Robyn Grady - The Case For Temptation

Earlier, he’d laid her gown over the back of a couch. She caught sight of it now before eyeing the door to the suite.

“This’ll be interesting.” She set down the container. “My first walk of shame.”

“If anyone can get away with wearing that evening gown this time of day, it’s you.”

She was busy searching the room-service spread again. Really looking this time, like she couldn’t find what she wanted. Impossible.

He put his fork down. “Are we missing something?”

“Plant-based milk?”

“Like soy?”

“Or almond.”

He got to his feet. “I’ll order some up.”

Waving him off, she reached for the pancakes. “This is even better.”

No trouble, but he wouldn’t push. If she was happy, so was he. And after breakfast, before they thought about jetting back to ordinary life, there might be time enough to revisit what they had discovered in each other the night before. Frankly, he wanted to slip the robe off her shoulders, taste every inch of that incredible body, and then do it all over again.

She was looking at his plate. He looked down, too. Ha. He’d forgotten all about the food.

As he pushed a loaded fork into his mouth and Teagan poured syrup over a pancake, she said, “I suppose you need to check out soon and get back.”

He chewed and swallowed while pouring them juice. “My flight’s not till one.”

“Mine’s around that time, too.”

“You need a lift to the airport?”

“No, no. I just don’t want to hold you up.”

“I’m in no hurry.” Watching how she was downing that juice, he asked, “Are you?”

She set down her empty glass. “It’s Sunday.”

Right. “The weekend. Time to relax. Forget about work.”

Although tomorrow would be a day and a half. He had depositions to sort, background notes, too. There was an afternoon meeting scheduled with that defamation client—former Londoner, Grant Howcroft. Hunter Publications was in for a very public kick in the corporate pants. Making up tales might sell magazines but—moral of the story, boys—dishonesty does not pay.

“It must be full-on being a big-name lawyer,” Teagan said as she cut into her syrup-soaked pancake.

Was he looking preoccupied?

“It can get busy,” he said, loading his fork again.

“Even on weekends?”

Remembering how her legs had dug into the back of his thighs as she’d bucked up against him, Jacob gave her his word. “Not this weekend.”

“Are you sure?”

He wanted to laugh. “Absolutely.”

“It’s just... I’ve seen that expression before. The gotta get back to the grind look.”

Sure. “There’s an element of that. You’d know, with a business of your own.”

“A small business. That’s more than enough.” She hastened to add, “Of course, people should make their own choices. Ambition isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

Ambition was a very good thing, particularly when someone had a past like his: a legacy of poverty, despair and why the hell bother .

“I had a weird upbringing. Guess that’s where I get my drive.” He put a little more sugar in his cup and listened to the tinkle of the spoon as he stirred. “How about you?”

“As far as drive goes? I want my business to do well.”

“It’s important to you?”

“Of course.”

He looped back to the heart of the question. “And your upbringing?” Her childhood?

“I wouldn’t say it was weird. More filled with challenges, I suppose.”

The previous night, they had learned so much about each other, and not all of it purely physical. And yet now, in the morning light, Teagan still seemed largely a mystery.

They both had flights to catch. Nevertheless, he wanted to know more— feel more, which was a big step for him. It was the right time, right place.

Certainly right girl.

After she’d finished two pancakes and Jacob had put a decent dent in his generous helping, he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin then tapped back into that question.

“So, where did you grow up again?” When they’d met, he’d asked about the accent, which wasn’t always noticeable but definitely cute.

“Australia. Sydney.” She chose a fat strawberry from the fruit platter. “My family’s still there. Well, my father and his wife and their kids. My oldest brother and his wife, too.”

“And the rest of the clan?”

“My other brothers are in the States now. Actually, the middle one lives here in LA. He’s engaged to someone who grew up in Oklahoma so he spends a lot of downtime there. The other brother’s in New York.”

“Hey. Small world.”

“Wynn’s a dyed-in-the-wool workaholic. Although, now that he has Grace in his life, I’m sure that’ll change. Or I hope that it does.”

In the middle of topping up coffee cups, Jacob hesitated as a chill rippled over his scalp. He shook it off. Found a smile.

“Wynn? That’s an unusual name. I’m putting a case together at the moment. The defendant, if it gets that far—” which it would “—his name is Wynn.”

“Wow. How about that.”

He nodded. Smiled again. Yeah. “How about that.”

Seeming to read his mind, Teagan laughed. “Don’t worry. It couldn’t be my Wynn. He keeps his cards close to his chest, but a libel suit? He’d have said something about that. Social media would be all over it.”

“We haven’t submitted yet. No one knows.”

Teagan reached for another berry while Jacob finished his second cup of coffee. She hadn’t spoken about her family the previous night and hadn’t gone into much detail now, not that he’d been particularly forthcoming in that area, either. Admitting that his background was weird was the tip of a Titanic-size iceberg. His childhood had been beyond toxic.

But right now he was more interested in Teagan. And Wynn.

“So what does your brother in New York do? We might know each other.”

“How many Wynns have you met again?”

He grinned and conceded. “Only one, and that’s on paper.”

“So you couldn’t know my brother.”

Ha. Right.

Still...

“What did you say he does for a living?”

Teagan gave him an odd look, like, “maybe drop this.” And he would, as soon as this was squared away, because the back of his neck was prickling now. Could be nothing, but he’d learned the hard way to always pay attention to that.

“Wynn works for my father’s company,” she said. “Or an arm of it. All the boys do.”

The prickling grew.

One arm of a family company? “Sounds as if your father runs a big enterprise.”

“It’s big, all right. Out of college, I decided to do my own thing. I didn’t want any part of the drama.”

“You’re not estranged from your family, though.”

Her eyebrows snapped together. “God, no.”

“Everyone went to that wedding?”

“Everyone was there.”

“So you’re all close.”

“We’ve had our differences, between my brothers and father particularly. Too much alike. Although, as they get older, it’s not as intense. And, yes. We are close. Protective.” She pulled the lapels of her robe together, up around her throat. “That’s the way it is with our family. We can say what we want about each other, but anyone throwing shade from the outside needs to brace himself for a smackdown.” She set her napkin on the table. “What about you?”

Jacob was still thinking about Wynn and family companies with arms in Sydney, LA and New York.

He tried to focus. “Sorry? What was that?”

“Your family, Jacob. Do you have any siblings? Nieces or nephews?”

“No siblings.” As far as blood went, anyway.