Five Exotic Fantasies: Love in Reverse, Book 3 Page 4

  However, the prim office manager’s assurance that she was hoping for sex for Christmas made him want to make her wish come true. He’d spoken the truth—he wasn’t a man who usually indulged in one-night stands and he’d been especially careful not to have affairs with the women he worked with. He respected women and thought flirting in the office put pressure on working relationships and was unfair to both sexes. But he was only human, and now he’d hopefully made it clear that he didn’t normally flirt at the office he could possibly push things a little further.

  “Perhaps you could show me a good place to eat?” he suggested.

  She hesitated, watching Rob glancing up at them with alarm, as if Felix had asked Attila the Hun out for lunch. “Oh,” she said breezily, “I often just go into the supermarket, not to a café or anything.”

  “Fine,” he replied. “I could do with some supplies.”

  She sipped her water. “Supplies?”

  “I’m staying in a hotel, but it’s nice to be homely and they don’t have everything I need there. Their instant coffee’s appalling.” His eyes met hers as she took another sip. “And I love hot cocoa in bed.”

  She coughed into her cup. Rob stared and the others at the cart turned and looked at them curiously, but Felix managed to keep a straight face, even though he was laughing inside. He’d guessed correctly—Coco was obviously her nickname.

  “Everything all right?” Rob asked her.

  “Fine.” She wiped underneath her bottom lip delicately and met Felix’s steady gaze. He could see her wondering whether his words were pure coincidence, or whether he did indeed know her name.

  “Let’s finish the tour,” she said eventually. “Come on.”

  He followed her, allowing himself a secret grin.

  She took him in to see the partners he hadn’t yet met, and he was interested to see that they all spoke to her deferentially. She was obviously well-respected in the office.

  She introduced him to Ted Hoyle, a bluff old lawyer who’d been there donkey’s years, the same solicitor on whose letter the young typist had made the mistake. How would she react if the lawyer mentioned the slip-up? Would she lay the blame on Sam and drop her in it?

  “Please to meet you.” Ted shook Felix’s hand, then turned to Coco. “I’ve just read the letter to Mrs. Parkinson. Are you aware of the error in it?”

  “Yes, Mr. Hoyle,” she said. “I do apologise.”

  “What if I hadn’t picked it up? Mrs. Parkinson is one of our biggest clients, and it was quite an insulting mistake.”

  “Yes, Mr. Hoyle, I do understand. I had seen the error myself, but you are good to point it out in case I missed it.”

  “It’s not good enough, Miss Stark.”

  “Absolutely it’s not, Mr. Hoyle.” Her calm voice soothed without being sycophantic.

  “It was Sam, wasn’t it?” Ted pressed. “I’m sure she took the dictation.”

  Felix knew the young secretary’s initials would be in the reference at the top of the letter, indicating that it was definitely she who had mistyped the phrase. Coco, however, smiled and said, “I’m not sure, Mr. Hoyle. Rest assured I’ll find out and let them know their mistake.”

  Hoyle gave her a wry look. “You’re sweet talking me. That’s not the first potentially disastrous error Sam’s made, and we both know it won’t be her last.”

  “We’re working on her accuracy, sir, and I’m sending her on a secretarial skills course next week. She’s a good girl, Mr. Hoyle—she’s just very young and trying a little too hard. She’ll improve.”

  “Hmm.” Hoyle looked both mollified and exasperated. He glanced at Felix. “You can never get your own way in this place. This one always manages to talk me out of whatever I want to do.”

  “I’m beginning to understand that,” Felix said, amused and impressed by her loyalty.

  “Thanks, Mr. Hoyle.” She backed out of the office, and Felix—casting a last sympathetic grin at the old man—followed her.

  “What?” she asked as they walked along the corridor and he drew alongside, casting glances at her.

  “I can see why Christopher’s impressed with you.”

  Clearly she wasn’t used to compliments. Her cheeks stained a faint pink and her lids lowered over her green eyes.

  They arrived at his new office, and she walked in. “And we’re back where Christopher put you. One of the best views over the quay.”

  “It’s lovely.” He placed his muffin next to his briefcase, walked over to the window and looked down at the ferry slowly making its way in after crossing the Cook Strait from the South Island.

  She came to stand beside him. He could smell her subtle perfume, something sweet and flowery that stirred his senses. Her hair, although scraped tightly in its bun, shone in the early morning sunlight, and he had the feeling it would slip through his fingers like silk.

  “You never told me what your first impressions of the Wellington branch are,” she said.

  He hesitated, not wanting to be rude. But he would have to discuss Peter Dell with her at some point, and being in charge of the secretaries, she would have a good insight into Dell’s behaviour toward the women of the office.

  He glanced around the room. “It’s very…old school. It reminds me of Oxford in many ways—which I loved, I hasten to say.”

  “You went to Oxford?” She blinked with surprise, her eyebrows raised.

  He looked back out of the window, not seeing the water but instead remembering the beautiful buildings made out of the distinctive warm amber stone. “Yes. I won a scholarship there. It was so different from growing up in the Bay of Islands, I can’t tell you. Every building was older than the Stone Store here, and I loved the traditional, antiquated feel of the place. As if I was just one of many, many lawyers who’d studied there in the past, along with famous statesmen and even kings and queens.”

