Legal Desire - Lisa Childs Legal Lovers

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fought now to put her guard back up as he studied her face. She wasn’t certain if he was looking for her reaction to his kiss or to his news. She hid them both under a mask of mild curiosity as she asked, “What does your running for public office have to do with me?”

      “I want you to help me,” he said. “I want you to run my campaign.”

      That proposition was nearly as ridiculous as his wanting to have sex with her. Hell, she would have preferred that proposition to this one. She laughed again.

      “I’m serious,” he told her.

      And as was the case with him, her professionalism slipped again and she admitted, “There’s one thing I hate more than lawyers,” she said. “Politicians.”

      “I don’t need you to love me,” he said. “I just need you to help me win.”

      She laughed again. She wasn’t certain what was funnier. The thought of her falling in love with him or the thought of her helping him win an election. But her laughter sounded a bit hollow as it echoed inside his big office. And she forced herself to stop before it passed from hollow to hysterical.

      She shook her head. “I’m a publicist,” she reminded him. “I’m not a campaign manager.”

      “I know what you are, Allison,” he said. And for a second something cold and determined passed through his deep green eyes.

      She shivered.

      Then he blinked and replaced the look with a twinkle of amusement. “And you’re all I need right now,” he said. “You’re who I want.”

      She wanted him, too, but not like this, not as a client. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sinclair. I can’t help you.”

      “You don’t think I could actually win an election?” he asked.

      She sighed. “No, I think you could.” And that was the problem.

      But he obviously couldn’t see it. His brow furrowed again as he said, “Then what’s the problem?”

      “I don’t play politics,” she said. Not anymore.

      “You’re a publicist,” he said, throwing her words back at her. “That’s all you do is play politics.”

      No. She didn’t have to play politics. Not ever again.

      “I’m not interested in this assignment,” she said. And she stepped back, heading toward the door. “I’m sure you can find someone else.”

      “I don’t want someone else,” he said. “I want you.”

      If only he’d really meant that personally and hadn’t kissed her just out of wounded pride.

      She laughed again—at herself—because her pride was wounded. And once again her guard slipped and she found herself admitting, “You would have had a better shot at me agreeing to a proposition for sex than playing politics.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      “ALLISON MCCANN DOES not exist.”

      Trev snorted over Simon’s pronouncement. If she didn’t exist, who the hell had he just been kissing in his office?

      “You can’t make her disappear just because I figured out she’s the mole,” he said.

      It must have been killing Simon to know that Trev had figured it out before he had. It was probably killing him even more that he had been the one who’d hired her, which was probably why he’d had Miguel send Trev to his office the minute she’d left. Miguel must have told the managing partner when she’d headed to the elevator.

      She’d done that quickly—right after turning down his assignment. But had she left the door open to something else? To something more personal than politics?

      Or had she only been joking? He’d been so stunned that she might have accepted his sexual proposition that he hadn’t moved fast enough to stop her from leaving his office. And by the time his dick had settled down enough for him to move, he’d rushed into the hall to find her already gone.

      Then Miguel had redirected him here—to Simon’s office where Ronan and Stone waited for him along with the managing partner. They must have all come here after they’d left his meeting.

      Simon’s office was very similar to Trev’s with the tall windows, exposed brick and long conference table. Simon also had a leather couch along one of the interior walls.

      Trev didn’t have any comfy furniture in his. He was usually too restless when he was working to sit down and relax. Simon wasn’t the type to relax, either. But according to office gossip, he didn’t use that couch for taking naps.

      Maybe Trev needed a couch like that. He could have taken Allison there. Hell, he could have taken Allison on the conference table. Or standing up.

      But Trev always took no for an answer.

      While Ronan and Stone sat around that conference table, drinking from the mugs of coffee they’d brought from his office, Simon sat at his desk. He studied his computer monitor through narrowed eyes as if he was trying to find something. Or someone...

      “I didn’t make her disappear,” Simon said. “Allison McCann never appeared in the first place, at least not until she started her PR firm seven years ago. No birth certificate. No social security number. No nothing.”

      She’d certainly felt real in his office—in his arms...

      Trev paced in front of the windows that looked out onto Midtown. He glanced down at the street, but he was too high to see any people clearly. Still, if she was down there, he would have noticed her. With her bright red hair and pale skin, she would have been recognizable from any distance.

      “So what do you think?” Ronan asked Simon. “Did she create herself when she created her company?”

      Simon leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Maybe she’s not an ice princess at all,” he mused. “Maybe she’s a robot.”

      She was definitely flesh and blood—all very hot flesh and blood. But Trev wasn’t ready to admit to his partners that he’d kissed the mole.

      Trev shook his head. “She’s not a robot.”

      Simon sighed. “Then I have no idea what she is or where she came from.”

      Trev had no doubt that she was real. “What are you thinking?” he asked Ronan, who’d brought up that she’d created herself. Why would she have done that? “Do you think it’s just a PR stunt?”

      Ronan shrugged. “A person who’s all about image might have set out to create one for herself.”

      “I hope that’s all it is and not the ultimate con,” Simon said. The former con artist was probably beating himself up thinking he had missed a con. “I should have checked her out better.” His face was tight with self-recrimination.

      “You checked out her firm,” Trev reminded him. “Hers was the best.” Or Simon wouldn’t have hired her.

      “But who the hell is she?” Simon said. “And why would she suddenly turn on us like she has?”

      Trev wondered that, too. “It doesn’t make sense.”

      “You’re not having doubts now, are you?” Simon asked. “She didn’t already get to you, did she?”

      She’d gotten to him—physically. Trev wanted her like he couldn’t remember wanting anyone else in a hell of a long time. “No doubts that she’s the mole,” Trev said. He was even more certain now that he was right. “What doesn’t make sense is why she agreed to work for us in the first place with how she feels about lawyers.”

      He focused on Stone, who’d

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