The Laws of Seduction: A French Kiss Novel (6 page)

“Your mother got pregnant.”

“Exactly.” She laughed harshly. “I guess that’s when Mom had to put down the coke spoon.”

Rex cocked a brow. “I get the impression you’re not your mother’s biggest fan.”

“Let me put it this way. My mother never let me forget she had to start working part-time after I was born, while Dad went full-bore into more and more lucrative cases—rich men killing their wives, international embezzlement. All headline stuff, all Main Line, and boy, did his cock get big then.” She scowled into her drink. “After that he was home even less, and I think she resented me even more.”

“So I’m going to take the leap and assume this is when he started taking on mistresses.”

“
Oh no
,” she said with lethal emphasis. “This is when he started fucking anything with a pulse. Like the new clerk fresh out of law school.”

Charlotte rose and went to the window, bracing her hand against the molding as she crossed her legs at her ankles, showing Rex the bloody-colored sole of her shoe. “I don’t know what it is, maybe it dates back to something primal. Like when two tribes would go to war and after one side would win, they’d kill the other tribe’s men and their babies, then impregnate their women with their issue. Maybe it was the same thing with my father. Maybe he needed to slough off the old for the new.”

She held the tumbler of scotch to her cheek. “But that would’ve been too ordinary, and my father was more original than that. This was back in the day when an ass grab at the office was fully sanctioned, and although women were expected to produce, expecting to advance because of it was almost laughable.”

She reeled on him, her anger almost palpable. “So yeah, he took up with the law clerk and yeah, he started fucking her and eventually he stopped coming home at all. By this time he was bringing in so much dough he was made a full partner, even though my mother had earned twice as much when she was working full-time, and in far less time than it had taken him. Didn’t matter. And apparently, neither did she. Not anymore. Because after that he dropped the coup de grâce. He got the partners together and had her fired, putting the law clerk and her brand-new degree in my mother’s place.”

After a few beats, Rex said, “I don’t know what to say.”

She turned back to the window. “How about”—her fore- and middle fingers curved in faux quotation marks—“
and your point is
? Standard operating procedure in your line of work, isn’t it?”

He got out of the chair and went to her, grasping her arm as he turned her around. “You don’t know that. You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know how I run my company or how I work.”

She pushed him away. “I know enough that I had to put up with your CEO a couple months back. Had to watch him worm his way into Dani’s shorts until he wore her down.”

“Oh come on,” Rex scoffed, “they were
in love
.”

She stared at him. “Do you have any idea how absurd you sound saying that?”

“Oh,
oui
. So much I took a sock in the mouth just for doubting he meant it.”

“Then you know what a ridiculous notion it is. How people use it to manipulate each other.”

She didn’t know how close to the Meaning of Life she just came by saying that. He could almost kiss her for her perspicacity. “I know.”

“Of course you do,” she said. “It’s your modus operandi. I’m sure you have seduction down to a sixth sense. I wouldn’t doubt you have forms of it tailor-made for each of your victims. Though this time it didn’t quite work out, did it?” She came closer. “
Did
it?”

He took a step back, though it made him feel larger in context. “You’re drunk.”

“You bet I am. And it only brings me clarity.” She poked his chest. “You’re a snake. A creepy-crawly-gut-to-the-ground bottom feeder.”

“My, aren’t we colorful.”

“You brought that girl into that room for one reason only—to seduce her and throw her away.”

He laughed, as if it was obvious. “Now that’s a news flash. Did you think perhaps we were out to debate Thomas Piketty and his economic theory?”

“How can you do that—” She waved her hand in front of her. “How can you be like that?” she said, swaying so much Rex once again grabbed her arm, this time to steady her. “How can you use women in that way?”

“Use women?” He shook her slightly. “
Her
?
” He pulled Charlotte up to him. “I’ll remind you
she
was using me. That now, for whatever reason, she’s lying. Why do you suppose she’s doing that?”

She pushed him away. “You tell me. Or are you saving that for the big reveal?”

He almost laughed. Drunk or not, there really was no getting over on her. “I don’t know, but someone behind her does, and for one reason or the other they’re out to make me look bad.”

“Now why is that? Who did you piss off? Besides Lilith, that is.” She let out a short “Ha!” her gaze woozily shifting to his. “Or wasn’t she the first?”

“Look, I came to Washington for one reason and one reason only,” he said. “So Mercier could bring super-sized container ships into our East Coast terminal, and for that we need a harbor deep enough to accommodate them. Hence the dredging bill. And that’s it. No hidden agenda.”

