Chapter 16
Jess
“Do you have a minute?” I asked, peeking my head around the door. Brian was at his desk, collar unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up, looking delicious, typing furiously with a pencil clenched between his teeth.
The pure focus in his eyes was hot.
“I was hoping we could walk through the documents you sent me,” I hedged.
He nodded, and I quietly settled in a guest chair, admiring the achievement that was this office.
Despite the ancient, dingy gold carpet and the flickering fluorescent lights, it was so organized it was practically sterile.
Shelves full of law books with spines perfectly aligned dominated one wall, and the small window let in a decent amount of sunlight.
His desk was bare, save for the two computer monitors and a small leather cup that held pens.
On the wall behind his chair hung fancy diplomas in museum-quality frames.
It smelled like printer toner and coffee.
Only Brian could elevate a decaying seventies-style office in Jersey to his Manhattan standards.
As I flipped through the stack of papers, he stood and stretched, looking more disheveled than I’d seen him since our college days.
He was just as adorable like this as he’d been back then.
Though even now, disheveled may have been a strong term.
For him, it meant an open collar and rolled-up sleeves, his hair a bit messy, like he’d run his fingers through it.
Even like this, he could have been on a Times Square billboard selling fancy watches.
Brian had emailed me drafts of the motion and the memorandum to support it, but I didn’t understand much of it, so he’d suggested I come in so we could discuss it.
After all the experience I’d had with the legal system, I should have been a pro at reading and understanding these documents. But I tended to zone out when they started citing precedent from the 1960s.
He walked around his massive desk and stood behind me, pointing at the papers.
“Here’s where I lay out the arguments. Since we pulled Judge Gordon, I spelled out the logic.”
He leaned over me as I read, with one hand on the back of my chair and the other on the table, essentially caging me between his arms.
His breath skated over my neck, causing goose bumps to erupt as he walked me through the elements of our case.
“And this.” He leaned closer, circling something on the page, his warmth soaking into me.
I tried to focus on the section he was pointing out, but the words were blurry. I was better off trying to decipher the documents myself. At this rate, I’d have no clue what I was even doing in court. My heart pounded in my ears, my whole being hyperaware of his presence.
Words.
Read the words on the page, Jess.
But he smelled good, and he was speaking in his smooth, deep voice.
Focus, Jess.
This information was critically important for my kids’ future. For my future. And Brian was my attorney, working hard on my behalf.
I wanted to understand. I really did.
But how could I when he was so close and smelled so good?
Warm and spicy and maybe a little woodsy, like a forest.
“What’s that smell?” I blurted out, tipping my head up. “Cedar?”
Instantly, my face burned, and I wished with everything I had that I could take it back. Instead, I dropped my gaze to the document again, pretending to be fascinated by a paragraph about visitation.
“My beard oil,” he said, raking his fingers through it. “It’s cedar something.”
The movement drew my focus. It was simple yet intoxicating.
I’d never had a thing for facial hair, but on Brian, it served to make him look more manly and capable.
Like he could start the day by filing my legal motion and follow it up by changing the oil in my car, then end the day by whipping up a gourmet meal.
In many ways, he was still the gangly boy I’d fallen for in college. Yet he was somehow also a completely new, fully grown man. He was smart and capable, with a soothing voice that made me believe that maybe I could win this and get the fresh start I’d been dreaming of for years.
He backed off a fraction, and the distance allowed me to find the wherewithal to read through the rest of the papers. I even came up with a few clarifying questions before I signed off on filing.
When I’d set my pen down, he gathered up the papers and jotted a few notes at the top.
“I’ll get these edits done, and Lo will file at the court tomorrow morning.”
I stood, smoothing the skirt of my sundress, a sense of relief twining through me. “I don’t know how you got all this done so quickly, but I am so grateful.”
He picked up the stack of documents and tapped them on the desk to straighten them. “It’s what I do. I’d work night and day to help you, Jess.”
My stomach flipped in response to his words. Or, more accurately, the tone with which he spoke. Like I wasn’t just a regular client.
Rather than fan myself, which was my first instinct, I clutched my hands together and gave him a firm smile. I could swoon on my own time. This was business, and I had to at least pretend I was a grown woman who had her shit together.
He stood beside me, watching me. Not backing away, not returning to work, but just staring.
Close.
Too close, really.
In this tiny office, it was virtually impossible to put an appropriate amount of space between us.
Like this, I was only a few inches from the hard planes of his chest. Like this, I could still feel the heat of his strong body.
His golden eyes blazed as he assessed me in return.
They kept me pinned to the spot. I couldn’t move.
I didn’t want to move. I wanted to lean in closer, to pull his face down to mine.
A muscle in his jaw pulsed, and of its own accord, my body swayed closer. Wanting—needing—something I couldn’t name or understand.
He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Jess.” My name on his lips was a plea.
His eyes, still locked on me, darkened to amber as he flattened a palm on the desk and grazed my hip with the long fingers of his free hand.
My heart hammered, pounding against my rib cage. I was going to kiss Brian Machon. My first love and my lawyer. There was no other outcome.
“Yes?” I said, placing my hand on his chest and angling in.
He tilted his head closer, and in response, my eyes fluttered closed. I held my breath in anticipation of—
A snarl followed by a crash made my heart jump. Brian and I stumbled apart, eyes darting around the room. It took a moment to understand what was going on.
Fuzzy tore across the room like a furry missile. He jumped and bounded from the bookshelf onto the desk, sending the cup of pens flying. He padded over the top of Brian’s keyboard, then jumped toward us, causing me to step back and get out of the way.
Without slowing, he leaped to the ground and took off again. He crashed headfirst into the bookshelf, causing a stack of documents to drop to the floor.
“Dammit,” Brian roared, but the cat didn’t slow.
As if they’d attacked him, Fuzzy shredded the papers with his claws. Once he’d laid waste to them, he circled, made eye contact with Brian, and bolted out of the room with a guttural mrow battle cry.
Laughter bubbled up inside me, an uncontrollable effervescent sensation. “What just happened?”
Brian ran his hands through his hair, surveying the mess. “T. J. and Murphy call it the zoomies of doom. Personally, I believe it’s demonic possession.”
His lips twitched, and when he made eye contact with me, he barked a laugh.
Before I knew it, we were both howling with laughter. I clutched the arm of the chair as tears ran down my cheeks.
It felt as though we’d just witnessed the rampage of a wild animal.
Brian rubbed his eyes and shook his head, collecting himself. “I want to sue that fucking cat for intentional infliction of emotional distress.”
That sent me into another fit of giggles.
The romantic tension was gone, but watching Brian cackle while cursing out a dog-sized cat brought me a strange sense of happiness.
As we cleaned up the books and pens, we couldn’t stop laughing, and God, was he handsome when he laughed.
The sound triggered so many college memories, reminding me of all the fun we’d had.
Once upon a time, we’d laughed our way through Boston together.
He’d been my safe place, so familiar and so comforting.
Life sure had changed in the last twenty years.
“I’d better get my kids,” I said as I handed him a stack of papers.
He took them from me, and as our fingers brushed, an electric charge rushed up my arm. The sensation urged me to step closer, to touch him more.
Clearing my throat, I fought the desire. I needed to get myself out of this office before I did something stupid like jump on top of him and kiss his handsome face off.
“We’re gonna win this,” he said, his serious lawyer face firmly in place once more.
“I hope so.” I picked up my bag and shuffled to the door, trying to calm my racing heart.
Brian Machon had almost kissed me.
And I’d been more than eager to kiss him back.