Sadly, it’s helping only a little. I need to come up with forty-five hundred dollars—fast. I can’t make any large withdrawals from my account because the bank wants every dollar accounted for while my application is in review, so dipping into my savings isn’t an option.
I could ask my friends, but they don’t have that kind of cash lying around.
My parents would help me. Of course, that would come with my perfect siblings chiming in about the lack of proper direction I have in my life, how I’m not running my business correctly, or how they all told me Hardin was trouble. I didn’t listen to them then, and I certainly won’t go running to my parents for help unless it’s my absolute last resort. Nothing in my family is ever secret, and I’d never, ever … ever hear the end of it.
No, I have to get myself out of this pickle on my own.
I would seek a lawyer’s opinion, but that means money.
Unless …
I put my cup down and start typing on my phone.
Sebastian Blake. Lawyer. Philadelphia.
The first search entry shows me Blake, Fields, and Moore—a leading Philadelphia law firm with nine attorneys promoted as super lawyers. Over two hundred million dollars recovered for clients. Counsel who cares. Research that matters.
I click on the link and am brought to a sophisticated website for personal injury and civil rights attorneys.
Virtual badges of the multimillion-dollar verdicts that were won are on display. They represent people in everything from personal injury to car wrecks, workplace accidents, and discrimination. The site is certainly impressive, as are the cases they’ve taken on and won.
There’s a link to meet the members of the firm. I scroll over, and the first face I see is one Sebastian Blake.
Well, he certainly is handsome.
A charismatic smile, strong jaw, and kind-looking eyes. His hair is combed back, and he looks very polished in the black-and-white photo.
If I were in the market for a man, I might even deem him attractive.
But I’m not. I’m in need of an attorney’s opinion and one who offered his services—for free.
“What do I have to lose?” I ask myself.
Famous last words.
I open the text exchange I had earlier with Sebastian and hope this isn’t a colossal mistake.
You still interested in helping me out?
Lady Featherington would appreciative it.
Absolutely. Name the place.
Pick somewhere busy with lots of people around.
A man has to protect himself from strange women who cold-call him. ;-)
I roll my eyes as I find that smile I had on earlier back on my face.
And so it begins …
Chapter Two
I’m sitting at Love and Lavender, a boutique coffee shop in Center City that has great lattes and is always busy yet never so packed that you can’t get a seat.
I know what Sebastian looks like, yet every time the door opens, I do a double take to see if the person walking in is him. It’s nerve-racking to meet a stranger like this, but that didn’t stop me from changing three times today before deciding on a sweater dress and knee-high boots.
I fidget with the manila folder I prepared with my leasing documents and set it on the table. Then, I cross and uncross my legs while adjusting my pendant around my neck.
Since I’ve already come off like a lunatic to this man, I want to come off as professional as possible now that we’re gonna be face-to-face.
A man in a gray suit appears outside, walking briskly and talking on a cell phone. I sit up as I recognize the man immediately.
Sebastian Blake.
He holds the door open for a man who is exiting the shop with two drinks in his hands and then stays there as he lets a woman who is pushing a stroller inside. He saunters in, switching the phone to the other ear as he looks around the shop, still talking.
When he spots me staring, he mouths the word, Amy?
I nod with a wave and point to the seat beside me that I saved for him.
He smiles, and my breath hitches.
Damn, this man is hot.
The black-and-white photo of him on the company website did nothing to showcase how attractive he really is. Sandy-colored hair that’s browner than blond, tanned skin, a chiseled jaw, and a Romanesque nose. His photo made him seem studious and neat. In the flesh, with his unbuttoned jacket, lack of a tie, and the top button of his shirt undone, he is roguish and disarming.
He walks over to me, pointing to the phone, letting me know that he’ll need another minute.
I nod as he turns away, and I’m happy for the reprieve because Mr. Blake has made my heart speed up and my palms clammy. I really need to stop acting like I haven’t seen a decent-looking man before. It has to be because of the unfamiliar situation of meeting a stranger for coffee.
Sebastian turns back to me with his hand over the mouthpiece and asks me in a whispered tone, “Have you ordered already?”
I shake my head and start to rise, but he motions for me to stay seated.
“I’ll get it. What do you want?” he asks.
“Um … caramel latte, please.”
He walks to the counter and stands in the short line before it’s his turn. I watch as the barista blushes as he makes a joke of some sort while she rings him up, and I’m glad I’m not the only one affected by him.
With two white saucers in his hands, he walks the mugs over to our table and places them down between us.
“Sorry about that. I had a conference call that ran long. Thanks for saving us a table.” He takes a seat.
“No problem. Thank you for the coffee. How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He takes a sip of his drink and places it down, looking around at the café’s decor. “This place is cool. You come here regularly?”
“I try to. When possible, I prefer to support local proprietors as opposed to big chains.”
“That’s admirable.” His mouth rises on one side in a look of appreciation.
“Plus, they make a great latte. This is my favorite. It’s caramelly with a hint of roasted almonds and maple syrup. When I’m feeling extra indulgent, I get the cocoa espresso. It’s chocolaty with notes of vanilla-like Swiss,” I muse and then catch myself from rambling. “Sorry, I’m really into flavors.”
“Please, carry on. I got the Kona black coffee, so it must seem pretty boring to you.”
“Not at all. It has a sweet and fruity taste with hints of spice. Very bold.”
He takes another sip and grins. “You’re right. That’s an impressive talent you have. You should work for the coffee industry and help them make write-ups for their labels.”
“I’m actually a chocolatier.”
A smooth, velvety chuckle escapes his lips.
“You find that amusing?” I quip.
“I find it very surprising. When you said you had a lease on a business, I honestly had no idea what to expect. It’s not every day you meet a woman who makes her own candy.”
My mouth drops as I uncross my legs and lean in. “Chocolate is the new fine wine. It is every bit as sophisticated and complex. Not to mention, it takes precision to make the perfect truffle. You can purchase a fifty-dollar box of chocolate that’s just as good as a hundred-dollar bottle of wine.”