Sweet Seduction Sacrifice (2 page)

I turned and stood on my half of the lift, facing the closing doors. I could see his hand hovering over the floor buttons, I wondered why.

He cleared his throat. "What floor?"

Oh. "Um... fifth." His hand returned to his other, taking the coffee cup and lifting it to his lips. I tried to get a look at the logo, but there wasn't any, the cup was a cheap generic one. Ours were black with hot pink writing, proclaiming to one and all,
Sweet Seduction on High!

I was supremely amused to see him grimace when he swallowed the opposition's product down.

"What's so funny?" he asked in a drawl.

"You don't look like you're enjoying your coffee much," I answered immediately and then cursed myself internally for several beats. Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut? Who gives a toss about whether he enjoys his coffee or not?

He leaned against the side of the lift and looked at me, his body now full on to my side. I was determinedly looking at the closed doors, my hazy reflection depicted there making me look a little squat. I'm not that short, but it didn't do me any favours.

"It's not that great, you're right." His answer was so slow in coming, I thought he had decided to ignore my ridiculous remark.

"You should try Sweet Seduction on High," I offered, then was instantly mortified to be touting my wares like some street hawker inside this plush building, on my way up to probably the most expensive lawyers' office in town. And to a man who looked like a god and dressed like he owned half the city.

My eyes flicked up briefly to catch his expression. It was amused. I blinked and watched as his mouth widened in the sexiest smile I had ever laid eyes on. He had a dimple, in the cleft of his chin. Oh my God. I realised my mouth was hanging open slightly, so quickly snapped it shut and turned back to the doors. The man didn't say anything, thankfully and just then the doors opened to Anscombe, Drake and Kline's main office.

I took a deep breath in and walked out of the lift, realising belatedly that the god-like man was following two steps behind. I stopped and looked over my shoulder at him. He was still smiling. His blue-blue eyes and short midnight dark hair framing an obviously quite amused handsome face. He held his arm open indicating the reception desk.

"You first. I'm still finishing my god-awful coffee that isn't as good as Sweet Seduction's on High, I believe."

I paused, then decided to hell with it and smiled at him. I saw it then, the widening of his eyes. I was watching his face when I smiled and I swear his eyes got larger. Then swiftly returned to a half-mast state that would look great in bed.

My smile was still on my face when I approached the girl at reception, sitting behind a highly polished wooden desk. ADK in bold embossed lettering centre front.

"Hello," she chirped, giving me a wattage overloaded smile in return which somehow managed to look fake without being obvious. Her eyes trailed down the length of me, in my normal work attire. Black slacks, crisp untucked white fitted blouse over the top and flat black leather shoes. Who wants to stand on heels behind a coffee counter all day or get coffee grounds and melted chocolate on their designer wardrobe? She was quite clearly unimpressed by my presentation skills though, obviously not the firm's normal clientèle. Maybe it's a girl thing. Girls just know when other girls are being insincere and judgemental. Or maybe she was just that much of a bitch it wasn't too hard to miss.

"Hi," I said a little too deliberately. Kelly always said I couldn't refuse a bitch moment when presented with one. This woman just had bitch written all over her expensive clothes and way too much jewellery. "Genevieve Cain for Finn Drake."

She ducked her head down and looked at something on her screen.

"Your appointment was for 9am," she remarked curtly, obviously trying to not-so-subtly point out I was ten minutes late.

"Sorry about that, had to get rid of a truck-load of red roses. You know how it is, there's only so much room you can spare for the blasted things."

She frowned at me and then reschooled her face into a faux smile when the god-like-man I had forgotten all about behind me, coughed. Or it could have been laughed, it was difficult to tell.

"Take a seat." She indicated a set of couches in the corner for me to sit on. "Mr Drake will be with you shortly."

I nodded and turned around, only to find the god-like man was standing right in my space. I stepped to the side to walk around him at exactly the same moment he stepped to the same side to avoid me. We collided, his hands came up to steady me, briefcase and I'm presuming near-empty take-away coffee cup as well. He was close, I could feel this amazing heat coming off his body in waves. It made me feel a little dizzy. I think I might have swayed.

Coffee tipped out of the take-away cup and fell to the cream carpet on the floor.

"Oops," I said before I could stop myself. "That looked like black coffee, so blotting it with cold water should do the trick, no need for a laundry detergent," I added helpfully and then cringed. What the hell? Shut up, Gen. "Bit of a waste." My mouth seemed to be permanently switched on. My brain wasn't though. "Shouldn't waste good coffee." My motto, come to haunt me.

He smiled at me. It was beautiful. "It wasn't good coffee," he admitted quietly, as though it was a secret and he only wanted me to know.

I leaned into him, somehow drawn to an invisible magnetic force and whispered back, "I won't tell anyone you didn't shop for coffee at Sweet Seduction. I promise."

He stared at me for a moment and then muttered something under his breath I couldn't quite catch. It broke the spell, whatever the hell the spell was in the first place. But I was suddenly lucid and quite possibly in trouble of winning the title for most ridiculous banter on earth.

I quickly untangled myself from his grip and rushed over to the couches, immediately grabbing a random magazine off the coffee table and burying my face in its pages. I didn't dare look up, but I knew he was watching me. I could feel it, which is ridiculous, but true. His eyes bore into me as though they were physically able to reach inside my skin. I concentrated on breathing, unable to take in the glossy mag's pages before me.

I distantly heard the god-like man saying to the bitch-at-reception, "Any messages for me, Cathy?"

"Not this morning, Mr Anscombe," came her overly chirpy reply.

