“You are mine for the next two weeks.”

Resigning might be the sexiest thing she’s ever done...

Quitting her job puts executive assistant Bette Monroe in a very compromising position. She has ten days left, and powerhouse lawyer Simon Kramer is working her late into the night...and seducing her into oblivion! While he’s convinced she’s selling business secrets, the bombshell secret she’s keeping would shock him more. Does she bare all...or keep him guessing?

“Dare is Harlequin’s hottest line yet. Every book should come with a free fan. I dare you to try them!”

—Tiffany Reisz, international bestselling author

Ever since LISA CHILDS read her first romance novel at age eleven (a Mills & Boon story, of course), all she wanted was to be a romance writer. With over forty novels published with Mills & Boon, Lisa is living her dream. She is an award-winning, bestselling romance author. Lisa loves to hear from readers, who can contact her on Facebook, through her website, lisachilds.com, or at her snail-mail address, PO Box 139, Marne, MI 49435, USA.

If you liked Legal Seduction, why not try

A Week to be Wild by JC Harroway

Off Limits by Clare Connelly

Ruled by Anne Marsh

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Legal Seduction

Lisa Childs

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07110-9

LEGAL SEDUCTION

© 2018 Lisa Childs

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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For my husband, Andrew Ahearne, who dared me to step outside my comfort zone of the area where I grew up and spent most of my life.

Moving with you has been an adventure and a reward.

Love you so much!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Author Bio

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Extract

Chapter One

FOUR GLASSES, LIFTED HIGH, clinked against each other. Champagne bubbles foamed over the rims and streaked down the stems of the flutes.

“Cheers to Street Legal,” Simon Kramer said, pride for the firm overwhelming him. Sixteen years ago, as a teenage runaway, he’d never thought he would go from living on the streets to owning them.

“Cheers to us,” Ronan, one of Simon’s law partners, said with a grin as he clinked his glass against theirs again.

“Cheers to you, Trev,” Stone said to Trevor, who’d just won the biggest case their practice had ever had. And the four of them had had some damn big cases since graduating law school and starting their practice eight years ago.

After this win, they could close the doors of Street Legal and live off the settlement. But Simon knew that the others were like him: too young and too ambitious to stop achieving. And yet Simon wanted to make sure they took the time to enjoy their victories. So he’d talked his partners into leaving the office to celebrate at the new bar around the corner, The Meet Market.

This victory was especially sweet because Trev had won despite the opposing counsel getting their hands on information from the case files. Simon, as the managing partner, had put a plan in place so that would not happen again. If the mole was in their office, he would find it and crush it.

Trevor murmured, “I still want to know how the hell Anderson got his hands on that scientist’s report.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Simon said. He’d also set up this celebration because they all needed to blow off some steam. Or get blown...

Ronan glanced away from the women he’d been ogling to agree. “Don’t give it another thought. It’s not like we have a leak in our office, not with Simon doing all the hiring. Nobody can sniff out a con like a con. And our managing partner is the ultimate con.”

Instead of being offended, Simon grinned. He wouldn’t have survived had he not come up with money-making schemes for himself and for these guys. His friends had once been runaways, too. Simon had been running cons long before he’d met them.

“No, it’s more likely Trev brought home some hottie who, after he rolled over and fell asleep, copied the case files he brought home,” Ronan said.

Simon laughed. “You guys fall asleep?”

He couldn’t sleep with anyone else around. He wouldn’t have survived on the streets if he’d trusted just anyone. Only these guys passed his test. They’d survived the streets together. Hell, they’d thrived. They had more money, fancier homes, faster cars and hotter women than any of them could have imagined having.

“I wish that’s what happened,” Trev said. “But this damn case put a hell of a crimp in my love life.”

“That’s why I thought we should check out this new bar,” Simon admitted. Trying to figure out who was the mole had put a crimp in his sex life, too.

The Meet Market was exactly what it boldly claimed to be: the hookup hub of Midtown Manhattan. All the beautiful people were here: models, actors and actresses, designers...

And them. The most successful and notorious lawyers in the whole damn city.

Simon clinked his glass against Trevor’s. “You won the case, so forget about it. Have some fun.”

Trevor grinned. “I plan on it. But Ronan’s right. We need to be careful about who we bring home or at least around our files.”

Stone nodded in agreement. “Yes, because if word gets out that anything got leaked to the opposing counsel, we’ll need to hire that damn PR firm to help with our image.”

Since the age of social media, most cases were tried before they ever made it to court, which was why they routinely used a PR firm to help sway the public the way they wanted them swayed. To their side, of course.

Ronan chuckled. “Like there’s any helping our image...”

