Amelia

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Damn it, I know I saw the file in his office last week. Where the hell is it? Ethan is usually meticulous with his files; I can’t imagine he took it home knowing he was going on vacation. With him out of the office, his secretary is too, so I can’t ask her unless I want to call her at home. Although I’ll bother her before I call Ethan. He and Holly only go away twice a year, they deserve some peace and quiet.

Right now, Ethan and Holly are sunning themselves on a beach in the south of France and I’m realizing my brother is a total badass. I always thought he was, but since he and Holly got married three years ago, he’s done these crazy things like going from fourteen-hour workdays to ten. There were even days he was out of the office by six, something so out of character every time it happened everyone in the office wondered if he was ill. He also never came in on the weekends anymore, instead working from his home office, if he worked at all. Not seeing him in the office at all hours made it easy to forget how hard he worked.

With me handling his clients while he’s gone, I’m learning not seeing him in action, doesn’t mean he isn’t. It’s even more of an honor he asked me to handle his cases. In the last two years, he’s gone from seeing me as his baby sister to a trusted colleague. I cringe as I realize I cultivated my role as his baby sister because I was constantly going to him for help, looking for him to make things easier. Once I stopped running to him for everything he saw me as someone on his level.

“Hey sweetie, why don’t you be a good girl and run along and get me Ethan? I need to see him, now,” a husky voice drawls from behind me.

Excuse me? I look up from the filing cabinet drawer I’m bent over to find a man eying my ass like it’s a glass of water and he’s thirsty. The idea anyone is eying my ass already has me out of sorts. Then I realize, holy shit, it’s Chris Baldwin. The baddest boy in baseball, as the tabloids liked to call him. All I can think is, he is no boy. Baldwin is all man, and a damn fine one at that. His skin the color of rich honey has me drooling as I wonder if it tastes as sweet. Wait, what?

His eyebrows go up, as if he can hear my crazy thoughts. The coal black of the perfectly scruffy few days’ old beard matches his hair equally overgrown by several weeks, enough to make it glaringly obvious he refuses to conform to rules other than his own. My fingers are tingling to discover if his hair is as silky as it looks, if they’ll get tangled in it when I pull him down to me. Okay, seriously? Where are these insane thoughts coming from?

I don’t drool, I don’t have naughty thoughts about men. I’ve seen pictures of him in magazines and on the internet, where he’s swooned over. He first caught the attention of the media ten years ago when he played for a team in Pennsylvania and they won the World Series.

At twenty-five he was only three years into his baseball career—he’d been drafted out of college to play with a team in Michigan. He was the young, cocky stud with a diamond in his ear and tattoos appealing to young men and women, but he also had the goods with the stats to back it up, gaining fans who were lovers of the game. It won him endorsements from all the major companies.

In person, I finally understand his appeal. His high-carved cheekbones still manage to have the kind of dimples that just aren’t fair. With an aggressive jaw and a strong, thin blade of a nose he is already gorgeous, then factor in his eyes, a deep bright blue, and he catapults to stunning. Yet, it’s his mouth I can’t take my eyes off of. Clearly defined, perfectly molded, full and wide with a pouting bottom lip I’m dying to suck on—okay, what the hell was that? I understand how he’s made it into the 50 Most Beautiful People in People magazine, twice.

In all those pictures, in all those commercials, none of them captured the aggressive male air surrounding him. He’s in jeans with a dark blue wash to them and a black cashmere mock turtleneck. His body is sin, tall, lean, muscled without bulging. When my eyes flick back up to his, he’s smiling knowingly with a damn dimple showing.

Don’t blush, don’t blush, he called you a girl. He has a diamond in his left ear the size of a dime, a tattoo on the back of one hand of an old worn baseball, and on the other hand is a baseball glove, in a vintage style much different from those of today and also looking old and worn. I’ve never been into men with tattoos and earrings, or assholes who didn’t bother trying to remember a woman’s name and so called them all by something generic. I’m not generic and refuse to be treated as such.

