January Girl - Chapter 1
“Jesus. What’s he doing in here?”
Caitlyn Wallace looked around the pub, searching for someone who could have caught her cousin Colm’s eye.
Seeing no one of interest, she turned her gaze back to Colm. “He who?”
“Lucas Whiting.”
While Caitlyn didn’t have a clue what Lucas Whiting looked like, she sure as hell knew his name. The Whitings were to Baltimore what the Kennedys were to Martha’s Vineyard. There was precious little property of value in the city that the Whitings didn’t have some vested interest in.
“He’s here?”
Colm nodded, and then used the upswing of his chin to direct her attention to a table near the back of the pub. Three men in expensive power suits sat together, drinking pints of Guinness. She assumed the one in the center was Lucas. He was older than the other two, with gray hair, serious eyes and deep frown grooves around his mouth that told her he didn’t smile much. If ever.
“Looks the type of a gazillionaire, doesn’t he?” she said.
Colm turned his head, his look quizzical. “You think? I always thought he looked more like a rugby player.”
Caitlyn turned back to the table. Clearly she’d focused on the wrong man. Once she’d spotted the older guy, she’d stopped looking. “Which one is he?”
“Man on the right,” Colm replied before walking toward the bar. He claimed a stool and started talking to his dad, Caitlyn’s Uncle Tris, who was manning the bar.
Rather than join him, Caitlyn remained near the entrance, so she could check out the man on the right.
“Oh,” she breathed.
Colm had the right of it. Lucas was built much larger and broader and more muscular than she would have pictured him. For some reason, she’d imagined a more elegant, sophisticated, clean-shaven, well-dressed, paper-pushing wimp. Lucas Whiting resembled a thug, with his wide shoulders and scruffy beard that was pushing the five-o’clock-shadow deal by a few days. He looked like the kind of guy who’d been in more than a few fistfights. He also struck her as the type who’d most likely won every single one.
Originally, her gaze hadn’t landed on him for more than a split second because her mind had seen that build and thought “bodyguard.”
“Can you believe he’s back here again?”
Caitlyn glanced over at her cousin Ailis, who was waiting the tables at the pub that night.
“Who?” Caitlyn wondered if she’d missed a step somewhere.
“Lucas Whiting.”
“He’s been here before?”
Ailis nodded. “Yeah. About a month or so ago. He chatted with Tris and Ewan about selling the pub. They laughed and told him he was wasting his time. He left and I think we all thought that was the end of it.”
“Why didn’t I know about this?”
Ailis grinned as Caitlyn trailed behind her, so her cousin could deliver the drinks she’d been carrying. “I suspect you were knee-deep in a case. Besides, you’ve been in workaholic mode this past year since you and Sammy split. It’s rare to get your total attention.”
Caitlyn didn’t bother to argue that point. It was true. Sammy had accused her of living inside her head. Tried to use that as a reason for cheating on her. The stupid asshole.
Her gaze returned to Lucas Whiting’s table. He was no longer conversing with the men sitting with him. Instead, he was studying the bar, his sharp, dark eyes taking in everything around him.
Caitlyn did the same, trying to imagine what Lucas was thinking. For a second, she heard the lines to that classic Billy Joel number “Piano Man” in her head. While it was a Friday night—not Saturday—the regular crowd had certainly shuffled in. The place was booming.
Hunter Maxwell, one of their current singers, was on stage with his guitar and harmonica setup. He was super talented, and Caitlyn knew that was one reason the place was so crowded.
Hunter was destined for stardom. She was as sure of that as she was that Hunter had it bad for Ailis. Ailis, however, seemed oblivious to that fact. Or she was ignoring it. Having grown up being homeschooled on a tour bus as Sky and Teagan rocked the world with their music for the first eighteen years of her life, Ailis was determined to live her adult years in a house without wheels. Problem was Hunter wanted the wheels, the big bus and the different-city-every-night stardom Ailis’s parents enjoyed.
