She would

not get worked up over him again. By now, he was back in New York, probably drinking it up with
the Blackson and Goodwell partners.

She refilled her glass and wandered down the hall to the bathroom and turned on the tub. As the

water ran, she peeled out of her skirt, blouse, and hose, and tugged on her bathrobe, clipped her hair
up and removed her makeup.

When she’d finished scrubbing her face and the tub filled, she flipped off the faucets, then ventured

down to the front room for something to read while she soaked. But as she rose to tiptoe and reached
for a biography about Thomas Jefferson, headlights flashed through her front windows, across the
room. A frown pulled at her brow. Who in the world was dropping by on a Friday night? Clinton,
with some other maintenance project?

No sooner had she reached the window than the car backed onto the street again and disappeared

the way it had come. Oh. No one dropping by, just a lost driver. Mumbling, Cassie returned to the tall
shelf of hardcover books.

A knock on her front door startled her so badly she let out a squeak. Good grief, Clinton should

have phoned… Cassie groaned inwardly. He couldn’t call. Her cell was still off. She’d turned it off
when its utter silence became maddening.

Rolling her eyes, she tucked her robe about her more securely and went to answer his heavy knock.

Prepared to give him a good ribbing for spending Friday night with her rather than his wife, she
opened the door with a grin.

Amusement drained out through her toes, and her heart screeched to a halt as she stared at tousled

blond hair. Not Clinton. Brad. Looking more frazzled than she’d ever seen him before.

Cassie clutched at the doorframe as her knees went weak.

…

The iron vise around Brad’s chest let go as Cassie appeared in the doorway. What happened in the
courtroom didn’t matter—he had never been more grateful to see someone than he was at this
moment. He’d planned exactly what he wanted to say, talked through things at least a hundred times
before he climbed into the cab at the airport. Went over them again as he wandered absently around
Veil all afternoon. Now, he couldn’t recall a single one of those fancy words.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted. “I’m so sorry, please let me come in.”
Her surprise gave way to wary mistrust edged with more than a touch of anger flashing in her

chestnut eyes. “It’s a little late for that. Why are you here?”

He didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d rushed out of the courtroom, afraid he’d fall on his

knees in front of everyone, but the degree of ice that blanketed her words hadn’t made it on any list.
He flinched at her sharp tone. “I don’t know. I had to see you.”

She gave him a lukewarm nod. “And so you have. Now you can leave.” Taking a step back, she

made to shut the door in his face.

Brad wedged a toe in the jamb and set his palm on the wood. “Please, Cassie. I know I don’t

deserve your time, but please let me come in.”

Her gaze narrowed. For several agonizing minutes, she stood in the doorway, unmoving. As if she

weighed the consequence of either action. Just as Brad began to believe she’d push on the door and
force him outside, she turned her back and walked away, leaving the door open. He’d take that as
consent.

Drawing a deep breath, he entered her house. Moving beyond the front entry, however, seemed like

intruding given how he’d left. He shut the door, and apprehension tightened his chest once again.

She stood a good six feet out of his reach, her arms folded tightly across her breasts. “What is it

you wanted to say?”

Brad passed a hand through his hair and heaved a sigh. How could he make her understand nothing

had been right since he’d walked away? Driven by a desperate need for her forgiveness, he closed
the distance between them in three strides and gripped her elbows. “I don’t know. Cassie…” Words
failed him, and he searched her pretty face for where to begin. “I miss you,” he whispered.

Her long lashes veiled pain as she closed her eyes. He hated that he’d put that hurt there. But that

glimpse of emotion freed all the uncomfortable truths he harbored. Tightening his hold on her arms so
she couldn’t run away, he let everything tumble out. “I was scared. Miles and Randall sent me those
emails, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to let you go. I can’t.”

The same pain he’d witnessed in her eyes set into her expression as she winced. He felt the

tightening of her body, the resistance to his words. He’d give anything to take that from her. To take
everything back and erase the horrible way he’d treated her.

As emotion clogged his throat, he took a half-step forward and set two fingers beneath her chin to

lift her face to his. “I’ve never been afraid of anything more. Not a case, not a judgment, not a judge. I

acted like an ass, and I don’t know the right words. All I can say is I’m sorry. I don’t want to lose
you.”

One heartrending tear slipped from her lowered lashes and rolled slowly down her cheek. As it

fell, something shattered inside Brad. Pain twisted through him, so sharp and fierce he nearly dropped
to his knees. Not her tears—goddamn, he didn’t want to make her cry.

Instinct overruled logic and all the jumbled-up words that clogged his head. He dipped his head

and gently captured her mouth. She shuddered against him. A sob caught in the back of her throat. But
her lips parted beneath his, and the arms she’d locked across her chest slid around his waist. Her
palms splayed across his lower back.

The fist lodged behind Brad’s ribs eased to a tolerable discomfort. He folded her into his embrace

and deepened the tender kiss. Wine lingered on her tongue, more intoxicating than if he’d consumed
an entire bottle. His thoughts swam, buoying him in rich languor. This—he would cut off his thumbs to
always have this. However long it took, he would make his mistakes right with her. Whatever she
required, so long as this never disappeared again.

Sliding his fingers through her silken hair, he drew the kiss to a close. Her watery eyes met his, and

he swallowed down a hard lump of emotion on seeing the affection in those pretty chestnut depths.
“Please forgive me, Cassie,” he whispered thickly. “I won’t betray your trust again.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she answered quietly.
It was a start. At least the anger had faded from her gaze. He couldn’t expect miracles when he had

a lot of proving to do. Brad crushed her close and rested his cheek against the crown of her head. For
several long moments, he simply basked in the press of her gentle curves and the scent of jasmine in
her hair.

The jasmine, however, became his undoing. He’d gone too long without touching her, too long

without breathing in that intoxicating fragrance for his body to be accustomed to its pull. Desire
stirred. Only tonight, the same fear he’d fought the last time he held her blended with the gnaw of
arousal. He winced at the sharp pang, the tight constriction in his lungs. He rubbed his cheek against
her hair and murmured, “I need to touch you, Cassie. Just for a little bit.”

She leaned back, her apprehension evident in her slight frown. He understood the root of that

mistrust, and rushed to erase her worry. “Not like last time. I’ll never do that to you again.”

As if all she needed was the security he wouldn’t abuse her the way he had, Cassie let a smile peek

through. She plucked open the top button on his cotton jersey. “I was about to take a bath.”