Her fingers latched around his arm. “So you figured you had to dredge
Lilith’s
harbor to accommodate her, hm?” She laughed again, downing more scotch. “
Très original
, indeed.”

“
Tu es complètement givrée
,” he said, shaking her loose.

“
Oh oui? Et je peux pas te supporter
,” she countered, poking him again.

“Enough of this shit.” He grabbed her hand, mid-poke, snatching the tumbler of scotch. “I think it’s time to get something to eat.” He looked past her. “How about I make us an omelette?”

She laughed. “You?
Cook?
”

“I’ve been known to break an egg now and then.”

“Unless you can make them out of ice and condiments,” she said, her hair falling in her eyes. All of a sudden she slumped against his chest. “That’s about all I have in my . . .”

He looked down on her, grateful the change in subject at least calmed her down. He wondered how she’d feel about that when she sobered up. “Don’t like to cook, I suppose?”

“It’s not so much that I mind cooking,” she said after a moment, fascinated with the knot of his tie. “It’s that I like making reservations so much better.”

“Then how about we go out?” Rex said. “Didn’t we pass a deli down the street?”

She straightened. “That’s not just a
deli
,” she spun the word. “That’s the Famous.
Now
you’re talking omelettes. They have a smoked salmon and—”

Suddenly the window exploded over her head, Rex throwing them both to the floor.

Chapter Six

Or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

“W
HAT THE HELL
just happened!” Charlotte cried, squirming beneath him.

“Keep still!” Rex hissed. All around them was shattered glass.

Charlotte grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at her. “Oh, don’t worry about me, I’m all right. Thanks for asking.”

“Quiet,” he said, sliding her hand to his shoulder. He looked to the window above them. The top pane had a hole in, as just past them lay a brick wrapped in lined paper.
Subtle
, he thought. He looked to Charlotte, her hair loosened and fanning across the carpet, her eyes a bit boozy. “
Are
you all right?” he asked.

She huffed. “Didn’t I just say so?”

“Maybe I didn’t hear you.” He liked the way she felt under him, like a live wire ready to spark. Though getting her there wasn’t exactly the way he had pictured it.

“Maybe because you never listen to me.”

He felt the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. “Maybe because you’re always busting my
couilles
.”

“I have no idea why you just said that although . . .” Charlotte grinned, her knee shifting past his groin. “Isn’t it strange how life suddenly tosses opportunity in your lap?”

“Just make sure it’s your lap, not mine.” Rex raised up and stretched past her, peering over the window’s edge. Obviously, the brick thrower had been a drive-by. “Come on,” he said, pulling Charlotte up with him. “And watch where you step.”

She scrunched across the broken glass to the brick, peeling off the lined paper. “Christ,” she said, handing it to Rex.

“TRAITOR” was scrawled in pencil across it.

She looked up, anger in her eyes. “Those bitches,” she said. “After all I’ve done for them.”

“Fuck them,” he said, just as angrily. “You don’t believe it, do you?”

“No, but damnit—I should’ve been ready for this. The judge warned me this would happen. That there were people out there who wouldn’t take my defending you lightly. I told her I knew what I was doing.” She looked to Rex, her face filling with consternation. “You may not believe me but I really do think injustice is gender-neutral.”

“I believe you,” Rex said softly. “Though in this case”—he hefted the brick—“I’m hardly your target audience.”

She laughed. “That’s because
I’m
the target.”

Someone knocked at the door. Charlotte looked to Rex with a silent
who the hell is that?
“Stay there,” he said, going to it.

“Where else would you like me to go?” she said, steadying herself against a chair.

He opened it, saying, “Yes?” to the suit on the other side of the screen door.

A squat, portly man peered back at him. “Detective Spencer, Philadelphia Police,” he said, flashing a badge. He jutted his chin toward Rex. “You Rex Renaud?”

Christ
, he thought.
Word sure gets around
. “Yeah. Why?”

“Where’s that hot little attorney of yours?” He scraped a nail down his jaw, grinning. “This
is
her house, isn’t it?”

Rex hated him on sight. He looked to his left. “If you mean the one with the brick hole in the window.”

The detective leaned back to look. “Oh look at that.” He turned back to Rex. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“She’s right here,” Charlotte said, peering over Rex’s shoulder. “What do you want?”

“I think you need to ask me in,” Spencer said. “Before something with a bit more bang lands in your living room.”

She glanced to Rex. He kind of liked that she did. “Okay,” she said. Rex moved aside, letting the man in. The detective sauntered over to the shards of glass, glinting in the sunlight.

