Page 3 of Hooked

There was a pause. “It’s not quite 4:30.”

Startled, she stared at her phone. They’d discussed this only yesterday, although she shouldn’t be surprised. He often lost track of what was happening in the world while preparing for a big case.

During these times, he reminded her of the absent-minded professor, but he was actually a brilliant trial attorney. The Austin legal community called him the lethal litigator due to the many high-profile capital murder defendants he’d represented. She believed it had a lot to do with his tough-as-nails reputation and a near-perfect acquittal record as well. In fact, during her tenure with him, he hadn’t lost a single case. To truly appreciate how he’d earned it required a trip to court to see him in action or a brief chat with the opposing counsel after he eviscerated them.

But he wasn’t the stereotypical rich, arrogant, amoral asshole. They were out there; Lord knows she’d worked for a few, and TV dramas portrayed them that way for a reason.

Yes, he drove a Jag—sleek, black, and pretentious—and he lived in an enormous house on Lake Travis in Costa Bella, a gated community about twenty minutes northwest of the city. He also did a notable amount of pro bono work, was invested in programs that served underprivileged youth, and served on three advisory boards for charities that focused on childhood education, community outreach, and women’s health.

He didn’t speak of his personal life, but his degree on the wall was from UT right there in Austin. Through the office rumor mill, she’d learned his mother was a nurse, but no one had ever met his father. It explained a lot, including why he didn’t get his JD from one of the prestigious Ivy League Law schools back East. Maybe hard work and humble beginnings factored into his success and was why he seemed more grounded than some of the obnoxious Harvard-educated jerks she’d worked for previously.

Not that Joseph couldn’t be aggressive and argumentative or a persnickety pain in the ass, particularly with her and the junior associates assigned to him. He was also single-minded and laser-focused when going to trial, but those were the traits of a good litigator. And he was that way because his client’s future, and whether they walked free or faced a lifetime confined behind steel bars, depended on him being at the top of his game.

But he possessed a softer side. She’d seen it in his generosity to his causes and with his employees. And she’d heard his joy for life in his rich laughter. Although it didn’t come often, it stirred a warmth inside her that wasn’t appropriate in a law office. He had a sharp wit, a dry sense of humor, and could be utterly charming. If not, she wouldn’t be so smitten with him.

“You have plans.”

His voice coming from the doorway behind her instead of through the speaker had Livia spinning in her chair. Having discarded his jacket, he stood in shirtsleeves, his tie still knotted impeccably at his throat. Her gaze drifted upward beyond the dotted navy-blue silk to his darkened jaw, which bore a healthy scruff of five-o’clock shadow. What would it feel like against her neck if he kissed there? Better yet, on her inner thighs with his mouth on her—

“Olivia?”

She blinked, her fantasy replaced by his handsome face. Realizing he expected a response, she replied haltingly, her heart racing, a common reaction to his presence. “Yes. I, uh...have an...engagement this evening.”

“An engagement,” he repeated as his brows drew together, forming three small vertical lines between them.

“Yes, sir. I took an abbreviated lunch so I could leave early today.”

Despite her lustful thoughts about the man standing tall and delicious not three feet away, her tone remained even, which was the hallmark of her imperturbable professionalism, her patience being legendary among the legal secretaries in the six-partner group.

After ten years with the firm, the last three working for their top criminal defense attorney, who was reputed to be the most demanding taskmaster of the bunch, she was used to his penchant for timeliness.

“I mentioned this to you on Monday, remember?”

After another brief pause, where he considered her closely, he nodded. “It slipped my mind, but I recall now. Are you traveling?” He glanced at the window. “The forecast is for severe storms and heavy rain this evening.”

Turning, she followed his gaze to her window, seeing nothing but sunshine beaming in. “I have about an hour’s drive.”

“Unless it is urgent, the weather service advises everyone to stay close to home tonight. Besides, I worry about you in that car—”

“I just had it in the shop for a tune-up, sir. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

The frown lines deepened then his lips parted on an indrawn breath, making Livia believe he would object further. Instead, he suddenly let it go, whatever it was.

“Run along, then, Olivia, but use extreme caution on the roads tonight. I’d like to have you here in one piece tomorrow.”

“I’ll be cautious, sir. Thank you.”

Thinking she’d been dismissed, she moved to the credenza against the far wall and bent to retrieve her purse from the bottom drawer. When she stood and turned, he had moved a few steps farther into her office. He stood closer now, his pensive gaze aimed downward. If she didn’t know better, she would have said he was checking out her upturned bottom. She laughed in her head, scolding herself for hopelessly pining for something that would never come true.

He said nothing further, though he didn’t leave. Livia inhaled, about to ask if something was wrong, but she caught a hint of his cologne, Ralph Lauren’s Red Polo. She’d recognize it anywhere. Her favorite male scent—probably because Joseph wore it. At the mall, she often went by the men’s counter at Dillard’s for a sample card, even if it was out of the way. Then, like a lovesick fool, she’d wander through the stores, sniffing it and thinking of him.

Her phone alarm went off, a welcome diversion from her very distracting boss. “I should go, or I’ll be late. Was there anything else?”

Wordlessly, he scanned her face. Livia returned his scrutiny, noting that in the afternoon sun filtering in through her window, they appeared nearly blue, which was a change from their usual brilliant green. Over the years, she noticed they changed subtly with the color of his shirt or tie but more so with extreme emotions, which he rarely revealed. She’d seen them a greenish-brown when he focused on a tough defense, and once, when angry, they’d turned a deep forest green. Like the man himself, his eyes were enigmatic.

She always wondered how they would appear at the height of passion.

Realizing she was staring, she averted her gaze and tried to collect herself. But he suddenly cleared his throat, shifting as though uncomfortable, which was unlike the confident man she knew then strode back inside his office.

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