Hard Rules
“I love horses,” she says, as a carriage pulled by a black gelding passes by us. “And this one is quite beautiful.”
“Have you been around horses?”
“My father loved to ride. I love to ride.” I’m curious about this side of her, but she’s already moving on. “I’m glad the carriages only work the section of Sixteenth closed to traffic. The animals seem well cared for too.”
“Unlike the ones in New York City,” I say, reluctantly allowing her to divert the topic from herself. “My apartment was right next to Central Park. Those poor animals are in the middle of traffic getting their hoofs beat to hell.”
“You lived in Manhattan?”
“Yeah. I moved there right out of law school and stayed there until I moved back to Denver last year.”
She stops dead in her tracks and turns to look at me. “You’re an attorney?”
“Didn’t I mention that?”
“No. You did not mention that. You sat there and listened to me talk about law school and you didn’t say a word.”
I step to her, my hands settling at her waist, under the jacket. “I’m telling you now.”
“What kind of law?”
“Corporate.”
“Where’d you go to school?”
“Harvard.”
She gapes. “Harvard? You went to Harvard?”
“Yes. I went to Harvard.”
“And then you were recruited out of college to work in New York?”
“That’s right.”
“Money or passion?” she asks.
My brows dip. “What?”
“Are you in it for the money or the passion?”
“Why can’t I have both?”
“Is that possible?”
“Not always. But sometimes.” I study her a moment, and that sexy trepidation I’ve noticed several times before has returned with a vengeance. “Emily,” I say softly, lifting my chin toward our destination. “We’re ten feet from the building, and my car, which means us leaving together, and we aren’t moving any closer to achieving that goal. Is this nerves or second thoughts?”
“I really want to know about you and Harvard and—”
“Understood. And I’ll tell you, but we’re still standing here.”
She glances at the building and then back to me. “I wasn’t, but now that you just pointed all of that out, I am. It’s been a while and you’re…”
“I’m what?”
“You. You’re just you, and don’t ask me to explain that because like you, I can’t.”
There is something so damn sweet about this woman that hits all the right spots and I reach over and caress hair from her face. “We’re going to be good together. We already are. I feel it. You have to feel it, too. Do you feel it?”
“Yes,” she says. “I do.”
Pleased with her answer, I link our arms again and we cross a walkway toward the building. “I don’t have to ask to know you’re a good attorney,” she comments a few steps later. “You’re very persuasive.”
I laugh. “Some would say I’m an asshole.”
“Are you?”
“If I’m dealing with an asshole, then yes, I’m an asshole. Have you taken the LSAT?”
“Even if I had, I wouldn’t tell you. I have no desire to compare scores.”
“Now you’ve really made me curious.”
“Why?” she asks as we reach the glass doors to the building. “It’s nothing you haven’t already done and done very well.”
I key a code into the security panel and open the door. “What was your score?” I press again.
Her answer is to purses her lips, and her stride into the building, making a beeline for the elevators. I laugh and pursue, snagging her hand. “I need to get my bag,” I say, leading her in the opposite direction. “And then I’m going to get your scores out of you.”
“I didn’t even say I took the test.”
“We both know you did.”
Her cell phone rings, she stops walking to reach into her purse, and I release her and motion to the desk. “I’ll grab my bag.”
She nods, and I head for the security desk, giving Randy a wave. By the time I reach the counter, he’s sets my bag on top, and leans close. “Your father was with a woman tonight.”
“I know,” I say. “I had the misfortune of running into them. Do you know her?”
“No, but I saw her with your brother a couple of weeks back at a restaurant around the corner.”
My fucking brother is manipulating and spying on my father. Why does this surprise me? “Thanks, Randy. Do me a favor. Make me a copy of tonight’s security feed, wipe it clean, and send it to my apartment.”
“Consider it done.”
I give him a nod and grab my cell phone from my pocket, turning to find Emily standing in profile near the elevator corridor, her head tilted low. I text Seth: My father’s at Jeffrey’s with a woman. Randy says he saw her with Derek off location. I know nothing else.
I wait for a reply, watching Emily as she turns just enough for me to see the anger on her face, a perfect match for what I’m feeling right now. Well, not a perfect match per se. She’s sweet at her core, while I’m not sure what the hell I am, but it’s not even close to sweet. I’m everything she is not, and that makes her damn appealing.