Perfect Partners (14 page)

“Give me a few minutes to get her settled and we’ll talk,” he whispered.

Chelsie shook her head. “I’m late.” She scrambled out of bed.

“At”—he glanced at the clock—“six-forty? Where could you possibly have to be on a Sunday morning?”

“The shelter.” She gazed at his nightstand, a ploy clearly enabling her to avoid his stare.

“I thought you were sticking around to take care of us.”

She looked from Alix, who chattered happily, back to Griff. “Both of you look much better. And clearly you have the energy to take care of her.”

“So you’re running away.”

“Leaving for a while.”

“You’ll be back?”

Her silence hit him like a slap in the face. “Don’t let us keep you, then.”

His icy tone must have melted some of her barriers. “Please don’t make this harder,” she pleaded.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t. We went into this like two adults. As I recall, I asked you to be sure. So what’s with the sudden withdrawal?”

Her frantic gaze again darted to Alix and back to him. “Just give me some space, okay? I’ll be back. I promise.”

“Okay.” What choice did he have? He’d never force a woman who didn’t want to stay and he’d never hold on to a woman in that much pain.

Looking at Chelsie’s trembling body, he knew that she was suffering. His first instinct had been to cast her in the role of villain, as the woman who deserted him like his mother and ex-fiancée. He could no longer accept that explanation. He’d come to know Chelsie well in the last few weeks, even better in the last twenty-four hours. Her role in the custody hearing no longer tortured his thoughts. She’d made her own way without the help of her parents, chosen a career that benefited others and not herself.

He even understood her role in the custody hearing now, understood why and believed her regrets. Family was important to her. The caring woman he’d come to know wouldn’t turn down her parents’ request for help. The irony was she’d lost them anyway. In all the time they’d been together with Alix, she’d never once mentioned her family or their abrupt departure for Florida. According to Ryan, charity functions were rampant down there this time of year. Chelsie’s priorities he understood. Theirs he didn’t.

But there was more to Chelsie than her caring nature. Something haunted her, had kept her from her sister and niece before, and caused her to run now, which led him to the possibility she was running from herself and not from him.

The probability didn’t lessen the feelings of abandonment he’d hoped never to experience again, but the knowledge allowed him to let her go in peace. He, too, could use the time to sort out his jumbled emotions.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He shrugged, but said nothing. Ignoring her seemed the easiest means of blocking his pain. She reached down and retrieved her sneakers from the floor.

He leaned back against the pillows and shut his eyes, waiting until he heard the thud of the bedroom door before opening them again. The noise emphasized the point. He was alone.

EIGHT

C
helsie drove for hours, seeking solace that eluded her. She’d get lost, circle the same roads four or five times, find her way, and just keep going. She had nowhere else to turn.

Her work, always an escape, was now tied to Griff. Her office, her papers, her things all sat in boxes in the upstairs of his house. Though she could go back to the city, her tiny apartment held little appeal. She’d furnished her cold apartment as a reminder. The decor clearly stated this was no place for a child.

Until this morning, the reminder had worked. The sterile, glass environment she’d purposefully created was home to the woman she’d been before she had accepted Griffin Stuart’s offer. Before she’d been foolish enough to make love to him.

That woman had known she’d never have children, a family, a warm place to call home. She’d known better than to become a part of something she could never have. The minute Griff had brought the little girl into the bed, as if they were a family,
her family
, Chelsie’s orderly world had tipped precariously off balance. When he’d indicated his preference to have more children, her world disintegrated before her.

For the first time, she’d dared to want something she could never have. She should have known better. She made a U-turn and headed towards Boston. Maybe time alone in her apartment was exactly what she needed to set things right.

But when she walked into the stark, crystal-filled living room, she didn’t find the sense of peace she sought. She found the truth. The place she called home wasn’t. Chelsie was alone.

*     *     *

“I take it this is your version of ‘coming back’?” Griff asked on Monday morning. The rest of the weekend had passed without a text or a phone call, as if the night they’d spent together had never happened.

“I’m here.”

“It’s a little late, isn’t it?”

Chelsie turned from the box she’d been unpacking. “I never said when, just that I’d be here.”

“Semantics again.”

“Whatever.”

She unwrapped a brass clock and placed it next to the blotter on her desk. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. Otherwise, he might give in to the urge to throttle her. The woman standing before him in a prim business suit and hair pulled back into a tight bun bore little resemblance to the tousled woman in his bed the morning before. Unfortunately, her seductive scent was the same and memories flooded back hard and fast. Even her outward appearance couldn’t dull his need.

He suspected she’d undergone the transformation on purpose. That she thought the cool façade would provide a deterrent only proved how little she knew him.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Better.”

“And Alix?”

“Also better. Mrs. Baxter’s back.”

“I know. I called to check on Alix earlier.”

And didn’t bother to speak with him. Griff reached for her arm, turning her to face him. “We have to talk.”

She shook her head. “Not now.” She gestured to the many boxes spread across the floor.

So she had to unpack. He knew that and had planned on helping out. His secretary had come in for a few hours and then he’d given her the rest of the day off for the same reason. There would be plenty of time for work when he and Chelsie had finished combining offices.

Without a secretary or client in sight, Griff couldn’t think of a better moment to hash things out between them. “Seems like the perfect time to me. We’re alone.”

“But we won’t be for long. While you were downstairs, your secretary left a message about booking a potential client around noon.” Her lips turned downward in a frown.

“A potential client,” he repeated. “And that’s bad news?”

