Brent's Law (2 page)

“My client must consider his reputation. Ultimately, the reason for the deterioration of any marriage is irreconcilable differences.” Rob nodded toward Amber. “Unless your client continues with her ridiculous demands.”

Defeat and betrayal tasted bitter on her tongue, but Samantha managed a polite smile. She closed her file and stood.

“Gentlemen, I will consult with my client and notify you of the decision as soon as possible.”

Next to her, Amber delved into her handbag and Samantha glared at her. She stopped her fiddling and dropped the handbag to the floor, once again pouting her cherry-red lips in rebellion.

The men waited for Samantha to precede them to the door and Samantha avoided looking at Brent. As she backed up to open the door, she collided with a hard frame behind her. He pulled her against him with his hands on her biceps, trapping her arms at her sides, and heat seeped from his chest to her back.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“I shouldn’t have followed so close. Are you all right?”

She nodded. Her struggle to breathe had nothing to do with the fright of nearly falling and everything to do with the scent of man and musk drifting up her nostrils. If her arms were free, she’d have tried to hug her chest to prevent her heart from leaping straight out of it.

As soon as she regained her balance, the arms around her fell away and Samantha inhaled shakily.

“Yes, thank you.”

She kept her eyes on Rob and took his hand. Rob leaned closer to her.

“Relax, councilor, it’s not the first time a client lied to us and it won’t be the last,” he whispered before turning and walking out of the door.

Brent extended his hand and she kept her gaze fixed on the collar of his shirt, refusing to meet his blue eyes. When her hand disappeared into his for a second time, the heat of his grip had the blood rushing at breakneck speed through her veins, spreading the electrifying warmth of his touch to the rest of her body and settling in a dull throb in her pussy.

She mumbled a goodbye, withdrew her hand then turned toward the open door. If he would just leave, she could concentrate on laying into her client and not fighting her body’s unusual reaction to him.

He nodded at Rob and the pair strolled through the reception area. Samantha watched them disappear into the elevator and inhaled deeply. She needed her wits about her. Now wasn’t the time to ponder her body’s sudden sexual awaking after years of dormancy.

Amber stood staring out of the window. Beyond her, the day had faded and the city appeared in silhouette. Several lights blinked, trying to break through the gray of early dusk, while in the distance, red eyes snaked along the overpass of the M2 highway.

At Samantha’s approach, Amber turned and plonked into the chair on the other side of the desk. Samantha shoved the investigator’s report toward Amber.

“Explain this.”

Amber smirked. “So I occasionally take drugs. Everybody does. No crime in that.”

Samantha folded her arms on the desk before she could give in to the impulse to smack the insolent girl silly.

“You know it is. You could go to jail for possession.”

Amber’s eyes narrowed and she glared at Samantha. “It has nothing to do with the divorce.”

Samantha remained silent. She watched the emotions playing over her client’s face. When she recognized acceptance, she shoved the revised settlement agreement toward Amber.

“As your attorney I advise you to take their offer. If we go to court, you will lose even the privileges in the prenuptial.”

“It’s not fair.”

Samantha shrugged. “Life’s not fair. You abused the drugs, not your husband and the law wouldn’t allow him to pay for your mistakes. Besides, you lied to me. By law I’m entitled to withdraw as your attorney.”

“Oh, God, just stop your jabbering. Give me the pen.”

Amber grabbed the pen from Samantha’s hand and scribbled her signature on the last page before she threw the pen on the desk and got up.

“Initial every other page as well.” Samantha picked up the pen and held it out to Amber.

Amber snatched it from her hand, leaned over the desk and angrily flipped the pages as she initialed the document. Samantha waited until Amber had finished before retrieving the document and placing it in the folder.

“Please don’t do anything stupid until your husband has signed this agreement. I don’t have to tell you what would happen if he refused to sign.”

When she looked up the room was empty. She deflated in her chair.
What a mess.
It hadn’t been the first time a client had lied to her, but it damn sure was the first time her body had gone into overdrive just by looking at the opposing council’s client.