They were known for being ruthless—in the courtroom and the bedroom. They all had a reputation for winning, by whatever means necessary. But in Simon’s opinion, that was a cause for pride, not damage control.

“We’re fine, guys,” Simon assured his partners. “I got this.” He gestured at the women around them. “Now, let’s get one of them...”

“Just one?” Ronan asked with a grin as he watched a blonde walk past him, tossing her long, curly mane over her shoulder. Before heading after her, he slapped Trevor on the back. “Want me to see if she has a friend for you? Si’s right. You need to relieve some stress after winning that case.”

Trevor glanced across the room at a redhead. “I don’t need your help.” He blew out a ragged breath. “But I do need to relieve some stress.”

Stone bumped Simon’s shoulder with his. “Looks like Si here could use some help.”

Ronan snorted. “Si needs no one’s help when it comes to women. He’s the worst womanizer of the four of us.”

Simon didn’t know whether that was a compliment or insult. Coming from the notorious divorce lawyer, it was probably a compliment. But before he could ask, Ronan hurried after the blonde who’d paused in the doorway, waiting for him to follow her.

“You know, I haven’t seen you with anyone for a while,” Stone said to him.

Simon shrugged. “I’ve been busy.” Setting up trusts, drawing up contracts, setting his trap. But he was worried those were just excuses, not the real reasons.

He glanced around the bar and recognized some of the models from the billboards in Times Square and some of the actresses from plays. But nobody had his pulse quickening. He knew he could bring any one of them home with him or, as Ronan suggested, two. And maybe that was it. There was no challenge. No thrill of the hunt...

Just easy prey.

Like the redhead waving at Trevor from across the bar.

“Go,” Simon urged him.

“Yeah,” Stone agreed. “She’s a hell of a lot prettier to celebrate your victory with than we are.”

“Speak for yourself,” Simon said, feigning offense.

With his thick blond hair and bright blue eyes, he’d been told he was better-looking than the hottest male movie stars—which was why he knew he could get anybody in the place to go home with him, even if he were still the broke runaway he’d once been.

Stone laughed, then said, “I may need to have you sit at the table with me for some of my upcoming trial—to sway the jurors like you did for Trev.”

“Hey, guys, you’re going to have to start working out, so you can be your own jury eye candy,” Simon said, his lips tugging up into a teasing grin. “I’ve got work of my own to do. So damn much money to manage.”

Now it wasn’t just his clients’ but theirs, too. That probably mattered more to Simon than it did the others. But they hadn’t grown up like he had—when the only money he’d known had always really belonged to other people.

“Hey, we sway most of the women jurors ourselves,” Trevor stated with pride and a trace of defensiveness. “We just need you to sway the ones who like pretty boys.”

Simon suppressed a laugh of amusement. He didn’t want Trevor to know how funny he was, so he acted offended and replied, “Fuck you.”

Trevor shook his head. “Sorry, man, you’re not my type. Now, that redhead...” He sauntered off toward the woman.

Stone peered around the bar. “I better find someone, too, or I might wind up going home with you.”

“You wouldn’t get so lucky,” Simon said as Stone headed off. Simon glanced around the bar now, too. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be the only one going home alone. Or it wasn’t just that. He needed a diversion, something to get his mind off the mole in their office.

He couldn’t have been conned into hiring someone who would betray them. No. Like Ronan said, there was no conning a con. His trap wasn’t going to catch anyone because the leak couldn’t be in their office.

So he wouldn’t let it get to him. Not anymore. He’d find someone else to focus all his attention on for a little while. He wasn’t into blondes like Ronan was. And he’d learned the hard way that redheads were nothing but drama. He needed to find a classy brunette, someone who would actually pose a worthwhile challenge to his charm.

Before he could even look, his cell began to vibrate in his suit pocket. It wasn’t a call but the telltale buzz of a 911 text. Did any of the guys need his help? He visually located them all in the crowded bar, but they were totally engaged on the women they’d found. Not one seemed in need of a wingman.

Simon pulled out the cell and cursed when he read the screen. Damn it. His trap had been sprung. Someone was entering the office after hours, and there was probably only one reason for that. Shoving the cell back into his pocket, he hurried toward the exit.

But before he could leave, Trevor blocked his escape. “What is it? Everything okay?”

It sure the hell wasn’t, but he forced a grin. “Just got a sext.” From the security system. “I have to go.”

Trevor chuckled. “Of course you wouldn’t even have to work for it.” With an envious sigh, he stepped aside to let Simon past.

He hurried out, aware that Trev wasn’t the only one watching him. Let the guys think he was anxious to get naked. He would explain later. Right now he hoped to catch their mole in the act of copying active case files. The office was just around the corner.

