Legal Desire

He must have noticed her glance at it because he gestured at that tray as he moved toward her. His legs were heavily muscled, too, his thighs straining against his dress pants as he walked. His body looked strong, powerful.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

She was—but apparently not for food. Maybe she’d denied herself too long. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex and not just because it must have been a while ago but because it must not have been very memorable.

She suspected that it would be memorable with Trevor Sinclair. With his body, his mouth, his big hands, she had no doubt sex with him would be very memorable.

She shook her head. “No, I’m not hungry,” she lied, willing herself to deny her hunger for him. She would not mix business with pleasure.

But for a few moments, when all the partners had been staring at her, she’d wondered if her business with Street Legal was about to end. Even if it did, she still wouldn’t risk a sexual relationship with one of them.

Least of all Trevor Sinclair...

How would she feel if she were in bed with him?

Even more overwhelmed...

And vulnerable.

Allison hated feeling vulnerable. She wouldn’t date someone who might affect her too much, who might make her want too much. She knew that only led to disappointment and heartbreak.

“Good,” he said.

She blinked, trying to focus on what he was saying. It was hard to focus with him standing so close. He had moved quickly from the door to the table and she hadn’t had a chance to step back. Not that she would have. Allison never backed down. “What?”

“I’m glad you’re not hungry,” he said, “because now we can get right to it.”

She blinked again because it didn’t make sense. Get right to what? Sex?

No. She didn’t want that. Not with him.

All she wanted was another assignment, and that had to be the reason he’d requested this meeting. That had to be the reason the other partners had left.

“You took on a new case?” she asked, and excitement surged through her again.

It was much safer for Allison to focus on business. And she actually enjoyed business with Trevor Sinclair. His cases involved taking down big companies, making them pay for any harm they might have done the public or the environment. Helping him made up for the other Street Legal cases, like Ronan Hall’s messy divorce ones or Stone Michaelsen’s criminal ones.

But he shook his head. “Nope. I’m not taking on any new cases right now.”

She felt a pang of disappointment, which was followed quickly with curiosity. “Then why did you want to meet with me?” she asked.

Alone?

He stared down at her for a long moment, his deep green eyes intense. She could feel the heat of his muscular body. An answering wave of heat rushed through her as her pulse quickened. Maybe she should have stayed in the chair Simon Kramer had pulled out for her because then Trevor might have sat down, as well. Then he wouldn’t be so close.

“I wanted you to come here,” he said, and his deep voice sounded even deeper than usual, “because I have a proposition for you.”

A proposition? That had nothing to do with a case?

If it wasn’t business, didn’t it have to be pleasure?

She sucked in a shaky breath.

And he flashed one of those wide, wicked grins of his, and his green eyes sparkled with amusement and something else.

Desire?

No.

Maybe she was still sleeping. Maybe she was dreaming—that Trevor Sinclair was propositioning her...

Her mouth fell open, her lips—which were nearly as red as her hair—parted on a gasp. Her pale skin finally flushed with color while her pale eyes also darkened as her pupils dilated.

He had her. He’d caught the notorious ice queen off guard with his remark. She wasn’t so cool now. He had flustered the usually unflappable publicist. He laughed. “Not that kind of proposition, Allison.”

She shook her head, tumbling the red waves of her hair around her slender shoulders. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Trev was standing close to her, so close that he knew everybody who had called her the ice queen, himself included, was wrong. He felt the heat of her body even though he hadn’t touched her. He really wanted to touch her. Hell, he really wanted her.

So he turned and slid onto the table right next to where she stood, and his knee bumped against her thigh. She stepped back, though.

She obviously did not want him touching her.

He chuckled again at her reaction. “You thought I was propositioning you for sex.”

“Of course I didn’t think that,” she haughtily replied, her pointy little chin lifting in disdain.

“What if I was?” he wondered.

All restless energy, he stood up again, and he was close enough that his suddenly very tense body brushed against hers. How could he want her even knowing that she was the mole? How the hell could he feel any desire for her let alone so much that it had tension winding tightly inside him?

