The Grass is Greener (24 page)

‘I see.' He walked across to his desk, unbuttoning the jacket of his suit as he pulled out his chair and sat down. The simple action caused the pulse at her throat to leap.

You've never been into suits. It's lads all round. Get a grip, girl.

He looked at her curiously. ‘Why are you still standing?'

Well, maybe because after several attempts at sitting in your presence I've always been told not to.

She said nothing, however, and parked her bum.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Did I say you could sit down?'

What the?

‘Oh, I –' She was going to stand up again when he waved a hand. ‘Claudia, I'm just messing with you.'

Wait, he's joking around with me? We do jokes now? When did that happen?

Given his expression was blank of any humour or amusement she wasn't quite sure how to take all this.

‘You are?'

‘I'm messing with you to illustrate exactly how easy it really is.' This time his lips did curl into a smile. It lit his face from within too and made her heart stop for one delectable moment as she admired it. ‘Judge Hickles was messing with you.'

‘He was?'

‘It's one of his favourite pastimes. You will notice that he never actually said that anything you had said or presented was wrong.'

‘No, I guess not.'

‘He just posed a lot of questions. A lot of unnecessary questions I might add. The correct response would have been to simply hold your ground and be confident in why you were there rather than being led willy-nilly off the beaten track. Like just now, you should have said, “Stuff you, Seb, I'm sitting down.”'

She grinned. ‘That does have a very nice ring to it.'

‘In future, Claudia, simply stick to your plan. Court appearances are one part smarts, one part acting. Forget you don't
know everything because you can never admit it. Do you understand?'

She nodded. ‘Perfectly.'

She couldn't help but recognise that, despite Sebastian's poor bedside manner, he did give her good advice. As a boss he was hard but he was also fair – it was no wonder all the lawyers in the office coveted her position. There was no way that she was going to waste this opportunity.

‘Should I get on with the Jackson dispute? Or was there something else you wanted me to work on first?'

He spun in his chair to access the low shelving against the wall behind him. ‘I'll just check,' he said, flicking through a stack of case files that were sitting there. While he was doing so she took the liberty of casting her eyes around his office, which she could only note was sparse. There were no photo frames depicting his friends and family, or even something ornamental that doubled as a paperweight. Two walls were glass, but the other two formed an L-shape around his desk and could have supported a painting, or some piece of artwork that reflected his personality. One of the walls was half-covered by a sturdy looking bookcase, on the other hung both his degrees in non-descript black frames – one in law, the other in commerce – as well as his admission certificates to the Supreme Court and to the High Court. She noted that he was not messy. His books were all neatly positioned, mostly by size rather than author or subject. His paperwork was neatly piled or filed. Even his coffee mug sat precisely on a steel coaster. It was clean, black and void of coffee.

Did Sebastian have any life outside work?

She knew he had no female friends.

But what about male ones? Apart from Cyril …

‘Claudia.' Her eyes refocused on the man in front of her. He was holding out a file.

‘Your mind has a tendency to wander at the oddest moments,' he observed dryly.

‘Sorry, I was just thinking,' She took the file and licked her lips. ‘Are you coming to the fundraiser at Costello's on Thursday morning?'

‘No.'

‘Half the office is going.'

He stood up, buttoning his jacket. ‘I don't see how that is any concern of mine.'

‘You might find it fun,' she suggested with a smile. ‘Life can't be all work and no play.'

He walked around his desk to observe her, leaning back on the edge of it with folded arms. ‘I don't doubt that. In fact, I'm surprised you're so keen on having the whole office crash your date with Tom Rubin.'

For some reason the husky sound in his voice, the way he was looking at her, put images in her head that shouldn't be there.

‘Oh, it's not a date,' she clarified hastily.

‘Why not? He seems like just the sort of naive do-gooder perfect for you.'

‘
Naive
? As opposed to your startling sophistication, I suppose,' she said, before she thought better of the words. She felt herself going red with embarrassment, her heart fluttered against her ribcage like a deck of cards.

You bloody idiot.

He was silent for a moment as he steadily regarded her. The air swirling around them, tainted with the taste of the for bidden; the electricity so hot it burned her.

Don't say anything else. Don't say anything else.

You'll just make it worse.

He stood up from the desk and his height dwarfed her, his body invaded her personal space.

‘I don't date,' he said quietly. ‘Not to say, if given the chance, I wouldn't use you, hurt you and discard you.'

If given the chance?

What did he mean by that exactly?

She slowly raised her eyes to his and the need she saw there scorched her like the flame of a torch, causing her insides to liquefy and pool at her feet.

‘Stick with Tom Rubin,' he rasped.

