Callista Monroe stared out of the window that ran the length of her office. The bright lights of Los Angeles was truly an impressive thing. Even at one o'clock in the morning the whole damned thing was awash with pin pricks of light: houses, offices, cars. People going about the business of living. While she went about the business of...
Callie Jean was not sure what she went about anymore. Work for certain. That had not changed in the past month. In fact, if she had to be honest about it, and she was always honest with herself, the past month had been easier than in a very long time. The kid, her intern, Donovan, had proven to be a real asset. She had been shocked to discover that as well as the hottest body and a stunningly handsome face, the man possessed a damned fine mind. One of the best legal minds she had even known in fact.
But even more than that, he possessed that undefinable quality that had set her apart from almost everyone else in her field, that edge that she brought to this game. The ability to see through people. It was a gift that had served her well as a labor lawyer and negotiator. Her ability to extinctively understand the motivations of others had allowed her to craft win-win deals that had set her apart from others who strictly knew the law. Knowing people was the difference between being good and being the best.
And Callie begrudgingly admitted that with some training, experience and a few breaks the kid might just one day give her a run for her money. Thinking about the document that was still stuffed so casually in her desk drawer, hell, the little shit already had. Of course, in the end, she had won this round. Despite his initial confidence that she would succumb to his considerable charms, she had held firm to her 'don't shit where you eat' policy. Theirs was now a strictly professional relationship.
So why the fuck did one crazy, wild night of sex in Vegas continue to haunt her dreams and fantasies? Sex was sex, right? An itch to be scratched when it got unbearable, just like hunger. It did not matter whether it was a hamburger from a fast food place or filet mignon from a five star restaurant in the end your shit was just as smelly.
That was what got her, what still bothered her...how had she failed to see the kid for what he was? It was one of the few times...maybe the only time that her golden gut had failed to warn her when trouble was coming. And even with that neatly-typed and signed document in her drawer, Callie Jean could not shake the feeling that Donovan Bradshaw was trouble. And for what? The best sex of her life? Even that was not worth what this could cost her.
Bu neither could she get that night out of her mind. Especially not on night's like this one. They had worked late, later than usual, on the background research for a negotiation that was coming up. They had even order in Chinese. Her suit jacket had been discarded promptly at five, once the official business day was done and the real work began. He had followed suit, tossing his jacket and tie. He had even rolled up the sleeves on his crisp cotton shirt. At some point during the evening, she had undone the top two buttons on her silk blouse as well.
The damned thing was that they worked so fucking well together. Two minds equally matched and serving the same purpose. He could almost find the information and case law she wanted before she even asked for it. It made this type of work that could be frustrating at best distinctly pleasurable. Hell, she had even discovered that she actually liked teaching. At least with the right pupil, one capable of truly learning. One whose mind grasp the obvious and sought beyond it. In fact, this internship that she had originally dreaded was working out quite well.
If it were not for the near constant sexual tension that arced unanswered between them. Admittedly, the man could and did turn every single female head and more than a couple male ones too. It was something more than just his college football running back's lithe, firm, young body. Something more than his Hollywood movie star good looks. It was some undefinable sex appeal that had made him the head liner on the Vegas stage.
Some mystery that had tempted her that night to overcome a lifetime of prejudice to fulfill her darkest fantasy. And he had been dark. If she closed her eyes, hell every time she did close her eyes, she could see the interplay of color. His dark hands moving so teasingly over her pale skin. Black on white did not do it justice. It was much closer to the deepest darkest sweetest hot chocolate sauce running seductively over the cold, frozen surface of vanilla ice cream, melting it, mingling with it until the two became an inseparable delight for the epicurean pallet.
Callie shook her head as she turned from that dark city skyline. The dreams, or perhaps memories, were driving her to distraction. Something she could not afford right now...ever. She crossed to her office door and opened it. There were a couple of other lights showing under various doors but that was the nature of this beast they called the law. As a career it sucked, drawing every single ounce of strength and time from your soul. But overall the office was as quiet as it was going to get.
She made a decision. Tonight was one of those rare times since she made partner where she would forego the comforts of her bed at home and sleep on the leather sofa in her office. It was something she had done often as an associate but not recently. But this night she was just too tired and frustrated to make the half an hour long drive to Santa Monica only to toss and turn restlessly on her luxury mattress thinking about him.
No, better to sleep tonight on the couch here. She would get up early and go to the gym around the corner. A heavy work out would refresh her and burn off some of this tension in her body. If it was not the type of workout her body craved that was just too fucking bad it would have to do.
She would pop into the drycleaners next door. She gave the man enough business she was certain that for a bit extra he could laundry and clean her suit and blouse. There should be a clean set of underwear in her gym bag. Given the wet stickiness that working side by side with him, the casual brushes of those dark muscular forearms against her heated skin, she sure as hell hoped so. Otherwise she could always go commando.
