Page 38 of Three Sweet Nothings (The Blindfold Club)

“Sorry, no. His schedule is tight.”

I sighed. “All right, please put me down for tomorrow at four.”

“Do you need directions to our office?”

“No, thank you,” I gritted out. “I’ve been before.”

I wanted to add last time I’d been there, I’d told the younger McCreary to fuck himself in their conference room, but I refrained.

The couch in the lobby of James, Franklin, and McCreary looked expensive, and I perched delicately on the edge. The receptionist had offered to take my coat while I waited, probably to avoid my snow-damp wool from getting anywhere near the fancy leather furniture. My shoes were safe. I’d changed out of my lace-up sneakers into leopard print pumps during the elevator ride up.

I wore a thin, three-quarter length sleeve black cardigan over a white blouse, both tucked into a camel colored pencil skirt. I’d rolled up the sleeves to my elbows and left several of the top buttons undone on the blouse. I’d also tamed my hair up into a top knot, so the weather couldn’t get at it.

I wasn’t going to dress like I was an attorney who charged five hundred an hour, because I didn’t, and my wardrobe reflected that. Instead, I looked the part of a business professional, but there was also a hint of sexy. At least, I hoped. It was cold in the lobby, but I was already sweating and hadn’t even seen Kyle yet.

Approaching footsteps made me clutch my slim briefcase tighter. When he stepped into view and his gaze landed on me, my heart clogged my throat. He wore a pale gray suit, once again, slim cut to show off his lean form. The fabric was a matte silver. Beneath was a plain white dress shirt and a sapphire blue tie.

He looked handsome and devastating.

I pushed myself to my feet just as he thrust his hand out. “Ms. Carter. Thanks for meeting me.”

A handshake? Was he for fucking real? I gave his dick a handshake with my vagina just a week ago.

I stared at his offered hand for a full second before finally taking it. He wrapped his fingers around my palm with a sure grip, and then closed his other hand on top. It was unadulterated domination and, judging by the enjoyment in his eyes, he knew it.

The shiver that slipped down my spine was unstoppable, and it was embarrassing when the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smirk. Yeah. He definitely caught my reaction.

“It’s cold in your lobby,” I announced, my voice as tight as his grip still holding my hand.

“Sorry about that.” He released me and gestured to the hall. “Please. My office is this way.”

I straightened my posture and held my chin high as we marched down the corridor, determined to appear unaffected when the proximity of him had my heart racing. The urge to look around the office was strong. I’d left in a hurry last time and had been too flustered to realize since this was his family’s firm, there was a good chance Kyle’s parents were in this office.

I’d never met any of Kyle’s family. His sister had been studying abroad the year we dated, and the relationship between him and his folks was strained. He didn’t talk much about them.

Most of the offices we passed were closed and no light spilled from beneath the doors. As I suspected, the weekend exodus had begun. Down the line of offices, one door was open. He cast a hand out, but I hesitated before crossing the threshold. This is a professional meeting. Be a professional, Ruby.

I stepped inside.

Kyle’s office was nice enough. For starters, it was an office. I was still sharing a room with three other junior associates. He had a window. The pane of glass stretched from floor to ceiling, and the fading January sunlight cast a warm glow in the room. If our meeting lasted more than thirty minutes, it’d be dark when I left.

His computer monitor and keyboard occupied most of the large desk, but otherwise it was bare. A diploma from Randhurst law school hung on the wall. There was a half bookshelf below it, which held mostly books, and one framed family photo. I forced my gaze onto something else. Anything else. I needed to treat Kyle like he was just another attorney.

As he closed the door, I set my briefcase down on the seat of one of the chairs facing the desk, and sat in the other. There’d been a strange click as he’d shut it, as if he’d locked the door behind us. My surprised gaze found his, but his expression was plain.

He moved to his desk and sat. “How’ve you been?”

“How’ve I been?” I gave him a dubious look. “I’m fine. What did you want to discuss?”

For a long moment that stretched between us, he was silent. Then, he leaned back in his chair, pulled open a drawer, and produced a stapled packet of paper. As he reached across the desk to hand it to me, tension seemed to coil in him. The document was serious.

“What is this?” I grasped the packet and waited for him to let go. A cursory scan said it was a contract. The top sheet was full of dense paragraphs.

Finally, he released it. “It’s a partnership agreement.”

“Partnership agreement?”

“I’m proposing a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Was he purposefully being vague? “Between which clients?”

He blinked slowly. “It’d be for us, Ruby.”

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