Ah crap, I'd flirted, most embarrassingly and quite unsuccessfully, with the guy who owns the law firm. I blinked a few times to clear my head of all the curse words storming through my brain.

And realised, belatedly, that the magazine I was holding was upside down and around the wrong way.

Jeez, Gen. Get a grip!

I had just managed to banish the blush, when a large shadow fell over me. I lifted my head and met, for the second time that day, a god-like smile shining down on me. This one was accompanied by thick blond, short hair, a small smattering of stubble, that appeared a fashion statement rather than any indication he had been too late getting out of bed. Although the slight dishevelment of his hair would make you believe he'd not long vacated said bed and it had been fun. Big brown eyes with crinkles around the edges, making his age a little hard to guess, but I was heading towards similar to god-like-man number one: thirty-something.

His smile was wide and encompassed most of his face, not just literally, but in a way that your eyes couldn't help being drawn to it and nowhere else. Dazzling, I think they call it.

He reached a hand down, interrupting my mental descriptions and obvious perusal of his very fine body and said, "Ms Cain? I'm Finn Drake. So sorry to keep you waiting, had an unexpected call."

I took his hand, shaking it and in no doubt he hadn't had a call at all, but unlike the bitch-at-reception, this guy knew how to make his clients feel welcomed.

"Mr Drake, thanks for seeing me," I said, getting to my feet. He stepped back, but didn't release my hand immediately. It wasn't as though he was helping me to my feet, but then again, it was.

"This way, please," he said indicating the hall we were to head down.

I walked in front of him, which was a little disconcerting because I didn't know where I was going, but he hadn't left me much choice. Maybe he was a gentleman and ladies always went first. He needed to get into the twenty-first century and help a girl out, because we came to a fork in the hallway and I had to stop.

"On the right, first door you come to," he offered helpfully from right behind my shoulder.

I forged ahead, purposely not looking over my shoulder to see how close he was. What was with it with these lawyers and invading personal spaces? The room we entered was big and spacious. A couple of armchairs sat opposite a couch in the corner, off to the side was a bookshelf laden with law-type looking books - all leather bound, dreary and heavy looking - a filing cabinet and then the main attraction, an antique partners desk with two chairs in front and a comfortable swivel chair at the back. I headed directly towards them, not wanting to relax on another couch.

Finn Drake went to the swivel chair and waited for me to sit before doing so himself. Manners. Nice.

"Would you like a coffee or tea?" he asked pleasantly and I instinctively knew neither would be nice. I don't like tea and if god-like Mr Anscombe was forced to buy cheap generic take-away cupped coffee from my opposition, the alternative in his office must be bad.

I shook my head and played nervously with the strap of my handbag on my lap.

His eyes flicked over me once and he nodded, then leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers together, elbows on armrests and said, "All right, why don't you tell me how you would like Anscombe, Drake and Kline to help you today?"

I swallowed, I was so out of my league.

I reached inside my purse and pulled the envelope out, then ran my fingers over it checking to make sure the letter was still inside. I was aware I was biting my bottom lip again, a nervous gesture that I hated but couldn't seem to make myself stop. I took a deep breath in, placed my handbag on the floor and looked up into the warm, brown eyes of the very expensive looking lawyer before me.

"I'm not sure if I'm in the right place," I admitted, reluctantly.

"Do you require legal representation?" he asked immediately.

I blinked, then nodded.

"What type of representation, Ms Cain?"

I cocked my head at him, there were different types? I thought a lawyer was a lawyer was a lawyer. He smiled back at me, it was lovely, but not beautiful like god-like Mr Anscombe.

"We work predominantly in family law with a little property law thrown into the mix down on the third floor. Do you have a marriage or partnership settlement you wish to finalise or is this pertaining to the purchase or sale of a property?"

Oh. "My boyfriend," I spluttered. "Er... ex-boyfriend. He..." I looked down at the letter and bit my lip again.

Finn Drake leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on top of the desk, hands clasped together.

"Nothing you say will be repeated outside of this office, other than a few brief facts at our partners meetings, to ensure we are all aware of what cases the firm is currently handling. The majority of what passes between us, stays between you, me and my secretary, and no one else. Of course, where legal documentation and court appearances are concerned, any pertinent information we have discussed will be given, but you will be aware of what we share outside of this office or not, before it gets to that stage."

I nodded, still biting my lip.

"Why don't you tell me about the letter," he said softly. "I recognise the letterhead, its from a firm in South Auckland."

I looked down at the envelope and noticed it did have a letterhead stencilled on the front. He'd noticed it from his side of the desk and I had been running my hands over it constantly since I had got the damn thing from my purse.

I handed it over to him and said, having to clear my throat a couple of times first, "I received this last week. He wants half of everything. I don't know what to do."

He took the letter without comment and slipped it free of the envelope. It took him no more than two minutes to read it, but it felt like a lifetime. Everything I'd worked so hard for split asunder because of Brett.

"How long were you together?" he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"Almost seven years, I kicked him out the first time twelve months ago." My voice was whisper quiet. This was such personal information to share with someone you didn't even know.

"The first time?" he asked and his voice sounded kind.

"He came back four times over the past year." I felt that blush rising again and bit my lip, then forcefully released it. "I let him back four times," I admitted feeling like the worst kind of idiot alive today.

"When was the last time he left?"

"The last time
I kicked him out
," I emphasised the fact I had done the dumping, somehow that was important to me, "was four months ago. But even when he came back, we weren't together." I have no idea why I said that. But I couldn't stop myself elaborating further. "He started sleeping on the couch almost two years ago. We haven't been together properly for years." I slammed my lips closed and promised myself I wouldn't talk again.