Page 30 of When You Give a Lawyer a Kiss

I feel bad that we always study at his apartment and that I have an open invitation to spend the night whenever I want, yet he’s never been to my house. If he found out that my furnace was out and that I didn’t have hot water, he’d insist I move into his studio apartment until I could get it replaced. But I can’t invade his space, especially since he likes to invite his dates over tospend the night. Noah’s social life is thriving, despite him being just as busy as I am.

I place my phone back on my desk and move to review my work calendar, only to notice that 12–2 p.m. is blocked out, which is strange since it wasn’t yesterday. Maybe Rob has grown tired of not having me to himself during set hours each day and decided to take over my lunch hour. I wouldn’t put it past him.

I’m a nervous wreck for the rest of the morning, and unsure what to expect when I arrive at the assigned conference room at noon. What I don’t expect is to find Dawson at the head of the table with a paper bag in hand.

“Did you block out my calendar during lunch, by chance?”

“I did.” He takes out a gourmet sandwich, bottle of water, and cup of fruit, lining them up on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me you were studying for the LSAT?” His gaze lingers on mine, waiting for an explanation.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “How do you know about that?” I say.

I haven’t told anyone at the office. Most firms would view my plans to attend law school as a distraction or a lack of commitment since I’ll have to quit at some point if I get accepted. I’d like to believe Dawson is different, but his ruthless approach to business makes me uncertain.

“You left your study guide on your desk yesterday.”

Oh no.

I’ve been using my lunch breaks to study, but when Rob called me down to his office, I was in such a rush I forgot to put my book away. Rob would definitely take issue with my law school ambitions and claim that studying is a distraction from my work.

What if Dawson decides I’m not worth the effort and fires me?

I break into a cold sweat, my hands turning clammy at the thought. Dawson’s influence could end my chances at law school with a single call. My chest tightens, each breath feeling shallower than the last. I try to inhale deeply, but the air doesn’t seem to reach my lungs, causing me to wobble in my heels.

Dawson rushes to my side, catching me in his arms. “Easy there, Red.” My arms naturally circle his neck, clinging to him like a lifeline. He carries me to the conference table, where he’s set up the food and settles into a chair with me still cradled in his embrace.

His scent is calming, and I press my check against his neck to immerse myself in the heady aroma. He glances down at me as he gently cups my jaw with one hand, his thumb gliding lightly over my skin as if to reassure himself that I’m real. The tenderness in his touch and the heat radiating from his body overpower any guilt that what we’re doing is wrong.

“When was the last time you ate?” he asks.

I stop to think for a minute. “Um… I had a cup of coffee on my way to the office.”

He lets out a disapproving grunt. “That doesn’t count.” I watch as he unwraps a harvest veggie and goat cheese sandwich. “What were you planning to have for lunch?”

A bag of chips from the vending machine.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” I say, sticking with a safe answer.

“Are you hungry?”

The smell of fresh bread and herbs fills the air, making my stomach growl before I can respond.

Dawson chuckles. “Guess that’s my answer.” He positions me so I’m facing the table and pushes the sandwich and fruit closer. “Eat.”

“I’m not going to take your lunch.”

He leans back in the chair, a smirk on his lips. “I ordered it for you.”

“This is for me?” I wave a hand toward the delicious-looking meal.

“Yeah. You’ve been juggling a lot at work, so I wanted to help lighten your load. Now eat,” he instructs.

At this point, the rational part of my brain kicks in, reminding me that I’m sitting on my boss’s lap.

“I should probably sit in my own chair.” Dawson’s hand is resting on my thigh, but he doesn’t make a move to remove it. “Anyone could walk in,” I add.

Finding us in a compromising position would no doubt cause rumors.

Then why do I like it so much?

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