Caitlyn turned her attention away from the stage. Uncle Tris was manning the bar, talking football with Pop Pop, who sat on “his” stool at the center of the long mahogany counter, surrounded by his cronies—some nearly, but not quite, as old as him.
Most of her friends were amazed when she told them her grandfather was ninety-two years old. He had the energy and health of someone two decades younger. He claimed it was his family that kept him going, gave him a reason to keep chugging along. Aunt Riley always said the truth of it was he was too nosy to depart this earth before he got to see how all his grandkids turned out. Which was why Riley was convinced he’d outlive them all. Caitlyn sincerely hoped that was true. She couldn’t imagine a world without Pop Pop.
“Does Pop Pop know about the offer?” Caitlyn asked.
Ailis shook her head. “No. Like I said, they turned it down and the guy went away. Since it was a nonissue, they decided not to bother Pop Pop with it.”
“Good. I’d hate for him to worry about this. Although, it doesn’t look like it’s a nonissue anymore.”
“I know. Riley said he’d be back. After all, the Whitings have been snatching up quite a bit of property in this area. Ewan seemed to think they’d convinced him they wouldn’t sell, for any price, but now…”
Given the dark, threatening looks Tris was throwing Lucas’s way, it was obvious her uncle was on the defensive, ready to defend the bar to the death. Not that he’d have to take up that battle alone.
She caught sight of Ewan and Riley standing just on the other side of the large opening between Pat’s Pub and Sunday’s Side, the restaurant named for Caitlyn’s grandmother, giving Lucas the same evil eye.
One of the perks of being a member of a large family was there were never less than twenty people who had your back. Lucas Whiting would have been smart to take the original rejection and move on.
As she considered that, she looked back toward him and discovered he was staring at her. She held his gaze for a moment, and then glanced away. It was no good. She still felt the weight of his eyes on her.
“Do you know Lucas Whiting?” Ailis asked.
Caitlyn shook her head as she faced her cousin. “No. Why?”
“Because he’s staring at you. Big time.”
Caitlyn forced herself to look back. And sure enough, Ailis was telling the truth. Whatever study he’d been doing of the pub appeared to have ended with her.
She felt the inexplicable need to escape that heavy gaze. It unnerved her. And, well, dammit, it turned her on. She experienced an arousal she hadn’t felt in months. No, strike that. A year.
Caitlyn worked hard to put that uneasy feeling away. It wasn’t a state she wanted to dwell on. After Sammy’s betrayal, she’d decided to take a year off from dating to recover from her broken heart and focus on her career, get her priorities straight. She had stayed with Sammy for all the wrong reasons.
Actually, just two wrong reasons.
The first was the same one that had existed in all her previous long-term relationships. Love. Caitlyn wanted it. Desperately. She longed for a relationship like her parents had, or any of her aunts and uncles. She wanted to come home every night to the one person who made life worth living.
And she wanted that so badly, she’d tried to force Sammy into that role, tried to convince herself that what they shared was a great and lasting love. Just like she had with Matt and Brad and…
Every single time one of her relationships failed, she was forced to face the fact that she’d fallen for the wrong man again. One who didn’t love her as much as she loved him or who wasn’t as committed toward building a life with her.
The other reason she’d hung in there too long with Sammy was at least unique from her other relationships. The sex. It had been great. So much so, she’d tricked herself into believing that the rest of their relationship was fine. When it wasn’t. She had that truth knocked into her when she’d come home early and found him boinking the middle school music teacher who lived across the hall.
Caitlyn had packed her bags and moved into the apartment above her family’s business, Pat’s Pub, where she shared the spacious space with six of her ten cousins. Riley had taken to referring to the second floor as the Collins Dorm after several of the cousins moved in, and the name stuck.
She tried to stifle a yawn. Her family was going to have to deal with Lucas Whiting on their own. It had been a damn long day. “I’m beat. Think I’ll go upstairs and relax for a little while.”
