Legal Attraction. Lisa Childs
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him. Before he could look at the numbers above the doors, the elevator began to move again—heading down—until it stopped in the lobby.
He hesitated a moment before he stepped through the open doors. He’d changed his mind about trying to apologize to Bette again. It was probably better for Simon if Ronan didn’t talk to her at all. He suspected she’d already told him all that she knew. No. If he wanted to get to the bottom of the documents that had been given to the bar association, he needed to talk to Muriel again. But he would have to do that another time—because if he tracked her down now, after that kiss and seeing her nipples pushing against that camisole, he would do a hell of a lot more than talk to her.
* * *
Legs trembling, heart pounding, Muriel leaned back against her apartment door. She’d turned the deadbolt, so even if he’d followed her, he would not be able to get inside her place. But she didn’t think he’d followed her. The elevator doors had closed before he’d had a chance to step through them.
But he could track her down...especially now that he knew where she’d moved after the divorce. While the building was nice, her apartment was small—much smaller than her old place. Maybe Ronan didn’t realize she lived here; maybe he’d thought she was just visiting Bette.
Then she should have gotten off on another floor...because she wouldn’t put it past him to knock on every door until he found her.
He was furious with her for reporting him to the bar association. Why was he so angry? Because he’d been caught? Or because he hadn’t suborned perjury, as he’d tried to claim?
She could understand his anger if he’d done nothing wrong. That was how she’d felt over her divorce proceedings. She’d been maligned in court and in the media, and she hadn’t done anything of which she’d been accused. She had definitely not cheated.
She’d taken her vows seriously. She’d been monogamous. That was all she knew. Even before she’d gotten married, she’d never dated more than one man at a time. And since the disastrous divorce, she hadn’t even started dating again.
Maybe that was why Ronan Hall had affected her so much. Or maybe it hadn’t been him at all. Maybe it had been the elevator malfunctioning and making her fear that they were about to plunge to their deaths. With her emotions so heightened, it was no wonder she might feel attracted to him.
And it wasn’t as if he wasn’t good-looking and sexy...
But still, she should hate him, not desire him. And she did hate him.
But what if he wasn’t responsible for those witnesses coming forward? What if those memos from his Street Legal law practice had been forged, as he’d claimed?
No. She couldn’t believe that. She knew every one of those witnesses who’d testified. While they hadn’t all been close friends of hers, they were acquaintances. They wouldn’t have lied about her without some serious coercion. Arte wouldn’t have done that. He hadn’t been the man she’d thought he was, but he wasn’t a monster or she wouldn’t have married him in the first place. He’d once been so sweet and charming.
No. Ronan Hall was the monster. And she would prove it. In case those memos weren’t sufficient evidence, though, she needed to find more.
Ronan had been attracted to her, too. And she didn’t think it was because he’d been scared. No. He was attracted to her because of how she looked. Her looks were why—despite her reputation being smeared—her career hadn’t suffered like she’d worried it would. Magazines and designers said she sold copy and clothes, maybe even more so since she had become so notorious.
But she hadn’t wanted to be notorious. And she was mortified that so many people believed those lies about her and that her grandparents—the sweet couple who’d raised her—had heard those lies. About affairs and orgies and sex parties...
While they knew her too well to believe them, they had to contend with the comments from their friends, from their fellow parishioners, from their neighbors...
That was why she hated Ronan Hall. Not so much for what he’d done to her as for what he’d done to them. She wanted him to suffer like they had. That was why she’d turned those papers she’d received over to the bar association. But maybe she should have had them authenticated first. She’d thought Bette had given them to her, though.
But Bette hadn’t known anything about them.
So who had delivered that envelope of memos to Muriel’s door? And were they real?
She needed to know the truth. And she needed proof of it. The best way to do that was to go directly to the source: Ronan himself.
Could she use her looks to get him to admit to what he’d done? An audio recording of his confession would be indisputable evidence.
But what would she have to do that would compel him to confess? Seduce him?
Instead of disgusting her, the way the idea should have, she was strangely excited by it. Maybe that was just because it had been so long since she’d been with anyone but her vibrator. While that eased some of her tension, it wasn’t like being with a man—like having his hands and his mouth on her.
Like Ronan’s mouth had been on hers...
Heat flashed through her, and she headed toward her bedroom—and to the vibrator she kept in the table beside the bed. For tonight, it would have to do...while she planned how to seduce Ronan Hall into confessing to his misconduct during her divorce proceedings.
That was what she really wanted. His confession.
Not him...
But she thought of him as she pulled the vibrator from the drawer. From the erection she’d felt straining against his dress pants, she knew he was bigger than her toy. And if it was possible, maybe harder...
He had wanted her. No matter how much they detested each other, they couldn’t deny the attraction between them. And Muriel would use that to her advantage, just like she used thoughts of him as she shrugged off her sweater and pushed down her yoga pants. Then she lay back on the bed, and she imagined Ronan kissing her, touching her...
She tugged one of the bows of her camisole free and began to touch herself. There were two more bows holding her panties together. She undid those as she flipped the switch for the vibrator. And she imagined it was Ronan’s long, hard cock as she slid it inside herself.
She came almost instantly, and to her horror, she cried out his name.
LIGHTS BLAZED, BUT that wasn’t what had sweat beading on Ronan’s brow. The heat flashing through him had nothing to do with the lights and everything to do with the woman posing beneath them.
She wore so very little on her gorgeous body—just some scraps of lace and silk and all that naturally tan skin. Desire slammed through Ronan with a force he’d never felt before. It knocked him back on his heels while making his cock rock hard.
Maybe coming here had been a bad idea.
But he wanted to come—inside her. He knew she was the only one who could relieve the unbearable tension that had been building in his body since he’d been trapped in the elevator with her a couple of nights ago.
“Muriel!” the photographer shouted at her. “You’re not giving me what I want!”
She wasn’t giving Ronan what he wanted, either—because he wanted her to untie that bow between the cups of her strapless black bra, wanted her to untie the bows on each hip that held up her panties.
But he wanted more than to see her naked. He wanted to feel her, taste her...and bury himself deep inside her.
Why the hell was he so attracted to this woman? He would have screwed her in the elevator if she hadn’t pulled away and slapped him. But she’d kissed him back