Page 8 of When You Give a Lawyer a Kiss

“Well, I’m glad we met. If you need anything, just send me a message on our chat system,” Grace says before she turns her attention to the front of the room as the meeting starts.

Growing up, I was a hopeless romantic. I dreamed of grand gestures and the perfect fairytale ending. However, after a painful breakup in high school and a string of disastrous first dates, like the one with Kevin, I’m questioning whether that ideal romance is a fantasy.

That hasn’t stopped me from thinking about Cole, the hot tattoo artist. I shift in my seat as I recall the feel of his mouth against mine. He was the first person I’d kissed in ages, and it was the most exhilarating kiss I’ve ever experienced.

I’ve considered going back to the tattoo parlor to explain why I left, but he seemed like the kind of person who’d probably forget about me the moment I walked out the door. Which makes it even more humiliating that the moment we shared remains so vivid in my memory.

A deep, familiar voice interrupts my thoughts, and I furrow my brow in confusion. Did I bring my daydream to life? I look up from my notepad, where I’ve been doodling flowers—a habit of mine when I need a distraction.

My breath hitches when I spot those unmistakable blue eyes.

Oh my god.

It’s Cole. What is he doing here?

Grace leans over to whisper in my ear. “Girl, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, collecting my thoughts. “Who’s that speaking?” I nod toward Cole.

“That’sDawson Tate. I was right about him being eye candy, huh?” Grace says with a hint of mischief.

I nod. “Uh-huh.”

The last thing I want is for my new coworker to discover that I’ve made out with our boss. Although he wasn’t officially my boss then. I doubt it would matter—I’ll still be shown the door.

Grace settles back in her chair, attention onDawson.

Why would he use a fake name?

He hasn’t noticed me yet, and I’m too stunned to formulate a discrete exit strategy as my surroundings start to blur. I can’t quite grasp that Cole from the tattoo parlor is actually Dawson Tate, managing partner at Thompson & Tate.

Maybe I can go undetected. Dawson doesn’t strike me as someone who spends a lot of time with the paralegals, and we work on different floors. If I sit in the back during meetings, there’s a good chance he’ll never notice me.

I keep my head down, and lose myself in my thoughts as I doodle in my notepad to ease my nerves, barely registering what’s being said in the meeting. By the time it wraps up, I’m practically on the edge of my seat, anxious to return to my desk.

Despite my attempts to ignore Dawson, I can’t help but glance at him one more time. It’s a decision I immediately regret as his gaze locks onto mine. He studies me with a hint of amusement before his face reverts to its inscrutable mask.

Before anyone can exit the conference room, Dawson clears his throat. “Reese Taylor, I’d like to see you in my office,” he announces, motioning toward me. Every head in the roomswivels in my direction with a combination of shock and intrigue, their whispered speculations filling the air.

It’s obvious that a summons to see him means someone’s in trouble. For me, it’s a simple case of bad timing and my inability to control my reaction to his striking looks.

Dawson doesn’t wait for my response before collecting a stack of documents from the conference table and striding out of the room, leaving me to find his office on my own.

I stand, shifting from foot to foot as I fidget with my hands. I’m almost certain I’m about to be fired. There’s no chance Dawson will let me stay. It would be a nightmare for HR, considering he’s the managing partner of a multibillion-dollar firm, and I’m just a paralegal.

As I muster the courage to confront the situation, I notice Rob storming toward me with a scowl on his face.

“How do you know Dawson Tate,” he demands when he reaches me.

“I don’t,” I lie.

Dawson doesn’t strike me as someone who shares his personal life with his employees, so I keep the truth to myself.

Rob’s eyes narrow. “You better not embarrass me,” he warns. “Dawson might be in charge, but my uncle is the founding partner. If I decided to have you terminated, you’d be gone by the end of the day.” He punctuates his words with a snap of his fingers.

“I believe you.” His empty threats are the least of my worries, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to appease him.

“I expect a full report when you get back to your desk.”

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