Page 10 of When You Give a Lawyer a Kiss

“That would have been nice to know before,” she mumbles mostly to herself.

“Tell me, Reese, why did you want to work here?”

“Because it’s the best firm in the city.” She fidgets with her hands, glancing down at the ground.

While she speaks, my eyes wander to her black A-line skirt, which falls just below her knees, accentuating her curves. Her red hair frames her heart-shaped face, loose waves fall around her shoulders, and images of me gripping it tightly while I plant an electric kiss on her lips infiltrate my mind.

That’s an inappropriate thought to have about my employee.

I rationalize the fleeting thought by reminding myself that she didn’t work for me when we shared a kiss a few months back.

I run my fingers through my hair, shifting my gaze to the window. “No one at the office knows that I own a tattoo shop, and I’d like to keep it that way, understand?” I say, my tone firm.

A tattoo artist doesn’t exactly match the polished image my clients expect when they’re paying top dollar for a lawyer. There’s a reason I’ve gone out of my way to keep my tattoos hidden and project the kind of persona that’s fitting for a prestigious attorney.

“If you’re trying to fly under the radar at your tattoo parlor, the slacks and dress shirt aren’t doing you any favors.” Reese claps her hand over her mouth, looking just as surprised as I am that she said that out loud.

I resist the urge to smile. She’s in the lion’s den, but doesn’t shy away from calling me out. That’s something I respect. I use the moment to look at her more closely. Her green eyes, bright as emeralds, shine with a quiet intensity and are framed by a nose dusted with freckles.

God, she’s more beautiful than I remember.

And off-limits, I remind myself.

“I usually go straight to Steel & Ink after work on Fridays, and no one cares what I wear, so there’s no reason to change.”

“So it’s like the luxury version of a secret hobby? Some people do subversive cross-stitch. Others brew their own beer in basements. Rich law firm partners buy and operate tattoo parlors. Got it.”

I clear my throat. “By all means, Ms. Taylor, tell me what you really think,” I say dryly. “Do you always make it a habit of speaking your mind?”

“Only when I’m feeling particularly inspired.” Reese’s cheeks flush pink as she smooths out her skirt. “Are you going to fire me?” she blurts out.

Her question causes me to pause. I’m good at gauging someone’s true intentions, and I believe she’s telling the truth about applying to work here, unaware that I was the managing partner.

I watch her closely. “I’m not going to fire you.”

She gives me a skeptical glance. “You’re not?”

“No.”

An idea quickly takes shape in my mind, and against my better judgment, I run with it. “But I am going to assign you to my team. My paralegal quit last month, and I’ve just takenon a high-profile case that needs additional support,” I say as the ghost of a smile crosses my face before composing my expression.

What the hell am I doing?

The paperwork alone to transfer her would be a nightmare, but that’s HR’s problem. If I were smart, I’d send her on her way and avoid the second floor for as long as she’s here. When checking her file, I couldn’t help but notice that she’s only twenty-three. Far too young for a thirty-five-year-old skeptic who bends the rules when it suits me; my moral compass is often skewed when seeking justice.

The last thing I need is to spend more time near the stunning woman who brings out a side of me I prefer to keep hidden.

“You can’t have me transferred,” Reese protests, her voice edged with panic.

I cock my head to one side, taken aback by her frantic plea. “Why not? I’m the managing partner of this firm, and I can make decisions regarding my employees, including onboarding staff members.”

She glances at the door like she’s ready to bolt. “What happened at the tattoo parlor was a mistake, and I’d really like to pretend it never happened.”

What the hell?

I blink rapidly, unsure if I heard her correctly. I’ve never had a woman suggest she regretted kissing me. They’re usually begging for more before our night together ends. And it stings that she’d assume I would ask her to join my team as leverage to manipulate a physical relationship.

If Reese were ever in my bed, it’s because she wanted to be there. But she’s made it clear she’s not interested, and I’ve had to remind myself for the second time that she’s strictly off-limits.

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