Innocent until proved wicked

He’ll need all his powers of seduction...

Lawyer Trevor Sinclair knows that gorgeous ice queen Allison McCann is sabotaging his firm. All he needs is proof, with a plan that involves a little deception...and a whole lot of sizzling seduction! But no one warned him that her chilly exterior hides a desire as hot as his own. Is it entrapment if they’re both playing with fire?

“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 the age of 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 Desire

look for the other books in Lisa Childs’s

Legal Lovers miniseries

Legal Seduction

Legal Attraction

Legal Passion

Legal Desire

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Worth the Risk by Zara Cox

Wild Child by Christy McKellen

Getting Even by Avril Tremayne

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Legal Desire

Lisa Childs

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07145-1

LEGAL DESIRE

© 2018 Lisa Childs

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 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.

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With love and appreciation to Andrew,

for all your love and support!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

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

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

EXCITEMENT COURSED THROUGH Trevor Sinclair. He’d barely been able to wait out the weekend to tell his friends what he’d figured out. They were all in relationships now, so he’d forced himself to be patient even though it had nearly killed him to keep the news to himself.

Finally, he heard the ding of the elevator as the car arrived at the floor for Street Legal, the law practice he owned with his three best friends—guys with whom he’d survived living on the streets. The rumble of deep voices echoed off the high, open ceiling of the reception area. They were probably complaining about his calling this early Monday morning meeting.

Their usual business meeting was Tuesday morning. But this wasn’t business as usual, and it couldn’t wait any longer.

Along with the voices, he heard the tap of dress shoes against the hardwood floor: Simon. The heavy strike of boots: Stone. And the soft squeak of tennis shoes: Ronan.

They were all here. And within seconds they trudged into his office. Like Simon, who was the managing partner, Trev had a conference table in his. As a class-action-lawsuit attorney, he always had multiple clients. Sometimes even this voluminous space wasn’t big enough for those meetings.

But it was big enough for this one, for the four of them.

Ronan glared at him through narrowed dark eyes. “Why do you look so damn happy?”

“Maybe he finally got some,” Stone suggested. He was equally bleary-eyed.

Simon shook his blond head. “Nope. He would look as exhausted as we do if he was getting any.”

“You all do look like hell,” Trev agreed.

“Jealous?” Ronan said as he dropped onto one of the chairs around the conference table. Then he eagerly reached for the carafe of coffee sitting in the middle of the reclaimed wood table.

Trev felt a pang of something that could have been jealousy. But he dismissed the ridiculous thought. He had no reason—absolutely no reason—to be jealous of these guys. He could have sex any time he wanted. And love? He wanted no part of that mess.

“Disgusted,” he corrected Ronan, and he shook his head to emphasize his point. “How the mighty have fallen.” He made a tsking sound with his tongue against his teeth. How had it happened when they’d all sworn they would never risk their hearts?

Fools...

He really did pity them. Just pity.

Not envy.

“Yup, he’s jealous,” Stone said with a deep chuckle.

Trev snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Did you call this meeting for dating advice?” Simon asked. Since Simon was the managing partner, he usually called the business meetings. “Do you want to find out if Bette or Muriel or Hillary have a friend that they can set you up with?”

He felt another pang, but he knew what this one was: his pride was stinging.

“I don’t need a setup,” he assured his friend. “I am the only one of us not thinking with his dick nowadays, which is probably why I’m the one who finally figured out who the hell the mole is.”

He had their attention now. Three pairs of eyes widened and focused on him as three jaws fell open in shock.

“You figured it out?” Simon asked. As managing partner, he had considered it his responsibility to find out who the hell the mole was that had been selling information from their case files or passing off forged or real information as coming from their case files.

It wasn’t that Trev hadn’t trusted Simon to find the mole. But he’d had a vested interest. Since Trev had been the first one the mole had hit—during his biggest class-action lawsuit yet—he’d taken it personally. And because he hadn’t been willing to risk the mole compromising his next case, he had put off taking another one until the damn mole was caught.

“Who is it?” Ronan asked.

Trev was surprised the rest of them hadn’t figured it out yet. Now that he knew, it seemed obvious. How had they not suspected her sooner?

“Who?” Stone asked.

All of them were impatient to hear the identity. Maybe they wouldn’t have minded if he had cut their weekends short for this.

“I don’t have proof,” he cautioned them. “Yet. But I’ll get it.” He had already put a plan in motion.

Simon arched a blond brow. “Are you really sure you know who it is? Remember that I once thought Bette was the mole.”

And instead, she’d turned out to be the first woman for whom Simon Kramer had ever fallen. That would not be the case for Trevor.

“Who is it?” Stone asked again, his voice gruff with impatience.

Trev shook his head as he had earlier—with pity—that they hadn’t figured it out like he had. “Allison McCann.”

“No...” Simon shook his head now but in protest. “That’s not possible.”

“It’s not just possible,” Trev replied, “it’s probable. She’s the one thing every one of those cases has in common. She and her public relations firm worked every one of them.” He gestured toward his door. “You’ve even given her an office to use on our floor with access to our computer system that has all our files.”

Simon’s face paled. He was the one who had set up the office for her—the one who’d hired her firm to ramp up their public image years ago, the one who encouraged them all to use her to help sway the public to their side of their cases. He shook his head again, but it wasn’t in protest. It was in self-disgust. He looked sick.

While Simon’s face had paled, Ronan’s flushed with anger, and he cursed.

But Stone was stubborn. He snorted. “C’mon, Trev. You just want to sleep with her, so you’re trying to convince yourself she’s the mole.”

Simon had tried to seduce Bette into admitting she was the mole. Instead, she had seduced him.

Trev had no intention of seducing anyone let alone being seduced. He had a better plan than risking the frostbite having sex with Allison McCann would give him.

“You were there when she admitted she hates lawyers,” Trev reminded him.

And Stone’s face paled. He released a ragged breath.

“If she hates us all so much, why the hell does she do our PR?” Ronan asked. He was clearly on board.

Even though they were all lawyers who loved to argue, none of them could belabor the point that it all made perfect sense. It had to be Allison McCann. She was the one who’d been selling them out and sabotaging them.

“Why?” Simon asked.

“Who cares?” Trev shot back at him.

He didn’t give a damn why she’d done it. He just intended to stop her.