When she continued to stand there in shock, he added, ‘If you don't mind, I'd prefer to get on with my next case now rather than plan your social life.'

‘Of course,' she squeaked in mortification before dashing out of there faster than a rabbit with her father's bullets screaming over its head.

Damn!

She'd completely taken the wind out of his sails again and he'd said far more than he'd meant to.

It was the fault of that damned RSPCA tin she'd had sitting on her desk since last week. That's what had put him in this mood. He never would have said anything if his willpower hadn't been so sorely tested just the day before.

Juliet had mentioned that a stack of brochures from the RSPCA about the abuse of animals had been couriered across with the tin, so he'd been unable to stop himself from dropping by her desk to conduct his own cross-examination.

‘Is there a reason why you're looking into animal cruelty, Claudia, or has this always been a hobby of yours?' he'd asked.

Her expression had grown uncommonly dark. ‘I became a lawyer to fight for the innocent.' She looked up at him. ‘Who is more innocent than those who cannot defend themselves?'

He had been taken aback by the conviction in her words. It was a truth so often forgotten by the profession. Why were they all here after all? To seek justice for the innocent, not just animals but all those who had been victims and could
not speak for themselves. How easily his peers lost sight of this, distracted by the search for money, power, status and the admiration of their fellow lawyers. Under his steady gaze, her expression suddenly cleared, like the sun coming out from behind a raincloud.

‘Were you hoping to make a contribution, Seb?' She picked up the tin and shook it with a smile. ‘For a gold coin donation I'll give you a sticker as well.'

He'd had no such thought in his head, but after that stirring speech how could he possibly say no?'

Well, he should have.

Honestly, the girl was like a Venus fly trap, drawing you in with the sweet scent of her nectar and then snapping shut when you least expected it.

Reaching into his pocket and removing his wallet, he'd withdrawn a two-dollar coin. After slotting it into the tin, he'd turned around to find that she was standing up with a roll of stickers in her hand. Before he could protest, she'd reached out and pressed a round message to the lapel of his jacket. At the touch of her hand his words immediately dried up.

She smoothed her thumb across the words ‘I love animals' and then looked up at him.

‘There you go.'

Unlike many other lawyers in the firm he had never suffered from stage fright. One of his greatest skills was always having something to say, even if it was only to give him time to fight another day.

Then, however, he'd had nothing. He was speechless, like a teenager flirting with a girl for the first time.

All he'd been able to do was clear his throat and walk off. He'd worn that bloody sticker for the rest of the day too, as though to prove he was completely immune to its symbolic meaning. It had finally found a home in his bathroom bin that night. The sight of it in the morning, however, had been a reminder of his vulnerability.

How dare she get under his skin.

How dare she ruin the perfect order of his life.

How dare she confuse him this way!

It was no wonder he'd said what he had when she'd invited him to Costello's while comparing him to her latest love interest.

It was a warning, as much to her as to himself. Now, though, the cat was out of the bag. And it made them awkward around each other. So he did the only thing a man in his position could do.

He'd loaded her up with more work.

The busier she was, the less she'd bother him.

On Thursday morning, when he decided to go into work early to hide because he knew everyone was going to Costello's, he realised that maybe he'd gone a bit too far.

The office was more or less dark apart from a dim light that came from the main open-plan area. Someone had either stayed all night or come in early like him. He was about to walk past the area when he heard the gentle sound of snoring. Stepping out of the hall, he strode into the space, casting his gaze around the room.

There she was, forehead in the crook of one arm, fast asleep. The other hand was stretched out in front of her, clutching the last document she had been working on. He twitched it out of her hand and ran his eyes over it. She had incorporated all the corrections he'd suggested earlier that week and finessed it further.

‘Hmm, this isn't half bad.'

‘Huh? What? Say again?' Claudia's head flicked up and she jerked herself into an upright position, wincing at a pain in her neck. She rubbed bleary eyes and smudged her mascara as she squinted up at him.

‘Seb, is that you?'

His heart lurched at the sound of her sleepy voice. Thank goodness no other staff were in the office. They would have a field day with this one.

‘Yes, it's me. What are you doing here, Claudia?'

‘Er … working.'

‘I hate to contradict you, but you were actually sleeping.'

Claudia sat up straighter and waved a dismissive hand. ‘It was only for a few minutes. Just a little pick-me-up to help me power ahead.' She slid one palm over another in a whooshing motion.

‘Right,' he said, eyeing the drool on the corner of her mouth with some amusement.

She smiled. ‘What time did you say it was again?'

‘I didn't. But it's six am.'

She swallowed hard. ‘Oh.'

‘More than a few minutes, wasn't it?' he remarked dryly.