Brad caught her lower lip between his teeth, gave it a gentle tug. “Need someone to wash your

back?”

Her eyes twinkled, belying the innocence in her voice. “I could use some help.”
Giving in to a low, playful growl, Brad swung her into the air and caught the back of her knees over

his arm. “God, Cassie, you’re amazing.”

With that hoarse honesty, he carried her up the stairs.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Long after Brad had washed every inch of her skin and spent a good hour bathing her in the splendor
of his body, Cassie dozed in his arms, tucked into the guest bed once again. As had become his habit,
he’d lit a fire. As he had promised, though he took her to the heights of ecstasy, he hadn’t misused her
body. Warmth flowed easily in her veins, comfort that came from the simple feel of his bare skin
pressing into hers and the light fall of his breath stirring her hair.

She loved this man. All his faults, all his arrogance, all his tender qualities. Even the heartache

he’d put her through couldn’t override the enormity of feeling he brought to life.

But there was a conversation they needed to have, if they were going to clear the air between them

completely. A discussion about the courtroom and the sucker punch she’d thrown. “Brad, about this
afternoon with Judge Larker.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled beneath her ear. “It’s court, Cassie. The same routine that has you fighting

with opposing counsel, then discussing drinks after a grueling day.”

She twisted her head to look into his eyes. “You’re not upset I played a little dirty?”
Trailing his fingers through her hair, he smiled. “Surprised. Not angry. I probably would have done

the same thing, honestly. Don’t worry about it.”

Snuggling back into his embrace, she soaked up the comfortable silence that enveloped them and

smoothed a hand down his forearm, watching as the fine hairs there lifted, then fell back into place.
“When do you leave?”

He grazed his lips across the crown of her head, tucked her back more securely against his chest. “I

have to be at a dinner tomorrow night. They’ve pushed my review up to Monday, and the partners
expect me there. Randall’s still waiting for a briefing on the Cooper case. I’ve been dodging him.”

“Oh.” One night. Then she’d have to say goodbye all over again. She blew out a heavy sigh.
Brad ran his palm over her hip. “I did some thinking on the plane.”
“About?”
“Us.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Us. That sounded quite a bit permanent. Quite unlike the man who’d sat in

her living room and confided he didn’t do relationships. “What about us?”

“This case is the only immediate obstacle. I can’t offload it—I tried like hell before I came out

here.” Pausing a beat, he trailed his mouth across her shoulder. “We either have to violate ethics and
a dozen other regulations, or we have to stay apart until it’s resolved.” His fingers skimmed the inside
of her thigh, gave a provocative squeeze. “I’m not too fond of staying apart.”

“Mm.” She slid her leg over his to give his fingers room to roam. “Me neither. But there’s so much

risk.”

Accepting her silent invitation, Brad cupped her mound and swirled a fingertip against her clitoris.

“It was risky to invite me home with you on Valentine’s Day.”

True. Very true. She’d been pretty damn lucky to have things work out the way they had. She lifted

her hips into his hand, closed her eyes as pleasure lapped over her body. “Can you keep it separate?”

“Yes. I think I’ve proven that today. Can you? I intend to win.”
A smirk drifted over her mouth. “So do I.”
His husky chuckle rasped pleasantly across her skin a heartbeat before his teeth nipped the

sensitive skin at the back of her neck. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Closing his lips over the
spot he’d bitten, he soothed the sting with the flick of his tongue. Between her legs, his fingertip
mimicked the motion.

Cassie curled her fingers into the sheets. Against her buttocks his cock swelled, telling her he was

more than capable of going another round despite the thorough way he’d loved her a handful of
minutes ago. She angled her hips to accommodate his thick girth. Slowly, he pushed between her
parted thighs. The tip of him stroked her center, adding another drop of pleasure into her veins. She
countered his motion, alternately stroking herself against his thick length and his wicked fingers.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered into her hair. Withdrawing his hand, he lifted her leg

higher on his thigh. “Take me deep, Cassie.”

A drawn-out moan slid from her throat as she pushed back against his erection and he slid into her

slick depths. When he had seated himself to the hilt, he skimmed his hand up the centerline of her
body and covered her breast with his warm palm. He rolled her nipple beneath his thumb.

“You were made to fit me, sweetheart.”
“I think…” She gasped against a punch of ecstasy. “You were made to fit me.” Perfectly designed

to fill every need she possessed. Basking in the lazy, unhurried way he glided in and out of her, she
let out a contended purr and snuggled even closer.

“I won’t share you, Cassie. You’re mine until you want out.”
Heaven. “Okay,” she answered breathlessly.

…

At Cassie’s acceptance, fire launched through Brad’s veins. With it came the uneasy tightening around
his diaphragm. The same frightening need to somehow possess her, to mark her for his own,
threatened to eradicate sense and push him into that desperate place where he’d been the last night he
spent with her.

He shoved the torrent of emotion aside, determined not to let it control him. He didn’t understand

why it hounded his thoughts, why nothing was ever quite enough with Cassie. But no matter how many
times he took her, he couldn’t sate the burn.

Gritting his teeth, he ordered his body to behave and pushed deeply into her once more. Slow and

steady would be the end of him. Cassie’s soft, pleasured cries, the eager way she met his strokes
wrecked havoc on his brain. He was a half step away from abandon, and yet tonight, he’d crack into
pieces if it kept him from breaking his promise.

“Lift to your knees,” he instructed softly.

She rolled, and he rolled with her, careful to keep their bodies joined. As he’d taught her the first

night, she rested her shoulders on the bed, only this time a smile graced her pretty mouth when she
turned her cheek against the pillow. Rising over her, Brad gripped her hips in both his hands, and
thrust again. Pleasure gathered at the base of his spine.

Still, it wasn’t enough. The grip of her flesh, the sound of their bodies sliding together, the heat of

the fire on his back brought all the insurmountable feeling to the surface again. Increasing his tempo,
he battled the rise.

Around his aching cock, Cassie’s inner walls fluttered and sent his thoughts reeling once again. The

reality of what she had agreed to slammed into his conscious. She wanted him. Enough to
compromise everything and take a phenomenal risk. She’d forgiven him when he’d been at his worst.
No questions, no lectures, no scathing remarks. No one had ever given him such complete acceptance.

Cassie pushed back against him hard. She was peaking, and he wasn’t ready for this to end yet.

Damn. “No, Cassie, not yet,” he reprimanded hoarsely.