That wasn’t all he planned to do to the mole. He wasn’t going to risk frostbite. But he was intrigued and attracted enough to see if there was any thawing the ice goddess that was Allison McCann.

She had been summoned. She hated that. She had her own business. She was the boss. But if she wanted to keep that business going, she had to have clients. So she worked for them. They were the boss. And she was their bitch.

Allison had learned young how to be a bitch. She’d been taught by the biggest one she’d ever known. But she had no time to think about the past because the elevator bell dinged, announcing her arrival to the floor of Street Legal.

These were her best clients but her least favorite. The things she did for them...

Would have kept her awake had she had a conscience anymore. She’d sold that long ago—along with her soul—in order to have her own business. With a sigh, she stepped off the elevator and headed through the reception area.

The receptionist, a former gang member, watched her approach. She had never understood why they’d chosen his face to be the one clients saw first. No smile curved his lips or warmed his dark eyes. He was not welcoming. At least he had never been welcoming to her.

But then few people—besides the media—were. Reporters waited impatiently for the next press release she issued. They were always happy to see her because they knew she delivered the dirt.

“They’re all in Trev’s office,” Miguel told her as he jerked a thumb in that direction.

So apparently, the partners of Street Legal were waiting impatiently for her, as well. Because the summons had been last-minute, she’d had to move some other appointments around, and Edward, her assistant, had been no help with that. He’d claimed he had a migraine and disappeared into the men’s room, leaving her to make all the calls herself.

She really needed a new assistant. Maybe she should ask Miguel if he had a friend who might be interested in the position. She could use someone less welcoming than Edward. He tended to talk too much to clients and to the press.

She nodded in acknowledgment and headed down the hall that led to Trevor Sinclair’s office. Excitement quickened her pulse with each click of her heels against the hardwood. She wasn’t excited to see him, though. She was just excited because he must have finally taken on a new case.

And of all the partners, his cases were the easiest for which to advocate. Unfortunately, he was not the easiest of the partners for her to be around; he was the one who made her constantly remind herself that she did not like and could not trust lawyers.

When she arrived at the open door to his office, she found them all looking at her the same way, as if they did not like and could not trust her. She shivered at the coldness in their gazes.

Miguel must have alerted Trevor to her arrival. He was the one standing at the door, holding it open for her. He was also the first to shield that initial cold glance and replace it with a grin.

The grin unsettled her more than the coldness and not just because it made him, with his dark auburn hair and deep green eyes, look even more handsome. It unsettled her because her mother had always delivered her most vicious insults with a smile.

Maybe the partners hadn’t called her here to take on a new assignment. Maybe they’d called her here to inform her there would be no new assignments for her at Street Legal.

For the past few months they’d been using her firm less and less even though they’d probably needed her services more. They’d had some bad press after one of them had been reported to the bar association. Word had also gotten out that they had been representing lying clients.

She could have turned that bad press around for them. But they’d been reluctant to involve her and hadn’t even really explained what had happened.

What was going on at Street Legal?

And why did she feel as if it was going to affect her as well now?

“Come in,” Trevor Sinclair urged her.

She hadn’t even realized she’d hesitated in the hallway. But if she stepped inside that room, the odds were not in her favor. There were four of them and only one of her. Maybe she should have let Edward come along as he’d begged at the last moment. But she’d reminded him of his “migraine” and told him to take it easy the rest of the morning. Not that Edward would have been any help to her in this situation.

These four alpha dogs would have eaten him alive had he tried to come to her defense. Not that Allison needed defending from anyone.

She’d learned young to be able to take care of herself. And if they fired her, she would be fine. She had other clients.

But she felt a curious pang in her heart over the thought of losing them. Maybe it was just pride. But then she stepped closer to Trevor Sinclair, and her breath stuck in her lungs at his size and his handsomeness.

And she knew that it wasn’t just pride that caused that pang.

Allison McCann stepped forward as if she was facing a firing squad. Her willowy body was tense, her delicate shoulders pulled back and stiff. As she neared him, Trev caught a flicker of something pass through her pale blue eyes. The guys claimed she had no emotions, but he’d seen something.

Fear?

Regret?

Guilt?

Guilt would have made the most sense—if she had a conscience. But if she had no emotions, she certainly had no conscience, either.

Then she stepped closer to him as she passed through the door he’d been holding open for her. And her hair brushed across his throat. The scent of it—like cool rain—filled his senses while the silky touch of it had his skin tingling. He dragged in a deep breath, and she filled his head.

She was so damn beautiful with her eerily pale blue eyes and deep red hair. She had to be at least half-Irish—like he was—with that hair. It was too rich a color to be dyed, richer even than his, which was more brown than red. Like her eyes, her skin was pale, too, and flawless like porcelain. She didn’t even seem real. She looked like one of those dolls people didn’t dare touch.

His mother had had a doll like that, one she’d never taken out of the box because she hadn’t wanted to devalue it. It was the only thing she’d taken with her when she’d left New York City for the brighter lights of Hollywood. That doll had had red hair and porcelain skin just like Allison’s.

He expelled the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d still been holding. That breath stirred her hair, and she shivered. As cold as she seemed, he would’ve thought she was immune to it. But then his breath would have been hot—not cold.

Trev was hot-blooded and hotheaded. So maybe it was good that he’d had the weekend to cool off, or he wouldn’t have been able to hide his anger from her.

She glanced up at him, those pale eyes narrowed with suspicion. So maybe he wasn’t doing as good a job hiding his emotions—or his attraction to her—as he’d thought. But then she passed him and approached the conference table near the windows of his office.

His partners stood and not particularly out of manners because a lady had entered the room. Stone and Ronan probably didn’t trust themselves to be anywhere near her after what Trev had told them.

The only one of them who truly possessed manners was their managing partner. They were so ingrained in Simon, like his charm, that he held out a chair for her. As she sat down, he said, “We’ll leave you two to your meeting now.”

And Allison’s brow furrowed slightly.

Ronan didn’t even look at her as he passed around the other side of the conference table. He was not good at hiding his emotions. His body fairly vibrated with anger. As he passed Trev on his way out the door, he murmured, “I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”

He wasn’t certain that he did. But he forced himself to grin like he had it all under control.