‘Maybe,' she said quickly, and then brightened. ‘On the plus side, I finished drafting that letter you wanted. It's –' She began to pat down the desk for the document she'd been holding a few seconds ago. He could see the panic on her face at its disappearance and took pity on her.

‘It's okay, I was just reading it.' He handed the document back to her and then drew a tissue from her desk box and held this out as well.

Her eyes darted to it but did not take it. ‘What's that for?'

He pointed at her chin, but when she continued to look confused, he wiped the drool from it himself, screwed up the tissue and chucked it in her wastepaper basket.

‘I look terrible, don't I?'

In his eyes, she looked adorable. Honest, unsophisticated and real. He was so used to women dressing up for him. Coiffed and groomed to within an inch of their life, to spend no more than a week in his company. And here was Claudia, her makeup smudged, her hair fuzzy and her shirt once again not quite buttoned correctly, the swell of her lace-cupped breast just visible beneath her shirt. All he felt like doing was ripping off his own jacket and pulling her into his lap.

A muscle jerked in his cheek as he silently studied her.

‘I'll take that as a yes.' Claudia licked her lips nervously and he followed the movement of her small pink tongue with interest. ‘Not to worry.' She stood up hastily. ‘I'll just need a few minutes in the ladies bathroom, a coffee. Okay, maybe two coffees, a Berocca …

‘And a packet of Mentos?' he suggested.

‘Do you have some?' Her eyes rounded eagerly.

‘Claudia, you're going home, where you will take the morning off, at the very least. I'll drive you there myself. Where do you live?'

‘Oh.' She quickly shook her head. ‘There's no need for you to do that. I'll just catch the bus after the breakfast at Costello's this morning.'

‘By all means, if you want Tom Coffeeman to see you looking like this.' He took his phone from his pocket, snapped a shot of her, and then handed it over.

She glanced at the screen and gave a startled yelp.

He turned and walked out of the open-plan area back into the hall. ‘Grab your things and try to keep up. We're leaving.'

He heard the clicking of her shoes on the tiled floor behind him as he entered the foyer and jabbed at the button on the lift. She fell in beside him.

‘Listen, about the other day, in your office.'

Really? He'd been hoping to avoid mentioning that.

‘I want apologise about giving you the wrong impression. I really wasn't implying that I – that we – that somehow –'

‘Because that would be highly inappropriate,' he suggested.

‘Exactly,' she agreed, clearly glad he'd filled in the blanks.

‘Claudia,' he sighed. ‘You don't need to apologise. It wasn't entirely your fault.'

‘You mean,' her mouth dried, ‘you think I'm attractive.'

‘Very.'

It took her a moment to digest this.

So he added with some amusement, ‘Most of the time.'

He was relieved when the lift doors opened and they stepped in. It was a perfect opportunity to end the conversation.

But when the lift doors closed, she reached up and pulled the pins out of her messy hair. He suspected she did it because they were falling out anyway, although watching her thread her fingers through the silken strands had him holding his breath.

The lift doors opened.

Thank God.

They entered the executive car park reserved only for partners of the firm. It was completely empty except for his own car – a quietly stylish silver Audi sedan. Claudia's lips curled slightly at the sight of it, but she said nothing.

He unlocked the car with his remote and they both hopped in. She broke the silence briefly to give him her address, which wasn't really that far from their offices at all. It was exactly the sort of residence he expected a successful young lawyer of moderate means to have: a two-storey apartment block in the heart of Subiaco, which overlocked some gorgeous gardens and a community swimming pool. When he drove up into the brick-paved driveway he had expected her to simply grab her handbag and hop out; however, the slight gasp that escaped her lips caused him to pause.

‘What is it?'

‘My front door is open.'

‘What?' He followed her gaze to the second storey. This was accessed by a flight of stairs on the side of the building. A wide balcony gave means of entry to three front doors, embossed and labelled with metallic gold numbers three, four and five. Number four was open.

She got out of the car and so did he. ‘I'll come with you,' he said.

She didn't seem to hear him but he followed anyway as she hurried up the stairs. He grabbed her arm before she could walk over the threshold, taking in the state of the apartment in a glance.

‘I'll go in first. Make sure they're not still here.'

She nodded.

The place had been ransacked. There was not a single piece of furniture that had not been overturned. Her belongings lay strewn across the floor. Framed pictures were off the walls and on the floor. Even the cushions from her couch had been pulled out of their covers. The apartment was small, only two bedrooms. He was through the entire place in less than a minute before returning to the main open-plan living space. She stood there clutching the back of the sofa, not in shock but in anger.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Was there another reason you stayed at the office all night other than work, Claudia?'