Just like my sister, I’d searched forthe onethroughout my early twenties. I’d connected with a man, someone I could love and eventually did love, and inevitably he broke my heart. It happened twice during law school.
Then, when I started working as a divorce attorney, I realized it was ridiculous to believe in the notion ofhappily ever after. At least for me. I represented men and women that had been blindsided by the fact that their spouses who vowed to love them until death do them part now found them repugnant. Every day I witnessed what happened when love faded. Or worse, the fall-out when it morphed into hatred.
It wouldn’t happen to me.
My desk phone buzzed and my assistant, Cynthia, said, “Tanya, you’re going to be late for your three-thirty.”
I rose to my feet. “Will you call them and tell them I’ve been detained? I’m leaving now, so I should be there by quarter to four.”
“Sure thing,” Cynthia replied.
I gathered my things and slipped on my light coat. It was fall in Texas, which meant it was only slightly cooler than the pits of Hell, but today it was rainy and windy and I didn’t want my dress to get soaked.
This meeting was my last of the day and I lamented the fact that Tessa had taken that job in Oregon right after college. It meant I couldn’t swing by her house with a pizza and chocolate when I was done. I knew she would need it. I decided to send her a chocolate bouquet the next day. If I couldn’t be there physically, I could at least offer some comfort.
The drive to the law offices of Stern and Holtzman took longer than usual because of the rain, making me even later. I hustled inside, wincing when I realized the clock was rapidly closing in on four and I should have been there well over thirty minutes before. It was the first settlement meeting between my client and her husband and I wasn’t making the best impression.
I nodded to the receptionist as I entered the building. She smiled politely and rose from behind the desk to lead me to the conference room.
“Mr. Hawke asked me to bring you straight back when you arrived,” she stated. “Both clients are already here.”
I winced internally when I saw them through the glass walls of the conference room. Even ten feet away, I could see the tension in Mrs. Browning’s body and the bitter anger in her face. I could also see the self-satisfied smirk on her soon-to-be-ex-husband’s face. I had no doubt he’d just said something nasty.
Double shit.
“Thank you,” I said to the receptionist as I opened the door to the room.
I’d been so distracted by my client’s obvious distress that I hadn’t noticed the other man in the room. How his initial presence had gone unnoticed eluded me when he caught my gaze the first time.
He was tall and lean, his body highlighted by the expensive fabric and cut of the suit that was clearly tailored specifically for him. His slightly wavy black hair was swept back from his face, showcasing his incredible bone structure. Every line, every bone in his face, was clean and sharp. His mouth was thin, but somehow it did nothing to detract from his beauty. Despite all the attributes that made him so arresting, it was his eyes that held my rapt attention. They were icy blue, the color of frigid oceans and winter skies, and they studied me with a brilliant intensity that made me believe he could see straight into my soul.
Physically, he wasn’t my usual type, but those eyes made it impossible for me to look away. I was pierced and pinned, like a butterfly to a mounting board.
I realized I’d entered the room nearly ten seconds ago without speaking and jumped. “I’m so sorry I’m late. With the weather being so nasty, the traffic was horrible.”
Despite my coat and umbrella, my hair had gotten a good dose of rain and my legs were still wet from my dash into the building.
“I’m glad you could grace us with your presence,” Mr. Browning sneered, incurring my immediate dislike. While it wasn’t professional for me to be so tardy, his rude, sarcastic remark was unnecessary.
The man, who’d yet to introduce himself, glanced over at his client. Though he didn’t speak aloud, his eyes conveyed more than enough. Mr. Browning didn’t speak another word.
“I’m Tanya Blake, Mrs. Browning’s attorney,” I said, offering my hand. I always shook hands with the men and women I met. It was an excellent way to take someone’s measure.
“Jordan Hawke, Mr. Browning’s representation.”
At the rich, accented sound of his voice and the touch of his warm palm against mine, I experienced an insane sensation—light-headed, hot, and vaguely turned on. I was moments away from a fit of the vapours, like some prim Victorian miss. Which would be fitting, since his accent was decidedly British.
“Again, I’m sorry I’m late,” I repeated. When he didn’t seem inclined to release my hand, I gently tugged it free from his grasp. I realized then I had no recollection of his handshake. I’d been so distracted by my own reaction to his touch that I’d completely forgotten my usual assessment.
“I’ll have my assistant get you a towel and some coffee,” he offered.
I heard Mr. Browning’s heavy sigh and smiled. “That would be lovely, but why don’t we go ahead and get started?”
Jordan nodded his head and moved toward the door. He spoke with his assistant while I removed my coat and took my things out of my bag. By the time he returned to the table, I’d managed to gather my composure.
Mr. Browning’s temperament didn’t improve during the meeting. Though I’d had a lot of experience with people like him during the last six years, my patience wasn’t at its peak after listening to my sister cry over a jackass breaking her heart. Especially since he’d essentially done the same thing to his wife. By the end of the meeting, I had to fight the urge to kick his shin every time he opened his mouth.
Jordan walked Mr. Browning out of the room after it was clear that nothing would be resolved that afternoon and I looked at Jeanette Browning. “I’m sorry you were here alone with him earlier. I won’t be late again.”
