look on her face.
“We’re not anything,” Adra said, too quickly.
“Oh, please.” Cate smiled.
Adra sighed.
“You know how when people who are experienced at something team up and sometimes they make beginner mistakes?”
Cate thought of all the lawyers she knew that had ended up in lockup by getting belligerent over speeding tickets, and smiled.
“Overconfidence,” she said.
“Or wishful thinking,” Adra said.
Cate shook her head. That phrase—that was the phrase she herself had used. Her wishful thinking about Soren.
“Anyway,” Adra said. “We did that. Once. Didn’t talk about it beforehand, didn’t do anything right, just…gave in. And now we’re both idiots.”
“Why didn’t you?” Cate said. “Talk about it, I mean?”
Adra looked wistful. “I think because it was hard. You know what they say—you have to be vulnerable to be strong, and neither of us was strong.”
Cate laughed. “No one says that.”
“Yeah, I know, I just made it up, so humor me again,” Adra said, smiling that sunny smile again. Yeah, Cate liked her. She was good people. It felt good to know she had a friend here, or at least the beginnings of one.
Ok. Ford won this round. Adra was a keeper.
Unfortunately that didn’t do anything to fix what was going wrong inside Cate. Because at that moment, Cate looked up and saw Soren.
“Incoming,” Adra whispered. “We’ll talk later.”
Cate barely heard her, barely registered Adra’s exit. Barely registered the fact that she herself had stood up and then stopped, like she didn’t know what to do next.
He was all the way on the other side of the club. Striding toward her.
Eyes locked.
And it all came flooding back. Cate had done so much research in the intervening days; she’d done all the reading, had worked her investigators twenty-four-seven, had driven her assistants insane. She knew everything there was to know, publicly, about Soren Andersson and Savage Heart, and the truth was, she’d never had a cleaner client. Not one of Soren’s sexual partners had anything bad to say about him; in fact, all of them had professed shock and outrage. And all of them had fallen for him, in their own ways, even though they weren’t supposed to.
It seemed like an inevitability that women fall for him. Like a trap. Like what Cate had felt, like the way he’d made her feel, maybe it hadn’t been special. And maybe it was dangerous.
Cate didn’t know if she was like most women. Was she more vulnerable, because of all these wounds, these scars? Or less, for the same reasons? She had no idea. But she knew risking so much was insane, and as she watched Soren close in on her, she could feel those thoughts intrude. Could feel the doubts, the uncertainties, the panic, could feel them all rise up in response to the absolute insane desire she felt flare inside her every time she looked at the man.
He really was a Norse god. Blond hair, scruffy jaw, blue eyes, muscles roiling under ripped jeans. Jesus.
Cate watched him, felt the warmth pool between her legs, felt her heart hammer inside her chest, and felt the core of her being start to retreat deep inside herself. Felt the internal war start all over again. Felt herself begin to drift away, and hated it. She wanted to be strong enough to let herself go after what she wanted.
And what she wanted was Soren.
He put his hand under her chin and stared down at her.
“Stop thinking so much,” he ordered. “And get your ass upstairs. Now.”
chapter 7
Cate could get her ass upstairs as quickly as Soren wanted, but to stop thinking?
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
Especially when she could literally feel his eyes on her ass the whole way up. It made her feel warm, and wanted, and wet.
Which was a problem, because she had a job to do. She had a job she had to do right now, a job that couldn’t wait. She couldn’t afford to let Mark Cheedham own a news cycle with his press conference and all the
“We’re not anything,” Adra said, too quickly.
“Oh, please.” Cate smiled.
Adra sighed.
“You know how when people who are experienced at something team up and sometimes they make beginner mistakes?”
Cate thought of all the lawyers she knew that had ended up in lockup by getting belligerent over speeding tickets, and smiled.
“Overconfidence,” she said.
“Or wishful thinking,” Adra said.
Cate shook her head. That phrase—that was the phrase she herself had used. Her wishful thinking about Soren.
“Anyway,” Adra said. “We did that. Once. Didn’t talk about it beforehand, didn’t do anything right, just…gave in. And now we’re both idiots.”
“Why didn’t you?” Cate said. “Talk about it, I mean?”
Adra looked wistful. “I think because it was hard. You know what they say—you have to be vulnerable to be strong, and neither of us was strong.”
Cate laughed. “No one says that.”
“Yeah, I know, I just made it up, so humor me again,” Adra said, smiling that sunny smile again. Yeah, Cate liked her. She was good people. It felt good to know she had a friend here, or at least the beginnings of one.
Ok. Ford won this round. Adra was a keeper.
Unfortunately that didn’t do anything to fix what was going wrong inside Cate. Because at that moment, Cate looked up and saw Soren.
“Incoming,” Adra whispered. “We’ll talk later.”
Cate barely heard her, barely registered Adra’s exit. Barely registered the fact that she herself had stood up and then stopped, like she didn’t know what to do next.
He was all the way on the other side of the club. Striding toward her.
Eyes locked.
And it all came flooding back. Cate had done so much research in the intervening days; she’d done all the reading, had worked her investigators twenty-four-seven, had driven her assistants insane. She knew everything there was to know, publicly, about Soren Andersson and Savage Heart, and the truth was, she’d never had a cleaner client. Not one of Soren’s sexual partners had anything bad to say about him; in fact, all of them had professed shock and outrage. And all of them had fallen for him, in their own ways, even though they weren’t supposed to.
It seemed like an inevitability that women fall for him. Like a trap. Like what Cate had felt, like the way he’d made her feel, maybe it hadn’t been special. And maybe it was dangerous.
Cate didn’t know if she was like most women. Was she more vulnerable, because of all these wounds, these scars? Or less, for the same reasons? She had no idea. But she knew risking so much was insane, and as she watched Soren close in on her, she could feel those thoughts intrude. Could feel the doubts, the uncertainties, the panic, could feel them all rise up in response to the absolute insane desire she felt flare inside her every time she looked at the man.
He really was a Norse god. Blond hair, scruffy jaw, blue eyes, muscles roiling under ripped jeans. Jesus.
Cate watched him, felt the warmth pool between her legs, felt her heart hammer inside her chest, and felt the core of her being start to retreat deep inside herself. Felt the internal war start all over again. Felt herself begin to drift away, and hated it. She wanted to be strong enough to let herself go after what she wanted.
And what she wanted was Soren.
He put his hand under her chin and stared down at her.
“Stop thinking so much,” he ordered. “And get your ass upstairs. Now.”
chapter 7
Cate could get her ass upstairs as quickly as Soren wanted, but to stop thinking?
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
Especially when she could literally feel his eyes on her ass the whole way up. It made her feel warm, and wanted, and wet.
Which was a problem, because she had a job to do. She had a job she had to do right now, a job that couldn’t wait. She couldn’t afford to let Mark Cheedham own a news cycle with his press conference and all the
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