Stone slapped his shoulder as he passed him. Trev wasn’t sure if the slap was encouragement or recrimination, but he nodded at him.

Simon was the one who paused the longest in the doorway and stared up at Trev. He emitted a heavy sigh and murmured, “I don’t know how I didn’t see it.”

And it was killing him that he hadn’t, especially now that it was so obvious.

She had to be the mole.

Knowing it wasn’t enough—they needed to be able to prove it. And Trev had taken it upon himself to do that using whatever means necessary.

“Good luck,” Simon said as he stepped out the door and closed it for Trev.

Allison rose from the chair in which Simon had seated her and pivoted on one high heel, her navy blue dress billowing out around her long, slender legs as she turned toward him. She must not have liked having her back to him.

Trev could relate. As a kid living on the streets, he’d known to always keep his back to the wall, so nobody could sneak up on him.

Somehow Allison McCann had managed to sneak up on all of them. How had they never suspected her?

Was it because she was so gorgeous? Hell, she wasn’t just beautiful. She was damn near perfect. Like a ballerina, her body looked delicate but strong, her muscles defined. She was probably a runner.

But no matter how fast she was, she wasn’t going to outrun him.

Trev was going to catch her. He had the mole, and she was not going to get away from him. She was not going to get away with what she’d done.

CHAPTER TWO

TREVOR SINCLAIR’S OFFICE was huge, but when the door was closed, shutting her inside and alone with him, it felt small. And Allison felt trapped.

It wasn’t just his physical size that overwhelmed her. She was tall, too. He was even taller, well over six feet. And he was muscular with shoulders so broad that he probably had to turn sideways to get through doorways. The only thing bigger than his size was his personality. He had a deep, booming voice that resonated inside a courtroom and outside it. He also had an energy about him, a restlessness that made Allison restless, too.

She hated that restless feeling even as much as it, and he, fascinated her. Or maybe that was why she hated it—because she didn’t want to be fascinated. And she certainly didn’t want to be attracted to him.

“I thought this meeting was with all of the partners,” she said, glancing at the closed door, willing the others to return. Sure, she had been outnumbered with the four of them, but she’d liked her odds better with all of them than with being alone with Trevor Sinclair.

Admittedly, it wasn’t just him she didn’t trust. She didn’t trust herself.

He shook his head, and his hair brushed across the collar of his black shirt. His hair was too long. Her fingers itched to run them through the dark auburn strands. He looked more like a rock star than a lawyer.

But then as a lawyer, he was a rock star. The minute he stepped into a courtroom, he commanded all the attention. He played it just like a rock star played the stage.

“My meeting was with all the partners,” he said. “Your meeting is with just me.”

Just me...

Nobody would ever refer to him as just him. He was so much more, and she had no doubt that he knew it, that he was fully aware of how damn handsome he was. Like a rock star, he had fans of his work as a lawyer and his prowess in the bedroom. She’d heard stories about him as well as his partners. They were legendary lovers.

Her skin heated at the thought of Trevor Sinclair touching her, of him stroking his big hands over her body. Of his lips moving over hers.

He didn’t have the thin lips so many other men possessed. Trevor’s lips were full and wide and moved easily into big, wicked grins. How would they feel against hers? Or on other parts of her body?

She suppressed a shiver, just like she’d tried when she’d felt his breath touch her hair moments ago. His breath had been hot and scented with coffee and something sweet, probably from the tray of goodies sitting in the middle of the conference table.

He must have noticed her glance at it because he gestured at that tray as he moved toward her. His legs were heavily muscled, too, his thighs straining against his dress pants as he walked. His body looked strong, powerful.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

She was—but apparently not for food. Maybe she’d denied herself too long. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex and not just because it must have been a while ago but because it must not have been very memorable.

She suspected that it would be memorable with Trevor Sinclair. With his body, his mouth, his big hands, she had no doubt sex with him would be very memorable.

She shook her head. “No, I’m not hungry,” she lied, willing herself to deny her hunger for him. She would not mix business with pleasure.

But for a few moments, when all the partners had been staring at her, she’d wondered if her business with Street Legal was about to end. Even if it did, she still wouldn’t risk a sexual relationship with one of them.

Least of all Trevor Sinclair...

How would she feel if she were in bed with him?

Even more overwhelmed...

And vulnerable.

Allison hated feeling vulnerable. She wouldn’t date someone who might affect her too much, who might make her want too much. She knew that only led to disappointment and heartbreak.

“Good,” he said.

She blinked, trying to focus on what he was saying. It was hard to focus with him standing so close. He had moved quickly from the door to the table and she hadn’t had a chance to step back. Not that she would have. Allison never backed down. “What?”

“I’m glad you’re not hungry,” he said, “because now we can get right to it.”

She blinked again because it didn’t make sense. Get right to what? Sex?

No. She didn’t want that. Not with him.

All she wanted was another assignment, and that had to be the reason he’d requested this meeting. That had to be the reason the other partners had left.

“You took on a new case?” she asked, and excitement surged through her again.

It was much safer for Allison to focus on business. And she actually enjoyed business with Trevor Sinclair. His cases involved taking down big companies, making them pay for any harm they might have done the public or the environment. Helping him made up for the other Street Legal cases, like Ronan Hall’s messy divorce ones or Stone Michaelsen’s criminal ones.

But he shook his head. “Nope. I’m not taking on any new cases right now.”

She felt a pang of disappointment, which was followed quickly with curiosity. “Then why did you want to meet with me?” she asked.

Alone?

He stared down at her for a long moment, his deep green eyes intense. She could feel the heat of his muscular body. An answering wave of heat rushed through her as her pulse quickened. Maybe she should have stayed in the chair Simon Kramer had pulled out for her because then Trevor might have sat down, as well. Then he wouldn’t be so close.

“I wanted you to come here,” he said, and his deep voice sounded even deeper than usual, “because I have a proposition for you.”

A proposition? That had nothing to do with a case?

If it wasn’t business, didn’t it have to be pleasure?

She sucked in a shaky breath.

And he flashed one of those wide, wicked grins of his, and his green eyes sparkled with amusement and something else.

Desire?

No.

Maybe she was still sleeping. Maybe she was dreaming—that Trevor Sinclair was propositioning her...

