I was anything but.
I was a moody, selfish, arrogant man. I lived the way I wanted with no worries about how others saw me. I fought for my clients because it fed some small piece of me that needed to see that justice happened. As if making up for my past by ensuring the kids went to the right place and were looked after. But she was wrong if she thought me capable of love.
I did care for people. Rene, in many ways, was a surrogate father to me. His opinion mattered. He mattered. I cared about the few people I called friends. I cared about my clients.
But love?
That word didn’t exist in my world. Not now.
Love hurt. Destroyed you. Made you weak. I had witnessed it too often. Felt the bite of its loss. The sting of allowing my heart to feel more than it should.
I thought about Fee. The things I had learned about her. The softness she had hidden under her mask. The fear and worry. The intelligence and resilience she was rediscovering. She made me laugh. I liked hearing her laugh. I enjoyed our conversations. I enjoyed her.
With a sigh, I started the car. I liked her. I could admit that. In any other circumstance, I probably would have pursued her. Had mind-blowing sex with her. And then once that fire had burned out, as it always did, walked away from her.
The saturation point, as she called it.
But it would never happen. For so many reasons aside from the fact that she was a client.
She believed in a world I knew to be false. She wanted that world.
I hoped she’d find it. Because she deserved to be happy.
I shouldn’t have brought her into my home. It was foolish and dangerous on my part, but I wasn’t going to send her away. It was only until Wednesday. A few nights and days. It meant she was safe, and that was why I did it.
I pulled into traffic, heading back to the condo. I would go and be her attorney. Her friend. Guide her from this point in her life to her next chapter, where she would move on. That was all.
I ignored the small frisson in my chest that felt intense sadness at those thoughts.
I had myself convinced of the ease of the next few days until I walked in the door and the scent of something delicious hit me right away. I followed the aroma to the kitchen, to find Fee stirring a pot and humming softly. She had her hair piled on top of her head, a pair of jeans with a long-sleeved shirt that clung to her torso, and a tea towel tucked into her waist like a quasi-apron. Her feet were bare, tapping out an uneven rhythm on the tile floor. She looked adorable. And sexy.
Dammit.
“Hey,” I said, attempting to act casual.
She whirled around. “Hey, counselor. I didn’t hear you come in.”
A grin tugged at my lips at her nickname. “With all that racket you’re making, I’m not surprised.”
Her laugh was delightful.
“Sorry, I like to hum when I am cooking.”
I winked. “Teasing. What, exactly, are you cooking?”
“Homemade pasta sauce.”
I frowned. “How on earth are you making that when the fridge was so empty?”
“Don’t get upset,” she started, holding up her hand. “There’s a Rabba downstairs. I never left the building. I cut through the lobby.”
I couldn’t really get upset. Her sauce smelled too good and I was hungry. I often ran downstairs to Rabba. They were a local food chain with a great hot-food counter and an amazing selection of groceries and produce. Pricey but handy. I sat down at the island. “Not upset. I’m too hungry to be upset.”
She shook her head. “You’re in such good shape, but you eat more than I think I’ve ever seen before. You must burn it off with all that nervous energy.”
I chuckled and reached over to the wine rack, selecting a bottle of red. “If you think I eat a lot, wait until you meet Aiden. The man is a walking garbage disposal.”
“Charming.”
Standing, I grabbed a couple of glasses. “He’s a great guy. Bentley’s right hand and partner. Maddox is the third one of the team.”
She chuckled. “I’ve heard of BAM. They’re a bunch of good-looking guys. They’re in the paper a lot.”
I wasn’t surprised. They were huge players in the Toronto real estate market. But for some reason, it bothered me she mentioned their good looks, and I couldn’t let it go.
“I’m in the paper too.”
“Yep.”
“You said I’m in good shape.”
She peered at me over her shoulder. “I did, counselor. You want to cross-examine me? Am I under oath?”
I laughed at her wit. “I’ve been told I’m a good-looking guy.”
She shook her head, her shoulders shaking with mirth. “Now you’re fishing.”
Unable to resist, I sidled up behind her, resting my hands on her hips. I rested my chin on her shoulder. “Did I catch anything?” I murmured.
“As if I need to tell you how handsome you are.”
My lips hovered close to her ear. The delicate shell was pink and glowing. From the heat of the sauce or my closeness, I wasn’t sure, yet I wanted to find out. “A guy likes to hear it on occasion.”
She shivered. “You are, counselor. You know it.”
“Damn right.” I pressed my lips to her skin briefly, lightly, the temptation too difficult to ignore. “Don’t you forget it.”
“With that ego of yours, it’s highly unlikely.”
I grinned and inhaled deeply. “It smells so good.”
“Me or the sauce?” she quipped, but I heard the tremor in her voice. I knew I was riding a dangerous line here, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
“Both.”
“Ha. Nice try. I think I smell like garlic.”
She didn’t. This close to her neck, I could smell flowers and citrus. Soft. Sweet. And sexier than it should be. But I knew if I said it, there was no going back, and that wasn’t fair to either of us.
“Well, no worries about vampires, then.”
She laughed and elbowed me out of the way. Regretfully, I stepped back, even though I knew it was the right thing to do. Strangely enough, though, I had liked how she felt molded to my chest. I cleared my throat and got busy opening the wine.
“Did you rest?”
“No, I read a little, made the sauce, and dessert.”
“Dessert?”
“A fast trifle. I saw all the berries downstairs and decided that would be great after the spicy pasta sauce. I soaked the fruit in some Amaretto.”
“Sounds delicious.”
She asked about the group, and I filled her in a little on some of the things I had paid attention to. Before I could change my mind, I asked her about going with me for cake the next day. She seemed pleased and agreed to it. I helped set the island for dinner, feeling strangely content. I had been worried there would be awkwardness between us because of our earlier conversation or that she would want to delve more into it, but she was simply Fee. Sweet and funny, charming, and cooking dinner for me in my kitchen.
Like she belonged there.
I quickly dismissed that thought. I was so tired, my brain was misfiring—that had to be it.
After two huge plates of pasta and salad, I sat back with a groan. “Wow, you can cook.”
“I’m a little out of practice. I think the sauce needed more basil.”