Chapter Eight
DESPITE HAVING THE partner meeting every Tuesday morning, Simon had nearly forgotten about it. But a lot had happened in the past week.
A lot of sex with Bette. A hell of a lot of crazy, mind-blowing sex. That was the reason he’d nearly forgotten the meeting. Losing his memory was probably a side effect of having his mind blown so often and so completely that he’d nearly forgotten the reason he’d begun the seduction of Bette Monroe. He’d nearly forgotten that she was the office mole.
Probably.
He still had no proof. Sure, he’d gotten a look at her checkbook. But those deposits could have come from something else. Maybe she’d sold something other than that information from their case files.
Like her body...
He would certainly pay if she started charging him. She was so damn passionate and sexy and generous.
And distracting.
He needed to focus on finding evidence. Real evidence. Because right now he had nothing but his suspicions.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with suspicions. Ronan and Trevor studied him through narrowed eyes. And Stone wouldn’t even look at him as if he was too disgusted.
“What?” he asked them.
“We heard about you and your assistant,” Ronan said.
Now he knew why Stone wouldn’t look at him. “Thanks a hell of a lot,” he told his friend.
Stone shook his head. “I didn’t tell them.”
“You knew?” Trevor asked.
“Yeah...”
“And you didn’t stop him from risking the whole damn practice getting sued?” Trevor asked.
“She’s not going to sue me,” Simon assured them, although maybe he should have been worried about that. If she would steal secrets from them, why wouldn’t she sue?
Stone sighed. “I’m not as sure as you are about that. Just because she’s given her notice—”
“She’s given her notice?” Ronan asked. Then he groaned. “Damn it, we’re certain to get sued if she’s quitting over sexual harassment.”
“I’m not harassing her,” Simon said.
“But you are sleeping with her,” Ronan said.
They had never actually slept together. But they’d had a hell of a lot of sex.
“Everybody’s talking about it,” Trevor said.
So much for him and Bette sharing a secret, their salacious one. He glared at Stone. “What—you’ve been gossiping like a little old lady?”
“I’ve got a hell of a lot more important things to worry about than your love life,” Stone said.
Simon’s heart slammed against his ribs. Love life? Hardly.
“You’re not in love, are you?” Ronan asked.
Simon’s heart slammed against his ribs and he exclaimed, “Of course not!”
“Then what the hell are you up to?” Trevor asked.
“I’m trying to find out if she’s the mole,” Simon admitted.
The color drained from Stone’s face. “You didn’t tell me that.”
He sighed. “Because I don’t know for sure if she is. I need proof.”
“Why do you even suspect her?” Ronan asked.
“Because she’s leaving,” he said. And because of some of things he’d seen in her purse, specifically in her checkbook, like the ATM receipt for the deposit of a big check. The slip had also shown that she carried a very healthy balance. No wonder she’d been able to afford her new place. And she’d admitted she hadn’t inherited any money or come into a trust.
“So?” Ronan said. “That doesn’t prove her guilt.”
“I got close to her so I could find proof,” Simon admitted. But he felt a pang of guilt over that. What if she wasn’t the mole? And what if she was starting to care for him like she’d been warning him she was?
Then he’d been seducing and using her for no reason. No. There was pleasure. More than pleasure.
“Have you found any proof?” Trevor asked skeptically.
Maybe he knew that Simon had gotten sidetracked—with her beauty, with the sex...
The incredible, mind-blowing sex. She was the most responsive and generous lover he’d ever had. And the way they moved together, the way they fitted...
She matched him in a way he’d never been matched before, but he was worried that it wasn’t just with sex. Not that he was falling for her or anything. These unsettling feelings he had for her weren’t anything more than desire and attraction and suspicion. Maybe she didn’t just match him as a lover but as a con, too.
“Nothing that would hold up in court,” he said. And because these were his friends, he was honest with them and admitted, “But she’s come into some money. She’s moved. She’s bought stuff.”
Her lingerie collection alone probably cost a fortune. The materials were decadent and the designs were works of art. But to him, the outfits were just like a light bulb showing off the work of art that was her perfect body.
“Maybe she inherited some money,” Trevor said.
He shook his head. “I checked around.” He hadn’t just taken her word for it. “She’s not been anyone’s heir.”
“Mistress?” Ronan asked.
Anger surged through Simon. “Of course you’d think that.” He had, too. But when would she have time for a man—even a married one—with as much time as she’d been spending with Simon?
Ronan snorted. “I’m a divorce lawyer. Of course I’d think that. And you, being the con, would think she’s the mole. But it doesn’t track.”
“Why not?”
“I agree that it makes no sense,” Stone said. “If she’s making money off us, why would she leave?”
The others nodded in agreement. They didn’t understand a con the way Simon did.