Her mouth fell open, her lips—which were nearly as red as her hair—parted on a gasp. Her pale skin finally flushed with color while her pale eyes also darkened as her pupils dilated.

He had her. He’d caught the notorious ice queen off guard with his remark. She wasn’t so cool now. He had flustered the usually unflappable publicist. He laughed. “Not that kind of proposition, Allison.”

She shook her head, tumbling the red waves of her hair around her slender shoulders. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Trev was standing close to her, so close that he knew everybody who had called her the ice queen, himself included, was wrong. He felt the heat of her body even though he hadn’t touched her. He really wanted to touch her. Hell, he really wanted her.

So he turned and slid onto the table right next to where she stood, and his knee bumped against her thigh. She stepped back, though.

She obviously did not want him touching her.

He chuckled again at her reaction. “You thought I was propositioning you for sex.”

“Of course I didn’t think that,” she haughtily replied, her pointy little chin lifting in disdain.

“What if I was?” he wondered.

All restless energy, he stood up again, and he was close enough that his suddenly very tense body brushed against hers. How could he want her even knowing that she was the mole? How the hell could he feel any desire for her let alone so much that it had tension winding tightly inside him?

Of course, even though she was the mole, she was stunning. Maybe trying to seduce the truth out of her wasn’t the bad idea he’d thought it was when Simon had tried it with Bette, and Ronan with Muriel.

“Would you be interested?” he asked.

She blinked as if trying to clear her vision before staring up at him. “Would I be interested?” she repeated. “In sex with you?”

And he almost thought she was considering it—until she laughed. That laugh—clear and sharp—cut his pride like a knife.

“Why is that so damn funny?” he asked.

“Because you’re joking,” she said purposefully.

Trev was suddenly very serious—so serious that he leaned a little closer to her. Their bodies brushed again. Her breasts touched his torso, just below his chest. He felt the mad pounding of her heart and the heat of her body again. She definitely was not an ice queen. He wasn’t getting frostbite at all. He was getting hot.

Damn hot for the unscrupulous little publicist.

So hot that he couldn’t resist his impulse to reach out. He slid his arm around her slim waist, and she moved her body more fully against his, clearly wanting him back. Then he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.

Her lips were like silk, so smooth and soft. He nipped and nibbled at them, devouring her as that desire consumed him. He wanted her lips to part, so he could deepen the kiss, so he could slide his tongue inside her mouth.

But he wanted more than that inside her. He wanted to bury his throbbing cock inside her, too. He’d never been so turned on before by just a kiss.

But she wasn’t just kissing him...

His scalp tingled as he felt her hands in his hair, sliding through it, clutching his head to hers. Then, finally, she parted her lips, deepening the kiss.

And he knew her image was just that: Allison McCann was no ice queen. She was all fire and passion.

He tasted so damn good, just like she’d thought he would, like coffee and sugar. His tongue slid between her lips, stroking over hers. She would probably taste like the mint she’d swallowed when he’d jerked her into his arms. While one of his arms was wound around her waist, the other was around her back, as his hand cupped the back of her head, holding it against his as he kissed her.

And her fingers were in his hair, tangled in the thick strands of it. She wanted to slide her fingers down his face, over his muscular chest to the buckle of his belt.

She wanted to undress him. Wanted him to undress her...

She wanted more than a kiss. She wanted him to release the tension he’d built inside her. She wanted his tongue other places than her mouth.

She couldn’t believe that she would want that, that she would want him. And it seemed mutual. She felt his erection straining against the fly of his jeans as he pressed his long, muscular body against hers—as he kissed her.

Trevor Sinclair was kissing her. And she was kissing him back.

That wasn’t just unprofessional—it was career and emotional suicide. Just the kiss.

If they did any more, if they crossed the line any further...

She stepped back, jerking herself out of his arms.

“No,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady despite how hard she was shaking with desire.

Breathing hard, he stared at her blankly, his brow furrowed beneath the fall of the hair she’d tousled with her fingers. “What?”

“If your proposition is for sex, my answer is no,” she clarified. And she fought to still her trembling. She couldn’t afford to let him see how badly he’d affected her, how badly she wanted him, because then he might call her bluff. He might pull her back into his arms and prove that she wanted him just as badly as he’d seemed to want her.

But she must have fooled him because he nodded. “That’s right. I forgot that you said you hate lawyers.”

She flinched with regret that she’d let that slip out once in a meeting with him and Stone Michaelsen. That had been nearly as unprofessional as letting Trevor kiss her. And kissing him back.

That had just been stupid, and Allison was rarely stupid. But she’d wondered for a long time what it would feel like to have that wide mouth of his against hers. It had been even better than she’d thought. What would it be like if they’d gone further?

She nearly shivered as sensations raced through her. And now she regretted pulling away as soon as she had. Maybe she should have let the kiss go on...to more.

“So I guess it’s a good thing I might not be a lawyer much longer,” he said.

She sucked in a breath. She hated lawyers but she knew they were necessary, especially good ones like Trevor Sinclair. “Why not? Did you get turned in to the bar association like your partner?”

His brow furrowed.

Maybe he hadn’t known she’d been aware of that. But she had sources everywhere and she couldn’t afford any surprises in her work.

He shook his head. “I didn’t do anything to get reported to the bar,” he said. “And neither did Ronan. That complaint was bogus.”

She wasn’t so certain about that. But she nodded as if she agreed with him. “Then I don’t understand.”

“Somebody forged those documents they claimed were from Ronan’s case files—”

“No,” she interrupted him. She didn’t want to talk about his partners. “If you’re not losing your license, why won’t you be a lawyer much longer?”

He chuckled. “I’m not losing my license,” he assured her. “I’ve decided to give up law in order to run for public office.”

Now it made sense the comments she’d overheard his partners making to him as they’d exited the office, all some version of wishing him luck. For a second she’d thought those comments might have been in regard to her. But until he’d kissed her, she hadn’t been able to imagine why he might have needed luck with her.

Unless he’d planned to seduce her.

He hadn’t. He had probably only kissed her because she’d stung his pride. She shouldn’t have goaded him. But there was something about Trevor Sinclair, something that caused her usual guard to slip.

She fought now to put her guard back up as he studied her face. She wasn’t certain if he was looking for her reaction to his kiss or to his news. She hid them both under a mask of mild curiosity as she asked, “What does your running for public office have to do with me?”

