Truly Madly Deeply Boxed Set (14 page)

* * *

“I take it this is your version of ‘coming back’?” Griff asked on Monday morning. The rest of the weekend had passed without a word or a phone call, as if the night they’d spent together had never happened.

“I’m here.”

“It’s a little late, isn’t it’?”

Chelsie turned from the box she’d been unpacking. “I never said when, just that I’d be here.”

“Semantics again.”

“Whatever.”

She unwrapped a brass clock and placed it next to the blotter on her desk. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. Otherwise, he might give in to the urge to throttle her. The woman standing before him in a prim business suit and hair pulled back into a tight bun bore little resemblance to the tousled woman in his bed the morning before. Unfortunately, her seductive scent was the same and memories flooded back hard and fast. Even her outward appearance couldn’t dull his need.

He suspected she’d undergone the transformation on purpose. That she thought the cool facade would provide a deterrent only proved how little she knew him.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Better.”

“And Alix?”

“Also better. Mrs. Baxter’s back.”

“I know. I called to check on Alix earlier.”

And didn’t bother to speak with him. Griff reached for her arm, turning her to face him. “We have to talk.”

She shook her head. “Not now.” She gestured to the many boxes spread across the floor.

So she had to unpack. He knew that and had planned on helping out. His secretary had come in for a few hours and then he’d given her the rest of the day off for the same reason. There would be plenty of time for work when he and Chelsie had finished combining offices.

Without a secretary or client in sight, Griff couldn’t think of a better moment to hash things out between them. “Seems like the perfect time to me. We’re alone.”

“But we won’t be for long. While you were downstairs, your secretary left a message about booking a potential client around noon.” Her lips turned downward in a frown.

“A potential client,” he repeated. “And that’s bad news?”

“Depends.” She moved the now empty box onto the floor. “Can you hand me that one?” She pointed across the room to a brown box labeled
Personal
. “It’s fragile.”

He hefted the box off the floor, surprised when it lifted easily, and placed it on the desk she’d had delivered early this morning. From a basic office supply depot, the wooden desk lacked the old charm of Griff s own, and was the complete opposite of the crystal-and-glass palace Chelsie called home.

Come to think of it, he realized, glancing around at the objects she’d already unpacked, her office decor was homey and lived in, rather than sleek and untouchable. More like the Chelsie he’d come to know. The disparate looks intrigued him as much as the woman herself.

He watched as she sliced open the box with a thin razor blade. “I’d think you’d be happy I booked a new client,” he said. “At least I’m pulling my weight.” Or beginning to, he thought. Leaving the corporate world behind in favor of family law, he hadn’t taken a single client with him from his old office. He’d wanted it that way, wanted to leave all shreds of that life and lifestyle behind.

“I would be if I thought you were prepared for this one.”

“You think I can’t handle a new client? If you trust me so little, why the hell did you agree to this partnership in the first place?” Why the hell had she slept with him and complicated his life even more?

“I’m not sure,” she murmured. “But before you start getting defensive, you should realize something.” Without meeting his gaze, she began digging through tissue paper inside the box.

More crystal? he wondered, unable to keep the disappointment from invading his mind. Had he been wrong to think the icy apartment was a sham and the warmth of her office a reflection of the real Chelsie Russell?

“This is your first domestic violence case.”

Her softly spoken words halted his callous thoughts and Griff paused. Domestic violence. Her past. Abuse. Once a part of her life. What did he really know of this woman? How could he presume to judge her time and again? “So what are you suggesting?” he asked, purposefully backing off. “I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

She raised her gaze. “Why are you so agreeable all of a sudden?” she asked warily.

He shrugged. “Because in this area of law you know best?”

“Or because you’re afraid of treading on what you now think is forbidden territory? Don’t do it. If I hadn’t admitted my past, what would you be telling me now?” Her eyes held a definite challenge.

The spark had returned and Griff liked it. “I’d say I could handle it,” he admitted.

“And I’m telling you, you can’t. Not without guidance the first time.”

“Why?” he asked, pushing her just as she’d requested.

