Legally Binding Page 3

  “They’re only entrusting you with this because of a last-minute development. Mr. Lattimore has court on another case at noon and a meeting about this one immediately after. If you’re not capable—”

  “A toddler could handle it,” Maisie said with a sigh. “It’s just following along.”

  “It’s not just following along,” Mrs. Donahue said, shaking her head. “If there’s anything on there, you’d better find it.”

  She stalked off.

  Maisie evicted the stack of folders from her chair. She pushed more folders to the back of her desk. She’d only been there for a few hours and she was already drowning in paperwork.

  Well, at least this would take her mind off a certain lawyer who never lost a case, never forgot a slight, and was probably right now ordering HR to assemble Maisie’s termination paperwork.

  The woman on the recording was the former live-in housekeeper of the Ballystocks, a couple in the middle of a messy divorce. The questions centered around observations of physical violence.

  Even though the housekeeper always said she didn’t remember the events she was being asked about, the questions were enough to make Maisie’s stomach sour.

  Thank goodness LB&B was representing Davina Ballystock and not her husband, though Maisie assumed the firm had plenty of less-than-pleasant clients. She sighed and prepared to listen to the last five minutes again.

  She became aware that someone had stopped next to her desk.

  Pausing the recording, she looked up.

  It was Mr. Lattimore. He smiled kindly—ooh, sexy smile. With dimples.

  She pulled off her headphones and shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Lattimore. I combed through it and listened to anything ambiguous several times. I did find a list of discrepancies, but they’re minor.”

  “May I?”

  She handed over her page of notes.

  While he scanned the list, she scanned him. Sophisticated, but she was willing to bet he had a wild side. She wasn’t sure why she thought that—maybe because his hair was a little longer than the standard executive cut. Her fingers twitched from wanting to slide under the lapels of his charcoal gray suit. The man knew good clothing. The fabric would be soft, and his chest underneath hard.

  She loved getting dressed up, putting on makeup and doing her hair. Her mom liked to tease that she should have been born a couple of centuries ago, to a noble family. Maisie didn’t disagree.

  “Excellent work,” Mr. Lattimore said, handing the paper back to her.

  Maisie cleared her throat. “Obviously I haven’t been to law school, but I thought the court reporter’s transcript is… binding.” Was that the right word?

  Mr. Lattimore looked impressed. “That’s true; the transcript is the document of record. But last night Mr. Ballystock’s attorney put in a request for an audio copy of the deposition and then scheduled an emergency meeting for today. We suspected the request might be a ploy to distract us, but I couldn’t gamble on it. Not when so much is at stake. I’ve already had one of our first-year associates check, but I wanted to be thorough.”

  “Oh.” In other words, she’d expended all that energy looking for something that didn’t even exist.

  “Never trust a lawyer,” he said, and was he flirting?

  “The housekeeper sounded scared,” Maisie said, tilting her head at the paused audio file. “I think she’s lying.”

  “She is, but Mrs. Ballystock no longer wants us to pursue that angle.”

  “Why not?”

  He smiled instead of answering. “I’m heading to court. Don’t forget about my plants. And check the vines for dead leaves. If you find any, strip them off.”

  Ugh. But if it was part of her job, she might as well do it with a cheerful heart. “Lucky for you, I was voted ‘most likely to become a stripper’ by my sorority,” she said, laughing.

  His smile vanished. One of his eyebrows lifted. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  He walked away.

  Oh, god. Why the hell had she said that? It wasn’t even true—she’d been joking. What was wrong with her?

  Irritated by her own stupidity, she quit the transcription program, pushed to her feet, and started toward Mr. Lattimore’s office. Then she remembered the list that Mrs. Donahue had emailed.

  Sure enough, the plants were on the list. Monday, Wednesday, Friday, water the plants except for the three in the southeast corner.

  She rolled her eyes and went to do it.

  Just as she was finishing with the bonsai—it had to be soaked three times—she became aware that someone had entered the office.