“I want you to help me,” he said. “I want you to run my campaign.”

That proposition was nearly as ridiculous as his wanting to have sex with her. Hell, she would have preferred that proposition to this one. She laughed again.

“I’m serious,” he told her.

And as was the case with him, her professionalism slipped again and she admitted, “There’s one thing I hate more than lawyers,” she said. “Politicians.”

“I don’t need you to love me,” he said. “I just need you to help me win.”

She laughed again. She wasn’t certain what was funnier. The thought of her falling in love with him or the thought of her helping him win an election. But her laughter sounded a bit hollow as it echoed inside his big office. And she forced herself to stop before it passed from hollow to hysterical.

She shook her head. “I’m a publicist,” she reminded him. “I’m not a campaign manager.”

“I know what you are, Allison,” he said. And for a second something cold and determined passed through his deep green eyes.

She shivered.

Then he blinked and replaced the look with a twinkle of amusement. “And you’re all I need right now,” he said. “You’re who I want.”

She wanted him, too, but not like this, not as a client. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sinclair. I can’t help you.”

“You don’t think I could actually win an election?” he asked.

She sighed. “No, I think you could.” And that was the problem.

But he obviously couldn’t see it. His brow furrowed again as he said, “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t play politics,” she said. Not anymore.

“You’re a publicist,” he said, throwing her words back at her. “That’s all you do is play politics.”

No. She didn’t have to play politics. Not ever again.

“I’m not interested in this assignment,” she said. And she stepped back, heading toward the door. “I’m sure you can find someone else.”

“I don’t want someone else,” he said. “I want you.”

If only he’d really meant that personally and hadn’t kissed her just out of wounded pride.

She laughed again—at herself—because her pride was wounded. And once again her guard slipped and she found herself admitting, “You would have had a better shot at me agreeing to a proposition for sex than playing politics.”

CHAPTER THREE

“ALLISON MCCANN DOES not exist.”

Trev snorted over Simon’s pronouncement. If she didn’t exist, who the hell had he just been kissing in his office?

“You can’t make her disappear just because I figured out she’s the mole,” he said.

It must have been killing Simon to know that Trev had figured it out before he had. It was probably killing him even more that he had been the one who’d hired her, which was probably why he’d had Miguel send Trev to his office the minute she’d left. Miguel must have told the managing partner when she’d headed to the elevator.

She’d done that quickly—right after turning down his assignment. But had she left the door open to something else? To something more personal than politics?

Or had she only been joking? He’d been so stunned that she might have accepted his sexual proposition that he hadn’t moved fast enough to stop her from leaving his office. And by the time his dick had settled down enough for him to move, he’d rushed into the hall to find her already gone.

Then Miguel had redirected him here—to Simon’s office where Ronan and Stone waited for him along with the managing partner. They must have all come here after they’d left his meeting.

Simon’s office was very similar to Trev’s with the tall windows, exposed brick and long conference table. Simon also had a leather couch along one of the interior walls.

Trev didn’t have any comfy furniture in his. He was usually too restless when he was working to sit down and relax. Simon wasn’t the type to relax, either. But according to office gossip, he didn’t use that couch for taking naps.

Maybe Trev needed a couch like that. He could have taken Allison there. Hell, he could have taken Allison on the conference table. Or standing up.

But Trev always took no for an answer.

While Ronan and Stone sat around that conference table, drinking from the mugs of coffee they’d brought from his office, Simon sat at his desk. He studied his computer monitor through narrowed eyes as if he was trying to find something. Or someone...

“I didn’t make her disappear,” Simon said. “Allison McCann never appeared in the first place, at least not until she started her PR firm seven years ago. No birth certificate. No social security number. No nothing.”

She’d certainly felt real in his office—in his arms...

Trev paced in front of the windows that looked out onto Midtown. He glanced down at the street, but he was too high to see any people clearly. Still, if she was down there, he would have noticed her. With her bright red hair and pale skin, she would have been recognizable from any distance.

“So what do you think?” Ronan asked Simon. “Did she create herself when she created her company?”

Simon leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Maybe she’s not an ice princess at all,” he mused. “Maybe she’s a robot.”

She was definitely flesh and blood—all very hot flesh and blood. But Trev wasn’t ready to admit to his partners that he’d kissed the mole.

Trev shook his head. “She’s not a robot.”

Simon sighed. “Then I have no idea what she is or where she came from.”

Trev had no doubt that she was real. “What are you thinking?” he asked Ronan, who’d brought up that she’d created herself. Why would she have done that? “Do you think it’s just a PR stunt?”

Ronan shrugged. “A person who’s all about image might have set out to create one for herself.”

“I hope that’s all it is and not the ultimate con,” Simon said. The former con artist was probably beating himself up thinking he had missed a con. “I should have checked her out better.” His face was tight with self-recrimination.

“You checked out her firm,” Trev reminded him. “Hers was the best.” Or Simon wouldn’t have hired her.

“But who the hell is she?” Simon said. “And why would she suddenly turn on us like she has?”

Trev wondered that, too. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“You’re not having doubts now, are you?” Simon asked. “She didn’t already get to you, did she?”

She’d gotten to him—physically. Trev wanted her like he couldn’t remember wanting anyone else in a hell of a long time. “No doubts that she’s the mole,” Trev said. He was even more certain now that he was right. “What doesn’t make sense is why she agreed to work for us in the first place with how she feels about lawyers.”

He focused on Stone, who’d been curiously silent this whole time. He was the one who’d been with Trev when she’d made that comment. And now she’d made one about her dislike of another profession.

Simon asked, “What about your plan? Did she take the bait?”

Trev shook his head. “No, she hates politicians more than she hates lawyers.”

Simon expelled a ragged breath. “What the hell is her deal?”

“I don’t know.” But Trev was more determined than ever to find out.

Stone cleared his throat. “Bellows isn’t Hillary’s real last name,” he said.

Trev and the other partners turned to him in surprise. He’d never mentioned that before. Hillary was an ambitious assistant district attorney. They’d never even suspected her of being the mole. What reason could she have had for changing her name? “Really?”

Stone nodded then he glanced at Simon. “You wouldn’t be able to find any birth certificate for Hillary Bellows. She took her mother’s maiden name.”

