Trish Wylie - The Inconvenient Laws of Attraction

‘Blake …’ Her voice was thick, the unspoken plea caught somewhere between stop and don’t stop .

The tip of his thumb brushed against her jaw as his gaze lifted to search her eyes and a slow smile began to form on the sensual curve of his mouth. ‘That’s a step in the right direction.’

‘What is?’

‘My name. It’s the first time you’ve used it.’

It was?

‘Say it again,’ he demanded, his smile growing. ‘Practice makes perfect.’

The sparkle of amusement in his eyes snapped her to her senses. What was she doing? He wasn’t caught up in the moment the way she was. He knew exactly what he was doing. Worse still, he knew what it was doing to her .

Never in all her born days had she been more tempted to play the tease and hand out a little payback. But since she was pretty sure playing up to him would give him exactly what he wanted …

As if the wall would magically move and place some distance between them if she just pushed hard enough, Olivia leaned back and fought through the fog of residual desire and a rapidly descending red mist to form a lightning-fast list of defensive moves she could use without causing any lasting damage. It didn’t matter that he was bigger and stronger than she was—she’d been trained for that. Step one: verbal warning.

She opened her mouth and sucked in a sharp breath.

‘Hey, Anders, we’re going to the deli,’ a voice called, making her aware the music had stopped. ‘You coming?’

‘Did I mention I owe you one for my new call sign?’ He stepped back and responded with, ‘Right behind you.’

Olivia frowned as she exhaled. He couldn’t leave. They weren’t done yet.

‘We’ll pick this up in the morning—nine a.m.—first place on your list.’ To her complete astonishment and immeasurable irritation, he flashed a grin that knocked her on her ear. He even had the unmitigated gall to add a wink before telling her, ‘I’ll bring my own coffee.’

There. Weren’t. Words.

Olivia followed him through the door and down the hall. ‘Mr Clayton—’

‘We’re back to Mr Clayton again?’

‘This is a professional relationship, nothing more.’

‘Don’t remember agreeing to that.’

‘As I said, there are lines I won’t cross.’

‘Lack of adventure noted.’

‘It’s got nothing to do with a lack of adventure.’ She followed him down the first flight of stairs. ‘You seem to be under the impression—’

‘That you’re attracted to me?’

‘I am not —’ Her breath caught when he turned without warning and she found herself looking directly into his eyes again, up close and personal.

How did that keep happening?

Placing large hands on lean hips, he nodded firmly. ‘Add lying to me to the list: don’t do it .’

‘I wasn’t—’

‘Yes, you were.’

Well, yes, she was, but he couldn’t know that. What part of dealing with a lawyer hadn’t he got? Did he think she couldn’t look into his sensationally dark, fathomless eyes and conceal what she wanted? How did he think lawyers negotiated with other lawyers?

She lifted her chin. ‘You’re not the first difficult client I’ve worked with, Mr Clayton.’

‘Blake. And worked for …’

The question slipped out before she could stop it. ‘Does this tactic work for you with women?’

‘This one isn’t?’

‘No.’

‘You sure about that?’

Oh , he was annoying.

The corners of his mouth twitched with barely suppressed amusement as he dropped his hands to his sides. ‘You want something to eat before you head back?’

‘No.’ She faltered, remembering the manners drummed into her from an early age. ‘Thank you.’

‘Then I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He flashed another grin as he turned away. ‘Try not to miss me too much.’

Olivia shook her head as he jogged down the second flight of stairs. The man was unbelievable. But if he thought he had the upper hand, he was mistaken. She could maintain her professional decorum under trying circumstances. No way was she screwing up two careers inside a decade. Henceforth, she was enacting a strictly at arm’s length policy. No encouraging him through verbal engagement, no rising to the bait—even if she had to bite her damn tongue off—and if he ever got close enough to do the whole addle-her-senses thing he was so good at …

Yeah, she really couldn’t let that happen again.

Continuing down the stairs, she allowed herself a brief foray into fantasy where she could hand out a little quid pro quo. In that universe she would have the same effect on him as he had on her. She would play on it, winding him tight, getting him so hot and hard for her, he’d beg —

She took a deep breath and blew it out with puffed cheeks. Since that train of thought wasn’t helping any, she started looking for loopholes in his stupid rules as she made her way back to the office. Women like her didn’t have hot, steamy casual sex with men like him—even if they were tempted.

Really, really tempted …

BLAKE walked around the vast expanse of space that had been one of Charles Warren’s last purchases. The view of Central Park’s lush green treetops, rolling lawns and duck ponds beneath the sharp contrast of the Manhattan skyline was spectacular, there was no denying that. But could he see himself living there?

Hell, no.

‘Pretty amazing, isn’t it?’

Olivia followed him around with a file cradled against her breasts and the same transparent enthusiasm as a realtor looking to make a sale. It wouldn’t last. After several days in her company one-on-one, Blake knew she started the day in a better mood than she ended it. He liked to think he’d had something to do with that.

‘Amazing would be one word.’ Turning towards her, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. ‘Little over the top, don’t you think?’

Everything about the place had been over the top since they arrived on the red-carpeted steps outside one of New York’s most prestigious landmark hotels. A liveried doorman had touched the peak of his cap as they stepped into the revolving doors. The manager had met them in the foyer, shaken Blake’s hand and practically fallen over himself to make it clear he could get anything from anywhere at a moment’s notice. There had even been maids in traditional uniforms who magically scurried out of sight when the doors to the penthouse were opened. Blake had hated every moment.

Even while he stood inside three floors of some of the largest square footage known to Manhattan apartment-kind, he could feel the walls closing in on him.

‘It’s … opulent …’ she replied after some thought.

‘Opulent would be another word.’

Looking at the long sofas placed at right angles to a massive wood-burning stove, he took his hands out of his pockets, sat down, and stretched his arms along the cushions at the back. As he set his feet on the glass coffee table, he saw Olivia frown in disapproval before she controlled her expression.

‘You could redecorate.’

‘What would you change?’ he asked, idly swaying his feet from side to side. When she frowned again, he stopped the movement and stifled a smile. There were times she made it too easy for him.

‘It’s not mine to change.’

‘If it was …’

Her gaze flickered briefly to his, then away. She’d been doing that a lot. Different sides of an elevator, more than an arm’s length away when they were walking, subtle side-steps if he moved any closer—he’d noticed them all and each and every one had either amused or bugged him to varying degrees.