  She turned and found herself looking into a pair of intelligent dark eyes set in a handsome face. His skin was lightly tanned, and his dark hair brushed his eyebrows.

  Well, well, well.

  Mr. Banno was, by far, the hottest of her new bosses, and it looked like he had a muscular body under that designer suit. He was gorgeous. In person, he didn’t look much like her ex, maybe just a vague resemblance. Hell, if her ex had been this sexy, she would have cried when he dumped her.

  And judging from Mr. Banno’s sharp inhale of breath when she smiled, he liked what he saw, too.

  He recovered quickly.

  “It looks like Raphael bought another bonsai,” he said, flashing a cocky grin that showed off perfect white teeth. “He’s been trying to keep one alive ever since some corporate speaker we hired said it was a good way to hone leadership skills, but I think he’s missing the point.”

  He was looking at her as if she were beautiful. She wasn’t a blusher—not usually, though when she did, people often thought she was having a minor stroke—but Mr. Banno’s attention almost did the trick.

  “Missing the point in what way?” she murmured, running her hand over the top of the diminutive cedar tree. Its tiny branches tickled her palms.

  “The whole point is to keep them alive yourself. They always die on him, then he gets angry and blames me because I’m supposed to be genetically predisposed to keeping tiny trees alive or something.” Grinning, he crossed the room. “I’m Trent Banno. Welcome.”

  Finally, someone who didn’t make her feel out of place. “Thank you. I’m happy to be here.”

  So far, Mr. Banno didn’t seem so bad, but then Mr. Lattimore had been nice at first, too. Her stomach sank again as she remembered his words. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.

  She’d been stupid. That wasn’t in dispute, but Mr. Lattimore could have been a little more gracious.

  “Is everything all right?” Mr. Banno asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah. First day, is all. Still finding my footing.”

  “You’ll do fine. We’re not an easy firm to work for, but those who make it through the probationary period tend to stay a very long time. The secret is to not let anyone get under your skin.”

  This was the guy who had dumped coffee on an employee, she suddenly remembered. She couldn’t imagine it. “Thanks for the tip.”

  He nodded and started to turn away, but then he thrust his hands into his pockets. “Actually, I didn’t come in here by accident. You’re famous.”

  She didn’t respond to that. Either Mr. Lattimore had complained about her clumsy joke, or Mr. Brennbach had complained about her rudeness on the street. She tried on a bland smile.

  “Ethan is a little… upset… that you’re working here.”

  Maisie closed her eyes. Mr. Brennbach, then. “God. I didn’t know—”

  “No one is blaming you, Maisie. We always prepare new employees, but obviously it was too late in your case.”

  She wanted to ask about the scar, but instead she said, “How does he handle clients if he’s so sensitive?”

  “I wouldn’t describe him as sensitive.”

  Maisie folded her arms across her chest.

  “Ethan didn’t solicit new clients even before the accident. I’m sure if someone came in, paid a substantial retainer, and requested him specifically, he’d accept.
He’s not embarrassed by his appearance, Maisie.”

  His tone had grown cool. He walked to the window and stared out.

  Had she been dismissed? After a few seconds, she figured the answer was yes, and turned to go.

  “We don’t usually talk about this, but I thought you deserved an explanation. Rather, a partial explanation.”

  “Oh,” she said, turning back. Mr. Banno was now watching her.

  “It’s been a long time since someone screamed in his face.”

  She winced and prayed for the floor to open up and swallow her. “I didn’t scream.” It had been more of a surprised gasp, she thought.

  “No,” he said, appraising her astutely. “I imagine you didn’t, at least not intentionally. Ethan is a cynical son of a bitch, and he’ll see right through any ass-kissing you might have planned.” He tilted his head back, like he was weighing what to say next. She stared at his Adam’s apple and the thick column of his neck. Fucking gorgeous, gorgeous man. “My suggestion is for you to lie low.”

  “Believe me, I intend to.” She paused. Part of her desperately wanted to find Mr. Brennbach.

  But why?

  To fall into his arms again, she realized with a jolt. She could almost feel his body against hers, and the solidity of his embrace. It had been far too brief.