“Why?” Trev asked. “Is her father a criminal and, as a DA, she didn’t want to be associated with him?”

Stone shook his head. “Just the opposite. He’s someone very rich and very important and she didn’t want special treatment because of her real last name.”

Ronan snorted. “I doubt that would be the case for a publicist. If her father’s famous, she would undoubtedly use that to her advantage.”

But Trev wondered.

While Allison McCann didn’t have any problem delivering their press releases, she was careful so that she was never any part of the story herself.

Simon tapped the keys on his computer. “So if Allison took her mother’s maiden name...”

“How are you going to find her real name?” Stone asked him. “I had no idea who Hillary really was until she told me.”

Simon cursed.

“I’ll find out,” Trev assured them.

“How?” Simon asked. “You said she didn’t take the bait.”

Not that bait. But she’d given him another opening—when she’d kissed him back.

“I’m not giving up after just one shot,” Trev said. Or one kiss.

“We don’t just need to know who she is, though. We need to get evidence against her in order to bring her down like she tried bringing down Street Legal,” Simon said.

The others nodded in agreement.

Trev might have found another way in—literally. But he wasn’t about to share that with any of his friends yet. “I’m not giving up,” he repeated. “I’m going to get her.”

Simon shook his head. “I’m not sure I want you risking yourself like this,” he said. “We don’t really know anything about her. She could be dangerous.”

“She is.” She’d affected him like no other woman ever had. “But she doesn’t scare me.”

“That’s the problem,” Simon said. “You should be scared and you’re not.”

His friend’s words chilled Trev for a moment, finally cooling off the heat of the desire he felt for Allison. He didn’t want to wind up like his friends had. He didn’t want to be in a relationship the way all of them were.

But he didn’t have to worry about that happening to him. Allison was the mole, so there was no way he would ever fall for her. Hell, he was safer than his friends were, which was good because after that kiss, he was damn well going to get Allison McCann or whoever the hell she really was.

Allison had lost her damn mind. She couldn’t believe she’d said what she had to Trevor Sinclair. Fortunately, he hadn’t taken her up on the offer any more than she’d taken him up on his offer to help him run for office.

What the hell had she been thinking?

She hadn’t. After that kiss she hadn’t been able to think at all. That was her only excuse for her slip in judgment. Two slips...

Her first slip had been slipping her tongue into his damn mouth. Kissing him had been so stupid. And then to suggest that she might have agreed to have sex with him.

The sad thing was that she hadn’t been kidding. She was tempted. But apparently, she hadn’t been enough of a temptation for him. Maybe he couldn’t believe she’d turned down his job offer, though.

And that had probably been her third mistake. Like she’d said, he had a damn good shot at winning whatever election he ran for. If she was the one who helped him cross from lawyer to politician, she could bring her business to the next level. But politics wasn’t where she wanted it or her to go.

She wasn’t sure it was the right place for Trevor Sinclair, either. He was a much better lawyer than he would be a politician. But he was so eloquent and so damn good-looking that there was no way he could lose...whatever he wanted.

For a moment, with the passionate way he’d kissed her, she’d thought he’d wanted her. But he only wanted her to help him win.

She sighed. She probably should have taken the assignment. But politics and campaigns...

She shuddered as bad memories washed over her. Memories were all they were, and she was too strong, too resilient, to let them ever get to her again. She wouldn’t let Trevor Sinclair get to her, either.

And just in case he’d tried to track her down later that day, she’d made certain to stay so busy that now, at the end of the workday, she was exhausted. She dropped her dress on her closet floor and grabbed her nightgown. Moments later she opened a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass as she glanced down at her view of the park.

She should have been out there, running. That was her fastest way to relieve stress. But she didn’t think this was the kind of stress that could be relieved with exercise. She needed sex.

Sex with Trevor Sinclair. While she had other men she could have called, he was the one she wanted, which was stupid. She worked with him. At least she used to work with him. Mixing business with pleasure...

Was stupid.

But where else was Allison to find pleasure when all she did was work? She pressed her glass to her lips and took a long sip. The alcohol shot straight from her empty stomach to her head. Maybe she should have waited to open the wine until after she’d eaten. But she wasn’t interested in food.

She just wanted Trevor Sinclair here. For more of his kisses.

For more of him.

She should have undressed him, should have seen if his muscular body looked as good without clothes as it did with them. But he hadn’t really wanted sex with her. He’d wanted her to run a damn campaign for him. Anger coursed through her, replacing the desire she’d felt for him. That was better.

She’d rather be angry with him than attracted to him. But she doubted any amount of anger—or wine—could negate the amount of desire she felt for him.

She sighed but she took another sip anyway. She could handle her alcohol. Her mother had adopted the European attitude toward drinking, serving it to Allison well before she’d been of legal drinking age. So she’d built up a tolerance to it, which was unfortunate because she couldn’t use being drunk as an excuse to call Trevor Sinclair and proposition him for sex.

Not that she would have. She knew better than to get involved with a man like him. It was bad enough that he was a lawyer; now he wanted to be a politician.

She groaned with disappointment and murmured, “What a waste.”

The ding of her doorbell drew her attention away from the windows, and she glanced toward the door. Her pulse quickened with excitement.

Could it be...?

Had he found her?

Had he found her?

After that unsettling second meeting with his partners, Trev had spent the rest of the day doing something he’d never done before: chasing after a woman. And Allison McCann was one busy woman. He never tracked her down at her office or throughout her day of outside appointments.

But as he stood outside the door of the penthouse apartment in a building on Central Park West, he truly hoped he had found her now. He pressed the bell for the second time and finally, the door opened. Allison McCann leaned wearily against the jamb as if she’d spent the day running from him.

Had she known he’d been trying to track her down? Had she been purposely eluding him? He wouldn’t have put it past her, especially if she had any inclination that he suspected she was the mole.

She didn’t look scared, though. She looked...

Incredibly sexy. So sexy that she struck Trev dumb once again. He couldn’t talk. He could only stare at her.

She’d looked beautiful earlier that day in a navy blue dress. But then she’d also looked uptight and professional. Now she appeared soft and approachable. Her hair had begun to curl around her face, softening her sharp cheekbones and pointy chin. And while she wore another dress, this one was short, revealing her long, bare legs. Was it a dress or a nightgown? The silky white material was thin, nearly transparent, and clung to her every curve. And she had more curves than he’d originally thought. As he stared, her nipples tightened into points that pushed against that thin material.