After law school, she’d opted to work in the public sector as opposed to pursuing a job with a big firm. She’d started as an attorney with Baltimore Legal Aid, a nonprofit firm that provided free legal services to low-income people, working her ass off for very little pay, while gaining experience.
Then, once her cousin Colm graduated from law school too, they opened their own practice, the Collins Law Firm. While it was Colm’s last name as well, the name of the firm was actually a nod to their beloved Pop Pop, who was so proud of them with their “big, fancy law degrees,” as he referred to them, that he fairly burst from the emotion.
For the past five years, she and Colm had worked long hours in an attempt to build a name for their firm. Caitlyn specialized in services for seniors, serving on a local committee that worked to keep older citizens not only in their homes, but to ensure they were living in safe environments. Colm’s specialty was in family and children’s services.
Their firm had acquired a reputation for wheeling and dealing on payment. Which basically meant they only charged what their clients could afford to pay. Her mom, Keira, claimed she and Colm reminded her of old-school doctors, trading their services for eggs or a fat hog. Caitlyn had always laughed at that description—until a couple months earlier, when Colm had literally accepted freshly caught trout and a bottle of homemade moonshine as a payment. Then she realized things had gotten out of hand. Not that they’d change their policy. They had just as many clients who could afford to pay as those who couldn’t, so it wasn’t like they were starving. Besides, poor people deserved good legal help as much as the rich.
“Are you going to come back down later?” Ailis asked.
Caitlyn shrugged. Ailis was worried about her. Actually, the whole Collins clan was. Her entire family had managed to pull her aside at some point over the past few months to talk to her about her all-work, no-play lifestyle and how it wasn’t healthy. They weren’t telling her anything she didn’t know, but she was finding it too hard to break the pattern.
At first, work had been a salve to her wounds. Now, it was all she could remember how to do. She was too afraid to look for love, or even just sex. Her relationship with Sammy had been a disaster. Shit, her last three long-term love affairs had ended badly, each one leaving her with a broken heart.
She was starting to get trigger shy. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for marriage and happily ever after. Of course, every time that thought crossed her mind, she felt like crying, so she tucked it away again.
“Caitlyn,” her cousin began.
“If I don’t fall asleep on the couch, I’ll be back down in an hour or so.” Caitlyn vowed to try to keep that promise, but she was dog-tired, weary to the bone, and in no mood to be around people or noise or—
She groaned softly.
Sammy walked into the pub.
“Seriously?” she muttered. “Fuck my life.”
Fortunately, he hadn’t spotted her yet.
Ailis groaned. “Jesus, he’s thick. If Uncle Tris spots him, he’s a dead man. I’ll run interference while you escape.”
Since “the one time he ever cheated on her,” Sammy had called, texted, and hounded her on social media to beg for her forgiveness. At first, she’d told him to fuck off. Then she’d blocked him on everything. When he realized he couldn’t get to her through the regular channels, the dumbass had actually Venmo’ed her twenty bucks because he realized he could send her a long message with the money. She’d pocketed the cash, deleted the message without reading it and threatened to slap a restraining order on him if he didn’t leave her alone.
That had been four months ago. She’d thought the threat had been enough because he’d been quiet since then.
Caitlyn nodded her thanks and headed toward the back of the pub, to the door that led to the stairs to the second floor. She’d nearly made a clean getaway when her path was blocked. By a very large, broad, power-suited chest.
She didn’t bother to look up. She knew who was standing in her way. “Excuse me.”
She tried to sidestep Lucas Whiting, but he followed her direction, not allowing her to pass. She flashed him an angry look.
“I said excuse me.” While most of her cases were settled in conference rooms, on occasion, deals couldn’t be struck. Which meant she was no stranger to courtrooms. As such, she was the master of many tones. She could sound conciliatory or infuriated or sympathetic—whatever she thought would be most effective on the judge or jury. Right now, her tone was pure irritation.