The person had the security code, so no alarm had gone off, and no warning was sent to building security or the police station. Within moments he stepped off the elevator onto their floor, which was eerily silent and dark. The only light spilled from under the door of an office—his office.

He silently crossed the lobby, which had glass interior walls with hardwood floors. The exterior walls were the exposed brick of the old building. The ceilings were open to the ductwork and the rafters, the wood painted black while the copper pipes and steel ductwork gleamed in the dark.

Why the hell was the mole in his office? Had they graduated from selling secrets to stealing money? The door was ajar, the crack wide enough that he was able to peer through it.

Someone leaned over his desk, lush curves pressed against the black fabric of a tight skirt. His pulse quickened as he recognized that remarkable ass. He’d been discreetly admiring it for the past two years. He couldn’t have afforded to be obvious about it, not with what a sexual harassment case could have cost the firm. And she had certainly never returned his interest. Now he knew why. She hadn’t wanted sex. She wanted money.

Anger coursed through him, making his pulse race even faster. In addition to being incredibly sexy, Bette Monroe was cunning. She’d conned the ultimate con.

* * *

“What the hell are you doing?”

Bette jumped and the pen she’d been holding slipped from her grasp, rolled across the oak desktop and dropped onto the hardwood floor. She pressed her hand over her madly pounding heart before turning toward the door. When she saw her boss standing there, her heart beat even faster and not just because he’d startled her.

Seeing Simon Kramer was always a shock to a woman’s system. With his golden-blond hair and piercing blue eyes, chiseled features and a muscular body, he was so beyond handsome that it wasn’t even fair—to women or to other men. The other lawyers in the Street Legal law practice were good-looking but nowhere near as attractive as Simon. And not one of them wore a suit as well as he did even though they all had them tailor-made. Simon’s was a silvery gray with a faint sheen of blue that brought out that startling blue of his eyes.

His voice a deep rumble, Simon asked, “What are you doing here?”

Realizing it was the second time he’d asked, albeit nicer this time, heat rushed to her face. She must have been staring at him like a fool. That was why she always made a point of never looking directly at him. His good looks were like a solar eclipse, staring too closely could cause blindness.

Maybe that was why her eyesight had gotten poorer in the two years she’d worked for Street Legal as Simon Kramer’s executive assistant. She’d been standing too close to the sun. Her hand trembling, she shoved her thick frames farther up her nose. Since she only needed the glasses for reading, her distance vision blurred, and she couldn’t see him as clearly now.

Until he stepped away from the door and strode across his expansive office to her. He leaned down so his face was close to hers. His eyes usually sparkled with amusement because he was always teasing his partners, his clients or other office employees. Never her, though. He only talked to her to give her orders. But when he did that, his eyes had never appeared like they did now—cold and hard like shards of blue ice.

She shivered.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you,” he said, “what the hell you’re doing in my office.”

More heat rushed to her face, and she stammered, “I—I was—”

“Looking for me?” he asked with one golden brow arching with skepticism.

“No,” she admitted. She hadn’t wanted to see him—not again—not since catching a glimpse of him in that new bar around the corner. Seeing him there—in that meat market—had confirmed she was doing the right thing. Just like her friends had been encouraging her, she needed to leave Street Legal.

It was too hard to work here, and especially too hard to work for him. Fortunately, she no longer needed this job.

“I was actually hoping not to see you,” she said. When she’d noticed him and his partners walk into the bar, she’d been quick to leave, so he wouldn’t see her there with her friends. She’d always been very careful to keep her private life private from everyone else at the firm. Most especially from him.

He sucked in a breath as if she’d struck him. “I’m surprised you’d admit that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Which had been rude. Too bad she was such a lightweight that one glass of wine had lowered some of her inhibitions. Like now, when she looked at him again and heat rushed through her body. His eyes were so blue. Why did he have to be so good-looking?

“What do you mean, Bette?” he asked. “Why are you here? You need to give me an answer.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “This is why I came when I knew you wouldn’t be here,” she said. “I didn’t want to be caught.”

“Damn it,” he cursed. “I didn’t expect this from you—of all of Street Legal’s employees.”

She could understand that. Some people, ambitious people, would kill to work at Street Legal. Other people—like her—didn’t want to be associated with such an unscrupulous firm. Two years ago she’d had no choice; she’d needed money to be able to live in the city and to pay back her student loans. Now she had a choice. She reached for the note she’d left—unsigned—on his desk. Her name was just a line across the bottom.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, and with her hand trembling, she passed the letter to him.

He glanced down at the paper. As he began to read it, his brow furrowed. He must have been confused because he murmured, “What the hell is this?”