With a ragged groan, she stilled. “Brad…”
The sound of his name tumbling off her lips bucked his body into hers. She let out a sharp cry, and

her flesh clamped tight around his erection. He opened his mouth to remind her he hadn’t given her
permission yet, but his eyes went wide as all the mixed-up, nonsensical feeling snapped into precise
definition. Shock shattered his control. Climax ripped through him. Helpless to feeling, he bowed his
head against the curve of her spine and dug his fingers into her hips. His raspy voice filled his ears,
full of disbelief and wonder. “I love you.”

Before he could bend his mind around the confession, Cassie’s body went limp beneath his, her

orgasm pulsing around his cock. Her throaty moan blended with his accepting groan. He inhaled a
shuddering breath. Closing his eyes, he lifted her weak body into his embrace. As the last of his
release seeped from his body, contentment sank into his soul. He rubbed his cheek against her
shoulder blade. “God, I love you.”

She reached behind her, her fingers fumbling for his hand. He twined them together, gave a tender

squeeze. When he caught the sound of her stifled tears, however, he eased his body off hers and rolled
onto his back. Gathering her into his arms, he pressed lingering kisses on her cheeks. His gaze
connected with her watery eyes. “I’ve never said those words,” he confessed, a bit astonished.

Cassie’s mouth fluttered against his. “I love you too, Brad.”
A slow smile spanned across his face as warmth spread slowly through his bloodstream. No

wonder he’d been terrified. No wonder he’d run. He’d known it then, he’d just been too afraid to
accept the illogical truth. And the night in the hot tub, when Cassie had ignored his instructions…
He’d read the same affection in her eyes that night, that glowed within those chestnut depths now.
Brad’s heart twisted all over again. Just as he’d lost all ability to function a moment ago, she’d been
telling the truth. She hadn’t been able to stop.

As if she could read his thoughts, her gaze dipped and color seeped into her cheeks. “You won’t…

punish me for not waiting…will you?”

Too light-hearted to care, and too touched by guilt over the last occurrence, he chuckled. “No,

sweetheart. I get it now. Sometimes…it’s just too much.”

And if enormity of feeling sent her crashing over the edge, he would never reprimand her for doing

so again.

“What do we do?” she whispered.
He tightened his arms around her. “We’ll figure it out.” He wasn’t entirely certain how, but there

had to be a way to navigate the case, the distance, and the demands of their careers.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Cassie watched the planes pass over the airport, knowing Brad was inside one, feeling like part of
her was tucked in his pocket. The whole thing was frightening, the skip of her heart, the excitement
that bubbled in her veins, and the utter sense of completion he gave her—all of it scared the heck out
of her. What if they couldn’t make it work? What if weekends weren’t enough? What if, what if, what
if?

She drew in a deep breath to keep panic from stealing over her and backed away from the glass,

finally allowing herself a giddy smile. What if everything came together and this was the once-in-a-
lifetime she’d dreamt of?

They could really have a strong future if they figured it all out. He’d helped her this morning with a

heartbreaking custody petition filed by grandparents against their substance-abusing daughter that had
bogged Cassie down the previous day. With Stephanie’s help on researching Colorado case law, the
three of them managed to draft a document Cassie felt correctly stated the facts and the desired action
without putting the grandparents in the position of painting their daughter as a terrible human being.
To Cassie’s surprise, Brad’s cutthroat nature took a backseat to a human quality she only ever
witnessed when they were alone—compassion. The way he respected her desires when it came to her
work melted her heart.

She drove home, seeing the world in new, fantastic colors. She’d really done it; she’d found a man

who understood her. Brad Steele loved her.

When she pulled into her drive, Clinton’s navy pickup nosed in behind her. Cassie hit the garage

door opening, and for the second time in the last three years, parked inside. She stepped out and
greeted Clinton with a bright smile. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, kiddo. I tried to call.”
Oh, crap, she never had turned her phone back on. Cassie fished in her purse until she found her

cell, and then rectified the problem. “Sorry. I, ah, didn’t want the interruption.”

Knowing lit his grey eyes. “Imagine that.”
When her cheeks began to burn, he laughed. “What are you blushing about? You’ve been married.

It’s not like you don’t know a thing or two about life.” He shrugged. “Seems like a decent guy.”

She nodded and quietly said, “He is.” This was strange, too strange—talking about another man to

Chris’s brother felt a bit like betraying his memory. “It’s been three years, Clinton. I miss him, but—”

Clinton held up a hand. “No, don’t make excuses. Chris wouldn’t have wanted you to shrivel up

and die with him. Live life, Cassie.”

Again, she gave him a nod, but the uncomfortable knot in her belly didn’t let go. She was moving

on. Really, truly, putting Chris behind her and moving forward with a man who she didn’t have to
pretend with. A man who loved her just the way she was. She gnawed on her lower lip, uncertain
what to make of that reality.

“I just dropped by because I was being nosy.” Clinton gave her a broad grin. “Anything you need

while I’m here?”

“I think I’m good. I’ve got some packing to do today.”
He arched an eyebrow, cocked his head to the side. “You aren’t thinking about moving are you?”
“No.” Cassie laughed softly. “Remember how Chris moved us out of that amazing master bedroom

with the fireplace I wanted?”

Clinton nodded.
“I’m moving back in.”
“Bout time, kiddo.” He gave her an impromptu, tight hug and caught both her wrists as he looked

her in the eyes. “Don’t lose yourself again.”

Backing out of his hold, she gave him a small smile. “I won’t. I don’t need to with Brad.”
“Okay. I’ll get out of your hair. Call me if you need anything.”
“Will do.” She waved, watched him climb into his truck and back out of the drive. When he

disappeared down the street, Cassie ventured inside. Her gaze caught on the photograph of her and
Chris atop the mantle as she crossed the front room, and her confident stride faltered. The heavy
weight resting on her shoulders pressed harder. She’d given him eight years of her life. His family
had built this home for them. Was it right for her to build a new life under this roof?

Cassie wandered to the photograph and stared at Chris’s handsome face. His eyes were so serious,

so intense, even though he’d just been wrestling with her in the grass. The two men were like sunrise
and sunset, similar in their general approach to the world, but entirely different. Both full of
incredible beauty, inside and out. Chris had built this house for her, and he had tried to make himself
fit inside it. Just as she’d tried to fit inside his world. But their frames were mismatched, his nails too
short and her corners too wide. He’d wanted her to be happy, he just didn’t know how. He would
want that same happiness for her now, and if she had been the one to die, she’d wish the same for
him.