  He glanced back at her. She was smiling.

  “What?” he said, somewhat defensively.

  “You’re an old romantic,” she teased.

  He grinned. “Maybe.” The grin faded at the memory of Lindsey lying in his bed in the flat in London, scattered in rose petals from the bouquet he’d bought her, telling him You love romancing me, don’t you? His breath caught in his throat. How could it still hurt, after all these years?

  Coco tipped her head, a frown narrowing her eyes. “Bad memories?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, surprised at her astuteness. “A bit.” He shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about Lindsey. “Anyway, over there that old-fashioned, conventional atmosphere seemed right—Oxford couldn’t be any other way, you know? But here…” He looked around again. “It feels outmoded. Outdated. Like maybe the partners are trying to cling hold of a time long gone.”

  “It’s traditional,” she agreed. “But I thought customers liked that. They expect lawyers to be conservative and old-school.”

  “Maybe some customers do—the older clientele who grew up in the fifties and sixties. But times are changing. We’re dealing with the children of the seventies and eighties now, who have Kindles and widescreen TVs and who read John Grisham and watch Boston Legal. They understand the law better than their forebears did, and they have different expectations. They don’t want deals to be done in the squash room and over long lunches—they want results as quickly and efficiently as possible with minimal cost.”

  Coco said nothing, her eyes thoughtful.

  “Did you know Auckland’s overheads are thirty percent less than Wellington’s?” he asked.

  That made her stare. “Truly?”

  “And we have more office space.”

  She shook her head, puzzled. “So why, then? Is it much cheaper to rent in Auckland?”

  “Not at all. But we are completely digitised. We do have paper files but they are only for copies of essential documents. Everything is done online.”

  “What if there was a fire?”

  “We back everything up to Dropbox on a daily basis.
Our stationery costs are minimal. So are our expense accounts. We no longer take clients out for expensive lunches. Work is expected to be carried out in the office, or we go to the client’s place of work, or we have online conferences.”

  Once again she said nothing, but he could see her brain working behind her eyes like the engine inside a sleek sports car.

  “So you don’t like it here,” she said eventually.

  He shrugged. “I’ve only been here five minutes—I’m loath to make sweeping statements.”

  “It’s a nice place to work.”

  “I’m sure it is.” He studied her curiously. “Does it not bother you though—as a modern woman—that there are so few female lawyers and associates? And only one female partner?”

  She looked bemused. “I’ve always believed it’s wrong to give a woman a job just because she’s a woman. The best person for a job should be the best person, otherwise it becomes tokenism.”

  “True. But do you think the best people have always got the positions here? Or do you think the partners have engineered it so it’s male-heavy?”

  She frowned. “Are you asking me off the record, or is this part of your investigation?”

  He’d made her suspicious, and he didn’t want to turn her into an enemy. He’d learned from being in court about the importance of timing, and how to change tack if the conversation wasn’t going the way he wanted.

  He patted down his suit. “No recording devices. Want me to strip and prove it?”

  Chapter Six

  Coco’s eyes widened at the thought of this gorgeous lawyer stripping for her and gradually revealing the muscular, tanned body she was certain would be underneath. “Goodness.” Her heart pounded and for a moment her thoughts and emotions spun like a centrifuge. “That won’t be necessary. I have to go. Please let me know if there’s anything you require.”

  “Anything?” He was definitely teasing her now. She pursed her lips, and he laughed. “You’re going to tell me off now, aren’t you?”

  “Mr. Wilkinson…”

  “Call me Felix, please.” He leaned on the desk, arms folded, smiling.

  “Are you going to say that every time I call you Mr. Wilkinson?”

  “Yes.” He studied her, paused, and then said, “Are you married?”

  She blinked, thrown by his comment. “Um, no. Hence the ‘Miss’.”

  “Engaged?”

  “No. But—”

  “Living with anyone?”

  She gave a frustrated sigh. “No.”

  “Gay?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No. But, also, I never date anyone at the office.” She made her voice firm. “We’ve discussed how unprofessional that is.”

  “True,” he said. “Good job I don’t work in Wellington, then.” His eyes twinkled.

  She glared at him. “I meant that I don’t date anyone I work with. And that includes temporary staff.”

  “I can see Miss Stark is a woman of strict principles.”

  “Very,” she agreed. His lips curved. Strict principles. Why did that make her think of handcuffs and erotic torture? Oh dear God, why did this man keep making her think about sex?

  His gaze fell to her mouth again. “And is Coco as prim and proper as her counterpart?”

  So his comment about the cocoa hadn’t been a coincidence. She glared at him. “How did you know?”

  “I saw your necklace in the photo on your desk.”

  He was observant, this one. She would have to be careful around him. Now she could see how he’d got his reputation, and exactly why he was such an excellent lawyer.

  But now she was confused. He’d teased her and flirted with her, and then told her he never did that with women he worked with, which made her feel special, but she had no idea of his scruples—whether he was a man of his word, or whether he’d use any information he came up with to control her and turn it to his advantage, which he’d be used to doing in the courtroom. She needed to know. It suddenly felt very important to establish.