Banishing the thought of the young stud from her mind, she wrote instructions on the file for her secretary to copy the agreement and send the original to Rob. Then she packed up her briefcase, collected her handbag and pulled the door of the office closed behind her. If she caught the half past five Gautrain, the students lodging with her would have an early dinner tonight.

Chapter Two

The Monday afternoon congestion on the sidewalk outside her office took her by surprise and it felt like she was swimming against the current as she made her way to the train station. The four-block walk at least warmed her against the biting winter wind and by the time she’d reached the station, her cheeks were heated from the exercise.

After a short wait, she stepped onto the train and sat in one of the plush blue seats next to the window. The cart filled up quickly with passengers and Samantha leaned back and closed her eyes. This ride was her favorite part of the day. With no worries about traffic and ample security on the train, she used the time to recharge before the evening rush started at home.

Images of Brent Russell intruded on her thoughts and she snapped her eyes open. What did the man have that caused her normally sedate libido to shift into sexual overdrive with a mere glance? She preferred to avoid relationships that could complicate her life and normally had an iron-clad control over her body’s responses to the opposite sex. Until today.

So what made him ignite fires inside her she’d all but forgotten existed? He was handsome, financially successful and oozed power and sex appeal like most men oozed sweat. She dealt with men like him daily and they never sent her hormones into overdrive. Just the thought of Brent Russell caused her heart to palpitate and her palms to sweat. Good thing he was off-limits.

Not that she contemplated adhering to her body’s sudden demands for sexual gratification. The fact that she probably wouldn’t see him again settled the argument raging in her head. He was off-limits not just because he was too young, but because he was her client’s husband until the divorce was finalized.

The train’s arrival at the Hatfield Station ended her internal monologue and Samantha hurried out of the station, bracing herself against the onslaught of the cold wind. Two blocks farther, she pushed open the gate to her house. As she snuck past the main house to her flat, she could hear the students arguing about what to prepare for dinner.

Renting out the rooms to the students and moving into the flat at the back of the property had been a sound business decision and one she hadn’t regretted once in the four years since she’d bought the house. The students helped her pay the mortgage and she enjoyed their company in the evenings.

Inside the flat, she changed into a tracksuit before walking back to the main house and knocking on the kitchen door. A choir of voices greeted her and everyone chimed in to help prepare dinner. An hour later, Samantha returned to her flat relaxed and calm—the day’s turmoil exorcised by the normality of her evening rituals.

Armed with a paperback she’d been meaning to read for some time and a glass of red wine, she soaked in the tub until her toes wrinkled like dried prunes. With her mind still engrossed in the murder mystery, she dried herself and padded to the bedroom. She didn’t bother to dress and climbed into bed, shivering as the cool sheets connected with her heated flesh. It was after midnight when she finally closed the book and switched off the light.

Samantha woke with the sheets tangled and her body drenched in sweat. She clenched her legs together as the dream slowly receded. Her pussy throbbed with unfulfilled need and her nipples chafed against the sheets. Irritated, she flung the blankets off her and shuffled to the bathroom. What the hell was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she get Brent Russell out of her mind?

Stepping under the spray of the shower before the water had heated dispelled some of the lingering images of his naked body sliding over hers, but failed miserably to quell the tightrope of sexual tension humming through her veins. She scrubbed at her breasts to alleviate some of the pressure, but only succeeded in increasing the almost unbearable tightness in her nipples. Disgusted at herself, she flung the sponge in the corner of the shower and hung her head while the water rinsed the soap away. When the water started to cool, she shut off the shower, dried herself then dressed for work.

* * * *

When her secretary knocked on the door at ten o’clock, Samantha was ready to have herself committed to a mental institution. She’d had to redo three draft agreements due to silly mistakes and if her secretary hadn’t spotted a glaring error in one of the pleadings she had prepared, her client would have suffered one hell of an embarrassment in court. All because the sexy Brent Russell kept intruding on her thoughts.