A groan slipped out of his lips as desire coursed through him, heating his blood and hardening his body. She was incredibly sexy.

But even though she didn’t look like the ice goddess anymore, she sounded like it when she asked, “What the hell do you want?” and her voice reached new icy levels of coldness.

If not for that kiss, Trev might have bought the ice queen act she played so well. But he couldn’t forget the heat and passion of that kiss.

So he grinned and replied, “You.”

“Fuck you,” she replied.

He laughed and stepped forward, crowding her in the doorway. “That’s why I’m here.”

Her pale eyes narrowed in a frosty glare. And he wouldn’t have put it past her to slap him. But instead, she laughed and stepped back, letting him inside the penthouse. A wineglass dangled from her fingertips, a deep red sloshing around inside the glass as she walked barefoot down the hall to the living room with its big windows looking out onto Central Park.

“I really need to fire Edward,” she murmured as she dropped onto the sectional couch in front of those windows.

Trev’s mind had gone blank again as he stared at her long legs. She’d curled them beneath her on the cushions, like a cat curling up in the sun. “Edward?”

“My assistant,” she said. “The one who must have told you where I live.”

That was all Edward had told him for the moment. But Trev had a feeling he could eventually get even more information from her assistant, so he shook his head. “It was easy enough to track down your address through a deed search.”

Despite how elegant she usually looked, she could swear like a sailor. She could even snort, which she did now. “That’s bullshit.”

She obviously wasn’t buying his explanation. Edward wasn’t getting easily off the hook with her. But that was his problem.

Not Trev’s. She was Trev’s problem.

“Don’t lie to me,” she warned him. “I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

“How do you know I’m lying?” he asked. Even the guys who’d known him since his teens couldn’t tell when he was lying. He was that good.

“Because the deed for the penthouse isn’t in my name,” she told him.

Busted. He hadn’t handled that well. But now he had even more questions, especially since Edward had made it clear it was her place. She wasn’t leasing it. “Is it in your husband’s name?” he asked.

And he wasn’t entirely joking now. Edward had also made it clear that Trev had no shot with her. He’d had to convince her assistant that all he’d wanted from Allison was her professional services. Fortunately, Edward hadn’t been able to tell that he’d been lying.

She snorted again. “I’m never getting married.”

“Again?” Maybe she’d been before and that was why her name was different.

She shook her head. “Never been. Never will.”

“What turned you off marriage?” he asked.

“Maybe I’ve worked too many cases with your partner, Ronan Hall.”

Ronan was the divorce lawyer. “Ronan became a divorce lawyer because of his parents’ lousy marriage.”

Her face was like a beautiful mask, hiding all her emotions and reactions but for a slight flinch. He must have hit a nerve. Usually when he did that, he pushed even more to break whomever he had on the stand.

But Allison wasn’t on the stand. She was on the couch. And she was so damn sexy. He didn’t want her to get mad and toss him out of her place before he’d had a chance to kiss her again. To touch her.

He pointed at the open bottle on the glass coffee table. “Are you willing to share?” he asked.

She glanced at it, as if assessing if there was enough left. “Glasses are in the kitchen,” she said, gesturing toward the breakfast bar at the other end of the living room.

But he dropped onto the couch next to her and reached for her glass. She wouldn’t release the stem, so he just slid his fingers over hers. Her skin was so silky and warm beneath his. His mouth suddenly very dry, he directed the glass to his lips and took a sip from the rim.

It wasn’t the dry red he would have expected her to drink. This one was full of nuances: berries, chocolate, coffee. It was bold like she’d proven to be. He flicked his tongue across his lower lip, where a drop had fallen, to savor the rich flavor. And her pale eyes darkened, her pupils dilating.

“Why are you here?” she asked. Her voice wasn’t quite as icy now as it had been when she’d opened the door.

“I told you,” he said. “I want you.”

“To manage your campaign,” she said and snorted again.

He shook his head. “That wasn’t what I was proposing,” he said. “I wanted you to revamp my image, so that I can run for office.” Not that he actually wanted to but he needed a reason to spend time with her—a lot of time.

“Wanted?” she asked. “Did you change your mind?”

“Nope,” he said. “But after that kiss today, that’s not all I want from you.”

He reached out again but not for the glass. Instead, he skimmed his fingertips over those long, bare legs of hers. Her skin was so damn silky, her legs so toned. She must have been a runner. He wanted those legs wrapped around his waist or arched over his shoulders or...

“You said you weren’t propositioning me for sex,” she reminded him.

“That was stupid,” he admitted. “I should have been.”

“Too late now.”

“You said I had a chance of convincing you to accept that proposition.” A better chance than getting her to work with him on a political campaign. Now he had some idea why.

If only he’d done a little more research on her before coming up with his plan...

But after that kiss and the comment she’d made before leaving his office, he’d changed his plan. He was much more excited about this new one than he’d been about pretending to run in an election.

He trailed his fingers from her calf to her thigh and toyed with the edge of her silk gown. Or was it just a long, loose pajama shirt? Did she wear anything underneath it?

He wanted to find out, so he moved his fingers up a little higher. And he held his breath, waiting for her to stop him. She could—with just a look. Her icy ones were capable of freezing anyone.

Except maybe him...

CHAPTER FOUR

TREVOR SINCLAIR WAS so damn hot with his thick, unruly hair, with his chiseled features, with his Olympian’s body. If he wasn’t this gorgeous, he wouldn’t affect her like he did.

Allison would be able to retain her professionalism. But she’d lost that this morning in his office. Hell, she’d lost it a month or so ago when she’d confessed to her hatred of lawyers.

She was surprised they hadn’t fired her firm then. But he’d offered her a new assignment. One she probably should have taken.

She hadn’t lied when she’d said she’d rather accept his proposition for sex. Especially now.

With his fingertips sliding up her bare thigh.

Her skin tingled, and a delicious little shiver quivered inside her, making her nipples tighten even more than they had when she’d caught him staring at them. At her...

“So will you?” he asked as he moved his hand even higher until he touched the curve of her hip beneath her nightgown.

She’d changed into something comfortable because she hadn’t been expecting company.