Of course, even though she was the mole, she was stunning. Maybe trying to seduce the truth out of her wasn’t the bad idea he’d thought it was when Simon had tried it with Bette, and Ronan with Muriel.

“Would you be interested?” he asked.

She blinked as if trying to clear her vision before staring up at him. “Would I be interested?” she repeated. “In sex with you?”

And he almost thought she was considering it—until she laughed. That laugh—clear and sharp—cut his pride like a knife.

“Why is that so damn funny?” he asked.

“Because you’re joking,” she said purposefully.

Trev was suddenly very serious—so serious that he leaned a little closer to her. Their bodies brushed again. Her breasts touched his torso, just below his chest. He felt the mad pounding of her heart and the heat of her body again. She definitely was not an ice queen. He wasn’t getting frostbite at all. He was getting hot.

Damn hot for the unscrupulous little publicist.

So hot that he couldn’t resist his impulse to reach out. He slid his arm around her slim waist, and she moved her body more fully against his, clearly wanting him back. Then he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.

Her lips were like silk, so smooth and soft. He nipped and nibbled at them, devouring her as that desire consumed him. He wanted her lips to part, so he could deepen the kiss, so he could slide his tongue inside her mouth.

But he wanted more than that inside her. He wanted to bury his throbbing cock inside her, too. He’d never been so turned on before by just a kiss.

But she wasn’t just kissing him...

His scalp tingled as he felt her hands in his hair, sliding through it, clutching his head to hers. Then, finally, she parted her lips, deepening the kiss.

And he knew her image was just that: Allison McCann was no ice queen. She was all fire and passion.

He tasted so damn good, just like she’d thought he would, like coffee and sugar. His tongue slid between her lips, stroking over hers. She would probably taste like the mint she’d swallowed when he’d jerked her into his arms. While one of his arms was wound around her waist, the other was around her back, as his hand cupped the back of her head, holding it against his as he kissed her.

And her fingers were in his hair, tangled in the thick strands of it. She wanted to slide her fingers down his face, over his muscular chest to the buckle of his belt.

She wanted to undress him. Wanted him to undress her...

She wanted more than a kiss. She wanted him to release the tension he’d built inside her. She wanted his tongue other places than her mouth.

She couldn’t believe that she would want that, that she would want him. And it seemed mutual. She felt his erection straining against the fly of his jeans as he pressed his long, muscular body against hers—as he kissed her.

Trevor Sinclair was kissing her. And she was kissing him back.

That wasn’t just unprofessional—it was career and emotional suicide. Just the kiss.

If they did any more, if they crossed the line any further...

She stepped back, jerking herself out of his arms.

“No,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady despite how hard she was shaking with desire.

Breathing hard, he stared at her blankly, his brow furrowed beneath the fall of the hair she’d tousled with her fingers. “What?”

“If your proposition is for sex, my answer is no,” she clarified. And she fought to still her trembling. She couldn’t afford to let him see how badly he’d affected her, how badly she wanted him, because then he might call her bluff. He might pull her back into his arms and prove that she wanted him just as badly as he’d seemed to want her.

But she must have fooled him because he nodded. “That’s right. I forgot that you said you hate lawyers.”

She flinched with regret that she’d let that slip out once in a meeting with him and Stone Michaelsen. That had been nearly as unprofessional as letting Trevor kiss her. And kissing him back.

That had just been stupid, and Allison was rarely stupid. But she’d wondered for a long time what it would feel like to have that wide mouth of his against hers. It had been even better than she’d thought. What would it be like if they’d gone further?

She nearly shivered as sensations raced through her. And now she regretted pulling away as soon as she had. Maybe she should have let the kiss go on...to more.

“So I guess it’s a good thing I might not be a lawyer much longer,” he said.

She sucked in a breath. She hated lawyers but she knew they were necessary, especially good ones like Trevor Sinclair. “Why not? Did you get turned in to the bar association like your partner?”

