Natalie Charles - The Burden of Desire

She frowned at her watch. It wouldn’t help her cause that she was ten minutes late as a result of the wardrobe dilemma. She supposed she could blame the shoes, which forced her to calculate each and every step lest she tumble and break something. Black leather peep-toe pumps with an ankle strap weren’t practical in Connecticut’s autumn, but since when was fashion about pragmatism? She could concede the three-inch heels were high, but they were also beautiful.

Sally glanced down at her feet and changed her mind. The shoes were divine. She would concede nothing. If she was lucky, Jack was running late, too.

She balanced the coffee tray and pressed her hip against the heavy metal door that led to the state’s attorney’s office. “Morning, Delia.” She beamed as she swept up to Reception and planted a coffee on the desk. “This is for your troubles. I’ll no doubt add to them today.”

“Bless you.” Delia swiped a finger across her temple to tuck a stray hair behind one ear. Sally had purchased hair dye for her once during a lunch break. Shade #47, glossy chestnut. “Jack’s waiting for you in his office.”

He wasn’t late. Shoot. Sally beamed a smile that she didn’t exactly feel. “Great, thanks!”

She continued down the hall, taking a breath when she saw that Jack’s door was open. Sally always came prepared, and today was no different. She had a plan. She would pretend to listen to his concerns, but she’d already decided that to the extent Jack was feeling worried about her workload, she was feeling equally resistant to working with another attorney. This was why she’d spent last night preparing a compelling speech that would culminate when she peered out the window, turned her face to receive the best of the morning light and declared in a tone that conveyed both struggle with and acceptance of her circumstances, “The thing is, Jack, I just don’t play well with others.”

As a backup plan, she’d brought him a coffee. Another deep breath. This would work.

She rapped gently on the door, before entering and saying brightly, “Sorry I’m late. You wanted to see me?”

But that’s as far as she got. Jack had a guest. So much for blaming her shoes. So much for finding her best light in that lousy excuse for a window, and dramatizing memorized confessions. The skin on her arms prickled. She suddenly didn’t care if Jack Reynolds chewed her out publicly and called her a lousy attorney on the record. She didn’t care if her beautiful, expensive new shoes spontaneously combusted. All she cared about was the man talking to Jack. The man she’d once lived to hate.

Ben McNamara. The devil himself.

“Hey, Sally.” Jack beamed as he gestured to the man. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to introduce you two.”

Ben gave her a cocky smile that showed the top row of his perfectly straight white teeth. “Hello, Sally.”

He extended his hand, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from his blue eyes. Those familiar cobalt-blue eyes behind those thin silver frames. Even now the anger bubbled in her gut. Just what did he think he was doing here? Here, on her territory. She made a point of looking at his hand before setting the coffee tray on Jack’s desk and folding both her arms across her chest. Ben withdrew his hand and brought it down to his side. “Suit yourself,” he said.

Jack looked back and forth between them. “You know each other already?”

“Oh, we’ve met.” The tone of her voice was blistering. “Hello, Ben. It’s been a long time.” And yet somehow not quite long enough.

He was smiling at her as if they were old friends, which they were not. She’d like to pretend that they didn’t know each other at all. They had no history worth revisiting, just a series of progressively bad choices. Graduating from law school with someone didn’t make you friends. She hadn’t so much as thought of Ben in years now. And he had to show up now of all days, just as she was preparing for trial. He had to dampen her trial buzz. Damn him.

“We went to Columbia together,” Ben explained to Jack. “I remember Sally. She was second in our class.”

Ben arched his eyebrow at her, and Sally’s cheeks burned with rage. She’d been second, and in some false display of humility, Ben had neglected to mention that he’d been first. “Oh, Ben. No one cares about law school rankings,” she said through a tight smile.

“I couldn’t agree more, Sal,” he said easily, giving her a little wink. “Nothing’s more important than experience.”

No doubt he believed his experience, whatever it was, trumped hers. He was still smug and unbearable. Good to know that some things really never changed. Bastard.

He looked...all right, she supposed. Healthy. That was good, that fate didn’t smite him with some awful disease, like leprosy or rabies. It wasn’t as if she wished rabies on him. Now, maybe she could’ve gotten behind a good case of poison ivy—one that kept him up for a night or two. That would only be karma. But rabies? Too far. So it was good that he wasn’t foaming at the mouth and that he looked normal. Passably attractive.

She rubbed at her suddenly pounding temple. Maybe “passably attractive” was an understatement. He looked hot, as if he’d just wandered off a billboard advertising that dark gray designer suit he was wearing. She could admire his bone structure, the sharp angles on his jaw complimenting an aquiline nose. His olive skin had darkened over an apparently leisurely summer, bringing attention to his deep blue eyes. He looked clean and showered and still raging with whatever pheromones he exuded that made women weak-kneed around him.

Other women, not her. His pheromones repelled her. Just the sight of him spiked her blood pressure and made her want to do rash things, like throw something hard through something glass to distract him long enough so that she could run away. And now he was watching her, waiting for some kind of response.

Just...damn him.

* * *

Sally Dawson, in the flesh, after all these years. Ben wouldn’t expect her to be happy to see him. Still, he would have hoped that time would mitigate some of the animosity. He ran his gaze along Sally’s slender frame. The years had been kind to her, at least. Her blond hair fell to her shoulders before curling loosely like question marks at the ends. She was glaring at him, all trench coat, bare legs and high heels. It entered his mind that she could very well be naked under that coat. His collar tightened.

She was still beautiful, but then Sally had never lacked the financial means to achieve beauty. He’d always had some trouble explaining her to other people. It was as if the high school drama queen had one day become bored with sunbathing and decided to use part of her ample trust fund to go to law school. He had to give her credit for sticking with the profession for this long.

“I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” said Jack. He clapped Ben on the shoulder. “Then you’ll be happy to know that Ben is joining our team.”

Her eyes widened. “No.” She looked at him as if he’d just kicked a puppy. “I thought you were working in Manhattan?”

“I left Pitney Stern years ago. Since then I’ve served as a Marine Corps judge advocate.” His back straightened. Being counsel to the marines carried with it the pride of being in top physical condition. All marines were battle ready.

“He completed tours in Iraq and Afghanistan,” Jack added.

“But now you’re here. Why?”

Charming, the way her eyes narrowed to little slits as if she were deciding whether she should slip off one of those stilettos and stab him in the neck.

“Because we need him,” Jack interjected. “We’ve been looking to hire someone for a while, and we’re lucky to have him.”