Her heart continued to beat fast and hard. “It’s—it’s my letter of resignation.” Which she had hoped to leave on his desk without running into him. Of course he would show up. Over the past two years there had been no escaping Simon Kramer. He even showed up in her dreams—dreams that left her with tight nipples and a pulsing clit. Not that she had a crush on him or anything.

In fact, there was very little she liked about Simon Kramer, except how he looked. But that was more a curse than a blessing—for her and all the weak-willed females he’d seduced. Not that he would seduce her or even try. She’d seen the women he dated: models and actresses—beautiful women. He had no interest in her. Just as she never looked at him, he never looked at her, either.

He shook his head. “I don’t understand.” And his brow was still furrowed with confusion. “Why are you quitting?”

She’d kept the resignation letter short and sweet. This is official notice of my resignation. My last day of employment will be...

Two weeks from now. Or hopefully sooner if he got mad and just fired her, and that was what she was hoping for. She doubted anyone had ever dumped Simon Kramer before—personally or professionally.

Thank you for the opportunity.

Thanks but no, thanks. She wanted no part of Street Legal anymore. No part of their high-profile cases. No part of sending flowers to their jilted lovers. No part of fielding the pleading calls from those same lovers.

She hadn’t said any of that, though. She’d given no reason for leaving—because she hadn’t had to.

So predictably he asked, “Why?”

Nonconfrontational by nature, Bette could only shrug. She was the one who apologized when someone else bumped into her on the street or jostled her on the subway. And that wasn’t just the manners instilled with her Midwestern upbringing.

“You must have a reason.” He persisted.

She had several. But she only shook her head. Her hair, which was so heavy, pulled at the knot that had slipped to the back of her head. The pins shifted, sticking into her skull. If she’d been home, she would have pulled them out, let down her hair.

But she couldn’t do that around him. The tight bun—the glasses—that was her armor to protect herself around him. Not that he would make untoward advances. She knew even with her hair down and glasses off, she wasn’t his type. But she felt more protected in her office camouflage. So that he wouldn’t know the real her. Only her most trusted friends knew the real her. And she would never trust Simon Kramer.

“If you had no reason to leave,” he said, his deep voice husky with frustration, “you wouldn’t be leaving.” He crumpled the letter in his fist.

And Bette’s pulse leaped with fear. Although she was well aware of Simon Kramer’s ruthlessness, she had never been afraid of him before. He’d never been warm and fuzzy with her, but he’d never been mean, either.

“I—I just want to leave,” she said. And she wasn’t talking only about his employ. She wanted to leave his office, too. But he stood in the path between her and the doorway.

He shook his head. “No.”

“But—but you can’t refuse my resignation...” Could he? Before deciding to leave the firm, she’d read over the employment contract he’d had her sign when he’d hired her, and she’d seen nothing about not being able to quit. But he was the contracts and trusts lawyer. He was the one who would have come up with the clauses and legal jargon that would make it possible for him to legally enslave someone.

“I can change your mind,” he said, and even though his lips curved into a smile, his eyes remained cold and hard. “How much will it take?”

“You think this is about money?” Street Legal paid all their employees very well. That was why she’d come to work for him although she’d really wanted to work in a fashion house. But after interning at fashion houses, she knew how little they paid and how hard she would’ve worked.

He tilted his head, and his blue eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “Isn’t everything about money?”

Maybe it was the wine that made her less censored than she would have ordinarily been but she admitted, “Unfortunately it is—to most people.”

“Are you saying you aren’t one of those people?” he asked, and one of his golden brows arched in skepticism. But there was more than skepticism in his eyes. He was looking at her a certain way that he never had before, a way that had nerves swimming in her stomach. He was actually looking at her, and there seemed to be an appreciation in his gaze as if he liked what he saw.

Damn. She was such a lightweight. She had to be drunk to imagine that Simon Kramer would look at her that way, like he wouldn’t mind seeing more of her—naked.

“I wouldn’t have taken the job working here if money didn’t matter to me,” she admitted. But having him to look at, to fantasize about, had given her the inspiration to succeed at her other job.

“So then more money will get you to stay,” he said dismissively, as if he’d closed a case. He tossed her crumpled-up resignation letter into the brass trash can sitting beside his desk.

Frustration—and not just with this conversation—overwhelmed her, overcoming her natural inclination to avoid confrontation, and she blurted out, “No!”

Working for him these past two years had increased her frustration because of all those damn fantasies he’d inspired.

“But you just said—”

“I took the job because I needed money,” she said. “I needed money then.”

His eyes narrowed more as he studied her face. “And you don’t need it now?”

“My reason for leaving has nothing to do with money,” she said. Had she not found another source of income, she would have been forced to stay, but he didn’t need to know that.