His brow furrowed.

Maybe he hadn’t known she’d been aware of that. But she had sources everywhere and she couldn’t afford any surprises in her work.

He shook his head. “I didn’t do anything to get reported to the bar,” he said. “And neither did Ronan. That complaint was bogus.”

She wasn’t so certain about that. But she nodded as if she agreed with him. “Then I don’t understand.”

“Somebody forged those documents they claimed were from Ronan’s case files—”

“No,” she interrupted him. She didn’t want to talk about his partners. “If you’re not losing your license, why won’t you be a lawyer much longer?”

He chuckled. “I’m not losing my license,” he assured her. “I’ve decided to give up law in order to run for public office.”

Now it made sense the comments she’d overheard his partners making to him as they’d exited the office, all some version of wishing him luck. For a second she’d thought those comments might have been in regard to her. But until he’d kissed her, she hadn’t been able to imagine why he might have needed luck with her.

Unless he’d planned to seduce her.

He hadn’t. He had probably only kissed her because she’d stung his pride. She shouldn’t have goaded him. But there was something about Trevor Sinclair, something that caused her usual guard to slip.

She fought now to put her guard back up as he studied her face. She wasn’t certain if he was looking for her reaction to his kiss or to his news. She hid them both under a mask of mild curiosity as she asked, “What does your running for public office have to do with me?”

“I want you to help me,” he said. “I want you to run my campaign.”

That proposition was nearly as ridiculous as his wanting to have sex with her. Hell, she would have preferred that proposition to this one. She laughed again.

“I’m serious,” he told her.

And as was the case with him, her professionalism slipped again and she admitted, “There’s one thing I hate more than lawyers,” she said. “Politicians.”

“I don’t need you to love me,” he said. “I just need you to help me win.”

She laughed again. She wasn’t certain what was funnier. The thought of her falling in love with him or the thought of her helping him win an election. But her laughter sounded a bit hollow as it echoed inside his big office. And she forced herself to stop before it passed from hollow to hysterical.

She shook her head. “I’m a publicist,” she reminded him. “I’m not a campaign manager.”

“I know what you are, Allison,” he said. And for a second something cold and determined passed through his deep green eyes.

She shivered.

Then he blinked and replaced the look with a twinkle of amusement. “And you’re all I need right now,” he said. “You’re who I want.”

She wanted him, too, but not like this, not as a client. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sinclair. I can’t help you.”

“You don’t think I could actually win an election?” he asked.

She sighed. “No, I think you could.” And that was the problem.

But he obviously couldn’t see it. His brow furrowed again as he said, “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t play politics,” she said. Not anymore.

“You’re a publicist,” he said, throwing her words back at her. “That’s all you do is play politics.”

No. She didn’t have to play politics. Not ever again.

“I’m not interested in this assignment,” she said. And she stepped back, heading toward the door. “I’m sure you can find someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else,” he said. “I want you.”

If only he’d really meant that personally and hadn’t kissed her just out of wounded pride.

She laughed again—at herself—because her pride was wounded. And once again her guard slipped and she found herself admitting, “You would have had a better shot at me agreeing to a proposition for sex than playing politics.”

CHAPTER THREE

“ALLISON MCCANN DOES not exist.”

Trev snorted over Simon’s pronouncement. If she didn’t exist, who the hell had he just been kissing in his office?

“You can’t make her disappear just because I figured out she’s the mole,” he said.

It must have been killing Simon to know that Trev had figured it out before he had. It was probably killing him even more that he had been the one who’d hired her, which was probably why he’d had Miguel send Trev to his office the minute she’d left. Miguel must have told the managing partner when she’d headed to the elevator.

She’d done that quickly—right after turning down his assignment. But had she left the door open to something else? To something more personal than politics?

Or had she only been joking? He’d been so stunned that she might have accepted his sexual proposition that he hadn’t moved fast enough to stop her from leaving his office. And by the time his dick had settled down enough for him to move, he’d rushed into the hall to find her already gone.

