Of all the people in the world, Joe was the last person she’d have wanted to catch her staring at a man. He was one of the partners in the firm, the youngest. Not that she cared about that—being a receptionist wasn’t her life goal—but she didn’t need him nosing in her business any more than he already did.
He bothered her. Around him, she had steamy thoughts she didn’t need.
Joe should have looked angelic with his blond hair and blue eyes, but instead he looked wicked. She figured it was the ever-present glint in his eyes. Worse, he was tall and built—not anything like what a lawyer should have looked like. His clothing was expensive. She didn’t know anything about fine clothing, and especially not men’s clothes, but she wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that his suit cost as much as her rent each month.
Joe leaned in. “Are you going to deny it?”
He reminded her of a predator trying to lure her into his trap. She just didn’t know what trap and why he’d want to lure her.
To cover her confusion and naughty thoughts, she smiled brightly. “Of course I was ogling him. He had a very fine bottom.”
“Em Shepherd, you saucy minx. And here I thought you were a nun.”
She brightened. “Did you really?”
“You must be the only woman on earth who’d be happy to hear that, and that’s curious in itself.” He looked her over, slow and thorough as if he could see down to her knickers. “It makes me wonder how prim and proper you really are.”
Not very, but she tried her hardest to suppress that part of herself. “I’m quite proper, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a handsome man, even if he’s not eligible.”
“Not eligible?” Joe’s eyebrows shot up. “Nicholas Long?”
“You know him?”
“Everyone knows him, love. He’s the top-grossing Formula One driver on the circuit.”
“Oh.” She blinked in surprise. “Well that makes him doubly inappropriate, doesn’t it?”
“You must not know what the top Formula One racers make,” he said, watching her carefully.
She arched her brow. “More than lawyers who do mergers, I wager.”
His grin was slow and sly. “You clever girl. He makes millions, plus endorsements. He’s currently the package behind Calvin Klein briefs.”
She snapped her fingers. “That’s why he looked familiar. I’m sure if he’d been shirtless, I’d have recognized him right off.”
Joe’s brow furrowed. “And you still don’t think he’s a good catch?”
“Of course not. I don’t want a man who parades around the entire world in his underwear.”
“Not even if it’s a rich man?”
“Especially then. What use do I have for money? Money doesn’t guarantee that you have everything in life.” Sometimes money even attracted bad things. It certainly had with her parents. Any time they had extra funds, it seemed to get them into more trouble.
The phone rang. As she picked up the receiver, she smiled at Joe, expecting him to move along back to whatever he’d been doing before. But he waited at her desk, watching her the whole time.
“So what type of man are you looking for?” he asked the moment she set the phone down. “Or do you have one already?”
“I do.” She thought of Ben and smiled. “He’s kind and gentle and always nice.”
“He sounds like milk.”
She shrugged. “Not everyone likes devil food cake.”
Joe laughed. “Em Shepherd, you are precious.”
He tapped the counter twice and strode to the elevator, which magically opened as he walked to it. He entered it, turned around, and winked at her as the doors closed.
She exhaled as she slumped in her chair. Fanning herself, she shook her head. What a relief that Joe Winslow was so not her type.
Chapter Six
Between jetlag, worry about the missing will, and thoughts of kissing a half-naked Nick, Rosalind hadn’t been able to sleep. She’d finally given up tossing and turning and gotten up.
It was time to take action. The sooner she found the will, the sooner she could go back to her life.
Which meant leaving Nick.
She frowned as she descended the stairs. That shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did, given she’d only just met him. But the kisses … Those kisses made her feel like everything was possible.
Utterly irrational. But then Bijou would have said love was irrational.
Love. She shook her head. Lust, more like it. And grief, she decided as she walked into the kitchen. Wanting sex in the face of death was a natural thing.
Fran was there, a crisp white apron around her thick waist. She smiled brightly, taking a cup from the counter and filling it with coffee. “You look like you need this, love.”