“So you do have a reason.”

He wasn’t the trial lawyer of their partnership, but he could have been. She felt like she was being cross-examined on the witness stand. And she didn’t enjoy it one bit. Quitting was not a crime.

“I don’t have to give you a reason.” At least she didn’t think she did.

Maybe she should have had a lawyer look at that employment contract before she’d written her resignation letter. But no matter how much she paid, no lawyer would be as good as Simon Kramer. He was the best.

And, according to his ex-lovers, not just at the law...

“Why don’t you want to tell me?” he asked, and he stepped closer now, so close that she could feel the heat of his body through his suit and her cardigan and skirt.

Heat flushed her body, making her skin tingle. She tried to step back but the desk stopped her, the hard wood pressing into the backs of her thighs as he nearly touched the front of her. Her breasts pushed against the front of the gray cardigan as she struggled for breath. She had never been this close to him before. It was more than unsettling. Her knees trembled and her already tripping pulse quickened even more.

“Because it’s personal,” she murmured. And they had never been anything but businesslike with each other, except in her dreams.

He leaned down, so close that his warm breath whispered across her lips as he asked, “Are you in love with me?”

Chapter Two

HER MOUTH HAD fallen open with the same shock Simon had seen on her face when he’d first caught her in his office. So he repeated his question, like he’d had to repeat his first one. “Are you in love with me?”

Color rushed to her face again. But she wasn’t embarrassed. She was amused because she started laughing. Hers was no flirty, girlish giggle, either. Her laugh was deep and husky and had his pulse racing with attraction even as his pride bristled.

Focused on his face, her dark eyes widened. “You’re serious? You think I’m in love with you?”

“No,” he said, and his face heated a little with embarrassment. But it wouldn’t have been the first time someone had fallen for him without any encouragement from him. “I don’t.”

Not anymore. Not after her reaction.

Apparently, it was a good thing he’d never acted on the attraction he’d felt for her. He had no doubt she might have sued for harassment. But now that she’d already given her notice...

“Then why would you ask...?” She trailed off as her voice cracked with the threat of another giggle. It turned into a hiccup instead.

He caught the faint scent of wine on her breath and asked, “Have you been drinking?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” she countered. “It’s after office hours, and I’m not working. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve had to drink.”

“It does if it’s affecting your judgment,” he replied.

Just how affected was her judgment? He wasn’t thinking about just tonight or about just the drinking. Other things could affect judgment. Like greed. Or some other kind of coercion. Maybe she had a lover at an opposing law firm. Had something like that affected her judgment enough that she’d sold information from their case files?

Was that why she didn’t need money any longer?

He had to find out. Right now was probably his best chance—if she’d had enough alcohol to bring down her defenses. He had never seen Bette like this before. Or maybe he’d just never let himself see her like this—except for a stolen glance or two at her assets.

Simon hadn’t been able to stop himself from admiring the lush curves of her hips and ass in her pencil-slim skirts. And the little cardigans she wore did nothing to hide the fullness of her breasts. They strained the buttons at the front, showing little glimpses of the lace camisoles she wore beneath the sweaters.

“So you think the only reasons I could have for wanting to quit are because I’m drunk or in love with you?” she asked, a smile curving her full lips.

Since she didn’t usually look at him, he’d never noticed before how full her lips were—so full that she had a slight dimple in the middle of her bottom one.

He wanted to tug at that lip—with his lips and with his teeth. He wanted to nibble on it until she gasped for breath. Then he wanted those lips to touch him, to close around his cock as she sucked him deep into her throat.

His heart slammed against his ribs as desire sneaked up on him. This was Bette, his boring assistant. Except that she didn’t want to be his assistant anymore.

So what did that make her? The spy who’d betrayed their practice? Simon needed to know for certain if she was the office mole. But how the hell was he going to get her to talk?

She wouldn’t even give him the reason she was resigning. Why didn’t she want him to know? What was she hiding?

In order to get her talking, he needed to talk first. The best way for a con to gain the confidence of his mark was to share a confidence of his own.

“I’ve always had a problem keeping assistants,” he admitted to her. It wasn’t exactly a deep, dark confession, but it was the truth. “You’ve lasted much longer than anyone else has.” About a year and a half longer than her longest-working predecessor.

“I know people who would love to work for you.”

He sighed. “For the wrong reasons. Professionally, they want to get ahead.” They wanted to use the position as his assistant to launch their own legal careers.

Or they wanted to give him head. He wouldn’t mind if Bette had wanted to do that, but that obviously wasn’t why she’d taken the position as his assistant. She had never once showed any interest in him. Until now. “Or, personally, they want me.”