Then Miguel had redirected him here—to Simon’s office where Ronan and Stone waited for him along with the managing partner. They must have all come here after they’d left his meeting.

Simon’s office was very similar to Trev’s with the tall windows, exposed brick and long conference table. Simon also had a leather couch along one of the interior walls.

Trev didn’t have any comfy furniture in his. He was usually too restless when he was working to sit down and relax. Simon wasn’t the type to relax, either. But according to office gossip, he didn’t use that couch for taking naps.

Maybe Trev needed a couch like that. He could have taken Allison there. Hell, he could have taken Allison on the conference table. Or standing up.

But Trev always took no for an answer.

While Ronan and Stone sat around that conference table, drinking from the mugs of coffee they’d brought from his office, Simon sat at his desk. He studied his computer monitor through narrowed eyes as if he was trying to find something. Or someone...

“I didn’t make her disappear,” Simon said. “Allison McCann never appeared in the first place, at least not until she started her PR firm seven years ago. No birth certificate. No social security number. No nothing.”

She’d certainly felt real in his office—in his arms...

Trev paced in front of the windows that looked out onto Midtown. He glanced down at the street, but he was too high to see any people clearly. Still, if she was down there, he would have noticed her. With her bright red hair and pale skin, she would have been recognizable from any distance.

“So what do you think?” Ronan asked Simon. “Did she create herself when she created her company?”

Simon leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Maybe she’s not an ice princess at all,” he mused. “Maybe she’s a robot.”

She was definitely flesh and blood—all very hot flesh and blood. But Trev wasn’t ready to admit to his partners that he’d kissed the mole.

Trev shook his head. “She’s not a robot.”

Simon sighed. “Then I have no idea what she is or where she came from.”

Trev had no doubt that she was real. “What are you thinking?” he asked Ronan, who’d brought up that she’d created herself. Why would she have done that? “Do you think it’s just a PR stunt?”

Ronan shrugged. “A person who’s all about image might have set out to create one for herself.”

“I hope that’s all it is and not the ultimate con,” Simon said. The former con artist was probably beating himself up thinking he had missed a con. “I should have checked her out better.” His face was tight with self-recrimination.

“You checked out her firm,” Trev reminded him. “Hers was the best.” Or Simon wouldn’t have hired her.

“But who the hell is she?” Simon said. “And why would she suddenly turn on us like she has?”

Trev wondered that, too. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“You’re not having doubts now, are you?” Simon asked. “She didn’t already get to you, did she?”

She’d gotten to him—physically. Trev wanted her like he couldn’t remember wanting anyone else in a hell of a long time. “No doubts that she’s the mole,” Trev said. He was even more certain now that he was right. “What doesn’t make sense is why she agreed to work for us in the first place with how she feels about lawyers.”

He focused on Stone, who’d been curiously silent this whole time. He was the one who’d been with Trev when she’d made that comment. And now she’d made one about her dislike of another profession.

Simon asked, “What about your plan? Did she take the bait?”

Trev shook his head. “No, she hates politicians more than she hates lawyers.”

Simon expelled a ragged breath. “What the hell is her deal?”

“I don’t know.” But Trev was more determined than ever to find out.

Stone cleared his throat. “Bellows isn’t Hillary’s real last name,” he said.

Trev and the other partners turned to him in surprise. He’d never mentioned that before. Hillary was an ambitious assistant district attorney. They’d never even suspected her of being the mole. What reason could she have had for changing her name? “Really?”

Stone nodded then he glanced at Simon. “You wouldn’t be able to find any birth certificate for Hillary Bellows. She took her mother’s maiden name.”

“Why?” Trev asked. “Is her father a criminal and, as a DA, she didn’t want to be associated with him?”

Stone shook his head. “Just the opposite. He’s someone very rich and very important and she didn’t want special treatment because of her real last name.”