I kick in the drawer with a hard click. “Ethan isn’t here. He’s on vacation. He’ll be back in two weeks. I’ll let him know you came by.”

I’m proud of the way I turn my back on him before going to the next file cabinet drawer and pulling it out. Even though there is no way the file is in here. I’m buying time, so I don’t keep staring at him. The man is so hot he’s melting my common sense. Then he helps me out.

“No, darlin’, that doesn’t work for me. I want Ethan’s ass back here now or I take my business elsewhere.” The asshole actually snaps his fingers, my back goes stiff at the sound. “Why don’t you run along and find me your boss or someone who can get ahold of Ethan for me?”

Working to control my anger isn’t easy, and it’s harder with that stupid drawl of his turning his words ridiculously sexy. I know he was born and raised in Texas then went on to Vanderbilt for college, where he made all the major league teams salivate. Several offered him contracts he declined, saying he worked hard enough to get his scholarship that he wasn’t about to throw it all away. Just when I think I have myself under control, the drawer is pulled from my hands when the asshole closes it then leans against it. “Darlin’, are you hard of hearing or something?”

Wow, how has he not been decked more in his lifetime? I turn; holy freaking crap, he’s only inches away. He is tall, looming over my own five-foot-five frame by at least a foot. Oh damn, up close the man is devasting, destroying all the things I thought I knew about myself. Maybe earrings and tattoos aren’t so bad after all.

Then I see the knowing look in his eyes. Well fuck him, so he’s hot—it doesn’t stop me from wanting to smack his beautiful face. “My name is Amelia Bishop, not sweetie or darlin’. I do not run along anywhere. I’m also a lawyer here. I’m handling Ethan’s clients while he is on vacation. Since the man hardly ever takes a vacation and he only left a few days ago, I sure as hell am not bothering him for you. If you want him so badly you can wait for him or you can take your business elsewhere. Overpaid players are a dime a dozen in this city. Ethan and this firm will survive if you find someone else.”

He grins wide, showing off dimples and tipping over a hive of bees I didn’t know were in my tummy. Then he leans in until only inches separate us. He smells of leather, fresh grass, and rain, and I can’t fucking breathe at the desire burning into me from sky blue glowing eyes. “Sugar, why didn’t you just say so? I would love for you to be the one to handle me. I would like that a whole hell of a lot.”

“Amelia?” Karen is in the doorway of Ethan’s office, her disapproval clear as a bell.

At least the sight of her has Chris backing away, even if it’s only by a few inches. His annoyance is clear. “And you would be?”

Shit, do not laugh. People do not talk to Karen like that, ever. “I’m Karen Powers of Powers, Noble, Teller, Haynes, Bishop, and Associates. Is there something I can assist you with today, Mr. Baldwin?”

“No, Ms. Bishop is assisting me fine. You can go.” The drawl doesn’t soften the command. I’m surprised when Karen nods then leaves.

I take the opportunity to put distance between us. I’m in Ethan’s chair by the time he figures out I’m gone. He’s not happy. I don’t care. He’s a client. I’ve finally earned Karen’s respect. I’m not going to lose it by acting like a schoolgirl over the biggest manwhore in major league baseball. Hiding behind Ethan’s desk, I pull out a notepad as I grab a pen. “What is it exactly you’re needing assistance with today, Mr. Baldwin?”

His eyebrows go up, and he shakes his head. Then he pulls out a paper from the back pocket of his jeans, tossing it on the desk. He sits down on the chair in front of the desk. “I’m being sued.  It’s bullshit. You need to make it go away. While you’re handling it, I want to sue the motherfucker who got me into it.”

Reading the summons, I’m shaking my head. “Why the hell are they suing you? State law says they can’t. What the hell?” I unlock Ethan’s computer then get into the suit online. “Motherfucker.” I exhale under my breath.

“What?”