Her eyes widened again, and so did her pupils, dilating as she stared up at him through the lenses of her black-framed glasses. The glasses were too big for her delicately featured face, which was probably why they kept sliding down her small nose.

“I—I don’t want you...” she murmured, but there was no amusement in her voice now. Not even a hint of laughter. But her voice had grown more husky, and her pulse quivered visibly, erratically, in her long, slender neck.

He leaned even closer, so his lips just brushed over hers as he whispered, “Liar...”

She gasped, which moved her lips against his. He took advantage of her open mouth and deepened the kiss. First, he nibbled on her lips, like he’d wanted. Then he slid his tongue between them, into the sweet heat of her mouth. Would her body feel the same?

Hot and wet? He wanted to find out.

He clutched the back of her head in one hand, his fingers closing over that knot of soft, thick hair. It tickled his palm, making his skin tingle. The sensation surprised him. This was Bette, his assistant. She wasn’t supposed to make his skin tingle or his cock swell and throb behind the fly of his dress pants.

But she was...

And it was...

His body pulsed and ached. He wanted her aching for him, too. So he moved his other hand, the one not in her hair. He slid it over the curve of her hip down her thigh to the hem of her skirt. He wanted to lift it, wanted to skim his fingers up the inside of her thigh to the heat of her core. But how drunk was she?

He didn’t want to take advantage if she’d had too much to drink. And he suspected that she had because she was kissing him back, her tongue chasing his into his mouth. He tasted the wine on her tongue, crisp and slightly sweet. He wasn’t surprised that she would drink a sweet and fruity white. She wasn’t sophisticated like the women he usually dated.

Not that he wanted to date her. All he wanted was the truth. Why was she leaving? And was she the one who’d sold their secrets to opposing counsel?

At least that was all his mind wanted. His body was making demands of its own. And he found himself giving in to temptation. He moved his hand beneath her skirt, stroking his fingertips up the inside of her thigh.

She wore stockings, but they stopped halfway between her knees and her core. His finger touched lace and silk. She was wearing a garter?

He never would have thought Bette was the type to wear sexy underwear, let alone lingerie. His breath caught as he touched bare skin, which was even silkier than the stockings and the garter.

But the stockings and garter excited the hell out of him, too. Was she hiding something else—something super sexy—beneath that cardigan?

He moved his hand from her hair down the nape of her slender neck, then around her throat. Her pulse beat madly beneath his fingertip. She was as excited as he was.

He traced his finger lower, over her collarbone to the first button of that sweater. He flicked it open and then moved down to the next and the next, revealing the deep valley of her cleavage. She wasn’t wearing a camisole, like he’d thought. She wore a red lace bustier adorned with tiny bows.

A garter and bustier?

His breath escaped in a ragged groan. Who knew Bette Monroe was so damn sexy and sensual? He’d had no idea.

Did someone else? Had she worn this lingerie because she was meeting someone? At the moment he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but the desire burning him up. His cock pulsed with excitement and the need for release. A release only Bette could give him...

She gasped and trembled against him. Then she tensed. And her hands pressed against his chest, pushing him back.

“I—I...” she stammered. Her face was flushed with color, and her eyes glittered behind the lenses of her glasses.

“You want me,” he finished for her.

She shook her head and her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. He’d loosened the pins, which fell onto the hardwood floor. Her hair was long, so much longer than he’d realized. It reached nearly to her waist. And it was thick and wavy. How had he never noticed how damn sexy it was? How damn sexy she was?

“I want to leave,” she said, her voice steadier now as if she’d forced herself to stop stammering.

He stepped back and swept his arm toward the door. “Go ahead.” He’d never had to hold a woman against her will. Usually he was the one who had to fight to escape.

Bette moved forward but swayed slightly. Maybe she’d had more to drink than he’d thought, which was another good reason to stop. Because despite what she claimed, she wanted him. He could easily change her mind about staying with just another kiss, another caress...

And he was tempted to do just that because he wanted her, so much that it surprised him. She could have betrayed his and his partners’ practice. She could be a con, like him, like his father. Maybe the cardigan sweater and black-framed glasses were just part of the act and the lingerie was the real her.

Was that why he was suddenly attracted to her, because he hadn’t had a challenge in so long? Bette Monroe might pose his greatest challenge yet. He watched as she walked toward the door, watched her hips rock back and forth beneath that tight, sexy skirt. And he swallowed a groan of desire.

Then she stopped, halfway to the door, and turned back to him and said, “I won’t be coming back.”

He arched a brow. “Really?”

“I am not working out a two-week notice,” she said, and her voice wasn’t just steady. It was dead calm with determination.

