15. Brooke
brOOKE
It sounds silly, but losing the necklace feels like losing my aunt all over again. I’m trying not to cry. It’s likely a losing battle. Stuart’s being so kind. For some reason, even that threatens to bring an onslaught of tears.
I have to pull myself together. I’m with a client, or at least an almost client, so an emotional display wouldn’t be acceptable. But for some reason, Stuart no longer seems like someone only related to work.
Even if he’s right about not being a client, he doesn’t need to deal with my problems. Hell, if one of my colleagues lost a pricey Rolex, they’d pretend it didn’t matter. Besides, their insurance would likely replace it.
This is different. I can’t replace my aunt’s necklace—at least not with one holding the same memories.
There’s no way I can afford a whole strand of Tahitian black pearls.
And I don’t have insurance, which was probably a big mistake.
Given the value of the pearls, insurance would have been quite expensive.
My money was better used toward my student loans.
And the necklace’s value to me wasn’t monetary. It was sentimental.
Sometimes I wonder about my life. Why are my only connections to people from my past? Many of them are gone. That’s why I’m gripping their memories and keepsakes with such a tight hold. Why am I not making new friends and relationships?
I guess I’d thought that work would provide friendships because we’re all focused on the same thing. It didn’t turn out that way. My colleagues aren’t worthy of my barely existent free time.
I smile, remembering Stuart referring to Justin, Ben, and Wendy as losers.
They are so full of themselves, which is ironic.
As senior associates, they’re barely above me in the pecking order.
They’re still below the junior partners, senior partners, and our managing partner.
We junior associates are the only ones they can lord over, and they do so with a vengeance.
We’re leery of them and the harm they can cause our careers.
That’s why we call them the Triple Threat.
If Stuart only knew, the senior partners point to the members of the Triple Threat as the ones to emulate if we want to rise to the top.
While they’re the epitome of professionalism when the partners are around, their claws come out when they think one of us more lowly attorneys could threaten their success.
If the rumors are true, they’ve already chased a couple of junior associates away. The rest of us know better than to cross them.
Unfortunately, Barclay may have put a target on my back by assigning me to shadow Stuart this week.
Based on their reactions when we stopped at their table to say hello, they thought one of them should have been given the assignment.
And unknowingly, Stuart made it worse by suggesting how pleased he is with me as the attorney by his side.
Shit. If only I could turn off my brain for a little while. This is all too much.
A large warm hand pats my shoulder. Turning toward Stuart, I say, “Forgive me. I was lost in my thoughts.”
“Shh. No need to apologize. I hope you don’t mind if I remove my suit jacket. Our driver says it will be at least an hour drive.”
“No problem.”
At least that’s what I thought until I watch him carefully, and oh so slowly, roll up the sleeves on his white dress shirt. With each fold of the fabric, he exposes a little more of his strong, muscled forearms. Why that is so sexy, I don’t know. But damn, it’s hot in here.
Slipping off my jacket to cool off too, I ask, “Are we really going to the beach?”
“Absolutely. Consider me your genie. Your wish is my command.”
“You’re too much. I can’t believe we’re doing this. You’re going to ruin your suit at the beach.”
“Don’t worry. I have a plan. Just sit back and relax.”
“I’ll try. For some reason, I’m suddenly tired.”
“It’s likely the aftereffects of stress. Close your eyes. Last time we were in a tough situation, I seem to remember you found my shoulder to be a good pillow. You’re welcome to use it again, if you’d like.”
“Thanks. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Of course not. Rest will be good for you,” he says, reaching for my arm and gently tugging me against his side.
I give in, letting my head rest on his shoulder, shutting my eyes and daring to hope for a short, peaceful nap.
As I start to relax, his arm wraps around my back and his hand begins gently massaging my shoulder. “Mmm. That feels good.” I snuggle closer, letting him softly knead the stress from my overly tight muscles.
My eyelids grow heavy with the warmth of his body and tenderness of his soothing touch. As I drift asleep, it hits me that I could fall for a guy like this. It’s too bad we live on different continents. There’s no way it could work.
A light, warm breeze is kissing the side of my neck. It tickles in a pleasant way. I don’t want it to stop, so I don’t dare wake up yet. Keeping my eyes tightly shut, I’ll lie still and enjoy the tingly feeling a little longer.
