Catch (2 page)

Allowing herself to dream a moment, Tamsen saw a Wiccan woman wearing earthy, vibrant, lacy layers who wouldn't be moved on her opinions, a fatalist weaving around on impossibly high heels.
 
Not a girl in jeans and sporting a work shirt.

He had been there and now he came closer. No more time to wonder what he might be thinking; getting lost in her own thoughts sometimes wasn't a good idea.

"I'd like to discuss the current contract with you.
 
Is there any chance we could do it over a cup of coffee sometime?"

Turning to face him, a familiar feeling came over her, a sense of mystery that caused a small rush of adrenaline. "I don't see why not."
 

Where was this going?
 
Not in the habit of accepting invitations for coffee from men who made her feel this uneasy, albeit an exciting type of unease, she couldn't be sure if this was good or bad.
 
Save for something. Something she didn't quite understand pushing her to give this man a chance.
 
Having learned a long time ago to ignore these kinds of feelings at her peril, she let her soul have its say.

He looked quite delighted.
 
His eyes lit up and a small smile erupted on his face.
 
Tamsen decided that she quite liked the way his face changed when he smiled.

"Great."
 
He shuffled around in his pants pocket and took out his wallet. "Here's my card.
 
It's got all my numbers on it.
 
But what say we head to the coffee bar downstairs now?
 
You look like you've finished here and I could help you with all your bits and pieces."

Oh, he could help her with her bits and pieces all right.
 
Mentally slapping herself, Tamsen dragged her thoughts back from the depths, where they were swimming with bottom-dwelling catfish.
 
He was offering a cup of coffee and already she had mentally stripped him and was damn near trying him for size.
 

"Actually there are a couple of things I have to do first."
 
She was loath to let the invitation slide and that amused her. "But how about I meet you downstairs in, say, half an hour?"

He looked at his watch; she couldn't help noticing it was Gucci.
 

"Sounds fine, I'll see you then."
 
With that, he turned on his heels and she was left gaping like one of her fish.

Gina rushed over.
 
"Have you just made a date or something with that jerk?"

Tamsen was still stunned.
 
"Yes, it appears I have.
 
But it's just business."

"
Business
!"
 
Gina looked furious.
 

"I know."
 
Tamsen's voice sounded dreamy.
 
Her eyes drifted from Gina to follow him up the corridor, his rhythmic movement adding to his allure.
 

"Tammy.
 
Look at me."
 
Gina's abrupt tone brought Tamsen back to the here and now.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was saying, you saw him being the anti-Christ not less than twenty minutes ago. So what's up?"

"Don't know.
 
It just felt right."
 
Tamsen shrugged.
 
As far as she was concerned, the spirits knew something she and Gina did not and she wouldn't risk crossing them. "Look, Gina, don't sweat the small stuff."

"You can leave the clichés out of this conversation.
 
He's heavy-duty shit and you just don't want to go there."

Tamsen packed the last of her equipment back into the small carrycase she’d brought with her and cast an eye around quickly to make sure nothing had been overlooked.
 
"Relax, it's a just cup of coffee.
 
How much trouble can I get into?"

Gina cocked an eyebrow.
 
"How much do you want?"

"Give me a break.
 
How long is it since I've been anywhere near a man, never mind one as mind-blowingly sexy as..." She fished around for the business card she'd put in her pocket. "Matthew Solomon, Partner, Harding & Kilpatrick, Barristers & Solicitors?" Tamsen giggled. "I mean, how much trouble can a little old anti-Christ be?"

Gina sighed. "I don't think you want to know."

"Maybe it’s time I found out."
 
Tamsen turned in the direction of the lifts.
 
"I'll see you at home tonight and fill you in on the whole thing."
 
She blew Gina a kiss and headed out into the lobby.

Matthew was baffled.
 
Not the usual state for a successful corporate lawyer who prided himself on being skilled at logical thinking.
 
He’d spent years being paid well to avoid trouble and confrontation, so why the hell had he just asked that enticing bundle of trouble at the fish tank out for coffee?
 

Like he didn't have enough women problems.
 
An ex on his back like a limpet. A mother who refused to keep her nose out of his life and constantly demanded progress reports on the chances of her getting grandchildren in the near future. Russell Crowe he wasn't, so why head back into the arena?
 

Yet something about her had “clicked” and that disturbed him.
 
He'd never followed anything remotely like gut instinct before, but for some reason - one he was unable to explain - he didn't want to override his internal compass on this one.

He seated himself at the large oak desk in his spartanly furnished office.
 
His secretary, Danielle, often complained about the lack of anything personal surrounding him, but it gave him a sense of calm and control.

Casting his eye across the desk, he noticed a new proposal had appeared in his absence.
 
Another franchise agreement for one of his major clients - his area of expertise, but it seemed less exciting these days.

"Danni!"
 
He hated using the internal phone system and insisted on yelling through the office for his secretary, a constant irritation to his partners and the other staff.
 

Danielle appeared at his door, looking as tempting as ever, a short white miniskirt exposing the length of her long brown legs.
 
Her Spanish descent showed in her deep blue eyes and olive skin, and the thick, jet-black hair that hung to her shoulders.
 
Her looks were one of the reasons he'd hired her: he’d figured if he was going to have to spend eight hours a day with this woman, she might as well be easy on the eye.

"Yes, Matthew?"

"When did this arrive?" He held the offending contract aloft; the sheer weight of the paper was enough to give him carpel syndrome.

"It's been on your desk since this morning.
 
I don't know how you could've missed it.
 