Liar...

The little voice inside her head always called her on her bullshit. She’d known, or maybe she’d just hoped, that Trevor Sinclair would seek her out after the comment she’d made. That he would accept the challenge to change her mind.

From the powerful corporations he’d taken on in the past, he clearly knew no fear. Which was a thrill for her since most men were too frightened of her and her ice queen reputation to even approach her.

While she had purposely created that persona, sometimes it served its purpose too well. Sure, she didn’t want any messy personal entanglements, but she wouldn’t mind mixing a little pleasure into her business-only life. If his reputation was real and not just like hers, Trevor Sinclair might be able to give her that pleasure she’d been denied too long.

“Will I what?” she asked, and she moved, uncurling her legs to stretch them out behind where he sat on the edge of the couch.

“Accept my proposition.”

She shook her head. “I’m not going to play politics with you, Trevor.”

But despite her reservations, she was intrigued at the thought of making him into a viable candidate. It would be relatively easy.

“How about just playing with me?” he asked. “How about accepting my proposition for sex?”

She leaned back and studied him through her lowered lashes. Knowing he enjoyed a challenge, she challenged him with, “Convince me.”

His wide mouth curved instantly into that wicked grin of his. How could a man with a grin that naughty ever inspire confidence in voters?

That wasn’t her problem, though. She wasn’t going to help him. She wasn’t mixing business with pleasure. She just wanted pleasure from him.

It had been too long for her. That was probably why that kiss had affected her so. Once she had Trevor Sinclair, once she experienced his legendary sexual prowess, she hoped she’d be so satiated that she wouldn’t want him anymore.

“What will it take to convince you?” he asked.

“Not an argument,” she warned him. “I don’t need words.” She heard enough of them, used enough of them herself. “I need action.”

She needed him. Her body was already beginning to pulse and throb in all the most intimate places.

His already-wide grin widened more, and he chuckled. But he heeded her warning and didn’t talk. Instead, he touched.

He skimmed his fingers up the curve of her hip to her waist and then over her rib cage. She sucked in a breath as he neared one of her breasts. But he stopped beneath it. He leaned forward until their mouths nearly met. But he stopped again before their lips touched.

She smiled at his teasing. To show him she was unconvinced, she yawned.

And he laughed. She felt his breath against her lips and could almost taste the wine he’d drunk from her glass. Then his mouth covered hers, and she could definitely taste the wine. But it wasn’t as rich as the flavor that was distinctly his alone.

He nibbled on her lips, parting them, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid in and out of her mouth—like she wanted it sliding in and out of her.

She shifted against the soft cushions of the couch. And his hand moved. He slid it up and finally cupped her breast in his palm. There were calluses on his hand, probably from weight lifting. All the Street Legal partners looked like they spent a lot of time at the gym but most especially Trevor and Stone.

Those calluses felt amazing against her nipple. Pleasure streaked from it down to her core where her pulse had begun to pound frantically.

A moan slipped through her lips and into his mouth. The kiss went on and on—open mouth to open mouth, tongues mating. It was the hottest kiss she’d ever had. But she needed more than kisses.

Trevor’s hand moved on her breast, sliding over and over it until his thumb brushed across her nipple. He stroked it and then his other hand moved, sliding under her nightgown, as well. But this one stayed below her waist. First, his fingers stroked her thigh, caressing the smooth skin on the inner side before moving up. He eased his fingers beneath her silk panties and stroked over her core.

She gasped at the sensations streaking through her. Then she moved, parting her legs for him. He eased one finger inside her while his thumb rubbed her clit.

She moaned and dropped back against the couch cushions, away from his kiss. So he moved his mouth lower, over her throat. His tongue flicked across her pounding pulse. Then he pushed up her nightgown and closed his mouth over the nipple he’d teased to tautness. He pulled at it with his lips while he moved another finger inside her.

She panted for breath as the pressure built to an almost unbearable level inside her. She needed a release. She needed him. Desire overwhelmed her.

But before she could reach for him, he was moving lower again. And his mouth touched her core. His tongue flicked across her clit—back and forth—teasing her as he stroked his fingers in and out of her. Then he moved his tongue inside her, too.

And she arched up—against his wide, wicked mouth. Finally, the pressure broke as an orgasm shuddered through her. She screamed with pleasure and dropped back against the couch again, her body shaking from the force of the orgasm and the power of the desire that burned between them.

But despite that orgasm, the desire hadn’t burned out. It still burned inside her. She wanted more.

Trevor’s heart pounded hard in his chest, and his entire body ached with tension—sexual tension. He licked the taste of her pleasure from his lips and asked, his voice gruff, “Was that enough convincing?”

He was so damn tense he felt like he might shatter into a million pieces if he didn’t get a release like the one he’d just given her. He couldn’t remember ever wanting anyone the way he wanted her.

“You may have overplayed your hand,” she said as she panted for breath.

He chuckled. “Oh, no. I have a lot left to show you,” he promised. A lot he needed to show her. Now. “So do you accept my proposition?”

She narrowed her eyes and studied his face, as if debating. If she sent him away now, he’d know that she really was an ice queen, if she could be that cruel. It wasn’t just a persona or an act. She was really cold and heartless.

Her lips curved into a slight smile.

And his heart beat even harder because he had no idea what she was going to do. He couldn’t argue with her and not just because she’d told him he couldn’t. No meant no to Trev.

But was she saying no?

That slight smile curving her lips was just a little too sexy for him to believe that she could turn him away now, knowing that he was as desperate for release as she had been moments ago.

Before he’d given it to her...

He wanted to give it to her again. “What do you say, Allison?”

Finally, she nodded.

And he reached for her.

But she grabbed his arms, holding him back. “But it’s just sex,” she said.

He nodded. “I know. No politics.”

Her smile widened. “Yes, no politics but no emotions, either.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion. Emotions? They’d said nothing about emotions. Trev had taught himself years ago to never feel those again. To never get attached to anyone.

It only led to disappointment and pain.

She laughed. “Good. You look as appalled as I am at the thought of getting emotionally involved.”

He shuddered and it wasn’t entirely feigned. “Usually I’m not on the receiving end of that warning, though,” he admitted. That was what had taken him aback.

“You give it,” she said.

“And now I want to give it to you,” he said. And he reached for her again.

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