Authors: Ylette Pearson
Tags: #Erotic Romance Fiction
A Totally Bound Publication
©Copyright Ylette Pearson
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright March 2014
Edited by Jennifer Douglas
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing,
Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a
The cougar inside her purrs at his touch, but is she willing to pay the price for succumbing to temptation?
Thirty-eight-year-old Samantha Owen worked hard to earn the distinction of being the most respected divorce attorney in Sandton, South Africa. Ethical and politically correct conduct ensure she remains at the top of her game and in high demand by rich and influential clients.
When the arrogant and sinfully rich international rugby player, Brent Russell, saunters into Samantha’s office, he evokes flashes of satin sheets and tangled bodies in her mind. But, despite resembling a Greek god and setting her body on fire, he is off-limits. Twelve years younger than her and her client’s soon to be ex-husband, Samantha could be disbarred by just talking to Brent without his attorney present. Besides, Samantha never dates married men—ever.
Used to getting his own way and determined to have her in his bed, Brent embarks on a relentless pursuit of Samantha. Despite Samantha returning his gifts and refusing to consider having dinner with him, he slowly erodes all her objections to an affair between them. Only when he uses his fame to finalize the divorce while Samantha is on her annual leave, does she agree to accompany him for a holiday on his farm at Komatipoort—a decision that could cost her both her reputation and career.
To Pine, for believing in me and giving me the courage to persist.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Barbie Doll: Mattel Inc.
iPad: Apple Inc.
Gautrain: Gauteng Provincial Government
Mercedes: Daimler-Benz AG
Samantha Owen stared at the petite blonde woman seated opposite her. The woman sounded sincere enough, but something kept tinkering at the back of her mind. As an attorney, she’d learnt to heed those warnings and now the bells chimed like those on top of the church.
“Amber, are you sure you’ve told me everything? I don’t want any surprises during our meeting this afternoon.”
The blonde woman flicked her Barbie-doll hair over her shoulder and pouted. “I told you. The two-timing scum needs to pay. It’s not as if he can’t afford it, as you well know. He’s just being spiteful.”
Heavens, was she ever so young and arrogant? Samantha suppressed a sigh. Sometimes she wondered if her reputation of always being ethical and fair in divorce cases wasn’t too much of a burden to bear. Clients like Amber Russell would tempt the patience of a saint. Refusing the more than generous settlement offer the other party had made, reeked of spite on her side, not her estranged husband’s.
“Fine, but you know I will withdraw as your attorney if they spring any surprises on us today.”
Normally Samantha couldn’t care less about her client’s indifference, but she’d had a long day, with this particular client sauntering in from the streets of Sandton too many times during the past week. Right now, she’d rather be at home, barefoot and cooking for a bunch of students who only wanted their next warm meal from her.
She glanced at her watch. If the attorney for the defendant stayed true to form, he and his client should arrive within the next three minutes. Although Rob Bentley appeared flustered and absentminded, Samantha had quickly learnt that it was all a façade. The attorney had a razor-sharp mind that could sift through the muck in any divorce case to find the core of the dispute. It was always a pleasure to deal with him on the opposing side.
“Let’s move to the conference table, shall we?”
After gathering her documents, she walked around the large mahogany desk toward the round wooden table in the corner. She’d purposely placed the conference table far from the wall-to-wall windows so the view over the city couldn’t distract them. She chose the chairs facing the window for herself and her client, leaving her opponents looking at a painting of two wolves at loggerheads.
A discreet knock sounded on the outer door and Samantha flattened her palms over her tight fitting pencil skirt then buttoned her jacket. With a final glance at her client fiddling with her iPad, she reached for the door.
“Good afternoon, Rob, Mister Russell.”
She shook hands with the attorney and waved him toward the conference table. “Please have a seat.” Then she craned her neck to greet her client’s husband and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. Vivid blue eyes stared straight through her and jet-black hair curled over the collar in his neck. The corners of his mouth tilted upwards as the same blue eyes glided like a caress over the length of her body. Like he’d just unwrapped a new present, he took his time inspecting her gray jacket, white silk blouse, pencil skirt, stockings and lastly her two-inch heels. His tongue moistened his lower lip as he focused on the traitorous tips of her breasts jutting through the thin material of her jacket. Under his scrutiny, they puckered to an almost painful hardness.