Tim's been on the phone already wanting to know if you've looked it over and when he can come in and discuss it."

Matt sighed heavily. "What's my day look like tomorrow?"

"You've got a conference call booked at 9.30 with Sheldon that is likely to take at least an hour. The rest of the day's free, but Tim was hoping to come in this afternoon."

"There's no urgency and I haven't even looked at the damn thing."

"You want me to tell reception to hold your calls so you can look it over now?"

Matt checked his watch.
 
He was supposed to be meeting Miss Fish in twenty minutes.
 
"No, I'm not getting to it today.
 
Put him off until tomorrow afternoon, and if he complains tell him I've got so much on I've circumnavigated myself and ended back up my own ass."

Danni laughed.
 
"Right.
 
You don't mind if I paraphrase, do you?"

He smiled back.
 
She was a great girl.
 
Pity she was married, and happily at that.
 
"You tell him what you think is appropriate, Danni.
 
You always do."

The coffee bar turned out to be one of those trendy places that were springing up around this part of town.
 
Filled with women who had nothing to do in their day except sip lattés and discuss their husbands’ career paths and what private school they were sending their children too.
 
Tamsen felt distinctly underdressed and as if she should be looking for the tradesmen's entrance.

Beginning to regret agreeing to the coffee idea, it felt bad enough sharing a home with the receptionist, but Tamsen wondered if this overstepped some sort of professional boundary agreeing to coffee with a partner. Too late to back out now, she spotted Matthew walking out of the lift lobby.
 
He moved with a sureness and grace that melted her insides.
 
Probably lust, she decided, although it had been so long since she'd found any man remotely attractive her body's response to the sight of him surprised her.
 

The fact she should find this supposed bundle of trouble enticing worried her no end. What had Gina mentioned about working with a Greek-God-woman-magnet? She must have described this man.
 

When he spotted her across the busy lobby, a smile lit his features.
 
She half expected to find that somebody he knew was standing behind her.
 

He covered the distance between them quickly, running the gauntlet of afternoon office workers and a horde of privately schooled kids who were moving in the usual adolescent pack, oblivious to passers-by and cell phones in need of surgical removal from their heads.

"Great, you made it." He smiled again and she had an instant desire to touch the small dimple that appeared on his cheek.
 
"I was concerned you might find some more fish to talk to and stand me up."

"No, the Comet I put in your aquarium was my last live drop for the day, so I'm all yours."

"Sounds promising." He cast her a glance that spoke of potential pleasures to come, throwing her insides into complete turmoil.
 
"So, what'll you have?"
 
His gaze didn't falter and she felt exposed, her mind in a whirl and the urgent need to sit down taking hold, even though they had yet to secure a table.

"Chamomile tea."
 
That should settle her nerves.
 
She reached for her purse.

"No, my treat.
 
You can buy next time."

He was already planning a next time? "Thank you. Why don't we sit outside?" The effect he was having on her, she needed the extra air.

"I hate the traffic fumes. There's a great courtyard out the back, it's reasonably quiet and they've got your sort of people back there."
 

They headed out through the kitchen into a small-enclosed space while she wondered what sort of people he could mean.
 
It was lush and green; she was struck by the stillness and the complete feeling of harmony.
 
He pulled up a couple of wooden seats for them by a small walled fountain that trickled into a beautiful, clear pool.
 
There were half a dozen goldfish swimming in the pristine water and all became clear. Tamsen couldn't help smiling.

"See, I knew you'd feel at home here."

"It's lovely. How come more people don't sit back here?"
 
"Ah, you know the beautiful people; they dress up to be seen.
 
I'm sure the Celestials and Veiltails here - " he cast his hand toward the pond, "would be happy to see them, but alas, only the staff and I spend much time out here."

She was stunned.
 
He knew goldfish.

She sat back in her seat and looked at him in a new light.
 
“You asked me down here to pick my brains about fish, huh?
 
Most people wouldn't know a Fantail from a Comet, so what was with the dumb blonde imitation back at the office?"

"Well, I wouldn't want just anyone to know I had a soft spot for fish now, would I?"

She giggled. “I presume you must have been the one who got the company to consent to the installation then?"

"Maybe," he said.

"Hey, Matt, here's your double shot to keep you going for the afternoon."
 
A young lanky man who looked no more than seventeen delivered a short black and Tamsen's tea.
 

"Thanks, Steve."

"No probs."
 
The look he exchanged with Matt spoke of a shared history. "Hope you enjoy the tea as much as the company."
 

Matt's expressive eyes screamed scram.
 
Steve duly turned on his sandaled heel and headed back into the undergrowth.

"The café owner's son, paying off some repair bills.
 
Got drunk a couple of months ago and nearly wrote off the old man's latest BMW Coupe."

"Ooh, nasty."

"Yeah, he's back to a 10-speed until he pays off the bill and gets his license back."

"Remind me never to have children. Though I don't suppose I'd have to worry about a coupe being smashed up."
 

He smiled and her stomach did a flip-flop again.

"Come on, there's money in fish, especially if you look at franchising the business."

"Yeah, well..." She took a sip of the tea; it was tart on her tongue, but warming and soothing. "It's early days yet."

"What a good job you met me, because I'm just the man to be steering you in the right direction."

She nearly choked on her next mouthful.
 
The right direction for what, she wondered?

He downed his coffee in one mouthful, put the small white china cup back in the saucer and turned a look on her that could have knocked her off her feet if she hadn't been seated.
 
Was the sparkle in his eyes passion, or just the caffeine hit?
 
She suspected the latter, but secretly hoped for the former.