  She bit her lip and raised her eyes to his. “Don’t tell anyone my nickname,” she said softly. There. She’d unzipped her fly, metaphorically speaking, and allowed him to see the vulnerable side of her, which she didn’t do very often, especially at work. What would he do with it?

  A frown flickered across his brow. For a moment he didn’t speak, and she could imagine him processing his thoughts, weighing up the options. Although his astuteness made her uneasy, it also attracted her in equal measure. She liked clever men, liked the play of words, the fact that so much was going on beneath the surface of conversations. Suddenly she wished she could be in the hearing. She’d love to see what Felix made of Peter Dell.

  He was still studying her, but now he pushed himself off the desk and walked toward her. Gosh he was tall, several inches taller than her and she had her high heels on today. She had to look up to meet his warm brown eyes.

  She’d half-expected to see them lit with sarcasm or interest as he calculated what he could do with the little snippet of information he’d discovered she didn’t want made common knowledge. But all his gaze held was kindness, such an unexpected emotion that she caught her breath.

  “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” He smiled, his words echoing hers back in the coffee house.

  She swallowed. “Thank you.”

  They were only inches apart. She could smell his aftershave again, such a manly, clean smell, and he was all width and breadth, with strong, powerful shoulders and big, gentle hands. Her heart raced, and when she moistened her lips his gaze dropped to her mouth.

  He was going to kiss her—right there in the middle of the office where anyone could walk in, and God help her but she couldn’t do anything about it. Her feet felt stuck to the floor, her body frozen. More than anything in the world she wanted to feel his lips on hers. It had been a lifetime since she’d been kissed, and she yearned for it, to be that close to another human being.

  He didn’t, though. His gaze roamed over her face and desire sparked in his eyes, but he didn’t move.

  “Come out for a drink with me tonight,” he said instead, his voice husky.

  A date? She blinked, her mind clearing. That was out of the question. For heaven’s sake, he was investigating a case of sexual harassment. Maybe this was all a ploy to see if women from Wellington reacted to his flirtations. What the hell was she doing, talking like this with another member of staff?

  She moved back and dropped her gaze, wrapping herself in Veronica’s cool efficiency once again. “Sorry, Mr. Wilkinson, as I said, I don’t date people at the office. Now, I need to get back to work. It’s my first proper day on the job and I want to do well, get some things sorted. Please excuse me.”

  She stepped around him and walked out without looking back.

  Felix turned to watch her leave and blew out a long, slow, frustrated breath. Man, that had been close. He’d been inches—fractions of an inch—from kissing her, which would, quite possibly, have been the absolute worst thing a lawyer investigating a charge of sexual harassment in the office could do to the office manager he’d only just met. She would have had every right to slap him, maybe even to march up to Christopher and tell him, and demand Felix be sent back to Auckland.

  But somehow he didn’t think she would have done that. Maybe afterward she would have regretted it, but at that moment, he was convinced she’d wanted him to kiss her.

  He’d been so incredibly tempted to slip a hand behind to cup her head, another arm around her waist and hold her tightly as he lowered his lips to hers. They would have been sticky from the red lipstick, and he would have smeared it slightly as he moved his lips across hers, tasting her. Maybe he’d have ended up with a lipstick kiss on his collar. The thought made him feel lightheaded.

  He shook his head and walked back to the window. He had to start concentrating. This was a serious business, and filling his brain with thoughts of kissing and where that might lead to wasn’t going to get him anything e
xcept a raging hard-on that nothing except some self-administration was going to get rid of.

  Someone knocked at the door and he turned. Rob Drake stood in the doorway. The lawyer walked up to his desk, hands in his pockets. He looked amused.

  “What?” Felix asked, already knowing what was coming.

  “You do have a death wish don’t you? Chatting up the Dragon?”

  “I’m pretty sure her first name’s Veronica.”

  Rob grinned. “I wouldn’t go there. She’ll eat you alive.”

  Chance’ll be a fine thing. “What do you know about her?”

  Rob shrugged. “What do you want to know? Christopher told you how good she was at her job.”

  “I meant personally.”

  “Is this part of the investigation?”

  Felix huffed a sigh, knowing he shouldn’t be asking about personal details and embarrassed because Rob was obviously as sharp as himself and had caught him out.

  He gave Rob a wry smile and sat in one of the armchairs. “Fucking lawyers, we’re as bad as psychologists, always answering a question with another question and avoiding the answer. Okay, cards on the table. I do like her. I’d like to know more about her. But yes, I’m also investigating the office and she’s the office manager in charge of the secretary who’s accused Dell of harassment. Did Sasha De Langen merely misconstrue something that other women would have regarded as okay? Because generally it’s seen as acceptable? Miss Stark has already made it clear that I’m not supposed to dally with any of the girls while I’m here. It seems pretty plain to me, but I want to know if she’s as strict with the permanent staff—if she would have given Dell the same speech at some point. I need to know what’s considered acceptable here and what’s not—innuendo, physical contact, that sort of thing. I don’t know the answer to these questions and you’re supposed to be helping me.”