“This came courtesy of the brick,” Charlotte said, passing Spencer the note.

“Uh-huh,” he said, glancing at it. “Can’t help admiring the old-school delivery system. Who needs high-tech?”

“Is there a reason you’re here?” Rex said.

Spencer glanced to the empty tumblers on the floor. “Uh, sorry to interrupt your cocktail hour, but you need to pack your things.”

“What?” Charlotte said. “What for?”

“Because we just got a bomb threat for your home-sweet-home down at the station. And after this here?” He pointed toward the brick. “Your house is going to be a pile of them if you don’t take it seriously.”

“Are
you
taking it seriously?” asked Charlotte.

“We can’t afford not to,” he said. “Especially this one.” He poked his elbow into Rex’s side. “Oh those women scorned, eh buddy?”

“I’m not your
buddy
,” Rex growled, spinning the word. “
Enculés de flics
.”

The cop peered at him. “Watch it, Frenchie. We still got a cell with your name on it.” He turned to Charlotte. “Anyway, you got someplace you can go for the next few days?”

She glanced to Rex again, this time with caution. “I might.”

“Well, make it a definite, because I’m not leaving until I lock you and this door behind us. Go get your things.”

“But I can’t,” Charlotte said, her hand flinging toward the broken window. “I just can’t leave my house opened.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll throw a board over it.” The radio at his hip squawked. He yanked it to his mouth. “Spencer here.”

Charlotte pulled Rex aside, her back to the upstairs railing. “Might not be a bad idea to get out of town. I have to agree with him. Things will probably get worse.”

“And just when Philly was starting to feel like home.”

She crossed her arms, throwing up the gate again. “Oh please, I’m not in the mood.”

He leaned in, latching on to a post. “And what will it take to get you into it?”

He savored her little burn of chagrin—which quickly dissipated when it turned to anger. “Stop it, Rex. I’m scared.”

And when the crease between her eyes deepened, he started to believe she was. “Well don’t be. I’m right here and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“My, aren’t you chivalrous. I thought it was my job to protect you.”

“Kind of works both ways, doesn’t it?” Though the idea of anyone even thinking of hurting her made him want to smash things. “And here I thought you were fearless.”

“Yeah, well.” Her gaze flicked to his, a little bleary-eyed. “Allow me a little humanity. It’s not every day you get a bomb threat and a brick through the window. Plus a strange man camping out in your living room.”

“Living room?” He glanced over his shoulder. “What else have you got?”

“If you think there’s crap on my table you should see my extra bed.”

“I’m sure we can make alternate arrangements.”

She slinked out from under him. “Talk about your American Dream.”

“Okay folks,” Spencer said, holstering his radio. “Tick-tock. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s someone with a mic out your window and your neighbors are starting to get a little irritated.”

“Damn,” Charlotte cursed, peering out the front door. A reporter was checking out the broken window from the sidewalk, while a news van idled in the street. “Can they do that?”

“City owns the street and sidewalk, so yeah. Anyway He huffed. “You got a place to go to or what, because I really don’t have all day.”

“Do you?” Rex asked. Because if she didn’t, there were certainly more hotels than the Ritz-Carlton, and he rather liked the idea of taking her to one.

“Yes,” she finally said. “But I’ll need to get my car. I’ll have to get past those people out there.”

“After which, they’ll just end up following you,” Rex added.

“Not necessarily,” Spencer said. “Where’s your car?”

“About ten doors down . . .” She turned, pointing to the street. “It’s blue. A Fiesta.”

Rex looked to her, amazed. “
Merde
, you need to start chasing more ambulances.”

She tossed him a scowl. “And you need to keep your comments to yourself like a good little detainee.”

“Children—please.” Spencer waggled the fingers of his outstretched palm. “The keys, counselor.”

“Why?” Charlotte said.

He tilted his head to the back of the house. “Because I’ll move the car to the next street over while you slip out the back door.” He waggled his fingers again. “Now hand them over.”

Charlotte retrieved the keys from the sideboard, tossing them to the cop. “Is this really necessary?”

The detective glanced outside to where a man in an undershirt and suspenders was yelling at a reporter. “I think your neighbors will insist.” He pocketed the keys. “Meet you in five. Now get going.” He left out the front door.

“Damn,” Charlotte muttered. “This is not how I planned on spending my week.”

Rex smiled. She was angry yet she seemed to take things in stride. “Though isn’t it strange how life suddenly tosses opportunity in your lap?”

“Go ahead. Make jokes,” she said. “
You’re
not the one getting thrown out of your house.”