She didn’t want to be pampered. He respected that. If she wanted to force him into being his obstinate, lawyerly self, he’d comply. If they were going to be partners, neither one could afford to let the other call the shots without good reason. “Considering I’ve been dealing with clients since before graduating law school, and knowing that most of them are stubborn and egotistical, why would you presume to think I couldn’t handle this one?”

“For exactly those reasons.” She squared her shoulders, a defensive stance probably meant to prove she could hold her own with him. “All your experience means zero around here. You may be a corporate wiz and you could probably challenge the toughest CEO and win, but that mentality won’t work in family law. You know nothing about the psyche of these women. You don’t know what makes them run away from the abuse or back to it. The slightest error in word choice could compromise not only your securing a new client, but her life as well.” She met and held his gaze for a brief moment before digging through the box once more.

Griff remained silent. The crinkle of tissue paper was the only sound in the now quiet room. Easing himself onto the far edge of her desk, he thought about her words. A smile pulled at his lips. She was good. Damned good. Too bad he was trained to recognize her game. She’d stroked his ego in his area of expertise while asserting authority in her own.

As frustrated as he was with her personally right now, he knew without a doubt he was going to enjoy working with Chelsie Russell. He was also going to learn about humility, because to his amazement, and despite his slightly bruised ego, he admitted to himself she was right. He couldn’t handle this first case. Not alone.

He needed Chelsie.

He cleared his throat, intending to tell her, at the same time she finally unwrapped the contents of the box.

Sentiment had no place in her life, Chelsie thought. So why had she decided to bring this collection here? And why now?

Although she felt Griff s steady gaze, he remained silent. For that she was grateful. One at a time, she unwrapped the tiny silver frames holding the cherished pictures of herself and her sister. In keeping with her sister’s love of keeping personal accounts, every year Chelsie had given Shannon a leather-bound diary for Christmas. Every year, Shannon had given Chelsie a framed picture of them as children, along with a humorous label at the bottom. The tradition continued even after Chelsie’s marriage and divorce. The only difference was the UPS man was the carrier instead of Chelsie. When she’d grabbed this box from the floor of her closet early this morning, Chelsie told herself it was for Alix.

She’d lied.

Griff was chipping away at the protective layers she’d built around herself. He was making her feel. She didn’t know whether to love him or hate him for that, since it also meant she’d be facing another loss when
they
ended.

She placed the mini-frames on her desk. Griff’s hand covered hers. Warmth and comfort flooded her. Too soon he moved to take the picture from her hand. He studied the photo, the only one that included her parents, taken when Chelsie and Shannon had been almost too young to remember.

“You look like a regular happy family.”

She shrugged. “Maybe we were. Maybe something got warped along the way. I know they loved us. Their priorities shifted at some point. They do love Alix.”

“I believe you.”

Because he spoke without hesitation, she believed him, too.

He lowered the frame to her desk. “You miss them.”

“They’re my parents.”

“It’s more than that, and we both know it.” He’d come up behind her. Solid and steady, he aroused both her deep feelings of need and a purely sexual humming she couldn’t seem to ignore. Problem was, it had gotten her into deep waters yesterday. She looked at the tiny silver mementos once more. He’d drawn her in so deep she’d pulled out her past and brought it around to face her present.

Although she might be ready for that, she wasn’t ready to face Griff and explain why she’d left him so abruptly.

He circled her and settled himself back on the edge of her desk, putting distance between them. Had he sensed her unease?

“I think you’re right about this next appointment,” he said.

Chelsie figured he’d pegged her discomfort for what it was. Although he’d granted her a reprieve, she knew it was temporary. “How so?” she asked.

“I’d like to think I can handle this, but I’m not going to risk my client’s safety or security on ego. I’d like you to be there.”

She nodded, impressed with his ability to put someone else first. Impressed with him. “I’ll sit in.”

He shook his head. “Not just sit in. I’ll take my cues from you.”

She knew it was a big concession. “I’m glad you realize your client’s needs come first. You’ll be handling these cases alone in no time.”

“When, Chelsie?”

