Case for Seduction. Ann Christopher
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be right back.”
He hurried over to the counter and ordered, his mind full of how he and Gorgeous could eat and sip their coffee together, and then maybe grab lunch. Well, no, not lunch, obviously, right after eating breakfast, and he still needed to go home and shower because he probably smelled like the inside of his gym bag. But he’d get her number, and they could meet up later, maybe for drinks, but preferably for dinner, and then—
He swung back around, her cappuccino and cake in hand, and faltered.
She was sitting at the table in front of his, spreading out her books and opening her laptop, and didn’t look like she was in the market for a session of getting to know you with him.
Well, shit, he thought, deflating. That wasn’t the body language he’d been hoping for.
Still, there was nothing a trial lawyer liked better than a challenge, right?
He strode to her table and plunked her items in front of her. She’d put on a pair of sleek black-rimmed glasses and was all business now as she glanced up and gave him a quick nod of thanks.
“I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”
Opening a notebook, she flipped a couple pages and started tapping on her computer, dismissing him.
Okay, then. He faltered again, deflating a little more. Another minute with this one and he’d be flatter than a sheet of tracing paper.
With nothing else to do, he took a chair at his table so that they were sitting back-to-back, sipped his coffee in a moody silence and remembered, too late, that he’d forgotten his newspapers again. He could go up and get them, of course, but a third trip to the counter in three minutes would just be pathetic.
He sat. Sipped. Took a bite of scone and chewed it, tasting nothing.
Behind him, he heard relentless typing. She was working, then. Good for her. He should be working, too.
And he would leave her alone. It would be rude to disturb someone who was clearly so busy.
Screw it. He twisted at the waist and squinted at her book. “Civil procedure, eh?”
“Uh-huh,” she murmured without looking up.
“That makes you a law student.”
“It does indeed. Part-time.”
“Where do you go?”
“Temple.”
“Good school.”
“It better be, because it’s getting all my pennies these days.”
Well, she wasn’t looking at him, but she hadn’t ordered him to shut the hell up, either, so he chose to believe he was making progress.
“Part-time’s a rough way to go, though. It’ll take you forever instead of just three years, right?”
She shrugged. “Well, you know. Full-time job and all that. Someone’s got to pay for bills and tuition, so what can I do?”
He felt a wave of sympathy, because that was a backbreaking load for anyone. Yet, he felt a stronger wave of admiration, because one look at this woman’s squared shoulders and firm chin told him that she was the determined type, and nothing was going to slow her down.
“What about student loans?”
“No loans for me. If I graduate with all kinds of debt, I’ll have to take a job at a huge firm to pay for it. And then I won’t be able to work with Legal Aid or the government if I want to. I want to keep my options open, you know?”
Another swell of appreciation hit him. “I do know. So are you enjoying it?”
“As much as anyone enjoys law school, I guess.”
He cocked his head, remembering. “I enjoyed law school.”
“Ah, but were you working full-time when you went?”
“I was not,” he conceded. “Props to you.”
Her lips turned up in the beginnings of a smile. “Why, thank you.”
He sipped again. She flipped a page in her book.
He gave up on being subtle, although, to be fair, that horse had galloped out of the barn a while back when he’d first laid eyes on her.
“I notice you have...one, two, three empty chairs at your table.”
That got a laugh out of her. “You didn’t mention you were a math whiz.”
“And I have...one, two, three empty chairs at my table. It seems like a waste of resources, don’t you think?”
She heaved a long-suffering sigh, but he could hear the amusement in her voice. “You do see that I’m trying to study, right?”
“What a nice offer.” Without giving her the chance to object, he gathered up his cup and plate and slid around to one of the empty chairs at her table. “I’d love to join you. I hate to eat alone. And I can help you study.”
She sat back, shifting slightly to sling one of her arms over the back of her chair, and narrowed her eyes at him. “Subtle, much?”
“What’s subtle?”
“Wow.” Her grin was wry. “That explains a lot.”
“Subtlety is overrated. Everyone says so.”
“Well, if you’re going to help me study, here’s what I need.” She held up her hands and started counting on her fingers. “Number one. Read these thirty pages for me.” She pointed to her red textbook which, he knew from personal experience, weighed approximately five pounds. “Number two. Summarize it for me in basic terms. None of that legal mumbo jumbo. And none of that res ipsa nonsense.”
Oh, she was funny. “Anything else?”
“Number three. Type up my outline for me. Number four. Take the final for me. It’s in December. Thanks ever so much. I’m going for a massage.”
“So you want to get through your class with no reading or studying, no Latin and no exam. Does that about cover it?”
“You’re the one who offered to help.”
“True. I’d better keep my strength up, eh?”
His appetite restored, he took a big bite of pumpkin scone. Delicious.
Frowning down at her lemon cake, she tapped her pen on the table.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think I ordered the wrong thing,” she said. “What is that, anyway?”
“It’s my fantastic pumpkin scone. They’re out of them, but since you’re sharing your table with me, I can share this with you. Fair is fair.”
“Oh, no, I―”
“I insist.”
He broke the scone in half and gave her a piece. His reward? A gleeful smile that made something tighten low in his belly. Taking a bite, she made a soft sound of pleasure that rippled over his skin like warm bathwater.
“I have a new favorite,” she told him.
“I knew you would.”
She shoved her plate across the table at him. “You can have it. You probably need the calories after your― What exactly have you been doing to get so sweaty? I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Just a healthy workout at the gym.”
“Training for the Olympics?”
“Go big or go home. That’s my motto.”
Sometime during this conversation, he realized suddenly, they’d adopted the same posture. Both of them had their