Page 10 of Made to Order
Pushover.
Something about him draws me, like a moth to a flame. He will burn me, no doubt, but I need to at least give him a chance to say whatever it is he wants to tell me. If I don’t, he’ll never leave me alone, and this awkward tension between us will linger for the remainder of our careers. It could make for some very uncomfortable days in court.
So, with reluctance, I nod. “Fine. But not here. Meet me at my place at seven tonight.”
We’ll put an end to this nonsense then.
6
WADE
MY STOMACH IS LODGED IN my throat before I even knock on her door. Standing in the exact spot she slapped me Saturday night makes me second-guess the wisdom of being here.
I’ve never been nervous for a paid date, a motion hearing, hell, even a trial, but this woman has me tied in knots.
The three raps of my knuckles against the door sound more like a foreboding warning instead of announcement of my presence.
Shit. Pull yourself together.
Thirty seconds feels like five minutes, but the door finally opens.
Her icy blue eyes are wary, but she moves aside to allow me in without a word. I follow her and force myself to keep my eyes on our surroundings instead of her ass in the tight yoga pants plastered against her skin.
She’s trying to kill me.
The moment she steps into the den, she bee-lines for the small bar in the corner. “Want a drink?’
Hell, yes.
“Uh, sure.” Alcohol will probably help numb the inevitable pain this conversation will bring.
She holds up a bottle of Maker’s Mark. “Bourbon good?”
I smile and nod. She even has decent booze. Could she be any more perfect for me? “Perfect.”
With her back to me, it’s impossible to tell what she might be thinking. But if it’s anything like my current thoughts, it’s a cluster of about a thousand different things. I want to tell her everything—why I started doing this, how I’ve been wanting out and just didn’t realize it, how she was…is different. But I have no idea where or how to start.
Every way I’ve gone over it in my head sounds wrong. How can you make a woman like Josette understand taking money for sex?
She turns back to me and hands me a glass. I raise it in a silent toast before I take a sip. The spicy heat burns my throat in the best way possible and gives me an excuse to take a couple moments to gather my thoughts.
After an awkward minute, Josette drops onto the couch and watches me expectantly. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”
I release a sigh and run my free hand back through my hair, considering my words. “I think you got the wrong idea on Saturday. I wasn’t coming on to you because you paid for my company. I was coming on to you because I like you.”
She pauses with her drink halfway up to her mouth and frowns, a crease forming in her forehead. I’d give anything to know what she’s thinking right now.
“How can you expect me to believe that? You’re just saying it now because we have to see each other professionally and don’t want it to be weird.”
The words are said with such conviction, it’s clear she really believes what she said. Exactly what I feared.
“Not true.” I move toward where she sits on the couch but stop a few feet away, not wanting to crowd her or make her feel uncomfortable. “I noticed you the first time you came into the courtroom when I was a newbie. I just figured a woman like you would be taken, so I never approached you.”
Something I’m deeply regretting right now.
Her eyes sharpen and narrow on me, and she rises from the couch. “I don’t believe you. You lie for a living, Wade, and I bet you’re pretty damn good at it.”
JOSETTE
