Chapter Four
LOUIS TAPPED THE pencil against his desk in rapid succession.
He should be working. A stack of legal briefs on his desk were calling his name, taunting him, whispering about his slacker nature.
Unfortunately, he only had eyes for the digital clock on his computer screen.
Six minutes past ten in the morning. If he could’ve placed a bet on rabbit girl being the type to run late, he would have made it without hesitation.
She seemed like the type to make a man suffer before gracing him with her presence.
Applying that last stroke of lip gloss and missing the train in the process.
Every minute that passed was torture. A delay of the inevitable explosion that would happen when she walked into his office dressed as Lady Liberty and realized he’d ordered her from the agency to sing “New York, New York” bright and early on a Monday morning.
In his humble defense, he’d been given no choice in the matter.
The smug prick who’d answered the phone at Singaholix Anonymous had refused to pass on her contact information.
Wouldn’t even tell Louis her name . Instead, his response had been, “There’s only one surefire way to see her again, isn’t there, buddy?
” Realizing the move would almost completely screw his chances with rabbit girl, Louis had nonetheless found himself reciting his credit card information into the phone, giving a phony name so she wouldn’t blow him off completely.
And this came on the heels of calling Zoe, his one-night stand, to get the agency’s number, earning him an affronted screech and an aching eardrum.
Yeah, he was that desperate to see rabbit girl again.
Desperate enough to risk having his eyeballs clawed out before he ate the peanut butter and banana sandwich he’d brought for lunch.
But the weekend had done nothing to dull the memory of her from his mind.
If anything, it had grown stronger. There had been one weak moment in the shower this morning when he’d considered trying to re-create the kiss with the back of his hand. It had been a damn close call.
He leaned back in his chair and did a quick scan of his cluttered office.
What would she think of him when she walked in here?
Most girls were impressed by his law degree, his securing a position at the prestigious Winston and Doubleday law firm at the young age of twenty-six.
He usually left out the part about his father being Doubleday’s golf partner since the late eighties.
Yeah, his boss had seen him in diapers. How many people could claim that?
Thankfully, Doubleday had retired to an estate in Palm Beach with his ex-secretary, making it possible for Louis to walk into the office every morning without a brown paper bag over his head.
If he hadn’t been fascinated by law, he never would have let his father get him the job.
Fact is, he loved the intricacies of the justice system.
He’d wanted to be a lawyer since Take Your Daughter to Work Day 2001.
It had been his sisters’ gig, but they’d dragged him along to act as entertainment.
True to form, his father had left them in the conference room under the supervision of an intern while he’d left to do something important .
The intern had promptly fallen asleep, and Louis had seen his Sister Escape Hatch.
He’d crawled under the table and slipped out the door.
While they’d carved their initials into the conference table with letter openers, he’d found himself fascinated by a meeting taking place two doors down.
A woman had quietly explained to the suited man behind the desk that she couldn’t afford to pay him his entire fee up front.
The man had been ... unaffected. Cold.
He’d apologized that he couldn’t do more for her and shown her the door.
So while Louis had always let his father think he’d become a lawyer to be just like dear old dad, it really came down to the fact that he’d hated seeing that woman cry.
In the hopes of becoming the kind of lawyer that did good for people and didn’t just chase his next fat paycheck, he’d made his father a deal.
He would take the position at Winston and Doubleday if his contract required him to perform one hundred hours of pro bono work for the entire length of his employment.
Louis was all too aware of how easily a lawyer could lose sight of why he’d wanted to practice law, as his father had.
He was counting on the clause in his contract to keep him honest. To remind him why he’d worked his ass off to pass the bar.
Unfortunately that part of his contract had been fulfilled, faster than he’d ever thought possible, and now the agreement was up for review.
He’d asked that another one hundred hours be added to his new contract with the firm, and it was currently “under advisement” with Doubleday.
That worried him like hell. His boss tended to make snap decisions, usually so he could get back on the green.
This postponement of any real decision had been out of character, leaving Louis in limbo.
He liked the pro bono work. More than the paid work, actually.
Helping someone who didn’t have unlimited cash to throw at a problem was infinitely more satisfying.
Rabbit girl would be aware of exactly none of his honest intentions, however.
She would see his ordering her services as a power play, something to amuse him while he lounged around in his cushy, air-conditioned office.
Louis estimated he’d have about three seconds from the time she walked in to convince her not to flip him the bird and dive straight back down the rabbit hole.
It had been a pretty bold move, bringing her to his place of work, but most of the office spent Monday mornings in court or at client meetings, so he’d taken a gamble.
He knew for a fact she wouldn’t return to his apartment, so he’d been left little choice.
When he heard the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking down the hallway toward his office, Louis shot to his feet, abandoning the pencil on his desk, where it rolled to the floor.
Jesus, the receptionist hadn’t even buzzed him.
She was probably too busy laughing. At his rabbit girl.
That thought caused a pit to form in his stomach.
Shit, this had been a really bad idea. Possibly his worst idea of all time.
If his intention had been to charm her, he was off to a piss-poor start.
The door swung open. For one brief, shining moment, his gaze was locked with hers. The girl he’d been dreaming about. The girl who had exiled him to the land of disturbing Internet porn. For just an instant, he saw hurt cloud her features.
With a lift of her chin, it transformed into outrage.
He admired her for it, in a way. Her ability to rein in her pride when she was dressed in a sparkly green Lady Liberty costume.
“You’re one slimy motherfucker, you know that?
” She tested the weight of the torch in her hand.
“A tourist outside tried to take a picture with me.”
She hurled the torch at his head.
As he ducked under his desk to avoid impact, Louis acknowledged his error in picking a costume that included a prop.
His own fault, really. Behind him, the glass frame holding his law degree shattered and crashed to the ground.
He ignored it, launching himself toward the door before she could escape.
“Hear me out.” Taking his life in his hands, he grabbed onto her by the shoulders, preventing her from charging back out into the hallway.
When she didn’t protest as he anticipated, he watched her cast a reluctant glance toward the reception area, where he could now hear his colleagues’ amused voices.
Of course. This is the morning they would pick to return to the office early.
She’s deciding between the lesser of two evils.
I’m one of those evils. Louis hated himself in that moment.
Whatever it took to make this right, he would do it.
“You have thirty seconds,” she said finally.
He blew out a relieved breath. “Thank you. I—”
She yanked the green robe over her head and tossed it onto the floor.
The spiky crown came next, sending auburn hair tumbling down around her bare shoulders, curling around the sexy, handful-sized breasts pressing against her white tank top.
Her trim stomach peeked out from underneath the hem, just above skintight jeans.
Louis’s mouth went dry. His train of thought seeped out through his ears.
“What are you doing?” Louis managed.
She looked at him as though he’d sprouted a third eye. “I’m not going back out there dressed like a fucking statue. They’re not going to laugh when they see what these jeans do for my ass, now, are they?”
“No.” Don’t look. Don’t look. “I seriously doubt it.”
“You have twenty seconds to tell me why I rode the subway dressed like an asshole.”
“Right.” Jesus, man. Eyes up. Focus. You’ve seen a hot girl before. “Not this hot.”
“What?”
“Did I just say that out loud?”
“Fifteen seconds.”