“There’s no time frame for these kinds of things. See how you feel after today and...”

He cut her off with an abrupt wave of her hand. “I meant when can we talk about us?”

His definition of temporary and hers differed greatly. She gripped the edge of her desk, unable and unwilling to delve into her heart and soul just yet. “Later.”

His eyes narrowed at her words. “Pick a time.”

A knock sounded at the door. She took a step forward, but he was faster, stepping into her path. His large body blocked her chance of moving forward and his waist came into sudden contact with hers. She let out a startled gasp. The knock came, louder this time.

“Just a second,” Griff called. He fingered the pink bow on her silk shirt His hand grazed her cheek. “Pick a time.”

“Lunch,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Perfect” He took two steps backwards, watching as she smoothed her bow with what she knew were shaking hands. “Do you want to get that or should I?” he asked.

“I’ve got it” She needed the few seconds to compose herself. Chelsie brushed past him and opened the door.

A woman around Chelsie’s age stood before them. “Hi. I’m early, but I had to take the bus and I wasn’t sure how long it would take.”

“Come in,” Chelsie said. “Welcome to Russell and Stuart.”

“Stuart and Russell,” Griff said from behind, but she heard the laughter in his voice.

“We haven’t worked out all the details yet, but come on in.” Chelsie waved the woman inside.

She entered, her eyes never leaving Chelsie’s face. Reassurance was important. Chelsie understood that firsthand.

“We can talk in my office,” Griff said, taking charge.

“Unless you’d be more comfortable out here,” Chelsie said, giving the woman choices she’d probably been lacking lately.

Their client looked from Chelsie to Griff and back again. “His office is fine, if you come.”

Chelsie nodded and the woman stepped back to allow Griff to lead her through the waiting area into his office. Despite the wariness in the woman’s eyes, Chelsie noticed a regal bearing, a notch of pride that hadn’t yet been taken from her.

Watching them precede her, Chelsie saw their surroundings as if for the first time. A worn couch, plush but unobtrusive beige carpet, a small reception area, a coffee machine and water cooler. Except for the massive oak desk he’d taken before leaving his old partnership behind, Griff’s private office looked much the same.

She suppressed a smile. Until now, she hadn’t realized how Griff had decorated to suit his new clientele. No luxuries to make those without feel out of place, but chic enough to allow people with money to believe they’d sought out an equal in their attorney. Much like the downstairs unit he and Alix called home, this place spoke of class that had nothing to do with status and everything to do with its owner.

Chelsie waited for the woman to seat herself before settling in the chair next to hers. Instead of retreating behind his imposing desk, Griff chose a spot on the couch. The woman seemed to relax a bit. Again, Chelsie had to commend his instincts.

“Would you like to take off your coat?” Chelsie asked.

The woman shrugged off an expensive-looking burgundy silk jacket, proof that spousal abuse crossed economic and social boundaries. How well she knew that. “Mrs... “ Chelsie paused. She had forgotten to check Griff s appointment book for the woman’s name, if she had even given it.

“Amanda.”

“Okay.” From experience, Chelsie knew that being on a first-name basis gave her clients the impression of anonymity while they decided whether they trusted her enough to tell all. “You called us, Amanda, so what can we do for you?”

“I know I set this appointment up with Mr. Stuart...”

“I can leave you alone if you’re comfortable now,” Chelsie offered in a soft voice. Inspiring trust was the only way to insure a client’s confidence.

“No!”

“Okay. Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

The woman gripped the edges of her chair until her knuckles turned white. “I have a little boy,” she whispered. “If it weren’t for him, I don’t know if I’d be here.”

Chelsie nodded. “I know this first step was difficult. How old is your son?” Chelsie asked.

“Three. And I don’t want...”

Silence surrounded them, but Chelsie waited. She hoped Griff would take his cue from her and do the same. He leaned forward in his seat, but remained quiet.

Slowly, the woman unbuttoned one sleeve of her cotton blouse, lifting the cuff to reveal angry bruises on her arm. “I’ve lived with this for so long, but I couldn’t bear it if he hurt my little boy.”