Working Stiff:Casimir (Runaway Billionaires #1)(5)

She withdrew her feet from under her desk, found her pumps with her toes, and walked over to open the door.

As soon as she flicked the lock on the door, Cash poked the door open  and started to walk into her office. "Rox? Did you receive the Killer  Valentine contract?"

She stepped in front of him, blocking his way. He stopped short and  blinked at her, looking far down from where he stood up there at  six-feet-whatever. Confusion twitched his eyebrows downward.

She glared up at him and stepped toward him, crowding him back toward  the door. "Yeah. Working on it," she said. "Let's talk in your office."

"But I'm right here," he said.

Rox put her hand in the center of his broad chest and pressed, intending  to steer him out of her office. Even through his crisp shirt, his pecs  rounded in toward his sternum. "Let's go."

He grinned down at her, his white teeth even and straight between his lips. "Don't worry, I won't take advantage-"

He paused, looking over her head.

Everyone was able to look over Rox's head.

He asked, "Is that a cat?"

"Nope. No cats in here. Let's go."

He side-stepped, peering around her, and her fingers slid across his chest to his muscular biceps.

He said, "That's a cat."

Rox slammed the door behind him, not to keep Pirate, Speedbump, and  Midnight from running out the door but to keep anyone from seeing them  or hearing Cash. "Look, I've had a little problem."

Pirate was peering around the corner of her desk with his one, good eye.  His blond fur was rumpled on one side of his head where he had been  sleeping on her feet. His ears-rounded on top from crumbling off due to  frostbite and the stumps shredded from fighting-twitched toward Cash. He  yawned, showing that he was missing one of his big canine fangs, too.

"It is a cat, right?" he asked.

"Um, yeah." Rox started figuring out some new lies, just in case he didn't believe the fifty or so she had already cooked up.

He asked, "You have a cat in your office?"

"It's a long story."

He squinted at Pirate. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing's wrong with him. He's perfectly healthy."

Cash frowned. "Is it one of those weird mutations that got turned into a breed?"

"He's not a Scottish Fold. He had a rough kittenhood."

"You can't keep a cat in your office."

"It's just for another day or two."

A black cat's face appeared above Pirate's blond head.

"There's two of them," Cash said.

"Um-" Damn. Rox needed a good lie about now. All the ones she had thought of seemed stupidly transparent.

Of course, right then, Speedbump sauntered around the other side of the  desk and stretched like he was doing kitty yoga. His body arched so hard  that the silver and gray stripes on his sides expanded.

Cash's lips parted, and his eyebrows pinched in the middle. "There's another one? How many more of them are there?"

"Three. Just three," Rox told him. "I call them the motley crew."                       
       
           



       

"It's like a cat clown car under that desk." He whipped his head around  and faced her, his bright green eyes wide. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Rox said, a reflex that she couldn't have stopped. "I'm fine."

"No, something is wrong," he said, his British accent softening. He  looked down her body to the toes of her high-heeled black pumps and back  up to her face, searching.

"Really, it's nothing," she said.

Rox could see him winding up to lay out the facts of the case like the lawyer he was.

Cash pointed at the cubicle farm of admins outside her door. "Melanie or  Sierra might decide to bring their cats to work. I wouldn't be  surprised if Sunbeam or Daffodil were hiding hamsters in their desks.  Not you."

"It's nothing," Rox whispered because her throat was closing up.

He continued, "I can count on you to be professional in all things. I  can take you to impromptu meetings with clients or other lawyers because  I know that you'll behave impeccably and you're always dressed  professionally."

Her hands twisted together in front of her, and Pirate chose that moment  to bonk his thick skull against her leg, begging for petting, because  of course he did.

Cash said, "I can trust that you won't dress like a sexy vampire on  Halloween or sport foil hearts in your hair on Valentine's Day. I can  travel with you because I know that I won't find you naked in my bed as  if we're on a nookie run on the firm's expense account, and we can get  the work done. I force HR to give you whatever salary you ask for  because I can't work with the other paralegals. They're all over me and  the clients and the opposing counsel that I bring in. They're  unprofessional. I rely on you. You're my rock in this office. You  wouldn't bring cats to work unless something were terribly wrong. What  is wrong?"

Her eyes burned. "Nothing."

"Bullshit. I call bullshit, Rox."

When he swore in that staunch British accent, it always made her giggle,  and she gulped while she looked at the fluorescent tube lights on the  ceiling and blinked.

"Rox?" His voice had softened.

When she glanced at him, the whole room swam from the water in her eyes.

"Are you crying?" he asked, panic rising in his voice.

"No. I never cry." Something dropped out of her eye and splashed on her cheek.

"Roxanne!" Footsteps clomped on the carpet, and Cash's horrified face  blocked out the lights. His hands hovered near her shoulders but grasped  the air. "Did Grant hit you? Was there an incidence of abuse? Did you  have to leave him in the middle of the night?"

"No. He would never." Really. He would never. The other figments of her  imagination almost never hit her, either. She almost laughed at that.

"Are you sick?" Cash asked, his eyes horrified.

"I'm not sick. Why would I bring my cats to work if I were sick?"

"I don't know. Comfort? The thought worried me." Cash's shoulders  lowered, and his hands dropped to his sides. "All right, whatever it is,  you can tell me. No matter what it is, I'll help you."

He was standing really close to her. They never stood this close  together. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, sure, when they were going  over paperwork or sitting at a table, negotiating a contract. On  airplanes, they always flew first-class, so the seat armrests were solid  all the way down to the cushions.

They never touched each other, though, unless it was absolutely  necessary, and even then, as little as possible. It was one of the  unspoken rules of their relationship that kept them friends, good  friends, and nothing else.

The light scent of his cologne, sweet wood and delicious spices like  cinnamon and vanilla, mixed with the warmth drifting out of his suit,  even though he wasn't ranting.

They didn't stand this close together, ever, and Rox's forehead only came up to his chest, even though she was wearing heels.

If she leaned forward, she could rest her forehead against his chest.

His low voice was gentle, almost like he murmured to her, "We've been friends too long for this. Tell me what's going on."

She couldn't quite open her throat enough to talk.

He raised his hand beside her shoulder, and for a minute, she thought he was going to wrap his arms around her.

She should step back if he did. She should gently push him off of her and not let anything get out of hand.

Rox leaned forward two inches and rested her forehead against his shoulder.

It was ridiculous that the square inch of contact of her forehead  against his suit jacket suffused comfort through her. She hadn't told  anyone what was going on, and the isolation was the worst part.                       
       
           



       

She breathed in the subtle scent of his cologne and natural musk.

Her shoulder warmed, and she realized that, instead of wrapping his arms  around her, he was stroking her shoulder and upper arm. He whispered  somewhere near her hair, "Roxanne, tell me. I'll help you."

"Something stupid happened," she admitted.

He took a deep breath, and his chest expanded. She angled her head, and his suit brushed her cheek.

Cash asked, "Did you have an auto accident? Is there a legal problem,  perhaps you panicked and left? I can help you with that. I'll bring the  full power of this firm into play."

"Nothing like that. It's just-I got evicted from my apartment."

A pause.

Which lengthened.

He finally asked, "You live in an apartment?"

"I've really only been making good money the last couple years, and I  was saving for a down payment for a house, but I bought the car."

"I don't need to know this." He shook his head and stepped back to peer  down at her. Her forehead chilled. "Why would you be evicted?"