The trick was to get out before getting caught. He figured that had been her intention. But it was too late for her now. He’d caught her. He just needed the evidence to prove it. To his partners and to the police and to himself. He didn’t want to believe that it was her. Still, it was the only thing that made sense—for her leaving and for her coming into that money.
As much as he’d wished it wasn’t true, he had to face the fact that she’d conned him. He wasn’t buying that she was falling for him—no matter how many times she’d claimed that she was.
He wasn’t sure which con he was more pissed about: her selling information from their case files or trying to make him believe she might genuinely care about him.
* * *
A sudden chill raced down Bette’s spine and raised goose bumps on her skin. She shivered and glanced up from the computer monitor she’d been studying and discovered three men standing in her small office.
Why were all of Simon’s partners paying her a visit? Like Simon, they had barely paid her any attention the two years she’d worked for Street Legal.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Unlike Simon, they were all dark haired. Ronan Hall’s hair was black. Stone Michaelsen’s was dark brown like hers and Trevor Sinclair’s was more of an auburn. They were also all bigger than Simon. The three of them barely fitted into her office, their broad shoulders rubbing against each other’s.
How had they entered so quietly?
They’d lived on the streets. Maybe they’d learned to be quiet there. Or maybe she’d just been too distracted with thoughts of their managing partner to notice if an entire circus had entered her office, riding elephants while juggling rings of fire.
“You can stay,” Trevor Sinclair suggested.
“Simon told you that I gave my notice,” she said and leaned back in her chair.
Maybe one of them could convince him to let her go early. She only had four days—including today—left on her notice. She could last four days.
Couldn’t she?
But she was already boneless from all the pleasure he’d given her. She didn’t want to lose her backbone completely the way her mom and her sister had. She didn’t want to get addicted to him and desperate and clingy like all of his other ex-lovers. No. The less time she spent with Simon Kramer the better. At least, the safer...for her.
“Why are you leaving?” Ronan Hall asked.
She hadn’t told Simon; she damn well was not going to tell him, either. She just shook her head. “This just isn’t a good fit.”
Stone Michaelsen studied her like she was one of the criminals he represented. As she’d told Simon, quitting was not a crime.
“Street Legal or Simon?” he asked.
Heat rushed to her face. She and Simon fitted together perfectly, like her body had been made for his. But then his body was so perfect that she couldn’t imagine him not fitting with every woman he seduced.
Had he actually seduced her? Or had she seduced him?
“I don’t have a background in law,” she said. “I am really not a good fit as a legal assistant.” So why had Simon hired her two years ago?
The three men exchanged a glance as if they were all wondering the same thing. From the way Ronan glanced down her body, it was clear he had his suspicions. He wasn’t wrong about them—now.
But she knew that wasn’t why Simon had hired her since he hadn’t even noticed her until she’d given him her notice.
“You must have done a fine job the past two years,” Stone said, “or Simon wouldn’t have kept you.”
Now her embarrassment gave way to annoyance. Simon did not own her. He never had and he never would. No man owned Bette Monroe. Instead of telling his partners those thoughts, she just offered them a tight smile.
“We hate to have you leave,” Trevor said. But he didn’t sound particularly sincere. In fact, he sounded suspicious, and he studied her with a strange look on his face, kind of like the look that had been on Simon’s when she’d caught him in her apartment.
Actually, Simon had looked both suspicious and guilty that day, like she’d caught him doing something. Rummaging through her things? Her purse?
Had he seen any of her designs?
She doubted it. Those were on the desk in her bedroom, and she didn’t think he’d gone in there while she’d been showering. And he hadn’t been back to her apartment since that day—except for in her thoughts.
She kept imagining him there.
She kept imagining him everywhere but most especially inside her. It was almost as if she could feel him in there, filling her completely.
Heat rushed to her face again and pooled lower in her body, between her legs. She crossed them and clenched her thighs together, but that only intensified the sensation. She needed Simon again.
No. Four more days was too many. She was too close to getting addicted to him, to becoming desperate and needy for him like all those other women he’d dumped.
“If you all feel like I should leave now, I understand,” Bette told them. “If you’re worried about the confidentiality with your clients.”
“Should we be worried?” Stone asked.
“Yeah,” Ronan said, “it’s not like you’re going to work for the opposition or anything, is it?”
She shook her head. “No. Like I told you, I’m not suited at all for a job in law.” Her passion was fashion. For years that was the only real passion she’d had.
Now there was Simon. But he wasn’t just a passion. He was becoming an obsession, as well. She needed to get away from him as soon as possible.
But his partners were no help. “You’re welcome to stay,” Stone told her. “As long as you’d like.”
She’d like to leave now. For some reason she hesitated to admit it. And they were gone before she could form the words. It was only four more days. Four more days of Simon Kramer...
She wasn’t really falling for him, though. She couldn’t. She knew him too well.
Didn’t she?