He grinned at the challenge she was going to pose. Then he told her, with equal determination, “Yes, you are.”

She shook her head, tumbling all that glorious dark hair around her shoulders and over the cardigan. The thick tresses hid some of the red bustier he’d revealed. He’d always been a sucker for brunettes.

Had she known that? Was that why she’d interviewed to be his assistant two years ago? Had she been working him all this time?

“No,” she said. “I can’t work with you now.”

He shrugged. “Why not? Because I kissed you?” He intended to do a hell of a lot more than that to her. Over and over again. Now he wanted to see what was beneath that lingerie. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of her silky skin.

She nodded. “That’s sexual harassment.”

“You already turned in your resignation,” he reminded her. It was probably a fine line, but he was a damn good lawyer. His employment agreements were indisputable. “And you will serve out your notice, just as stipulated in your contract.”

“But—but...” Her mouth fell open on a gasp. “You can’t want me to work here still.”

Knowing that she was probably the mole, no, he shouldn’t want her to work at Street Legal a second longer. But he would be careful to keep her away from all the case files.

He had other plans for keeping her busy. His body throbbed as some of the images he intended to act out flashed through his mind. Her on her knees, sucking on his cock.

Her sexy bare ass bent over his desk as he drove himself inside her...

Sweat broke out on his lip as tension gripped his body. He intended to sensually torment and seduce her into revealing her betrayal. But all of the thoughts of how he would do that were torturing him.

“Oh, I intend to work you,” he warned her as he stepped closer to her. His chest bumped against her breasts, which rose with her pants for breath so much that they nearly spilled over the top of the bustier. “Long and hard...”

And that was just him.

She gasped again, and her dark eyes widened even more with shock. And that desire she kept denying. “You can’t make me do anything but work,” she insisted, her voice husky and breathless.

He nodded but a grin tugged at his lips. “We’ll see...”

She had no idea how persuasive he could be. He had never turned his charm on her before. But he fully intended to do that now.

He was going to seduce the office mole. He was going to con the con until she revealed all her secrets and begged to stay with him—in the office and in bed.

* * *

It was just a dream. That was all it had been. It couldn’t have actually happened last Friday night. Simon Kramer couldn’t have really hit on her.

On Bette Monroe.

He hadn’t kissed her, hadn’t touched her...hadn’t hinted at wanting to do even more to her.

No. It was just a dream. And convincing herself of that was the only way she’d managed to come in to the office on Monday morning. That and that damn contract she’d signed. She had no doubt that he would enforce it had she decided to not work out her two-week notice.

The elevator bell dinged as the car reached the top floor. When the doors slid open, she sucked in a deep breath—bracing herself before she stepped out onto the floor for the Street Legal law practice. It was just two weeks. She’d lasted two years working for Simon Kramer, which—by his own admission—was longer than most of his previous assistants had.

Two weeks was nothing.

She lifted her chin and forced a smile for the receptionist as she walked past him on her way to her office. Miguel nodded in return. The former gang member looked more like a bouncer than a receptionist, which was appropriate since he often had to act more like a bouncer than a receptionist. His voice was like deep velvet, though, when he answered the phone. “Street Legal, how may I help you?”

Would he help her if she asked? Not if she needed help with Simon Kramer. Miguel was fiercely loyal to the managing partner of Street Legal. But she wouldn’t need help. Simon wasn’t going to attack her. Even if what had happened Friday night hadn’t been a dream, he hadn’t attacked.

He had seduced, which was far more dangerous. An attack she could have fought off. Even before moving to New York City six years ago, she had taken self-defense classes. She also carried Mace in her purse. She was prepared for an attack. She was not prepared for Simon Kramer’s charm.

She couldn’t believe she’d managed to walk away from him Friday night, that she hadn’t been tempted to stay and find out if he was as good as all his ex-lovers had claimed. If he was the best...

She shivered and shook her head. No. He didn’t tempt her. Not at all.

Liar, she called herself like he had called her that night.

The minute she stepped into her office, he turned that charm on her, grinning at her from where he reclined in her chair, his feet up on her desk. That grin stole away the breath she’d drawn. He was so damn good-looking. The grin didn’t just curve his sensual lips and show his perfectly straight white teeth; it made his blue eyes sparkle, highlighting the glint of mischief in them.

As if she’d looked directly at the sun, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. But when she opened them again, he was still there. Ignoring her pounding pulse and heart, she narrowed her eyes and focused on him. Sure, his masculine beauty would probably burn her retinas, but she risked it to study him. Despite the grin and the relaxed posture, he had tension in his broad shoulders and the rigid line of his jaw.

