Jennifer Probst - Searching for Someday

And lust.

She pitied his clients. The man was all muscle and towering length, easily topping six four with massive shoulders, and a tight chest clearly shown through his white dress shirt. He didn’t just walk, he prowled. His tawny locks were a mass of thick messy waves her fingers itched to touch, and those jungle-green eyes pinned a woman to the wall and did bad things to her. The gold frames of his glasses only accented his gaze. Probing, heating, diving deep without apology or politeness. He’d be deadly in a courtroom, mesmerizing the jurors and dominating the judge. Finding women wasn’t part of his problem. Neither was getting them in bed. She’d bet once dawn broke over the horizon, he was long gone and there was little morning playtime.

Somehow, he reminded her of Matthew McConaughey from one of her guilty-pleasure movies, Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. His long face and craggy features were cut to inspire women to rip off their clothes, and his strong presence lit up a room. But he had an arrogance that cloaked him, as if he were above love and emotion and messiness. Above the poor humans he shared the pavement with.

That was the part that pissed her off.

Kate swore to break through that armor by the time she found him love. Then he’d be ready.

“That look is scaring the hell out of me.”

He crossed one ankle comfortably over his knee. His leather Italian loafers and cashmere socks told her he enjoyed his money and wore it well. The tight design of his navy blue suit screamed Calvin Klein. His tie was conservative pinstripe for his occupation, but her instinct screamed that there was an untamed wildness in his core desperate to come out. She scratched a note on her pad for a reminder when she was looking for a good match. “What look?”

He cocked his head and his lip quirked. She fought to keep her gaze from studying the sensual curve of his mouth and the fullness of his lower lip. “Like you’re about to dive into a project and get dirty.”

The word dirty buzzed in her ears and stroked between her legs. Mother of God, was she wet? She clenched her thighs and thought of war-strewn countries. Hungry children. Puppies trapped in animal shelters. Much better . Kate decided there was only one way to move forward without losing her mind. Show him who was boss.

She frowned and spoke in her prim, no-nonsense tone. “Let’s go over the basic rules first, shall we? You must be honest with me regarding all my questions. I’m here to help you and match up the woman best suited to your needs. You waste both of our time by misleading me. There is no embarrassment or judgment. I’ve heard many requests and have never gotten flustered, no matter what my client tells me.”

“Never?”

She tapped the gold-embossed pen against her pad. “Never.”

“Interesting.”

Kate ignored his murmur and forged on. “There’s a certain level of trust and respect we need to work together. If you feel that I’m not properly listening to your wishes, we’ll discuss the matter openly. Communication is key. I may also ask you to do things outside your comfort zone. Again, we’ll talk about your reservations, but I may ask you to try something you’d normally not be comfortable with. Sometimes, people get stuck in a certain way of socializing, and pushing past those boundaries ends up being a breakthrough. This is an organic process to satisfy the different needs of your life along with your heart.”

Kate uncapped her water bottle and took a sip. So far, so good. He scratched his head in serious thought and seemed to be considering her words carefully. “Have you ever slept with one of your clients?”

The water got stuck in her throat and went down the wrong pipe. She choked on the bubble and fought for breath. He sat patiently through her coughing fit, grabbed a tissue from the box on the table, and handed it to her. She pressed it to her streaming eyes. “Why would you ask me such a question?”

His shoulders lifted. “Well, you’re digging into my life. I figured if we’re going to trust one another, I should know something about you. Makes sense. You’re a type of counselor, and tight bonds form. Just wanted to know.”

“I don’t sleep with my clients. Ever.”

“Is that a company policy or your own personal code?”

Kate stomped down on her growing annoyance. He was like a predator, circling his prey and planning out the best route to block any escape. “Both. Once I sign you as a client, there’s a layer of trust that can’t be broken. I wouldn’t be able to give you what you need if I had personal intentions. And of course, if it didn’t work between us, Kinnections could be at stake. We won’t risk it.”

“Pity.”

She shifted her weight and studied him. Oh yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing. Throwing her off. Making her uncomfortable. Bringing sex into the picture so he could neatly take the reins and guide the conversation the way he wished. A gleeful cackle rose in her chest, but she managed to squash it in time. He had no idea how good she was at her job. “I see you don’t have the same code with your own clients.”

“Pardon?”

Kate pretended surprise. “Your clients. You are a divorce lawyer, and I’m sure you’re well versed in the bonding that goes on when counseling a brokenhearted, angry woman. Do you contain it to just sleeping with her, or have you ever instituted a longer-term relationship?”

He jerked in his seat. “I’d never sleep with a client.”

“Oh. Is that a company policy or your own personal code?”

His gaze narrowed at her sweetly posed question. “Nice volley.”

“Thank you. Now, instead of trading barbs for the rest of the hour, let’s go over some of the basics of what you need.” She scanned the stack of papers, though she’d already memorized most of his answers. “Intelligence is key. A woman who can hold her own with conversation. Someone formally educated. Master’s or bachelor’s degree?”

“Master’s preferred.”

She checked off the box. “Business background, or are you open to the creative professions?”

He winced. “God, no artists or writers. Well, literary writers would be acceptable. No fiction. Especially not those romance novels.”

Another check. “Family background also seems important to you. Let’s discuss a bit more. Are you looking for a woman whose parents are still together? Or are you looking to avoid alcoholism, drug abuse, or disease within the family genes?”

He shifted his weight. The arrogant cloud misted away, and she caught the first signs of discomfort. “I’m up for partner at my law firm. I’d like a woman who has no skeletons in her closet or family members who could pose a problem. We’ll be attending formal business dinners, functions, and most of the partners are conservative.”

“Understood.” She scrawled her pen over the page. “Personality is the other aspect that’s quite important. Do you enjoy a woman who’s funny? Shy? Assertive? Colorful? Tell me a bit about your past affairs or relationships.”

“I prefer a woman who is conservative in public. Loyalty is key. I dislike flirty women who crave attention. I want her to be strong within herself, but follow my lead when I need it.”

“When do you need it?”

“Excuse me?”

Kate looked up from her papers. “When do you need her to follow? Around your business partners? Your family? In public? Or in the bedroom?”

The air charged around her, but she ignored it. Talking about personal preferences in sex was a ticking bomb, but experience had taught her a few lessons. The more businesslike and unshocked she was, her clients ended up relaxing into the topic and usually confessed their innermost wants. “You want to know how I like my sex?”