M.J. Rodgers - Beauty Vs. The Beast

She continued to ignore his outstretched hand. She did not return his smile. Her hands balled into fists. She rested her knuckles on the desk and leaned toward him menacingly.

“If you don’t doubt my legal competency, why are you dismissing me?”

He dropped his hand since she obviously wasn’t going to take it. He tried an earnest look and a calming tone, his most successful combination for difficult-patient situations.

“I don’t mean to offend you, Kay. I appreciate your reputation. Please understand that this decision is based purely on a personal idiosyncrasy.”

He followed his words with his most winning smile. Once again, she did not smile back.

“Rejection under the vague umbrella of personal idiosyncrasy, is offensive. I would hope you would at least afford me the professional courtesy of saying what you really mean. Don’t let my small size delude you. I’m not a child. I’ll be thirty in a few months. You don’t have to baby me.”

Damian’s smile faded as his eyebrows rose in surprise for the second time that morning.

So she was demanding the truth from him, was she? All right. He’d give her the truth. He looked her up and down. Deliberately. Not like a psychologist. Like a man.

“I have no illusions about your being a child. Far from it. It is precisely because I find you far too desirable a woman that you will not do. I’m facing a difficult lawsuit. I am not going to risk the possibly disastrous complications of getting personally involved with my attorney while I’m fighting for my professional life. Good morning.”

He pivoted sharply on the carpet and strode purposefully toward the door.

Her voice carried quite well considering its innate softness.

“Not so fast, Dr. Steele. ”

He stopped and swung back to face her, irritated to be so strongly summoned by such a soft, yet clearly minatory, manner. That irritation crept into his words.

“There isn’t anything left to say.”

She moved quickly around her desk and marched toward him. She stopped directly in front of him, arms crossed over her chest, her chin up, her eyes sparking blue-white fire despite the saccharine smile that drew back her lips.

“I have two things to say. One, it takes two to get involved. And as difficult as it may be for you to imagine, I am fully prepared to struggle against succumbing to your charisma and live up to the ethical standards of my profession.”

She was so smug in her sarcasm. So damn smug. His irritation grew.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t—”

“The second thing I’d like to say is this,” she interrupted deliberately, still in that far-too-sweet tone. “If you, a psychologist, cannot control your impulses, then, Doctor, perhaps you’ve been spending your time on the wrong side of the analyst’s couch. I can get you the name of a good therapist if you don’t know one.”

Damian clenched his hands at his sides as an unwelcome heat rose in his chest and flared through his nostrils. How dare this pint-size attorney tell him that he needed psychological help and offer to find him a good psychologist. His voice lowered into a deadly warning hush.

“I have no trouble controlling my impulses,” he said, although at the moment he knew he was having a lot of trouble.

She took another step toward him, obviously ignoring the warning in his tone, her voice still too sweet, her eyes still too blue-white hot.

“Then we have no problem here, do we, Doctor? I will give you my word of honor that I will abide by my ethical code of having no personal involvement with a client, and you will give me your word of honor that you will not fire me for the duration of this case as long as I perform my legal services competently.”

Damian watched her silently for a moment, newly stunned by her challenge, wondering how she had managed to maneuver him into this untenable position.

How could he say no? He’d be admitting that he couldn’t keep his attraction for her under control. Which was absurd. Of course he could. At the moment, he was far more inclined to wring that slim neck of hers than kiss those soft-looking lips.

“So what’s it to be, Dr. Steele? Are you going to hire me, or are you going to spend some much-needed time on another analyst’s couch?”

She was so damn cool and confident and sure of herself. Behind that soft, feminine facade, he could clearly see a fierce feline with claws and a considerable set of sharp teeth.

What had ever given him the impression that this lady lawyer could be vulnerable?

Damian suddenly found himself smiling, the anger she had provoked in him fading. If she could think this quickly on her feet and prove to be this good an adversary in the courtroom, he’d be foolish not to engage her for his legal defense.

He held out his hand. “All right, Kay. You’re hired. And you have my word as a man of honor that I will not fire you for anything other than incompetency.”

She closed the small remaining distance between them and took his hand, giving it a good, solid shake, just as she had when they first introduced themselves. A small, triumphant smile lifted the sides of her lips.

“You won’t regret it.”

On the contrary, Damian was beginning to regret it already. The warmth of her hand was something he could feel right through to his solar plexus. She might be able to disavow the attraction between them, but he couldn’t. Her light scent was as addictive as sweet, warm sunshine. She was bright; she was beautiful; she was out of bounds.

A hell of a dangerous combination. Damn. He could see it now. His mistake had been in trying to walk away from her earlier. He should have run.

* * *

“SO, Kay,” Adam Justice began in the Wednesday morning partners’ meeting, “I see your case of Nye vs. Steele has already made the local news.”

Kay quickly swallowed her sip of licorice-spice herbal tea and set her mug on the oval conference table around which sat the four partners of Justice Inc.—herself, Adam Justice, Marc Truesdale and Octavia Osborne.

Kay swung her body to the right to look into Adam’s stone face, as cool and mysterious as his pale eyes and the scar that jagged from his jaw to disappear below his impeccable, starched-white dress shirt.

“Mrs. Nye’s tearful interview about the loss of her husband, Roy, was just an overt play for sympathy. The press is obviously giving her airtime only because of the unusual dual-personality feature of her case.”

“The news commentator mentioned that Dr. Steele couldn’t be reached for comment,” Adam said. “Did you advise him to avoid the press?”

“Yes. Pretrial motions are Friday morning. I believe I’ll be able to get the case dismissed entirely, in which case Dr. Steele doesn’t need to have his face flashed on the screen with that kind of negative publicity.”

Adam made a note on his case list, his full head of straight, jet-black hair nodding in silent, sober approval. Adam Justice’s reputation as a hard-driving, brilliant attorney was legendary throughout Seattle’s legal system.

And his sister, Ariana Justice—better known as AJ—ran a detective firm touted as one of the best in the state.

Yet even after five years of working with the two of them, Kay had learned very little about the human side of either Adam or AJ. Both brother and sister assiduously deflected any and every personal probe.

“What’s your angle on dismissal?” Marc Truesdale asked as he grabbed for his second bran muffin from the lazy Susan at the center of the conference table.

Marc was the opposite of Adam, open and easy to get to know. He’d joined the firm just two years before, yet Kay knew far more about him than she suspected she’d ever know about Adam. Marc was overwhelmingly good-looking, oozed charm and was only a few months older than Kay. And despite his reputation for romancing the ladies, Marc always treated her with the strict deference and respect of one colleague for another.