She traced a fingertip over the glass and breathed deeply. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I never

said it often enough, but thank you for loving me so much.” A faint smile slowly emerged on her lips.
“He loves me, Chris, and I love him. I hope you’re okay with this, because I know what I need now.”

Cassie rose to her toes to put the photograph back in place, but at the last minute took it back down.

She glanced around the room for a more appropriate location. Though she didn’t intend to tuck away
her past in some forgotten corner, it was time to make new memories.

A nook in the tall bookcase caught her eye. She took the photograph there, rearranged the spines so

his favorite novels rested on the same shelf, and tucked the picture in the middle. When she stepped
back to inspect the arrangement, the knot in her belly finally let go.

…

Brad accepted the scotch Randall Blackson offered him with a polite dip of his chin, hoping he didn’t
appear as frazzled as he felt. Aside from the lingering tiredness in his limbs from a full night with

Cassie, the rush to the airport, the harried business of a delayed connecting flight, had him
discombobulated. He’d grabbed the first suit and tie his fingers touched in the closet, and he still
wasn’t entirely certain the dry cleaners hadn’t paired his coat with another suit’s pants.

“Good to see you, Brad.” Randall clapped a hand onto his shoulder and steered him away from the

ornate liquor cabinet. “We’re sure looking forward to your joining us. Monday’s more or less a
formality, but Higgins has some questions for you.”

“About?” Brad sipped from his lowball glass.
“Your view of the firm. How you feel you contribute to furthering our goals, and your vision of

your role as a Blackson and Goodwell partner.”

Talk about high concept—Brad swallowed a groan. It wasn’t a performance review, but a

psychological exam. So not what he was prepared to handle while he was still trying to wrap his
head around the fact he’d fallen in love with Cassie.

“We’ll also want an update on that Cooper case, the status, the angle of approach you’re using, and

your rationale for choosing that approach. Case law if necessary. And, of course, your thoughts on
why Miles Cooper might feel the way he does about your work.”

Holy fuck. Brad nearly spit his drink all over Randall’s Italian shoes. He didn’t have an angle of

approach for that mess. He had to have something concrete and plausible in less than forty-eight
hours.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Enough about that though. I’m sure there won’t be any surprises—you’ll do fine. You always do.”

Randall let out a deep laugh and gestured at the guests gathered around his formal dining room.
“Tonight this is pleasure, not business, Old dog Heagle’s tying the knot. Looks like Mandy’s
beckoning us over.”

Sure enough, she stood on her toes, using Joseph’s shoulder to gain leverage and frantically waving

for them to join the party. Compared to the perfectly put together, mannerly wives that surrounded her,
her exuberance made Brad laugh. Somehow, she fit Joseph. Brad was still looking for the how, but
the way Joseph’s arm looped possessively around her waist made their opposite pairings natural.

“Thanks for the heads up, Randall.” Brad shook the senior partner’s hand. “I’ll have everything

together Monday at eight. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good deal.”
Brad crossed to Mandy and spun her in a tight hug. “Hey, good lookin’.”
She let out a laugh as he set her down. Leaning in close, she whispered, “Did I hear right? Cupid hit

you?”

Narrowing his gaze at the back of Joseph’s head, Brad pretended to be offended. He waited until

Mandy’s face paled, like she’d realized she wasn’t supposed to know, until he let her off with a
smirk. “I’d say he bit me in the ass.”

She gave him an affronted scoff and pushed at his chest. “I have to hear more about this later. I’m

pretty certain I didn’t miss the apocalypse.”

“Nope. No apocalypse.” He lifted his glass to hers. “I think I owe you a congrats.”
As they toasted, Joseph withdrew from his conversation and placed a kiss on Mandy’s cheek. He

glanced at Brad. “Good flight?”

Oh yeah…
The warm glow that infused Brad’s bloodstream caught him by surprise, but he managed to keep the

stiffening of his body to a minimum. His grin, however, defied him. “Worth every penny. You got a
minute, Joseph?” He inclined his head toward the other two partners within earshot.

“Sure. Want to join me on the balcony? I’m in the mood for a cigar.”
Brad followed his mentor, glad for a bit of breathing room. Outside, Joseph lit a fat Cuban, offered

Brad another. Brad shook his head. “You know I hate those.”

“Chew on it. I swear you’ll change your mind.”
He made a disgusted face. “Maybe later.”
Joseph leaned his elbows on the iron balcony railing. “What’s going on?”
“It’s imperative I offload a case before Monday. Can you help me out?”
Surprise widened Joseph’s eyes. “Now that’s a first. Any particular reason why?”
Hesitating, Brad downed the last of his scotch in one long swallow and fixed his gaze on the

neighboring apartment complex. The alcohol rushed through his veins, tempering a bitter gust of
wintry wind. Quietly, he confessed, “It’s her.”

Distinct spluttering gave way to a cough as Joseph choked on his inhaled smoke. Though shock

laced his words, he kept his exclamation to a hushed whisper. “Shit, you’re sleeping with the client?”

“No.” He took a deep breath, and words rushed out with his exhale. “I’m in love with opposing

counsel.”

Joseph’s long low whistle rang out in a beat of city silence. “I’ll see what I can do, but I won’t

know anything until I can get into the office on Monday. I don’t take anything home anymore.”
Straightening, he pushed away from the rail and stubbed his cigar out. “Call me tomorrow evening.
You’re still going to have to explain why you’re stepping aside. I’ll help you come up with
something.”

Relief rushed through Brad like a swift wind on a barren plane. He closed his eyes, never

imagining he could value a friendship so much. He’d found a way to make this right.

But as he entered Randall’s luxurious apartment and glanced around at the guests, longing struck

like someone jabbed a javelin into his side. He was surrounded by couples. Husbands and wives who
laughed at shared secrets, exchanged intimate glances, and touched as if they were extensions of the
other’s body. In ten years at Blackson and Goodwell, he’d never noticed the overwhelming sense of
family among the partners. Never thought he’d crave the same.

His heart twisted. God, he missed Cassie. They would love her wit, her charm, her intellect.

Mandy especially—he suspected the two of them might get along like sisters. At least, Mandy would
do her best to forge that bond.

Cassie had one thing over the women in this room though. She was a professional equal. Randall

and Higgens would see her merits in a heartbeat. Joseph too. The others would analyze her more
deeply, but they would also recognize her abilities.

