Trish Wylie - The Inconvenient Laws of Attraction

Glancing at their audience, she found them watching her like some kind of floor show. Surely he didn’t want to—

‘You can say whatever you have to say in front of them,’ he added as if he’d read her mind.

Considering her thoughts since she’d laid eyes on him, Olivia sincerely hoped he hadn’t.

‘No secrets among friends,’ the man who’d answered the door added. ‘Offer us the right money, we could tell you enough to get him arrested in a half-dozen states.’

‘And Canada,’ added a chorus of voices.

‘You got something you need me to sign, hand it over,’ Blake said over the sound of laughter. ‘You can mail whatever memento I’ve got coming my way.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t do that,’ Olivia replied patiently. ‘You’re the sole beneficiary. He left everything to you.’

‘Everything?’

‘Yes.’

‘All of it?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded. He obviously hadn’t known. Not that the flat tone to his deep voice gave any indication he was happy with the news. The majority of people would have been turning cartwheels.

‘There’s no one else?’

Confused by the question after her use of the term ‘sole beneficiary’, she shook her head. ‘No.’ Thanks to Charles Warren’s will, his son was one of the richest, most powerful men in America. ‘I know it must seem daunting to take on the responsibility of—’

‘Such a great legacy?’ A dark brow lifted. ‘Wrong tactic, Miss—what did you say your name was again?’

‘Brannigan.’ She tried not to be piqued by the fact he hadn’t remembered. ‘Olivia Brannigan.’

‘Well, Liv —’ he leaned forward ‘—someone should probably have warned you: I don’t give a rat’s ass how great a legacy it is. I don’t want it.’

Was he insane ?

‘I understand you need time to process everything, b—’

‘There’s nothing to process.’ Setting his mug down, he pushed to his feet. ‘What I need is to get this job done.’

As she faltered, he walked past her and picked up his tools. She’d never been in such a surreal situation. What did he expect her to do? Go back to the office, walk up to her boss and say, Sorry, no go, we have to find someone else we can give billions of dollars’ worth of property and assets to? They could hold a raffle.

When she didn’t move, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. ‘Am I supposed to tip you?’

Seriously?

The professional stepped forward and smiled smoothly. ‘I don’t think you understand, Mr Clayton. Allow me to make it clear: you’re it. Whether you want it or not, you’re the sole beneficiary of Charles Warren’s will.’

‘ The Charles Warren?’ an incredulous voice asked behind her.

‘Your father made his wishes very clear.’

‘Father?’ said the same incredulous voice. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’

So much for no secrets between friends …

He took a step forward and lowered his voice. ‘Look, lady, I get that you’re trying to do your job but, in case you didn’t get it, allow me to make it clear: I’m not your man . So unless you’re planning on setting down that briefcase and picking up a power tool, I suggest you hightail it back to Manhattan and tell Wagner, Liebstrahm, Barker and DeLuise—or whoever it is you answer to further down the food chain—they best find a distant Warren relative they can lay this on. I have a life. I’m not living someone else’s.’

‘This isn’t going anywhere,’ she insisted with a deceptive calmness that masked the effect his proximity was having on her body.

‘Maybe not,’ he allowed. ‘But I can.’

What about the life he’d said he had? Olivia found herself wondering if there was a woman in it; one who would miss him when he was gone. Somehow she doubted he was the type to stick around long enough to let anyone get that close. Judging by the number of addresses she’d discovered in various different states—some of which he’d only resided in for a matter of weeks—any relationships he had were short-lived. Not that looking the way he did would leave him short of company for long.

Squaring her shoulders, she reached into the front of the briefcase he’d mentioned and held out her hand. ‘I’ll leave my card. When you’ve had time to think things over—’

‘Not gonna happen.’

Olivia stood her ground.

‘I take it you can find the door on your own?’

Okay. If he wanted to play hardball, she’d play. Lowering her gaze to his broad chest, she relaxed her shoulders and took a step forward, standing within inches of his large body and slowly lifting her lashes until she was looking deep into dark eyes. She ran her tongue over her lips and smoothed them together, watching his gaze lower and smiling when he frowned. She spoke in a low voice just loud enough for their audience to hear.

‘Tomorrow morning … all over the state … thousands of Warren Enterprises employees are going to turn up for work. I’d like to be able to tell them they’ll have a job a month from now, especially in this economy.’ She angled her head. ‘Wouldn’t you?’

Reaching out, she set her business card on a plank of wood beside him before turning on her heel and walking back down the hall. Her hand was on the door when she heard a voice ask, ‘Charles Warren is your old man?’

Silence.

‘You know my cousin Mike works for Warren Tech? He’s got a wife and three kids …’

Olivia smiled as she opened the door. There was no question in her mind she’d be seeing him again.

She was looking forward to it already.

Blake had always liked cities better than small towns. Cities were anonymous, no one wanted to poke their nose in anyone else’s business; it was easy to disappear into the crowd in the city. At least it used to be …

‘Isn’t that your lawyer lady from the other day?’

‘Yup.’ He’d known she was there from the minute she appeared with her mismatched set of friends. His gaze found her in the crowded bar with the same accuracy as a heat-seeking missile.

‘Sure fills out a pair of jeans,’ Marty observed.

‘I’m sure Chrissy will be glad to hear you noticed.’

‘I’m married, not blind.’

Without her power suit she was different, there was no denying that. Dressed in hip-hugging jeans and a scoopnecked blouse that highlighted her narrow waist, pale skin and the swell of her breasts, it had been hard to ignore her presence since she arrived. If there’d been the remotest chance they might cross paths again, he would never have accepted Marty’s usual end-of-the-working-week invitation for a beer and a game of pool in the nearest bar to the restoration project they’d been working on in the West Village. But it was too late now. It was only a matter of time before she crossed the room.

Bending over to line up his shot, Blake’s gaze was drawn upward by the appearance of distinctly feminine, jeans-clad thighs at the other side of the table.

‘Gentlemen …’

And there she was.

Sinking a ball into the pocket in front of her before standing upright, he set the end of his cue on the floor, folding his fingers around it as he looked her over.

American pool halls had once been the exclusive realm of men who smoked cigars and drank beer while they growled and spit tobacco. Young truants cleaned tables and floors, racking balls for new games while they learnt pool hustling and miscreant behaviour. It had been a poor man’s men’s club, devoid of female company.

Blake couldn’t help thinking it would have been better for Olivia Brannigan if it had stayed that way.

Because the second his gaze swept over her, he had the exact same reaction he’d had the first time. The tips of his fingers itched to be thrust into her sleek blond mane and mess it up until it framed her face the way it would after a session of the kind of hot, sweaty, mutually gratifying sex he doubted she’d ever experienced. He wanted to set the pad of his thumb on her full lips and smear away any hint of lipstick before he set his mouth on hers, to place a palm to the small of her back, melding her body to his as—