“I apologize.” His face didn’t match his words. He wasn’t sorry. He also wasn’t a thug. She’d only had a distant view of him from across the room. Up close, Lucas Whiting fell into a category she’d never created before. In a world of hot or not, Lucas sort of straddled the line. He was handsome, but terrifying. Attractive, but intense. Every pleasant feature on his face seemed marred by something she could only think to call power…or maybe it was hunger.
His deep-set midnight-colored eyes were too sharp, too focused for her to enjoy the hue. His chiseled jaw appeared to be clenched just a smidge too tightly. And she wondered if he kept the beard as a way to hide his far-too-serious face rather than as a fashion statement. Maybe he thought it made him less intimidating. She almost laughed aloud at that thought. The man was intimidation incarnate.
“I was wondering if you would like to join me for a drink.”
Of course. Obviously, Whiting knew who she was. Granddaughter of the owner.
The asshole probably thought he could pour a couple glasses of wine into her and have her spilling all the family secrets.
“No, thank you. I was just leaving.”
He frowned as he glanced behind him. Then he pointed toward the front. “The exit is that way.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “And my home is that way,” but his confusion caught her unaware.
Maybe he didn’t know who she was.
“Yes. But…” Caitlyn debated how to play this. If Lucas didn’t know who she was, perhaps she could employ the same plan she’d suspected he was using on her. She could join him for a drink, draw him into a conversation about the pub and see what his intentions were.
Before she could figure out the best way to go, Sammy found her.
“There you are.”
Caitlyn turned at the sound of her ex’s voice, Lucas Whiting forgotten in an instant. “Do you have some sort of death wish?”
“It’s been months, Caitie.”
“Caitlyn,” Sammy quickly corrected, as if his reticence would work on her.
She’d hit her limit with the idiot. “I’m filing the paperwork for a restraining order in the morning.”
Sammy blanched. “You can’t still be this mad at me. I’ve said I’m sorry a thousand times. And I am. God, Caitlyn. I’ve been kicking my own ass every night since you left. I screwed up. Big time. I know that. What we had…it was special. I miss you. I miss…” He paused, and she knew where he was heading.
Sex. He missed fucking her.
Wow, didn’t that make her feel special?
“It’s over between us, Sammy. I don’t know how to say that to you any more clearly. Go back to Ms. Middle School Music.”
Sammy shook his head rapidly. “No. No. I don’t want her. She didn’t get it. Didn’t like,” he swallowed loudly, “what we like.”
Caitlyn flushed with anger, balling her fist. She’d never hit anyone before, but she was more than ready to kill him. “How dare you—”
“I think perhaps you should move on. The lady told you it’s over.”
Caitlyn was startled when Lucas decided to enter the conversation. She assumed he would move on at the first sign of Sammy’s drama. For some strange reason, knowing he was there allowed her to calm down. While she was fairly certain her punch wouldn’t leave a mark, Lucas Whiting looked the type to do some serious damage to Sammy. Which was exactly what she wanted.
“Who are you?” Sammy kept his tone fairly non-confrontational. Probably because he was smart enough to take one look at Lucas and know he wouldn’t win in a physical fight against the man.
“I’ll tell you who I am. I’m your worst nightmare if you don’t get out of this pub and leave this woman alone.”
Sammy blinked a couple times, no doubt trying to figure out if he’d heard what he thought he’d heard. Dumbass actually looked at her for help, and it took all the strength she had not to roll her eyes.
“Go home, Sammy. Don’t come back.”
The air seemed to seep out of him as Sammy held her gaze a second longer. And then, he turned to leave.
She twisted back toward Lucas, grinning despite her annoyance with basically everything at the moment. “What the hell was that? It was like you were channeling Liam Neeson or something for a second. I will find you. I’m your worst nightmare,” she mimicked in a deep, deadly voice.
Lucas didn’t look her way, didn’t even acknowledge her joke. Instead, he continued to watch Sammy’s retreating form.