Something was bothering him. She doubted he was that upset about her resignation. Sure, hiring a new assistant would be an inconvenience, but he’d barely noticed let alone appreciated her these past two years.

His grin widened, and he greeted her with a “Good morning, sunshine.”

The greeting was more apt for him. With his golden-blond hair and sparkling smile, he was the sun. With her dark hair and eyes, she felt more like a dark cloud, especially after her sleepless nights since Friday. How could she have just dreamed that kiss when she hadn’t slept at all?

And from the way he was looking at her, his gaze moving like a caress up and down her body, she knew it had happened. He hadn’t just kissed her, though. He’d touched her.

Even though he hadn’t moved from her chair, she felt his touch again. Felt his fingertips gliding over her skin...

And another shiver chased down her spine, making her skin tingle.

His grin widened.

She glared at him. “Apparently, you’ve already filled my position,” she said. “So it’s not necessary for me to work out my notice.”

He laughed now, a deep chuckle that affected her nearly as much as his kiss and his touch had. It was so damn sexy. Just like he was.

She turned on the pointy heel of her pump and headed toward the door of her office. Her space was so much smaller than his, with just a few feet between her desk and the door. But she didn’t make it before a strong hand closed around her arm and jerked her to a halt.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he told her.

She tugged, but his fingers were locked around her arm, his grasp too strong for her to break. Even though she wore one of her long-sleeved cardigans, she could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric, and goose bumps of awareness rose on her skin.

“I am leaving,” she said.

“Not for two weeks.” Using his hand on her arm, he spun her around as if they were on a dance floor.

But Bette was not graceful, especially in heels. She stumbled and fell against him. Her breath escaped her lungs in a gasp as her breasts pressed against his chest. Her hips pressed against his, and she felt his reaction to her closeness.

Instead of being embarrassed or apologetic, he chuckled. “I fully intend to enjoy every minute of these two weeks,” he told her as he pushed his hips more firmly against hers. “And I’ll make sure you enjoy them, too.”

Heat rushed through her from her nipples, which had tightened against the silk cups of her bra, down to her clit, which pulsed with desire for him. Damn him...

“If I’d enjoyed working for you, I wouldn’t have given my notice,” she said as she stepped back. She needed space between them. But with his hand on her arm, she could only get inches and couldn’t escape the heat of his body.

She needed feet. No, she needed miles. Miles between them would be good. Then she might not feel him, might not want him.

He lifted his free hand toward her face and ran his fingertips along her cheek. “That was because I wasn’t making sure you enjoyed it,” he said. He stepped closer and lowered his head. His lips were just a breath away from hers when he added, “You will enjoy working for me now, Bette. You’ll enjoy it so much that you will never want to stop.”

With the heat of his breath against her lips, she could smell a trace of mint and coffee and could almost taste him. Not the mint and coffee but him...

How he’d tasted Friday night. Dark and rich and hot.

That desire pulsing in her core had Bette leaning toward him. She wanted his lips against hers again. She wanted to make sure that the kiss—his kiss—hadn’t been a dream or, worse yet, just a manifestation of two years of longing. Longing for his kiss, his touch.

When her lips touched his, a jolt of sexual awareness shot so violently through her that she jerked back, fast and strongly enough that she pulled free of him. But it didn’t matter that he was no longer touching her. He still had a hold on her—with his charm, with his aura.

And he knew it. The knowledge was in his grin and the sparkle in his blue eyes. She had no doubt he would use the power of that attraction over her.

For what? To convince her to stay?

She was not going to change her mind. Street Legal was never where she’d wanted to be. Law was not her passion. And Simon Kramer would not sway her with his charm and his good looks.

“Oh, Bette,” he murmured with an ever-widening grin, “you and I are finally going to have some fun.”

Fun? That she doubted, just like she’d doubted her earlier pep talk to herself.

Two weeks wasn’t nothing. If he kept turning on the charm like this, it would be a lifetime. And because of that damn employment contract he’d had her sign, she wouldn’t be able to cut that time. But he could. He was the only one who could waive the requirement for her to work out the two-week notice.

What would it take for him to get rid of her right away? Then she remembered what he’d asked her Friday night when he’d caught her leaving the resignation letter on his desk—the reason he’d thought she was leaving. That she was in love with him...

What if she hadn’t laughed? What if she’d answered yes? Would he have shown her the door right then and taken away her key? Was that why she’d sent flowers to so many women for him over the past two years?

Because they’d fallen in love with him and had gotten clingy and desperate and he’d wanted nothing to do with them? From their calls pleading with her to let them talk to him, to see him...just one more time.

Yes. She knew what it would take to make him want to get rid of her right away. She would have to convince him that she’d fallen for him.

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