“This lawyer is the equivalent of an ambulance chaser. He’s looking for you to throw money at him and his clients to make this go away. I’m sure the minute he saw your name is when he decided to take the chance on running with this. Where is the paperwork on the purchase?”

“My lawyer sent it to Ethan, it should be in his email.”

What other lawyer?  The signature is for a firm in Austin. “Why did you run this through a firm in Texas? Why didn’t you go through Ethan on this? If you had done it right, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

He shrugs. “I know that now. I’ve worked with him for over twelve years.  I wasn’t thinking of the differences in property laws from one state to another.”

“They should have though. As your lawyer he should have told you to go with Ethan, or at least someone here in Chicago. Did he?

“Dumbasses” slides out of my mouth. Crap, I meant to mouth it. I’m surprised he lets the insult slide rather than being outraged the way most men would be. As a woman who, at thirty-one, still gets carded when I buy wine, I’m used to men looking and talking down to me, only to get insulted if I ever dared to do the same. I’m scanning the paperwork, with a sigh. This is going to cost Baldwin.

I do some calculations then jot down important figures. “The quickest way to end the suit by the owners is to file a countersuit. It will kill two birds with one stone, getting the remaining tenants out of the property. Under state law the condo association had the right to sell the entire building if two-thirds of the property’s units voted to approve the transaction. You have the right to sue to get them out. I’m assuming you’ve offered fair compensation for the units?”

“I’m not suing people to throw them out of their homes. I have offered a fair amount for the units, they declined. I’m going around them, for now. The updates on the property will take at least six months to bring everything up to the level I want it. I’m still getting bids, I only bought it a month ago. I’ll give people a little more time then make another last offer.”

“Mr. Baldwin, if you don’t countersue the suit will move forward until we go before a judge to get it dismissed. Unless you want to throw money at them, which I’ll advise you is a bad move, you’ll appear vulnerable to future filings. It’s also bullshit. The lawyer will get a part of their settlement, which none of them deserve.” 

He shakes his head, “Suing people to get them out of their homes is almost as bad. I have enough problems with my reputation without adding to them. If it’s without merit it will get thrown out, right?”

I fight not to laugh when he mentions his reputation. If he cared about his reputation, he shouldn’t go to strip clubs on a weekly basis. “Yes, I’m sure this will get dismissed. It will still be a few weeks before it goes before a judge though. You were the one who walked in saying, make this go away. If you aren’t willing to countersue, the only option is to let it work its way through the system. Once it’s tossed we, or by then, you and Ethan can discuss how to deal with the holdouts.”

“Well fuck. I thought this would be easier. So a person can sue anyone these days without real legal justification, then not have to deal with the repercussions?”

Exasperation bubbles up. “I gave you a legal repercussion, we sue them back. They don’t have a legal leg to stand on. You would win and get money for at least legal fees for dealing with the suit. Do you want to sue them, or not?”

“No, I want to go after the asshole who put me in this position. When I signed I was told the place was empty. It wasn’t. Now I’m in this shit.”

“We can go after him. He and his firm have done this in the past at least twice. If you had brought this to Ethan, though, you wouldn’t be in this position. The due diligence would have been completed properly, which could be something they throw at us in court about the due diligence being your responsibility. However, since they have done this before, they’ll settle to make it go away before we get into court. If it goes before a judge they’re facing fines in addition to paying out to you.”

“All right then, get the ball rolling on the suit now.”

“I’ll need to do a little research on this before I write it up. Even though it’s Tuesday, it’s the day after the New Year. I still have people out of the office. I should have it ready to file by Thursday or Friday, at the latest.”

My hair is a boring brown I keep long, almost to the middle of my back. It’s a pain in the ass but it’s my one gasp of vanity. I spend a ridiculous amount on shampoo and conditioners and almost a half hour every morning flat ironing it. As I run my hand through it to get it off my neck, feeling overheated, I notice Chris’s eyes glimmer with approval as he watches my hair move. In that moment, every penny and minute spent on it is worth it.