“Wake up. We’re arriving.”
How did the breeze learn to talk? This must be some magical dream. “Mmm. It feels good.”
“I’m glad you like me whispering in your ear, but you need to wake up now.”
“No. I like my dream.”
“Brooke, it’s not a dream. I’m happy to whisper in your ear again later. But we’ll be at our destination in less than fifteen minutes.”
My eyes pop open to find Stuart gazing at me with mischievous eyes. Oh my god, I’m practically lying in Stuart’s lap. Did I just tell him he feels good? Yep. I think I did.
Before I can pull away, he places his free hand on my cheek, saying, “I’m going to kiss you now unless you tell me to stop.”
He searches my face for an answer. I should definitely tell him to stop, but I don’t. Instead, I move my lips closer to his.
Our mouths collide. His hand slides behind my head, pulling me closer. My fingers thread into his hair, holding on as he deftly maneuvers me onto his lap.
My heart races as I gasp for breath between kisses. His tongue softly teases the seam between my mouth, gradually increasing the pressure. When I can’t wait any longer, my lips part and our tongues tangle in desperate need. Our pent-up desire bursts out in a whoosh.
A voice from a nearby speaker says, “We’ll be arriving in 3 minutes.”
I instantly pull away from Stuart, breathing heavily as heat colors my cheeks.
Stuart nudges my face against his solid chest, whispering, “He can’t hear or see us unless I push the button to speak.”
“That’s a relief,” I murmur, struggling to catch my breath after that toe-curling kiss.
“Stay quiet, and I’ll answer him. We have plenty of time to look sorted before we arrive. Okay?”
I nod against his chest while inwardly shaking my head. It’s impossible to understand what it is about Stuart that draws me in so easily. No matter how hard I try to resist him, I can’t keep my distance.
“Thank you for the update,” Stuart says to our driver.
Stuart kisses the top of my head before carefully slipping me off his lap and back onto the seat beside him, saying, “I’m excited for you to meet a couple of my friends from uni.
We’ve been planning to meet up while we’re all in LA.
Until now, our schedules haven’t worked out.
When you mentioned the beach, I instantly thought of bringing you to their house in Malibu. ”
“Oh no! I’m meeting your friends, looking like we’ve just been . . . you know . . . umm . . . in the backseat of a car . . . like teenagers.”
I’m mortified, but he merely chuckles.
“You look great. Just straighten your clothes and no one will ever know. Besides, I told them we’re just working together,” he confirms as he finger-combs his hair and, voilà, looks like nothing happened.
It’s so easy for guys. Not for me though. I’m sure my makeup is smudged, my blouse is untucked from my skirt, and my hair is a mess of tangles.
The blouse is the easiest fix, so I quickly tuck it in. Reaching for my purse, I retrieve my compact mirror and check my makeup. It’s not as bad as I feared. Thank god for waterproof mascara. A quick swipe of lipstick and I’m good to go on that front.
Unfortunately, my hair is a complete mess, and I don’t have a comb or brush. I try running my fingers through it, but that doesn’t remove the tangles. If anything, I’m making them worse. My only option is to pull my hair back into a ponytail. Let’s hope I have a hair tie in my purse.
Rummaging through it, I’m about to give up when I find one in the zipper compartment. Whew! Pulling it out, I’m horrified to see that it’s neon orange—not something that goes with my suit. Oh well. I don’t have much choice at this point.
As I gather my hair into a ponytail, I ask, “So your friends own a house in Malibu?”
“No. My mates, Evan and Sean, are renting it while they’re here on vacation. It was pure coincidence that we’re all in LA at the same time.”
“Did you say that you met them in college?”
“Exactly. Evan is from Europe, and Sean is from Las Vegas. I was a couple of years ahead of them at uni, but we had common interests. We’ve stayed close friends ever since and often spend at least part of each summer on holiday together.
Honestly, if Dad hadn’t become ill and needed me to substitute for him, I’d likely have joined them for at least a week or two this summer. ”
“You make it sound like they spend all summer traveling the world for fun.”
“They do.”
I’m about to ask more questions, but my jaw drops when the car comes to a halt. We’re not at just any Malibu beach house. We’re at a fucking mansion.
Who are these people?