“You’re so right,” he said. “So much better to be thrown into a goddamned American jail for some trumped-up charge you didn’t see coming.”

“Think about that the next time you take a teenager into a darkened room.”

“You have more than ably made your point on that, Charlotte. Any more remarks on it, and I going to start thinking it actually bothers you.”

“Stupidity always does.”

“Point taken.” She had the tiniest mole near the corner of her mouth. “Now tell me where we’re going?”

She bent to retrieve the fallen tumblers, her skirt straining against the pull of fabric as she set them on an end table. “It’s at the ocean. Or as we say around here—down the shore. It was my grandmother’s retirement house. She left it to me a couple years ago when she died.”

“So do you like the sea?” If she did, that would please him immensely.

“Of course I do,” she said, almost looking insulted. “And I’ve always looked at the house as my refuge.”

He crossed to the window. “We don’t have to leave town, you know. I could get us a suite somewhere—a penthouse, even. You choose the hotel, and I’ll happily pay for it.” Spencer was right. He didn’t like the look of those people standing across the street. When he turned she was right beside him watching the street. He caught the scent of her hair, both fresh and exotic. “How’s that sound to you?”

“I’m sure you’d like that,” she said, peering past him, “but I’d rather get out of town. I have a feeling wherever we’d go around here someone will recognize either one of us, and then it’ll only get worse. At least down there, with the town thinned out from the summer crowd, our
admirers
will be easier to spot.”

He glanced to the brick. “Then let’s hope this is the last of their love letters.”

“Yet somehow I don’t think it will be. Oh God, why did you call me?” She huffed, her hand to her forehead. “I may as well have a target on my back. I mean there’s a lot of crazies out there, and you have to be a little nuts to join an organization called Occupy Vagina to begin with, don’t you think?”

His mouth crooked. “Or to found it?”

She looked up sharply. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Charlotte, listen to me.” He braced his hand against the wall, caging her. “I called you because you’re the best at what you do. Don’t ever forget that. And when I get out of this—which I will—it’ll prove to all those idiots how wrong they were and you’ll be vindicated. You believe me, don’t you?”

She smiled weakly. “Maybe, but what’ll I do until then if another brick smashes through my window?”

He slid her hand from her forehead to hold it over his heart. She was scared because of him, and all for what? A tryst with a silly young girl. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her fears away. “Until then I’ll be there to deflect it and keep you safe. And I will, Charlotte,” he said, wanting her to believe it. “I’ll stake my life on it, I swear.”

Her eyes widened at that. “All right.”

“Then the sea it is,” he said, squeezing her hand lightly before he let it go. “Now go up and pack. And don’t forget your bikini.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t think I’ll need one.”

“You’re probably right,” he said, stepping back.

E
ITHER SHE WAS
really drunk, or she could’ve sworn Rex was just about to kiss her. She reached to the top shelf of her closet and dragging down an overnighter, tossed it to her bed. “Oh God . . .” she groaned, she
must
have been drunk. For all his gallantry and double entendre, she needed to remember the man was a cad to the core.

Which meant he probably only wanted to sleep with her.

Huh
, she thought, opening the bag,
big surprise there
. It’s what most men wanted, and why should he be any different?

But the difference was she almost wished he had kissed her—
no
. There was nothing
almost
about it. She wanted him to. So badly if he hadn’t stepped away she would’ve done it herself. Maybe even a whole lot more.
Way
more. Just to see how it felt.

Yep
, she told herself.
Drunk.

She yanked the zipper back, spreading the bag wide. The thoughts she was entertaining were so unethical. And even though there was a definite bond between her and her clients, Charlotte sincerely doubted sleeping with Rex was the attorney-client
privilege
American jurisprudence referred to. And wasn’t that a goddamned shame.

Oh, most definitely hammered.

She made a quick sweep of her bathroom, stuffing a cosmetic bag with all the essentials—mascara, face cream, lipstick, anything that wasn’t already down there. One thing that never was loomed in her medicine cabinet—glaring at her like shrapnel from her latest exploded relationship. She slid the packets between her fingers, counting. Twelve.
Twelve!
The number nearly made her blush. Twelve times with Rex? She felt a twinge deep down. Would it be enough to get him out of her system? She pictured him out of that million-dollar suit, his broad shoulders, the hard planes of his chest, thighs like iron and oh, what lay between. She imagined even one time, her hips twisting with the thought. She had to be crazy for even picturing it. Still . . . She dropped the twelve into her cosmetic bag. Better to be safe than sorry.