Ronan snorted. “I doubt that would be the case for a publicist. If her father’s famous, she would undoubtedly use that to her advantage.”

But Trev wondered.

While Allison McCann didn’t have any problem delivering their press releases, she was careful so that she was never any part of the story herself.

Simon tapped the keys on his computer. “So if Allison took her mother’s maiden name...”

“How are you going to find her real name?” Stone asked him. “I had no idea who Hillary really was until she told me.”

Simon cursed.

“I’ll find out,” Trev assured them.

“How?” Simon asked. “You said she didn’t take the bait.”

Not that bait. But she’d given him another opening—when she’d kissed him back.

“I’m not giving up after just one shot,” Trev said. Or one kiss.

“We don’t just need to know who she is, though. We need to get evidence against her in order to bring her down like she tried bringing down Street Legal,” Simon said.

The others nodded in agreement.

Trev might have found another way in—literally. But he wasn’t about to share that with any of his friends yet. “I’m not giving up,” he repeated. “I’m going to get her.”

Simon shook his head. “I’m not sure I want you risking yourself like this,” he said. “We don’t really know anything about her. She could be dangerous.”

“She is.” She’d affected him like no other woman ever had. “But she doesn’t scare me.”

“That’s the problem,” Simon said. “You should be scared and you’re not.”

His friend’s words chilled Trev for a moment, finally cooling off the heat of the desire he felt for Allison. He didn’t want to wind up like his friends had. He didn’t want to be in a relationship the way all of them were.

But he didn’t have to worry about that happening to him. Allison was the mole, so there was no way he would ever fall for her. Hell, he was safer than his friends were, which was good because after that kiss, he was damn well going to get Allison McCann or whoever the hell she really was.

Allison had lost her damn mind. She couldn’t believe she’d said what she had to Trevor Sinclair. Fortunately, he hadn’t taken her up on the offer any more than she’d taken him up on his offer to help him run for office.

What the hell had she been thinking?

She hadn’t. After that kiss she hadn’t been able to think at all. That was her only excuse for her slip in judgment. Two slips...

Her first slip had been slipping her tongue into his damn mouth. Kissing him had been so stupid. And then to suggest that she might have agreed to have sex with him.

The sad thing was that she hadn’t been kidding. She was tempted. But apparently, she hadn’t been enough of a temptation for him. Maybe he couldn’t believe she’d turned down his job offer, though.

And that had probably been her third mistake. Like she’d said, he had a damn good shot at winning whatever election he ran for. If she was the one who helped him cross from lawyer to politician, she could bring her business to the next level. But politics wasn’t where she wanted it or her to go.

She wasn’t sure it was the right place for Trevor Sinclair, either. He was a much better lawyer than he would be a politician. But he was so eloquent and so damn good-looking that there was no way he could lose...whatever he wanted.

For a moment, with the passionate way he’d kissed her, she’d thought he’d wanted her. But he only wanted her to help him win.

She sighed. She probably should have taken the assignment. But politics and campaigns...

She shuddered as bad memories washed over her. Memories were all they were, and she was too strong, too resilient, to let them ever get to her again. She wouldn’t let Trevor Sinclair get to her, either.

And just in case he’d tried to track her down later that day, she’d made certain to stay so busy that now, at the end of the workday, she was exhausted. She dropped her dress on her closet floor and grabbed her nightgown. Moments later she opened a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass as she glanced down at her view of the park.

She should have been out there, running. That was her fastest way to relieve stress. But she didn’t think this was the kind of stress that could be relieved with exercise. She needed sex.

Sex with Trevor Sinclair. While she had other men she could have called, he was the one she wanted, which was stupid. She worked with him. At least she used to work with him. Mixing business with pleasure...

Was stupid.

But where else was Allison to find pleasure when all she did was work? She pressed her glass to her lips and took a long sip. The alcohol shot straight from her empty stomach to her head. Maybe she should have waited to open the wine until after she’d eaten. But she wasn’t interested in food.