Caitlyn saw her ex walk out of the pub. Then she glanced toward the bar. Very little happened that Uncle Tris didn’t see or hear. He stared at her for a second. She gave him a covert wink to let him know she was fine. Regardless, his face remained stoic before he gave her a subtle nod.
He was going to leave her alone. For now. But she didn’t fool herself into believing he wasn’t going to be watching her like a hawk as long as she was talking to Lucas Whiting.
“Thank you for stepping in to help,” she said, her gaze slipping to the door to her apartment. She was so close. To pajamas and a glass of wine and repeats of Lucifer on TV.
“Is my chivalry enough to convince you to join me for a drink?”
She glanced back at his table, surprised to find it unoccupied. “What happened to your friends?”
“They’re business associates. And our meeting is over. They’ve gone home to their wives.”
He gestured toward a chair and she gave in. Tiredness gave way to curiosity.
“No wife for you?”
He shook his head. “Would I invite you for a drink if there was?”
“The idiot you just kicked out of here was coming home to me after work. When he beat me there, he decided it would be a good idea to invite another woman to our bed. You’ll forgive me if I’m not super trusting.”
“I’m not married. Not engaged. Not living with or seriously dating anyone.”
Caitlyn found herself trying to figure out Lucas’s age. He had one of those faces that made it virtually impossible to guess. Not that she’d have to wonder for long. No doubt there was plenty of information about him on the Internet. She could discover that answer in one quick Google search on her phone.
“Divorced?” she asked.
“No.”
She realized they’d sort of started this conversation in the middle, so she thought she’d try to drag them back a few steps to the beginning. “I’m Caitlyn Wallace, by the way.”
His expression gave her no clue as to whether or not he recognized her name. If he’d done any research at all on the pub, he would have certainly come across her mother’s name.
Pop Pop and her grandma Sunday had raised their seven children in the upstairs apartment Caitlyn was sharing with her cousins, in addition to running the pub and restaurant below. As they became adults, Tris took over the pub half of the business with Pop Pop while her mom, Keira Wallace, and Uncle Ewan ran Sunday’s Side.
“Lucas Whiting.”
“I know.”
For the first time, she saw just the trace of a smile on his face. It made him appear almost human.
“Sammy,” she added.
“Former boyfriend or husband?”
“Ex-boyfriend. It’s been a small consolation knowing that at least I was smart enough not to marry him.”
“He asked?”
She shook her head. “Actually, no. He didn’t.”
Sammy was the last thing Caitlyn wanted to talk about tonight. Especially with Lucas Whiting. “Do you do a lot of business in pubs?”
Lucas lifted one shoulder casually. “Depends on the business.”
Hello, Mr. Vague. She probed for more. “Okay. So what was tonight’s pub-worthy business?”
“Real estate acquisition.”
Fucker was good. He gave nothing away.
“Can I get you all something to drink?” Ailis was looking at Caitlyn curiously.
“I’ll have another Guinness. Caitlyn?”
“I’ll have the same. Thanks.” She hoped her cousin wouldn’t say anything to reveal her identity. The lawyer in her was determined to get to the truth in Lucas’s short answers.
Ailis paused for just a second, but when Caitlyn didn’t look at her or say more, she turned for the bar.
“I can’t imagine there’s much real estate left in Baltimore your family doesn’t already own.”
Lucas’s gaze held hers intently. “There’s always more to buy.”
His response tweaked her for some reason.
“What if someone doesn’t want to sell to you?”
His eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. Someone who was paying less attention wouldn’t have even noticed, but Caitlyn had locked onto him. Her words had triggered something. Shit. She’d shown her hand. Revealed herself.
Her family didn’t. Not when it came to this business. It wasn’t just the Collins’s livelihood. It was their home, their legacy to future generations. In some ways, the pub felt like the heartbeat of the family, the one thing that kept them all tied together.
“So no one has ever said no to you?”