Brad rolled his shoulders as a fresh case of nerves stole around him. Maybe they’d both missed the

obvious solution. Either way, he’d never be satisfied with weekends and holidays. He needed her too
much. He would never be part of this family as long as she remained in Colorado.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Brad paced his bedroom, his cell phone gripped firmly in his hand. Three times he’d tried to dial.
Three times his stomach heaved and he lost his nerve. If she said no…

He pivoted on his heel and turned back the other way. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he

searched for courage. This was insane. He felt like a teenager, but even when he’d asked out his first
girl, he hadn’t been this damned nervous. Why now? What the hell was wrong with him?

Cassie had him unraveled to the point he hardly recognized himself. One week. One crazy week,

and she’d turned him inside out.

Expelling a hard breath, he tried logic again. She loved him. He loved her. Joseph would help with

the Cooper mess, leaving Cassie free to retain Jennifer as her client. The only thing that remained was
the intolerable distance between them, and he’d found a perfectly workable solution that would allow
them both to pursue their careers.

Determined not to cow to fear, he punched in Cassie’s number once and for all. The ringing line

threatened to tailspin him into hyperventilation, but he shoved the nagging questions aside and focused
on the outcome. It would be hard. Fucking scary as hell. But they were strong enough to make this
work.

“Hey.” The warmth of her voice brought her smile to the forefront of his mind.
Just like that, all the nervous tension dissipated. Brad tucked the phone against his shoulder and

dropped onto his bed. He stretched out, reveling in the way she made him feel like his heart slowed
and his pulse raced all at the same time. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

“Good. I’d be better if you were here, but I have the fire going, I’m curled up with your pillow, and

I’m thinking of you.”

Aw, man, she knew how to make all the impossible feeling choke him. He smiled into the darkness,

momentarily at a loss for words.

“How was your dinner party?”
“Pretty good. I think I found a solution to our case problems.”
“Oh?” The covers rustled.
Brad loosened the collar of his shirt and kicked off his shoes. This was the easy part. It didn’t

change, no matter what. She couldn’t object. “Joseph—good friend of mine—is going to see if he can
take it off my hands. You’d be opposing him. He’ll make you work for every minor victory, but it’s
better than the potential alternatives. He won’t back down on Coopers’ claims about Mr. Fischer.”

Again, her smile radiated through the tone of her voice. “I can work with that. Are you sure—what

about your billable hours?”

“Waived. My review is Monday. The whole Joseph getting engaged thing I told you about.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was almost asleep.” She let out a soft laugh. “It would be easier if you were

here.”

Brad’s chest tightened. She’d given him the opening…
He sucked in a deep fortifying breath and plunged in. “Sweetheart, I’ve been thinking about that too.

I don’t like sleeping without you. I don’t like waking up in the morning alone, coming home to an
empty house.”

The catch of her breath clanged in his head, and he sat up, passed a hand through his hair.
“What…are you saying?”
That wary edge to her voice ate him up inside. He was scaring her, and damn it, he didn’t mean to.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what I’m saying. This is all so new. I don’t know what’s right,
what’s wrong, where to draw the line. I’m just following instinct, beautiful.” He breathed deeply
again, held it. “I’m asking you to come up here.”

…

Cassie’s mouth dropped open. Her heart raced to her throat, and elation threatened to send her
squealing down the hall. Oh, she’d wanted to be invited, wanted to meet this mentor who he valued,
get a first-hand peek at his life. Her smile spanned from ear to ear, and a giddy quality crept into her
voice. “Really?”

“Is that a yes? You’ll move in with me? Oh, Cassie, I was so afraid you’d say no. You’ll love it

here.”

Brad’s elation was palpable, but Cassie’s heart took a nose-dive to her toes. Move in? She’d

thought he meant a weekend visit. Now what? She didn’t want to disappoint him.

Brad continued his excited rambling. “Randall would give you my former position, if you wanted

it. If not, he’d write you a letter of recommendation that would get you into any firm you wanted.”

She didn’t want a firm. She had her own private practice. She’d chosen that on graduation day. A

frown pulled across her brow. But she wanted Brad more. She couldn’t imagine what life might be
like if she walked away, knowing he loved her, loving him. “Brad, I…”

“I know it’s fast. Like I said, I don’t know what I’m doing over here. There’s some beautiful

condos on the Upper East Side. We’d be close to the office and close to the senior partners.” He
paused a heartbeat, then added, “Or you can do what you want with my place. I just want you here.”

And she didn’t want to go. Not permanently.
Tears blurred her vision. Once again, she’d made a fatal mistake—she’d thought Brad understood

her. But here she was again, a heartbeat away from agreeing to everything he proposed, when every
instinct she possessed objected. If she went to Manhattan, she’d have to start all over again. She
would have him, but she hated big cities.

A watercolor picture of what their life would be like took form as he outlined the possibilities in

her ear. Brad’s lover, Brad’s confidant, Brad’s possible wife. What about her? Where did Cassie
Blaire go if she let him build this dream? She’d be an inclusion, but never a partner, and ten years
from now, she wouldn’t be able to identify herself.

“No,” she whispered.

Brad fell into silence. A moment later, confusion registered in his voice. “I thought—”
“I can’t do this. We’re fooling ourselves.” Her voice broke as the bitter truth swept down on her

shoulders. She sniffed to keep the tears at bay. “I love you, but you’re breaking my heart already. And
you’re right, part time isn’t enough. I need more than that too. I can’t lose myself to have it though. I
have to go.” She blinked and hot salty droplets coursed down her cheeks. Closing her eyes, she
struggled to hold them in.

“Cassie, wait—”
“No, Brad.” She shook her head emphatically. “I have to go. Before I can’t. Please understand, it’s

better this way. For both of us. I can’t…be what you want me to be.”

“Cassie, hold on a damned minute.”
“Brad, stop. I’ll cave. I can’t do this. I have to go.” Before her breaking heart sent her headlong into

another relationship where she was part of something but separated from herself. “I do love you,” she
choked out in a whisper. “I always will.”

He barked something she couldn’t make out as she lowered the phone from her ear. Numb, she

terminated the call. The phone vibrated instantly in her hand. Her gaze dropped. Brad’s name
displayed on the screen. Anguish ripped through her as she powered down the device. If she listened
to another word he said, she’d lose her will power. And she’d come too far to tailspin backward
now.

…

Brad hit the bathroom floor on his knees as his stomach turned over. One violent heave sent his
earlier dinner into an uncontrollable reappearance. He bowed over the toilet, stripped of strength. His
body shook. His skin felt clammy and cold. He’d never experienced total helplessness. Nor had he
ever known the kind of pain that erupted behind his ribs. And a good fifteen years had passed since
he’d last puked his guts out. Frat days. Too much beer and hard liquor.