  “Is something wrong?” Mr. Banno asked.

  She hesitated.

  If she alienated Mr. Banno, then the office was going to be unbearable. But he was waiting patiently. Maybe it was because of that slight resemblance to her ex, but he didn’t feel like a stranger.

  On impulse, she decided to tell the truth. “You know, he’s not really that ugly.”

  He smiled. “Not that ugly? What every man aspires to.”

  She shook her head. She wasn’t, she realized, scared anymore. “I mean… yeah, he’s…” She fluttered her fingers inarticulately. “But he’s still hot otherwise. I’m sure he could find a girlfriend if he tried.”

  “Could he?” Mr. Banno sounded extremely amused by what she’d said. “Well, it was nice meeting you. If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask… Mrs. Donahue.”

  After he’d left, Maisie double-checked that she’d properly followed the rules for the plants.

  She noticed a small framed photo on one of the bookcase’s higher shelves. Lifting up on her toes, she pulled it down, then laughed.

  Mr. Lattimore was playing guitar on a stage crisscrossed with electrical cords and overturned mic stands. His shoulder-length hair brushed the collar of a grungy flannel shirt over a ripped Nirvana tee. The photo had been taken from the audience, and it looked like the mid-sized venue was packed.

  She took a closer look but couldn’t make out the band’s name on the banner behind the stage. Too bad—she would have loved to find some videos online.

  So, the straight-laced attorney used to be in a band. Maybe her earlier impression had been right, that he had a wild side. Intriguing.

  Replacing the photo, she looked around one last time.

  Mr. Lattimore’s office was nice. Serene. Clean lines, no clutter, and good lighting. Actually, she wouldn’t mind getting one like it, eventually. Of course that wasn’t going to happen here unless she went to law school.

  One thing she knew for certain was that her new bosses were eccentric. All of them. She was starting to see why the pay was so high. When you had to tiptoe around, follow all the rules to the letter… Who would put up with that?

  Maisie Novau, that was who. Because Mrs. Donahue was right—Maisie had tons of student loans. And credit card debt. And a car payment. And rent. Even a year at LB&B would help her get back on her feet, assuming she managed to avoid Mr. Brennbach until the end of her probationary period.

  She needed to prove herself. This place wasn’t like the call center.

  Here, she was replaceable.

  5

  After another hour of tedious work, Maisie got to thinking.

  Dating the boss… She wasn’t against it, in principle. She’d had a fling with one of the managers at the call center right around when she’d started. They’d banged daily for a few months, until he took a better job eight hours away and then got a girlfriend.

  But he hadn’t been her boss.

  Jayne would be a problem… Jayne was gorgeous. Maisie decided to look her up in the directory, just to make sure.

  It took some scrolling, but she found Jayne Torrabadella and couldn’t help noticing that Jayne was the only lawyer with the initials J.T.

  Maisie thought about the sticky she’d thrown away, then shrugged it off. If it was important for Jayne to get that case, it would get sorted out.

  And, yeah, she really was that stunning. It wasn’t fair.

  But Jayne was one woman, and there were three bosses. Well, two, because Mr. Brennbach was off the table. Disappointment twisted in her gut, and regret had her heart fluttering. She ignored it all.

  So, that left a boss for Maisie. Mr. Lattimore had been flirting with her before she crossed the line, so he was possibly interested. Mr. Banno, too. Maybe that was why he hadn’t revealed his coffee-throwing ogre side to her.

  It deserved further investigation.

  She was way overdue for a lunch break, so she wrapped up what she was doing, then went into the bathroom to wash her hands.

  While she was in there, she unbuttoned the top of her short-sleeved blouse. The tiny bit of extra skin wouldn’t offend anyone, and maybe if she was a little sexier, the bosses would warm up to her.

  After buying and inhaling a cloyingly sweet smoothie and a three-bean salad in a deli in the building’s lobby, Maisie returned to find several pieces of paper sitting on her keyboard. Priority! Type these into BFA (business formation application) forms (6 pages) for Mr. Banno, the attached sheet said. Attention to detail, Maisie, or you can go home!

