“Wow,” Nash says from behind me. I turn to find him standing in front of the couch, his arms crossed over his chest as though he’d been waiting somewhat impatiently. “Is this how you dress for a casual day at the library?”
I glance down at the outfit I agonized over. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
He walks slowly toward me. For some reason, the mental image of a lion stalking his prey comes to mind, and chills spread down my back.
“Nothing’s ‘wrong’ with it. I’m just wondering how you expect anyone to concentrate.” He stops when he’s within a few inches of me. He’s close enough that I can feel his body heat, but still far enough away that I can breathe somewhat naturally. Part of that might have something to do with the fact that he’s looking me up and down rather than staring into my eyes with that sexy black gaze of his. “I can just make out the shadow of your ni**les through that shirt. The material is like the perfect tease. Makes me want to peel it off you. And that skirt cups your ass the way I’d like to. Makes me wanna dig my fingers into it, then my teeth. And those shoes—they make your legs look like they go on forever.” He drops his voice down to a whisper when he glances back up to my face, to my eyes. “Makes me wanna wrap them around my waist and show you how good I can make you feel.”
Now my breath is coming in short, shallow bursts and my fingers are curled so tightly around my purse strap that my knuckles ache. My mouth is bone-dry and I’m torn between leaning closer to him and standing absolutely still, waiting.
Not by conscious choice, I remain motionless in my anticipation, waiting while a battle rages inside me—the angel on one shoulder, the devil on the other. The question is, which is which?
You’re making a mistake by letting him talk to you like that. Only a whore would put up with that.
No, by taking charge, you’d simply be showing him you’re a woman who knows what she wants. And isn’t afraid to go after it.
Or that you’re a slut, an easy slut who’s fine with being used until the need is satisfied.
And what’s wrong with that? Everyone has needs. Can’t you both get what you want and not quibble over the details?
Show some self-respect!
Show some fire!
Back and forth, the opposing viewpoints duel. It keeps me occupied until the moment passes and there’s no longer a choice to make.
“You want to give in to it, but propriety says that’s not what a lady does, right?” He doesn’t give me time to answer. “How ’bout this? I’ll give you time to feel comfortable with enjoying what I do to you. Just don’t make me wait too long.”
With that, Nash leans in close, reaching to the table behind me to grab my car keys. My breath lodges in my throat when his lips stop within an inch of mine. Up close, his eyes seem even darker than his brother’s. They’re so dark, in fact, I can’t even see where the iris stops and the pupil begins. They’re black. They’re fathomless. They’re consuming. It would be all too easy to get lost in them. Forget everything and everyone else. The lure to do exactly that is extremely compelling.
“Let’s go,” he says quietly, meaningfully, just before he leans away to open the door and hold it for me.
I can’t help but notice that my first few steps forward are on legs that feel like rubber.
* * *
I’m more than a little surprised by how relaxed I feel when Nash guides my car into a spot outside the courthouse, inside which is the Fulton County Law Library. The ride over has been as revelatory as it was stimulating. Nash is sharp. Very sharp.
I guess it was erroneous on my part to expect him to be . . . less than his brother, intellectually speaking. At this point, I think I would go so far as to say that Nash is the smarter of the two, which says a lot because I always found Cash to be brilliant. And so did my father, which was why it was a no-brainer for him to hire Cash (then Nash) on at the firm.
While Nash was away, he stayed on top of pretty much everything that went on in the civilized world, especially the South and Atlanta in particular. I’m sure that was easiest since he was watching Cash. And me.
I shiver.
The thought of him watching me from a distance, without my knowledge, gives me a little thrill. Even though he wasn’t watching me in a perverted kind of way, it’s still somewhat intrusive. But a part of me doesn’t mind him intruding on my privacy. In fact, on some level, I crave it. I crave everything he represents. He feels like rebellion. And freedom. Like a salvation of sorts. I just didn’t know until recently that I needed saving.
As I suspected, the parking lot outside the library entrance is devoid of any cars that I recognize. Our firm practices the type of corporate law that seldom requires trips to the local courthouse. On top of that, none of my coworkers would have a need to visit the county law library when there is an extensively stocked one in our office downtown. Unless, of course, they are like me—hiding.
Nash and I walk in silence to an empty table among the stacks and stacks of books. I’ve been here only a handful of times, and even then, I was never concentrating on criminal law, so my expertise in this area is virtually nil. But that’s what I’m here to change.
I set down my things at the table and start digging back through my law school days for helpful memories like precedents and effective ways to construct a criminal case. The wheels spin, but for the most part, they’re ineffective. I’m just not well versed in this kind of thing.
“Maybe we should at least look into racketeering, since that’s what Cash has worked so long on proving. Maybe there’s a way we can still make a case,” Nash offers.
Yes, anyone would be a fool to underestimate Nash simply because he looks like a felon. There’s an incredibly sharp, observant mind behind his attractively unkempt façade. It’s an intoxicating combination.
“I guess that’s as good a place to start as any.”
He smiles down at me. It’s a genuine smile, one I don’t think I’ve seen him wear. He looks more boyish and less harmful with it in place. It’s very deceptive, as I know he’s neither.
“I figured you might need a place to dig in. This isn’t exactly your specialty, right?”
I laugh uneasily as I return his smile. I feel a bit off-kilter from his ability to continually surprise me with his perceptiveness. “No, not exactly.”
“Let’s get on with this, then.”