Page 104 of A Legal Affair
She nodded, her head heavy.
“What do they do for a living?” His tone was casual, but there was something in his eyes, something that sent another prickle of unease down her spine.
When she shifted in his lap, his dick jumped. He might be growing suspicious of her, but his body didn’t seem to care.
She traced his thick pecs, drawing lazy patterns on his skin as she fed him rehearsed lies. “Kenneth is an anesthesiologist. Noah works in construction.”
Caleb nodded slowly, watching her face with an unreadable expression that deepened her discomfort.
Both her brothers had fake social media profiles, too. But she didn’t want him asking more questions about them, didn’t want him probing for specific details. So she immediately turned the tables on him.
“I meant it when I said I want us to get to know each other better, Caleb. But it has to be a two-way street.”
His eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”
“It’s obvious you don’t like talking about yourself. Sometimes it’s hard to get you to open?—”
“Was I talking to myself on the way to my father’s ranch the other night?” he challenged with a scowl. “We spent the wholeride talking about our childhoods, about growing up in San Antonio, about our hobbies and interests. Hell, woman, I even shared my retirement plans with you.”
“You did, Caleb, and it was wonderful.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I guess I’m just greedy. I want to know everything about you. No detail is too small.”
He smirked. “No detail, huh? Hmm, let’s see…I go running on the River Walk five mornings a week,” he started rattling off a list of Caleb-centric trivia. “There are no crowds at that hour. It’s calm and quiet, and I can think in peace. Growing up, I spent so many boring summers in the Hamptons that I now avoid the place like the fucking plague. I own three vacation homes that friends and strangers get more use out of than I do. I have two living grandparents and a slew of aunts and uncles and cousins scattered around the country—some I know, some I don’t know, and others I’ve only ever heard of. According to my birth date I’m a Scorpio, but I don’t believe in all that shit. If I could have dinner with any historical figure, I’d resurrect Jimi Hendrix to teach me to play the electric guitar like him. My favorite show isThe Wire, and my new favorite color is pink.”
A delighted peal of laughter burst out of Daniela. “You didnotjust say that!”
“Which part?”
Giggling, she could only shake her head at him, wondering just how he kept turning her fantasies into reality without even knowing it.
He affectionately tweaked her nose. “Silly girl.”
“You’rethe silly one,” she teased. “No offense, professor, but Jimi Hendrix? I mean, don’t get me wrong, he was a pioneer and a rock legend and probably a very fascinating guy. But of all the great intellectuals, civil rights icons and legal scholars you could have chosen? Booker T. Washington? W.E.B. Du Bois? Thurgood Marshall?”
Calebpffted at her. “Respectfully, none of those dudes could help me achieve my dream of playing ‘Voodoo Child’ before a packed house.”
Daniela howled into his shoulder. His answering laughter rumbled through his chest, his lips brushing across her temple.
Lifting her head, she grinned at him. “You are really something else, Caleb Thorne.”
“I know,” he said with a self-satisfied smirk. “One of one.”
“Oh yes. Most definitely.” God, she loved this man. What was she going to do without him? The thought brought a searing pain to her chest.
“Hey.” He tipped her chin up with his finger and searched her eyes. “You keep getting this sad look on your face. What’s that about?”
She forced a chuckle. “Just thinking about all the reading I have to do this weekend.” She paused, eyeing him hopefully. “I don’t suppose?—”
“No, Daniela, you can’t skip your reading assignment for my class.”
“Darn. So much for being teacher’s pet,” she joked as he rested his large palm on her thigh. Her gaze was drawn to the Komodo dragon that snaked from his wrist, its forked tongue licking at his knuckles. The blue and gray ink on his brown skin fascinated and delighted her. She reached out and traced the intricate tattoo, feeling a long raised scar beneath the artwork.
“What happened?” she asked softly.
She felt his muscles stiffen before he grunted, “Old injury.”
There’s definitely a story here.
“How’d you get it?”