Things he could have controlled and chose not to.
He couldn’t stop this, and he’d swear on everything he was, it would tear him in two pieces. Cassie

hadn’t just said no. She’d walked away. His stomach churned again, but there was nothing left to
spill. Just a gnawing ache. An intolerable emptiness he couldn’t escape.

His eyes began to burn, and he squeezed them shut. He would not cry. Not in a hundred… Tears

crept beneath his lashes, onto his cheek.

Fuck.
Swiping the back of his wrist across his eyes, Brad sniffed hard and pushed to unsteady legs. He’d

try her again. Maybe she’d pick up. Please, God, let her answer. She had to; he needed to make this
right.

Damn—how could he screw up something so badly?
He forced himself to return to his bedroom and the phone. With shaking hands, he dialed Cassie’s

number again. Once more, the call routed directly to her voice mail. He swore beneath his breath,

blinked through the wetness that blurred his vision, and terminated the connection. At a complete loss,
he sank onto the edge of his bed. Where did he go, when everything he wanted, didn’t want him?

Up. He went up from the bottom of the heap. Somehow, he would go up.
But first, there were three bottles of scotch calling his name from the living room. When he had

made sweet love to all three of them, he would find a ladder and begin the long, lonely, climb.

Chapter Thirty

Brad’s head throbbed on Monday morning. Each step he took down the hall to the elevators made the
Advil he’d choked down as effective as breath mints. He knew he looked like hell—he’d spilled his
coffee in his lap, the red rings around his eyes refused to disappear no matter how much Visine he’d
dumped in, and he was pretty damn certain his boxers were on crooked.

But he’d managed to pull himself out of a scotch-induced coma to get to work on time. Whether or

not he’d achieved sobriety, remained to be discovered. He was here and functional. Presently that
was all he cared about.

He jammed his thumb on the button for the partners’ topmost floor and shifted his weight from heel

to heel to try and untwist his shorts leg. The comfortable Macallan 18 had balmed the pain, and he’d
nursed it well into yesterday morning. With heartbreak under relative control, he swigged his way
through the smoky Highland Park and managed to replay the conversation with Cassie without
collapsing all over again. But it had taken half a bottle of the high end, twenty-eight-year-old
Glenrothes to hear what she’d said.

She loved him. More importantly, she felt like she was losing herself.
Caught up in his simple need to have her close at hand, he’d barreled down a thoughtless track like

an out of control freight train and scared the shit out of her. Course that little jewel of wisdom hadn’t
hit until he was on his second to last glass. The final glass kicked him back into mindless oblivion.

Brad entered the elevator, leaned against the wall, and willed the pounding in his head to subside.

An arm shot through the opening as the doors began to close. “Hold that!” Lurching forward, Brad
grimaced as he groped for the button. Must remember not to move so fast.

He wanted to crawl in a corner when Joseph Heagle twisted into the car. Joseph took one look at

Brad and blinked. “Whoa. You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Brad grumbled. Good to know his voice still worked.
Very pointedly, Joseph lifted his nose and sniffed twice. “Well, at least you don’t reek of it. Nice

work with the breath mints.”

“Listerine,” he mumbled as he pressed his fingertips to his temples. “My head’s going to fucking

explode.”

Soft chuckling blended with the closing of the doors. The car jumped skyward, and Brad grabbed at

the railing to keep from topping forward.

“Next time you tie one on, let me know. I want to be at that party.”
Brad shot him an unappreciative sideways glare. “No, you don’t. Trust me.”
“Way to make an impression.” Gesturing at his state of disarray, Joseph smirked. “Is this why you

didn’t call yesterday?”

Sidelined by another gunshot blasting through his mind, Brad barely managed to nod.
“Well, you’re in luck. I’ve got a motion for custody the judge is going to toss, and that case isn’t

going anywhere, anytime soon. I have a hole.”

As the elevator coasted to a stop, Brad’s frown deepened. The case no longer mattered. He’d lost

Cassie.

The pain began to burn away at him again, and he bit back an oath. He couldn’t discuss this right

now. It was too new, too raw. He shouldered through the opening doors and headed for the ominous
door at the end of the hall. Ten steps from now, if he managed to hold himself together, he’d reach his
career goals. Only…he no longer wanted them if Cassie wasn’t in the picture.

Brad’s steps slowed. Her broken whisper surfaced in his mind. I need more than that too. I can’t

lose myself to have it though. Fragments of understanding picked at his thoughts. There was
something there. Something he could almost touch, it rang so clear. And yet, it lingered just beyond
his grasp.

“Brad,” Joseph said behind him. “If you want me to take the case, you need to be honest with the

partners. Let them know where the status is, what if anything is compromised. Let them know it won’t
be an issue moving forward.” His hand fell to Brad’s shoulder in the same brotherly gesture that was
so typical of him. “And if I can make a suggestion?”

What had she really been saying? Brad dug through his thoughts, barely hearing Joseph.
“It would be my advice to put a ring on her finger, to convince them you won’t be making a mistake

like this again.” Joseph reached for the door knob. “Fix your tie.”

Like tiny fists thumping against his skull, understanding pummeled into Brad. He blinked, shook his

head to clear away the hangover fog. He ignored Joseph’s suggestion to straighten his tie. “It doesn’t
matter,” he muttered as he strode through the door.

None of it mattered. Not the partners, not the promotion, not the sterile apartment he called home.

Cassie’s husband had boxed her in. Stifled all her desires. Valentine’s night, she was looking for
freedom. She’d said so. She’d invited him home with her, so she could open up to herself. That was
the logic part. Chris had been sensible. Logical.

Brad had known this. He just hadn’t understood.
His mistake had been in asking Cassie to come here, not in asking Cassie to make their relationship

more permanent. She loved him.

If he wanted Cassie, he had to prove she was worth every crazy illogical act of passion they’d

created. He couldn’t play it safe. He couldn’t be sensible. He couldn’t ask her to give up her dreams
for his—her husband had killed them once before.

If he wanted Cassie, he had to go to her.
Avoiding Joseph’s questioning gaze, Brad sidestepped around the empty chair that was obviously

intended for him and set his briefcase on the long polished table of rich dark wood. He snapped open
the locks, pulled out three file folders that held the contents of his active cases. Dropping them onto
the table, he pushed his briefcase aside and cast his gaze around the room. “Gentlemen, I want to
thank you for inviting me here today.”

