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 with 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 word 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 facade 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?”