  Obviously it was from Mrs. Donahue.

  She typed and printed them. The note hadn’t said what to do with them once she was finished, and Mrs. Donahue was at a late lunch, breathing fire at some poor waitress, Maisie imagined. She decided to take it to Mr. Banno’s office.

  His assistant was away, so Maisie approached the open door.

  Mr. Banno was seated at his desk, engrossed in something he was reading.

  The office layout and furnishings were almost exactly like Mr. Lattimore’s, but without the plants, and the grandfather clock was a lighter shade of wood. Mr. Banno had a phone, a laptop, and several folders on his desk.

  An additional chair was beside the credenza.

  She knocked, and he looked up. The corner of his mouth twitched; he was happy to see her, though doing his best to hide it. A few strands of hair had fallen into his eyes, and Maisie wanted to climb onto his lap and brush them away.

  “I’ve got your BFA forms,” she said quickly, hoping he hadn’t guessed what she was thinking.

  “That was fast.”

  “What can I say? I’m fast.” Then she realized what she’d said.

  She froze. Geez, they were going to think she was some kind of horny pervert. Which she kinda was, but this time it really had been an accident.

  But Mr. Banno was smiling. She hadn’t offended him.

  He motioned for her to enter, and he watched as she approached his desk. She tried not to sway her hips too much. He wasn’t staring, wasn’t being at all inappropriate, but deep down she knew: he was attracted to her.

  Forget Mr. Lattimore. Former grunge guitarist or not, he was too uptight, and anyway Mr. Banno was hotter.

  She handed him the papers.

  “One moment,” he said. “You can run them back to Mrs. Donahue.” He quickly flipped through the pages, scrawling his signature and the date. He was left-handed, she noticed, the kind who curled their fingers and wrists around their pens and seemed to write backward. It was inelegant and thoroughly charming.

  “And tell Mrs. Donahue that she’ll need to arrange dinner for eight people tonight.”

  “Which restaurant… I mean… I gue
ss she knows, or you would have said.”

  “Dinner will be here, but she’ll know.” He handed her the pages. “Actually, if you want some overtime on your first day…” He shook his head sharply, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Strike that.”

  She wanted overtime! “But—”

  “Ethan will be there.”

  Oh.

  “That’s all I need for now. Thank you.”

  As she walked down the empty hall, she reordered the papers. One of them was missing a signature, so she turned around and went back.

  Mr. Banno frowned when she entered. “Sorry,” she said. “You forgot something.”

  “Nonsense,” he said with a playful smirk. “I never forget anything.”

  “Never?”

  He raised his eyebrows. Oh, he was definitely flirting. “Never, Maisie. But sometimes I use invisible ink.” He motioned for her to approach.

  He didn’t seem so bad. She wondered if Mrs. Donahue had made up the coffee thing to scare her. She seemed the type.

  Maisie placed the paper on the desk, and then, her finger on the empty line where Mr. Banno was to sign his name, she skated the paper forward.

  She had to lean over to do it. The long chain and heart pendant tumbled out of her blouse to pool on the desktop.

  The movement caught Mr. Banno’s attention. He wasn’t staring down her shirt… until he was.

  With an abrupt motion, he signed his name. “I’m glad you came back. It’ll save me a phone call. You’ll bring my coffee today, in half an hour.” He turned away as if he couldn’t deal with the temptation of her breasts trembling in his face. “That will be all for now.”

  She wondered if his cock was hard. Oh god, she really hoped it was. She hoped he was going to grab hand lotion and tissues and head into the bathroom for some self-love.

  What she’d done had felt so naughty. It wasn’t like her.

  Well, it wasn’t unlike her, either. She’d always been forward. Men usually flirted with her, and she’d come to expect it. Being ignored sucked, but now she felt a lot better. She didn’t even mind Mrs. Donahue’s snippiness as she showed Maisie how to put together a tray of coffee for Mr. Banno.