“You’re welcome, Brad. Why don’t you take a seat?” Randall suggested.

Brad shook his head. His confidence took hold, and as he committed to this crazy, zany path, he

began to feel more like himself. “I apologize for my appearance. I’ve been dealing with some
personal things that have made it impossible to accept a partnership in the firm.” Ignoring Joseph’s
look of surprise, Brad pushed the folders toward the center of the table. “These are the details of my
cases. Two are standard issue and could easily be picked up by a junior associate.”

Higgens held up a hand. “Brad, maybe you’d like to think about—”
“No. I’ve done all the thinking I need to.” Brad tapped the third folder. “This Cooper divorce is

more complicated. He’s chasing allegations of abuse that are not factually based and the judge is
rather pissed I’ve followed through. Further…” His gaze shifted to Joseph, lingered for a long
moment, then swung back to Randall. “I’m marrying opposing counsel.” He paused, gathered his
briefcase in his hand, and added more quietly, “If she’ll have me.”

He shook off temporary uncertainty and strode toward the exit. Doorknob in hand, he turned to give

the partners a smile. “My resignation will be forthcoming.”

…

Cassie glared at her phone as it began to ring for the fourth consecutive time. Even silenced, she
wanted to throw it across the room. If she weren’t expecting a call from the distraught grandparents
who were fighting their daughter for their grandchild, she’d turn the damned thing off.

She hit the button to send Brad’s phone call to voice mail again. What would it take to get it through

his head, she couldn’t talk to him? She couldn’t endure his trying to convince her into coming to New
York, detailing all the sensible reasons why it was the best choice, and she would cave. She didn’t
want to cave. Even if the idea of life without him felt like someone had carved great big gaping holes
in her soul.

The phone buzzed again. Cassie let out a groan and buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t turn it

off; she couldn’t escape. Didn’t he know every time it rang her heart splintered a little more?

Puffing out a frustrated breath, she stared at the vibrating gadget. She was stronger than this. She

could handle one phone call. With a shaking hand, she picked up her cell and answered, “Hello?”

“Cassie, don’t hang up!”
“Brad, I can’t talk to you right now. It’s too hard.”
“I know, sweetheart.” His warm, tender tone washed over her like sunshine after a cold dreary day.

“It hurts me too. Listen, where are you?”

Where did he think she’d be? “I’m at home, why?”
“You are?” Surprise pitched his voice. “I mean…okay…where?”
A pained frown settled into her brow as she reached deep inside herself for patience. Again, she

reminded herself that despite the way her heart skipped at every word he uttered, she could survive
one simple phone call. “In my room. Why?”

“Which room?”
“What’s going on?”

His sigh washed through the line and across her skin. Goosebumps lifted on her arms. If she closed

her eyes long enough, she could almost see the resignation in his handsome face. Oh, God, this was
killing her. All she wanted was to tell him she was sorry and promise to arrive on the next flight out.
“I have to go. I’m expecting a client to call.”

“Wait! Just…wait a minute. You aren’t in the room we stayed in, are you?”
“No.” She could hardly look at that door without bursting into tears. Since she’d hung up Saturday

night, she’d locked herself up in here, where the memories lingered, but didn’t threaten to suffocate
her. “I’m in the old room.”

“Did it snow last night?”
“Yes. It’s snowing now. What do you want?”
His voice lowered to an intimate tone. “Did you think of me?”
An anguished whimper worked its way up her throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight. Still, she

couldn’t stop the honesty from tumbling free. “I always think of you.”

A heavy beat of silence fell between them. The sound of his breathing filled her ears, along with the

rush of wind. She couldn’t help but ask, “Is it snowing where you are?”

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “I miss you.”
Oh, God. Tears pricked her eyes. “Don’t…” she whispered.
“I need you to do me a favor, beautiful.” Thick with emotion, his voice was little more than a rasp.
“What?”
“I think I left something important in that bedroom. Would you mind to look?”
No, no, no…she couldn’t walk in there if she intended to sleep at night. All she’d see was his big

strong body gliding against hers, his mouth and hands ushering her into ecstasy. She’d feel his breath
against the back of her neck, and her ears would fill with the sound of his hoarse voice as he
whispered, I love you.

“Please?” he prompted when she didn’t immediately answer.
Her stomach began to quiver. She swallowed hard and slid off the foot of her bed. “I’m going.” If

he’d left something behind, common courtesy demanded she send it to him. It belonged to him, after
all.

Time passed like molasses as she made her way down the hall. He said nothing, his silence adding

to her rising tension. In and out. Don’t look around. Cassie shoved the door open. “Okay, I’m here.
Where? What am I looking for?”

“Over by the window.”
She moved to the wide glass pane that overlooked the hills in her back yard. They’d left the

curtains open the last morning he was here, snuggling as they watched the distant skiers coast up the
mountain on the lift. Her heart twisted. She avoided looking at the sleigh style bed and the fireplace,
fixed her gaze on the parted curtains, and stopped in front of the ottoman chair. She’d set that chair in
front of the window, always intending to have a cozy place to read. Now, this last week guaranteed
she would never use that chair. Her gaze dropped to the carpet. “What am I looking for?”

“I’m pretty sure it was over by the ottoman. It’s…” he paused. “Blue. Like your robe. Look down.”
Ugh, he was torturing her. She pulled the robe in mention about her more tightly and looked down at

her feet. “What is it, Brad? What am I looking for?”

“Aw hell, I’m no good at this.” Frustration filled his voice.
She pulled the phone away from her ear and squinted at it, puzzled. Lifting it once more to her ear,

she asked, “Are you okay? You sound…off.”

“It’s you, Cassie. Look out the window.”
Cassie blinked. What the…
Drawn by a force greater than herself, she moved closer to the glass and set a hand on the cold

pane. A gasp broke loose. In the next heartbeat, her eyes filled with tears. Tiny tea lights lit up her
snow-covered lawn in the shape of a heart. He’d positioned them so she couldn’t see the soft glow
from her old bedroom. Their delicate flames danced in the stirring breeze and illuminated words he’d
written into the fresh snow. Be Mine. Brad stood beside the romantic display, one hand lifted as he
held his phone to his ear.

She clutched her cell tightly as tears spilled over. “Oh, Brad.”
“The brownie. Do you remember?”
Smiling, she nodded. “From our dessert. I remember.” Her voice broke, and she gave into a choked

sob.

