Page 30 of Her Bad Boy

Laura came to find her, lounging against the wall while she attended to reparations in front of the mirror. "That bug's a persistent one, isn't it?"

Allie shrugged. "I don't think it's the same thing as before. My stomach's been a little queasy occasionally—"

"In the morning?" Laura asked, narrowing her eyes intently.

She had to consider that. "No, afternoon and evenings, mostly."

"Oh. Well, maybe you should see a doctor."

"Probably."

Both of them knew that there were only two chances that that was going to happen.

Eventually, not only did she get paid for the almost two years of leave she had saved up, but her wonderful ex-boss had gone to the mat for her and gotten her a small but reasonable severance package—for which she sent him an enormous cookie bouquet, because she knew his wife, Grace, made him eat sensibly at home—and once those two deposits came in, she knew that she would be fine until she rediscovered what she wanted to do.

And she had an inkling that it might be along the lines of switching sides of the courtroom. She was really enjoying her time at Legal Aid, and she was a valuable asset to them because of her experience in the D.A.'s office.

But one lazy Sunday afternoon, when she had just hit the farmer's market downtown and was meandering again, she saw it. That same damned car was following her!

Allie didn't get angry very often, but this time she was livid. And she wasn't going to trust Joey to take care of the situation, because he'd obviously failed, if he'd even tried at all.

So, she headed to his house in the burbs, only to be turned away at the gate.

But, just as she turned around, she got a call. Joey.

"Yes?"

"He's not here. He's staying in town because of the trial."

"Thank you."

She drove back, and the closer she got to the city, the unhappier her stomach became. She stopped and bought a milk, which sometimes settled her not usually so rebellious stomach nicely, and that seemed to do the trick.

When she got to his place, she was surprised to find that she was still on the doorman's list to be allowed up, so she was. This was turning out to be easier than she'd thought it would be. She'd expected to have to fight him to get him to call Lucas and ask if he'd see her and figured Lucas would refuse outright and she'd be stuck with two wise guys following her for the rest of her life.

Why, she'd never know, since he didn't want anything to do with her anymore.

When she got there, she practically pounded on his door, still as angry as she had been when she spotted them behind her.

"Open up, Lucas, you coward!" she yelled, her body making her instantly regret that as soon as she saw him as she felt pure adrenaline shoot through her, and she had to force herself not to yield several steps to him.

He was just as potent to her as he'd always been, even just in sweats that clung to every masculine curve and a worn, holey t-shirt emphasizing his pecs and those arms.

"Can I help you, Miss Barstow?" he asked, harkening back to what he'd said when he'd found her in the garage with the flat.

Allie pushed past him, knowing he was allowing her to do it as she did it. Otherwise, she would still have been in the hallway.

"I thought I had Joey tell you to call off your watchdogs. But they're still following me—I saw them this morning."

He colored a little, coming to stand in front of her. "They're only there for your protection."

"Bullshit. I want them gone." Allie took a step towards him, fuelled by anger.

But neither of them saw what happened next coming.

She opened her mouth to continue ranting at him, as she had every right to do, and she vomited all over him—violently and continually, until the force of it knocked her to her knees and the two of them—as well as what she was sure was his expensive tile floor—were covered in it.

Allie wasn't at all sure what to expect from him, but he was wonderful. He didn't even ask her to move—and neither did he—until she could say that she was done, then he helped her up.

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