He bent over and kissed Alix good night, offering a silent prayer that for once she’d sleep without torment. He turned and walked toward the door where Chelsie waited, but she didn’t notice him. Her pupils had dilated and she seemed distracted by her own thoughts.
He’d caught a glimpse of that shaken expression before. Chelsie’s lost-little-girl look hit him hard. Not for the first time, he questioned what painful memories drew her out of the present and into the past. At times like this, she looked like anyone but the strong attorney who fought for the rights of others. Who fought for Chelsie?
She met his gaze suddenly and turned away. Though Chelsie ignored him, he couldn’t do the same. He’d noticed she still wore the wet silk tank that molded against her breasts. He nearly choked on a groan. Scanning the room, he reached for her jacket.
He touched her shoulder. Without a word, she turned to him. Tears not only shimmered in her dark eyes, but dripped down her face. He brushed her satiny skin with his thumb, catching the moisture before it fell.
If he leaned a fraction closer, she would be in his arms. He didn’t think she would resist. She might even welcome the distraction from whatever haunted her. Though sex might be the answer to Griff’s desires, it would do nothing to dispel Chelsie’s pain. Fulfilling his needs would have to wait.
She gave him a shaky smile and wiped the droplets with the back of her hand. “I never react rationally when I’m overtired,” she murmured.
Pretending to accept the explanation, he nodded and held out the suit jacket. She glanced down at her chest and then back at his face. He smiled, but his eyes didn’t follow her gaze. He’d already memorized the sight of her pink nipples beneath the sheer silk.
She rotated and allowed him to help her into the jacket. She’d met his grin with dignity. Though she flushed crimson, she remained silent. He placed a hand on the small of her back and led her out of the room, shutting the door lightly behind them.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He smiled. “No problem.”
They stood in silence.
“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of work waiting at the office,” he finally said.
“More than you can imagine.”
“I’ll let you get to it, then.”
She nodded, but didn’t make a move to leave.
“I’m sorry I was late. I certainly didn’t mean to hold you up.”
Chelsie shrugged and fiddled with the buttons on her lapel. “I’m here for Alix.”
Not you. The unspoken words lingered in the air. He didn’t believe her, and the realization startled him. As an attorney, he recognized the many ways open to a client determined not only to withhold information, but to remain detached from the surrounding proceedings.
Chelsie exhibited classic symptoms. She couldn’t meet his gaze. She fiddled with unimportant tasks and any object in the vicinity of her hands. She reiterated her point ad nauseam. It’s a temporary arrangement. I’m here for Alix. We’re here for our niece. How many times would she repeat the refrain? As many as it took for her to believe the words herself.
Just a week ago, Griff would have used her own defenses against her, jumping on his belief in her eagerness to end the arrangement and abandon them both before Alix was ready.
Now he saw all too clearly that Chelsie fought her own inner battles that had nothing to do with him. Did that mean he had forgiven her past mistakes? Decided she had nothing in common with Deidre and his mother? On those points, he’d reserve judgment.
She closed the last button on her suit, hiding all evidence of the beautiful body beneath. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
He nodded.
She walked away, then stopped to glance back at him. “Tomorrow’s no good. It’s my sleep-over night at the shelter.”
He clamped down on his disappointment. “The next day, then.”
She nodded and rushed down the hall.
Griff leaned against the wall and groaned. Bad enough the sexual attraction grew with each passing day. But did Chelsie Russell have to tug at his already battered heart? He hadn’t a clue how to kill his growing feelings. Worse, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
* * *
Griff eased himself into the worn booth at the diner. “Sorry I’m late. A client wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
Ryan shrugged. “Refill. Coffee, black,” he reminded the passing waitress. “And a BLT.”
The woman looked at Griff. He glanced at his watch and shook his head, so she placed her pad in her apron and moved on.
Food would have to wait. “I’m already half an hour late to put Alix into bed and I still have a quick meeting with a client.” He and Ryan always met on Wednesday nights, but since Griff had started his own practice, Ryan had grown used to Griff’s no-shows. “You look exhausted. An all nighter?”