Who let this man out without a health warning?
Dressed in a dark sports jacket, which he filled to the brim, formal black pants that contributed nothing to hide the muscled thighs underneath and a navy shirt without a tie, he epitomized what Samantha thought a Greek god should look like. She wiped her palm on her skirt and swallowed at the sudden dryness in her throat.
When their eyes met, her body tingled and heat suffused her face. The unconcealed want in his gaze clamped her chest in a vice and sent her pulse rocking.
Breathe Samantha, this is no time for thirty-eight-year-old attorneys to consider playing cougar.
Besides, he is your client’s husband, for heaven’s sake.
She forced air into her lungs and her mind cleared a little.
He stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Owen.”
The deep timbre in his voice unzipped her spine and resonated somewhere below her navel. Under her clothes, gooseflesh riddled her body.
“Ahem…pleased to meet you too.”
Her hand disappeared into his large one and the heat of the contact seared her all the way to her core. Her nervous system short-circuited and rational thought fled.
Get a grip on yourself. You want to fight with him here, not jump his bones
She extracted her hand while her heart threatened to climb out of her chest. The flames in her face could ignite a bonfire. Turning, she pointed a shaking finger at the table.
“Have a seat.”
While proud of the strength of her voice, she prayed her knees would carry her weight as she walked toward the rear of the office. The heat from his body warmed her as he followed much too close. She gritted her teeth as he pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit before rounding the table to his own seat.
Amber hadn’t lied. Brent Russell was a womanizer and, judging by her own struggle to regain her composure, an experienced one. For the first time since meeting Amber, she felt a sliver of sympathy toward the girl. Young Amber had never stood a chance against the sensual onslaught Brent packed.
Samantha flipped open the file and pulled out a settlement agreement. Carefully avoiding looking at his client, she addressed the other attorney.
“I trust you received the revised settlement agreement?”
Rob nodded and Samantha ignored the amusement flickering in his eyes.
“We have, but my client feels it is unreasonable. As you know, the prenuptial contract stipulated your client is entitled to claim for maintenance for her or any children born from the union. What your client demands, exceeds the bounds of the agreement.”
With a slight shrug of her shoulders, she folded her hands over the file in front of her. “My client is entitled to be kept at the standard of living she has become accustomed to during the marriage.”
“True, but she’s asking for a quarter of my client’s assets which amounts to much more than just maintaining the living standard.”
Samantha met the attorney’s eyes and a pebble of dread lodged in her stomach. She’d seen the same twinkle in Rob’s eyes before. He had ammunition that would put a different spin on things and was waiting for the right moment to pounce. Damn Amber for holding out on her.
Amber plonked her phone on the table and pointed toward Brent. “You owe me, you son of a bitch.”
“My client owes you what’s stated in the contract—nothing more.”
In the corner of her vision, Brent clamped his fingers together on the table, his expression impassive. At least he had the sense to ignore the bait thrown out by his hopefully soon to be ex-wife.
“Let’s be reasonable. We called this meeting to try and resolve these issues so the divorce could be finalized, not to go on a bout of mudslinging.” She concentrated on Rob again. “While your offer is generous, my client feels she would need more to maintain her lifestyle. She needs a new apartment and transport, which explains the amount requested in our revised agreement.”
Brent straightened in his chair. “I bought your client a house and a car two years ago. Maybe she needs the money to fund her cocaine addiction?”
The pebble in her stomach grew to a rock while all sympathy for her client evaporated. She glared at Amber who shrugged her shoulders.
“I am not a drug addict. Using a drug once doesn’t make you an addict.”
Rob leafed through his own stack of documents, pulled out a sheet of paper then handed it to Samantha. “We have an affidavit from a private investigator detailing all the times your client used cocaine during the past two months. It details the chain from purchase to use.”
The ground cracked under her case. Drug abuse was bad news in any divorce case. The abuser seldom succeeded in their monetary claims due to fear of fueling the habit even more. The anger at her client ratcheted up another notch.
“You didn’t state drug abuse as a reason for seeking the divorce.”