“Good, works for me. I’ll plan on coming in Friday. Then we’ll go out for dinner, where I’ll let you insult me some more as long as you give me another smile.”

There is no stopping my blush, as I lose the fight not to smile. “I apologize if you feel—”

“Ms. Bishop, don’t go ruining the moment by lying to me. You aren’t sorry about a damn thing, sugar, and that’s all right by me. I loved it. It’s damn rare for a woman to call me a dumbass, especially when she already looked at me like she wanted to lick me like I’m a melting ice cream cone on a Texas summer day.” I blush to my belly button. Holy crap, I cannot believe what he is saying. “I recognized the look, as I’m pretty sure I was staring at your fine round ass the same way.” He did not just wink at me. Then he leans forward, his damn dimples on display. “On second thought, I don’t think I want to wait until Friday. Let’s get out of here and get us some ice cream.”

I’m so stunned I can’t even think. Oh my god, I had no idea dimples and a slow Southern drawl were killers of brain cells. Shaking my head, it doesn’t clear any quicker. “No, I’m sorry. I can’t. It wouldn’t be appropriate. You’re a client, as your attorney I’m not allowed—”

He shrugs. “All right then. You’re fired. I’ll wait until Ethan comes back.”

Asshole. “You can’t do that.”

“Ms. Bishop, I can do whatever the fuck I want. Since you want to hide behind being my lawyer, then I’ll take it out of the equation.”

“I’m not hiding behind anything. It’s called a conflict of interest and could get me suspended by the bar. And I can do whatever the fuck I want, too. Mr. Baldwin, if you fire me then there is absolutely no reason for me to ever see you again.” Two can play this game.

His mouth quirks up, except it’s clear he is not happy. There is no sign of his dimples, which is good, I don’t miss them at all. I really don’t. “Ms. Bishop, you want to play that way, fine. Once Ethan is back, though, we’ll have this discussion again.”

Ethan’s phone beeps, and I hit the button for the intercom. “Yes?”

“Michael Seaton is here. I put him in the Adams conference room.”

“Thank you, Mary.” Shaking my head, I meet his eyes and fuck me, I’m trapped in swirling blue. “I’m flattered. It’s just, I’m not a stripper. Not that there is anything wrong with strippers. I’m also not interested in casual sex, which is the only sex you seem to have. As far as I’m concerned there is no equation—you and I would be a negative sum.”

The last thing I expect is for him to throw back his head and laugh. It annoys the hell out of me the way his rich, husky laughter sends warm heat flowing through me. “Amelia.” He says my name slowly, like he’s savoring every letter. I fight not to shiver. “I do believe this is going to be so damn fun. The reason I fuck strippers is because they have curves and instead of bitching about them, they embrace them. You have the kind of curves that should come with a warning sign—your body makes my cock ache. I don’t see the shame in admitting it.

I don’t get why casual is a bad word. We have some fun, we see where things go. Life is too short not to enjoy the best parts. You get the suit written up and I’ll see you real soon.” He stands, and dear lord, he’s so tall and powerfully built. Then he walks away. Wow, you could bounce a quarter off his ass.

It’s a promise, not just his words but the hunger in his eyes. Holy fuck. Me. Chris Baldwin, the baddest boy in baseball, wants me. Amelia Bishop, fat, broken, and maybe a solid seven on a good day before I put on the weight, but now...hold on, he likes my body? I made his cock hard. Seriously?

The phone buzzes again. Shit. “I’m coming, Mary.” I don’t have time to get all gooey about a guy who, no matter how hot he is, is completely off-limits. Not just because he’s a client—his casual attitude about sex isn’t something I can handle. Besides, I’d disappoint him so quickly he would run for the nearest exit. With a sigh, I shut down Ethan’s computer before going to deal with the very uncomplicated Michael Seaton.