For the first time, Lucas grinned. Caitlyn’s response shook her. She was torn between running away from the hungry wolf and baring her neck to the beast.
Oh shit.
He leaned closer to her, his dark eyes penetrating, missing nothing. His expression seemed to say he knew she wouldn’t say no to him.
Her pussy clenched, and she felt a trickle of wetness between her legs. What the hell was going on? Lucas shot one sexy freaking look at her and she was ready to tear off her clothes? It was definitely time to start dating again. Her hormones had decided to make a comeback…with a vengeance.
She tried to imagine what Lucas would look like without his shirt on. Did he have any tattoos? His thick, muscular arms seemed made for ink.
“What do you think?” he murmured.
About the tattoos? It took her a moment to stop undressing him with her eyes and recall her original question.
She’d asked if anyone ever said no to him.
“I don’t know.” She hated the almost breathless quality in her voice.
Her cheeks heated under his intense gaze, and she feared she was blushing. Lucas wasn’t even bothering to hide his attraction to her. His eyes darted down to her breasts, and the shadow of his grin reappeared.
She averted her eyes when it became impossible to hide her own unwanted desires. Unfortunately, looking down only made it apparent that her nipples were poking through her blouse. They’d tightened the moment she sat down at the table and gotten a whiff of his musk cologne. Which meant Lucas knew exactly what effect he was having on her.
“People say no to me all the time, Caitlyn.”
Her gaze lifted as she wondered if she would have the strength to deny him. In her mind, she could imagine him bidding her to strip, to kneel, to bend over the table. And she didn’t doubt for a second she would comply. “People,” she murmured. “Women?” The question slipped out unbidden.
Lucas parted his lips to speak, but she shook her head to cut him off.
“I didn’t mean…never mind.” She was babbling like an idiot. Time to get her shit together. “When people say no, when they turn down your offer, do you walk away?”
Lucas looked like he wanted to respond to her foolish slip of the tongue. She was grateful when she let her attempt to return them to safer ground stick. He tilted his head. “I never walk away. As I said, there’s always a bottom line.”
Caitlyn tried to recall the last time she’d felt this far out of her league. Years spent in her legal practice had honed her skills, her ability to stand up to even the most vicious of bullies. The problem was Lucas didn’t strike her as a bully.
He felt more like—she swallowed heavily—a Dom.
And she was terrified he’d find a way to look deep inside her and see the one thing she really did not want Lucas Whiting to see.
Her mother had told her once that the worst thing a person could do was hide their true personality, to deny who they were, to try to conceal the one thing that made them beautiful, made them special.
Her mother knew who Caitlyn was. She knew it because they were the same underneath the skin. Mom had always seen, always tried to encourage Caitlyn in very subtle ways to accept her submissiveness. To embrace it and not view it as a weakness.
Caitlyn continually struggled with that acceptance, and she’d never had any difficulty keeping the trait hidden from pretty much everyone.
Until now.
The problem was Lucas was looking at her too closely. His body language, his carriage, the way he held himself, God, everything about him was luring her closer to the fire.
She pressed her legs together tightly, desperate to stop the sudden pulsing of her inner muscles that were screaming for sex. She needed to get a grip, needed to break free of…whatever this was. Lucas Whiting was the enemy, a threat to her family’s livelihood. The thought of her family helped her find her bearings.
“I disagree about the bottom line. Some things simply can’t be bought. For any price.”
Lucas didn’t bother to argue with her. His cool expression made it perfectly clear he thought he was right and she was wrong. His haughty attitude tweaked her.
“What do you do for a living, Caitlyn?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“Criminal or civil?”
“Civil. I have my own practice.” She’d nearly said the name of her firm, but stopped short. Lucas might not recognize the name Wallace, but there was no way in hell he didn’t know the Collins family owned this pub.
“Large firm?”
“No. Small. Just my cousin and I, though recently we’ve started putting out feelers, looking to expand, perhaps add another attorney or two.”
“So business is good.”