“This is for you.”

Samantha glanced at the secretary and dropped her pen. White and pink roses hid most of the woman’s face and she staggered under the weight of the bouquet before she set it down on the conference table. She plucked the card from the plastic stick and handed it to Samantha.

“Thank you, I think,” Samantha mumbled as she opened the card.

I’ll pick you up for dinner after work.

“You’re sure this is for me?”

“It says so on the envelope.” The secretary frowned. “Why, is something wrong?”

Samantha turned the card around. “I don’t know anyone that would send me flowers and issue a dinner invitation without leaving his name.”

She inspected the envelope, but the typed message revealed no clue except for stating her name in bold letters. Well, whoever had issued the invitation would be sadly disappointed. She didn’t have dinner with strangers.

Dismissing the secretary and instructing her to take the flowers to the tearoom, Samantha buried herself in the task of getting her table cleared before her mandatory leave started at the end of the week. An inspection by the Department of Labor the previous month had prompted her partners to issue her with an ultimatum—either take the eight weeks leave due or resign. She still couldn’t fathom why she had to take her accumulated leave, but she loved her job enough to take the eight week vacation. That is if she managed to finalize her outstanding cases in the two days she had left until Friday.

When the light started to fade inside the office, Samantha glanced at her watch. She had to leave before six-thirty to catch the last Gautrain of the afternoon. Hurriedly she shoved some files into her briefcase and made her way out of the building. Outside she turned her collar up, ducked her head and started down the sidewalk.

“Miss Owen?”

Samantha glanced around but saw nobody paying her special attention so she continued on her way. A hand on her arm stopped her in her tracks.

“Miss Owen?”

She turned to glance at the big man towering over her. “Yes.”

“Mister Russell requests your presence in his car.” The man pointed to a black Mercedes with tinted windows parked at the curb.

Several people bumped into them and she stepped out of the flow of pedestrians. “Please tell Mister Russell that I can’t see him now. I have a train to catch. Have his attorney call me in the morning if there is anything he wants to discuss.”

She turned to leave, but the man held on to her arm. “I’m afraid I have to insist you speak to him.”

The grip on her arm was firm and unless she wanted to cause a scene, she had to comply with his request. Irritated at being manipulated, she lifted her chin.

“Fine.”

The man pulled her toward the car and opened the back door. Samantha stood her ground outside and leaned forward. Brent Russell lounged on the back seat, his left foot resting on his right knee. With his jacket on the seat next to him, his wide shoulders filled the royal blue shirt to the brim. Samantha swallowed. Damn the man for being so sexy.

“Good evening, Miss Owen. I trust you received my invitation this morning?”

So the flowers and dinner invitation were from him. At least she had a legitimate excuse to refuse the invitation.

“Evening, Mister Russell. Thank you for the flowers, but I’m afraid I can’t talk to you without your attorney present, so I have to decline the invitation to dinner.” Why was her voice so husky?

He shifted closer to the open door, causing the muscles in his thighs to bulge and her pulse to skitter. “Won’t you get in so that we can at least discuss this without me craning my neck?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. As your wife’s attorney, it would be a conflict of interest to talk to you without your own attorney present.” She nodded toward the pedestrians on the sidewalk. “You are quite famous so the chances of us being recognized are high and I can’t take the risk.” She turned to leave. “I have a train to catch. Good night, Mister Russell.”

“Wait.”

Samantha ignored his command and hurried toward the station. She was late as it was and couldn’t afford another delay. Her ire at the arrogant Brent Russell increased another notch. Did he really think a bouquet of flowers would win her over to have dinner with him? Even under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have worked and she would not have gone out with him just to see whether this attraction to the man could lead anywhere. Besides, she refused to put her career and reputation in jeopardy. Even if her heart raced and her palms sweated by merely thinking of him.

Chapter Three

Damn the man for invading her sleep—again.