“Depends.” She moved the now empty box onto the floor. “Can you hand me that one?” She pointed across the room to a brown box labeled
Personal
. “It’s fragile.”

He hefted the box off the floor, surprised when it lifted easily, and placed it on the desk she’d had delivered early this morning. From a basic office supply depot, the wooden desk lacked the old charm of Griff s own, and was the complete opposite of the crystal-and-glass palace Chelsie called home.

Come to think of it, he realized, glancing around at the objects she’d already unpacked, her office decor was homey and lived in, rather than sleek and untouchable. More like the Chelsie he’d come to know. The disparate looks intrigued him as much as the woman herself.

He watched as she sliced open the box with a thin razor blade. “I’d think you’d be happy I booked a new client,” he said. “At least I’m pulling my weight.” Or beginning to, he thought. Leaving the corporate world behind in favor of family law, he hadn’t taken a single client with him from his old office. He’d wanted it that way, wanted to leave all shreds of that life and lifestyle behind.

“I would be if I thought you were prepared for this one.”

“You think I can’t handle a new client? If you trust me so little, why the hell did you agree to this partnership in the first place?” Why the hell had she slept with him and complicated his life even more?

“I’m not sure,” she murmured. “But before you start getting defensive, you should realize something.” Without meeting his gaze, she began digging through tissue paper inside the box.

More crystal? He wondered… unable to keep the disappointment from invading his mind. Had he been wrong to think the icy apartment was a sham and the warmth of her office a reflection of the real Chelsie Russell?

“This is your first domestic violence case.”

Her softly spoken words halted his callous thoughts and Griff paused. Domestic violence. Her past. Abuse. Once a part of her life. What did he really know of this woman? How could he presume to judge her time and again? “So what are you suggesting?” he asked, purposefully backing off. “I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

She raised her gaze. “Why are you so agreeable all of a sudden?” she asked warily.

He shrugged. “Because in this area of law you know best?”

“Or because you’re afraid of treading on what you now think is forbidden territory? Don’t do it. If I hadn’t admitted my past, what would you be telling me now?” Her eyes held a definite challenge.

The spark had returned and Griff liked it. “I’d say I could handle it,” he admitted.

“And I’m telling you, you can’t. Not without guidance the first time.”

“Why?” he asked, pushing her just as she’d requested.

She didn’t want to be pampered. He respected that. If she wanted to force him into being his obstinate, lawyerly self, he’d comply. If they were going to be partners, neither one could afford to let the other call the shots without good reason. “Considering I’ve been dealing with clients since before graduating law school, and knowing that most of them are stubborn and egotistical, why would you presume to think I couldn’t handle this one?”

“For exactly those reasons.” She squared her shoulders, a defensive stance probably meant to prove she could hold her own with him. “All your experience means zero around here. You may be a corporate wiz and you could probably challenge the toughest CEO and win, but that mentality won’t work in family law. You know nothing about the psyche of these women. You don’t know what makes them run away from the abuse or back to it. The slightest error in word choice could compromise not only your securing a new client, but her life as well.” She met and held his gaze for a brief moment before digging through the box once more.

Griff remained silent. The crinkle of tissue paper was the only sound in the now quiet room. Easing himself onto the far edge of her desk, he thought about her words. A smile pulled at his lips. She was good. Damned good. Too bad he was trained to recognize her game. She’d stroked his ego in his area of expertise while asserting authority in her own.

As frustrated as he was with her personally right now, he knew, without a doubt, he was going to enjoy working with Chelsie Russell. He was also going to learn about humility, because to his amazement, and despite his slightly bruised ego, he admitted to himself, she was right. He couldn’t handle this first case. Not alone.

He needed Chelsie.

*     *     *

Chelsie finally unwrapped the contents of the box. Ironic. She told herself that sentiment had no place in her life, yet she’d brought this collection here? And why now?

Although she felt Griff’s steady gaze, he remained silent. For that she was grateful. One at a time, she unwrapped the tiny silver frames holding the cherished pictures of herself and her sister. In keeping with her sister’s love of writing in journals, every year Chelsie had given Shannon a leather-bound diary for Christmas. Every year, Shannon had given Chelsie a framed picture of them as children, along with a humorous label at the bottom. The tradition continued even after Chelsie’s marriage and divorce. The only difference was the UPS man was the carrier instead of Chelsie. When she’d grabbed this box from the floor of her closet early this morning, Chelsie told herself it was for Alix.

She’d lied.

Griff was chipping away at the protective layers she’d built around herself. He was making her feel. She didn’t know whether to love him or hate him for that, since it also meant she’d be facing another loss when
they
ended.

She placed the mini-frames on her desk. Griff’s hand covered hers. Warmth and comfort flooded her. Too soon he moved to take the picture from her hand. He studied the photo, the only one that included her parents, taken when Chelsie and Shannon had been almost too young to remember.

“You look like a regular happy family.”

She shrugged. “Maybe we were. Maybe something got warped along the way. I know they loved us. Their priorities shifted at some point. They do love Alix.”

“I believe you.”

Because he spoke without hesitation, she believed him, too.

He lowered the frame to her desk. “You miss them.”

“They’re my parents.”

“It’s more than that, and we both know it.” He’d come up behind her. Solid and steady, he aroused both her deep feelings of need and a purely sexual humming she couldn’t seem to ignore. Problem was, it had gotten her into deep waters yesterday. She looked at the tiny silver mementos once more. He’d drawn her in so deep she’d pulled out her past and brought it around to face her present.