“Yes. It is. We work with lower-income families, senior citizens.”
“I see.”
“I primarily deal with property disputes, landlord and tenant issues, immigration. My cousin works more with divorce and child-custody type cases.”
“So you’re not ambulance chasers.”
She shook her head and grinned. “No. We’re not.”
Ailis returned and placed their pints of beer on the table. Tris must have clued her cousin into the fact that Caitlyn was up to something, because she simply said she’d check on them in a bit and moved on to deliver drinks to the table next to them.
If they were counting on Caitlyn for information, they were going to be sorely disappointed. She was striking out. Big time.
She glanced toward the door to her apartment again. This game of cat and mouse had her on edge. And horny as hell.
She’d joined Lucas intent on discovering his secrets. Instead, it felt as if he was uncovering hers.
Caitlyn needed to move the conversation away from herself. Lucas was too good at dodging her questions, making her forget why he was here. “Was your meeting tonight successful? Were you able to buy what you wanted?”
“Not yet. We’re in the beginning phases of the project.”
“What does that involve?”
Lucas took a sip of beer and leaned back in his chair. “Research.”
Caitlyn fought to control her temper—and the niggling bit of fear—his words provoked. He still wanted to buy Pat’s Pub. There wasn’t any doubt in her mind. What she couldn’t tell was if he knew who she was, if he was baiting her, using her as part of that so-called research.
With her family’s livelihood on the line, Caitlyn found herself better able to snuff out her ill-advised, unwanted attraction to Lucas. “Sounds like we’re similar souls. I know quite a bit about research myself.”
Her tone was more threatening than she’d intended, but she refused to cower, refused to let Lucas think he had the upper hand.
It was obvious her sudden aggression caught him off guard, making her think, once again, that he didn’t have a clue who she was.
He recovered quickly. Damn him. “Tell me about yourself, Caitlyn.”
She took a deep breath. Clearly, she still had a shot at trying to figure out his intentions. “I’m not sure what there is to tell. I think we pretty much covered all the bases already. I’m a lawyer. I’m single. And I have shitty taste in men.”
Lucas chuckled, and she couldn’t help but think it sounded rusty. Was this guy always so serious?
“I’m curious what the attraction was between you and Sammy. He doesn’t seem like your type.”
She frowned. “We’ve known each other approximately twenty minutes. How do you know what my type is?”
“You don’t make it very far in my line of business without paying attention to details. You studied law. I study people.”
Caitlyn felt compelled to push Lucas’s buttons. The man seemed unshakable. Which made her long to rattle him. “You can’t figure someone out in just twenty minutes.”
“Sammy is weak.”
She shrugged. “So?”
“So that’s not what you want. What you need.”
The way he said the word “need” had her chest going tight with fear…and, God help her, longing. “You have no idea what I need.” She’d meant to put some power, some strength behind her assertion. Instead, the words came out in a whisper that belied them.
Once again, Lucas didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. How the man could say so much with just one look was beyond her, but it was obvious he knew way too much about her needs.
Lucas let his gaze travel over her body, taking his time as he studied every aspect of her. “You dress conservatively, but you know how to accentuate your strongest features. While you don’t seek to hide the fact that you’re very beautiful, your dress slacks, your simple silk blouse, and the understated jewelry prove that you wish to appear professional, not sexy. I assume that’s something you—as a woman in a male-dominated world—have to be attuned to. You’re every bit as intelligent as your male contemporaries and you are determined to be seen as such.”
She shrugged, still struggling to recover from the needs he’d uncovered with just a few words and heated looks. “You’ve just described pretty much every woman in my profession.”
“Are you daring me to dig deeper, Cait?”
She shivered at the dark tone in his voice that felt almost possessive.
She couldn’t play this game anymore. Couldn’t risk having him expose something she didn’t want to acknowledge, especially to him. “Why are you at this pub?”
“You know why.”
“Say it anyway.”
“I want to buy it.”
January Girl is