“Enough of this back and forth,” I snip. “What are you proposing?”
He leans back and I move my hands to my lap. His gaze follows and then floats up to my face after pausing briefly at my breasts.
His own hand disappears beneath the table and reappears with a manila folder.
Lawyers.
“What, are you going to make me sign a contract?”
“Look how well you already know me.” He grins.
“Seriously?” My gaze flies to the papers he pulls from the folder. “I can guarantee you my word is enough.”
“In my line of work, someone’s word is never enough. People forget. There are misunderstandings, miscommunications. This way our agreement is in black and white with no room for misinterpretation.”
I lean forward, my hands reaching for the contract but he retracts it. I slink back into the booth. “Let me guess if I don’t fulfill my end there’s a monetary fine for me to pay.”
“Tsk. Tsk. Ms. Crowley, stop making assumptions.” He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a pair of black-rimmed reading glasses, he positions them on his face and reaches in his pocket again for a pen.
I hate to admit it, but the few times I saw him wearing those glasses in court or during discovery, I couldn’t help noticing how much it upped his hotness factor. A pair of glasses should not make a man even sexier.
“Maybe we should have had this meeting at your office with it all being so by the book.” I give him a caustic smile across the table.
“I debated that,” he says flipping through the papers and not looking up at me. “But the desire to bend you over my desk would’ve been too strong.” He looks up from the papers and winks.
A sudden bolt of lightning electrifies me from head to toe and every hair on my body stands on end. Bastard.
“That’s never going to happen,” I say.
“Still making assumptions I see.” He sets the pen down, taking off his glasses and letting his gaze fall over me. “I rarely fail to get what I want.”
“Cut the Fifty Shades bullshit.” I seize the contract, the pen tumbling down off the papers and landing on the table. “My lawyers will have a look at this.”
“Your lawyers aren’t going to see this contract. I assure you, it’s favorable for both sides.” He sits back, giving me time to read it over.
“What are you going to sit here the entire time?” I ask.
“I’d like nothing better than to spend the night with you. I’d prefer other alternatives, but I’ll take what you’re offering.” I stare at him for longer than I should. He has me at a disadvantage—his true intentions are foggy to me now.
“Then get comfortable.”
He raises his hand, and Lincoln rushes over. “Another please,” he shakes his glass.
“Ms. Crowley?” Lincoln asks.
“Hannah,” I remind him. “And no, I’m good.”
Roarke’s jaw ticks while Lincoln walks away.
“You’ll find there’s nothing out of the ordinary. No sexual favors. No exchange of money. It’s a straight deal. I secure you the venue and you grant me five favors.”
I flip through the contract, my gaze running down the pages and see that he’s telling the truth—there’s no sex mentioned, nothing about nakedness, and no dollar figure.
“What kind of favors do you have in mind?” I ask.
His smile reappears. The same one he had in court the day when he secured my ex-husband far more than he deserved.
“That’s where trust comes into play.”
Is he kidding?
I place the contract down and slide to the end of the booth. “No deal.”
His large hand lands on mine, stopping me from leaving. “Listen.” There’s a desperation in his tone that keeps me in place.
“I will not sign up to be your prey. Some plaything you call on a whim demanding I do something embarrassing or demeaning.”
His hand tightens over mine, but I yank myself free.
“Fine.” He snatches up the contract, and clicks his pen, then scribbles something down, initials it, and hands it back to me.
I read over the added verbiage that states that no favor will be embarrassing or demeaning, his illegible initials scrawled next to it.
“You’ve left me no choice. I could ask you out on a date, but you’d deny me. Five favors that all entail you seeing a side of me outside of the man you think I am. That’s all this is. We both know if we ripped up that contract and I asked you to go out with me you’d never give me a fair chance even if I could manage to convince you.”
“Why?”
He sips his drink. “Why?” he asks back, raising a brow.
Back to his damn one word questions.
“Yes, why are you going to this much work to prove to me you’re not who I think you are? You don’t even know me.”
“I know more than I should at this stage of our relationship.”
His eyes dip to his drink and I’m reminded of the fact he probably hired a private investigator on me, same as my lawyer did with Todd. He probably knows my habits. Knows about my dog Lucy. Hell, he probably knows what tampon brand I use.
“To answer your question, I’m attracted to you and I think we could be good together.”
I study his face for a moment, waiting for the punchline, but he seems sincere, which throws me. “A divorce attorney who believes in true love and marriage?”
“More assumptions. I said nothing about marriage, nor would I ever—to anyone. I’m just giving you the chance to know the real me so that perhaps I have a chance with you.”
I stare across the table at him, testing to see if he’ll crack. He doesn’t even flinch.
If I wasn’t attracted to Roarke Baldwin, this would be an easy decision, but despite my better judgment, I am. The chance to maybe sleep with him and get him out of my system could be a win-win for us both.
“We have one thing in common.” He tilts his head in askance. “I will never get married again.”
“Then your decision should be simple.” He nudges the contract in front of me.
I read it over, every sentence, every word. He’s right, there’s nothing that will secure him anything other than five favors, and the papers clearly state that none of them will be monetary or sexual in nature.
I hold my hand out for the pen without looking at him.
I’m strong and the worst that can happen is that I sleep with Roarke Baldwin. That’s not so bad. I could live with myself after—I think.
I sign the contract, pushing down the feeling that I’ve just done something there’s no coming back from, and slide it back in his direction.
“See, that wasn’t too hard.” He folds the contract up in thirds and shoves it into his front pocket. “I’ll make sure you get a copy tomorrow.”
I down a big gulp of my drink. “And the venue?”
He pulls out a card from his vest pocket and slides it to me. “Call this number tomorrow. They already have you booked. They just need some specifics.”
“Have a great evening, Mr. Baldwin.” I slide out of the booth unable to sit across from the silver fox any longer without my willpower crumbling and begging him to forget the five favors, just take me home.