“Can I come in, sweetheart?”
Crying freely now, Cassie dropped onto the edge of the bed. A hoarse laugh escaped. “I can’t make

it down the stairs.”

“I’ll come to you.”

Chapter Thirty-one

He’d been standing in the snow for close to an hour, but as Brad bounded up Cassie’s stairs, taking
them two at a time, the chill fell away from his shoulders. His hair was wet, his clothes were soaked,
but he was…home. Yeah, home.

He slowed his frantic steps at the door and entered. She huddled on the edge of the bed, her knees

drawn to her chest, quiet sobs shaking her shoulders. She lifted her head with a smile that stole his
breath away. “Cassie…” Everything else he’d planned to say vanished.

With slow steps, he crossed to her, a long-stemmed red rose in his outstretched hand. “This one has

far more meaning.”

She accepted it with a watery sniffle. Long lashes veiled her tears as she closed her eyes and

inhaled the sweet fragrance. When she looked at him once more, love radiated in those gorgeous
chestnut depths.

Brad set his hands on her thighs and eased to his knees in front of her. He held her gaze, willing her

to hear the sincerity that made his heart swell to twice its normal size. “I want you. I’m here, Cassie.
Tell me you’ll have me.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a muffled squeak. Another fresh set of

tears coursed down her cheeks. Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, she nodded emphatically.
Her fingers tightened around the fragile thornless stem.

Smiling, he gently plucked the rose from her hands and laid it on the bed. “Before you break it in

half.”

Cassie nodded again, though she still couldn’t seem to make her throat work.
“Oh, sweetheart, come here.” Brad stretched out his arms, and she flew off the bed into his

embrace. He crushed her close, cradled her head against his shoulder. Inside, the shaking stopped.
All the mixed-up feeling, the uncertainty, the fear, locked into place and contentment rolled through
his veins. “I love you.”

Sniffling, she pushed against his arms until she could look him in the eye. “What about the

partnership?”

“I quit.”
Cassie’s eyes went wide.
Brad gave into a chuckle. “Why would I stay there, when the better partnership is here?”
“So you mean it? This isn’t just a temporary truce?”
“Oh, no, beautiful.” He tucked his fingers beneath the wide cuffs at her wrists and slid his hands up

her arms. “This is the real deal. I want you to marry me.” Shit, that wasn’t supposed to slip out yet.
Hastening to correct his blunder, Brad released her, and with his hands between them, pulled hard at
the dainty diamond ring he’d shoved onto his pinkie. It gave, but he almost elbowed her in the gut.
Heat filtered into his cheeks.

Cassie laughed. She reached for the ring, her smile as bright as sun on newly fallen snow.
“Not yet,” he chided and lifted it out of her reach. “There’s more.” He reached into his inside coat

pocket and withdrew a folded legal document. “In case this is too much too fast, I’m completely
prepared to negotiate this pre-nuptial agreement until you’re willing to sign.” Satisfied he’d covered
all his bases, he offered her both at the same time. “I should tell you though, I always win. If I have to
sign away everything I own, I’ll convince you to sign this somehow.”

Grinning, she plucked the contract out of his hands.
He nodded. “Go ahead. Read it.”
She shook her head, lifted it between them, and tore it neatly in half. “I accept your offer,

counselor.” Leaning forward, she closed the distance between them and brushed her lips across his.
“And I accept the risk.” She kissed him softly again. “I love you.”

Something broke inside him then, something beautiful and sacred. It soared to life, filling the last

bits of emptiness in his soul. He slid the ring onto her finger and framed her face between his hands.
Emotion thickened his voice. “I believe in you, Cassie.”

Her eyes pricked with tears once more. He captured her sweet mouth, tangled his tongue with hers.

Her arms slid around his neck, and she wriggled completely into his lap. The familiar gnaw of desire
sparked when her legs wrapped around his waist, and his breath hardened. He didn’t fight the
powerful effect she had over him. He’d learned he couldn’t govern it. She unraveled him in ways
he’d never believed were possible.

And for once, he didn’t mind surrendering his control.

Acknowledgements

This book would not have been possible if it weren’t for the absolute dedication and support of my
agent, Natalie Fischer Lakosil. Thank you for your unending patience and all that you’ve done. Words
don’t express appropriately how I value you.

To the editing staff at Entangled—thank you for believing in me and your outstanding efforts at

making this the best it could be. I look forward to a future of many more.

To my friends and writing partners, fellow authors, and members of Heartland Romance Authors,

thanks for keeping me motivated, for listening to both my cheers and my gritches, and for being a
constant source of inspiration. I’m so very proud to know you, to work beside so many talented
people. Dyann Love Barr, Cathy Marlow—no one compares, and I love you much!

To my family, all I can say is thank you. Over and over and over. Especially to you, Garrett and

Pierce who saw the bear more frequently than not this year.

And to my readers, I hope you’ve enjoyed this new endeavor as much as I have. I’m grateful to your

continued support. Your enthusiasm encourages me, and I look forward to many more books together!

Author Bio

National Bestselling author Tori St. Claire grew up writing. Hobby quickly turned into passion, and
when she discovered the world of romance as a teen, poems and short stories gave way to full length
novels with sexy heroes and heroines waiting to be swept off their feet. She wrote her first romance
novel at seventeen.

While that manuscript gathered dust-bunnies beneath the bed, she went on to establish herself as a

contemporary, historical, and paranormal author under the pen name,

Claire Ashgrove

. Her writing,

however, skirted a fine line between hot and steamy, and motivated by authors she admired, she
pushed her boundaries and made the leap into erotica, using the darker side of human nature and on-
the-edge suspense to drive grittier, sexier, stories.

Her erotic romantic suspense novels are searingly sensual experiences that unite passion with true

emotion and the all-consuming tie that binds -- love.

For more information visit her website:

www.toristclaire.com

Come Undone one last time with Danielle…

OVERS

NMASKED

a Halloween anthology featuring five of Brazen’s bestselling authors!

One night. Five cases of mistaken identity.

Mystery and intrigue surround Halloween night as friends unwittingly become lovers, enemies

surrender to long-hidden desires, and the heat of passion threatens to consume them all…

Enjoy your tricks and treats in this sexy anthology featuring bestselling authors Katee Robert,

Lauren Blakely, Cari Quinn, Samanthe Beck, and Tessa Bailey.

Amazon | B&N | iTunes

Document Outline

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Acknowledgements
Author Bio

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