Innocent 'til Proven Otherwise

‘And this is Max.’

‘Hi, Max,’ Kat said brightly.

Ali gave an uninterested nod as she stared into her glass and rode the buzz from her fourth daiquiri. It was probably time to stop now.

Max inclined his head politely. ‘Ladies.’

The smooth deep baritone of his voice washed over her like a slow sexy saxophone note and pulled Ali out of the buzz even as it added more bubbles to her blood. She looked up despite herself.

Into two very compelling grey eyes heavily fringed by dark brown lashes. She blinked, surprised by their intensity. By the sadness that lurked in them. By the time she’d widened her gaze to take in all of him a few seconds later, those eyes had totally sucked her in.

She knew all about eyes like that. Had seen them in the mirror every morning for the last year.

‘So,’ Pete said, indicating the daiquiri glasses. ‘Are you ladies celebrating something tonight?’

‘More like commiserating.’ Kat grinned and put her arm around Ali’s shoulder. ‘Ali’s ratfink ex married his trollop an hour ago and I brought her here to get resoundingly drunk.’

‘Ah, well done.’ Pete smiled, holding up his beer bottle and clinking it with Ali’s glass. ‘It’s the Australian way, after all. Our forefathers would be very proud.’

‘Well,’ Kat said, crossing her legs and circling her ankle, ‘she ruled out my first option.’

‘Oh?’ Pete asked, mesmerised by the slow rotation of a fire-engine-red stiletto. ‘What was that?’

‘Voodoo doll.’

Max almost choked on his beer as Pete threw back his head and laughed. Max raised an eyebrow at the woman who had been thrust upon him. Pete had been right—she was cute with her little snub nose and that persistently floppy curl.

It was a shame her olive gaze was so damn serious—it counteracted the cute very effectively. Max would have to be blind not to see the keep out signs.

‘Voodoo doll?’ Max queried.

Ali temporarily lost her train of thought with the combination of his sad eyes and jazz-band voice. Add to that his classic bone structure—pronounced cheekbones, wide jaw—and full mouth bracketed by interesting indents that she guessed were probably dimples were he ever to exercise them, it was hard to find again.

An interesting three-day growth peppered his jaw. It would have looked designer on Pete but the way Max rubbed at it, a little absently, a little harried, added to his jaded appeal.

‘Kat enjoys being dramatic.’ She shrugged, picking up the thread.

‘What a coincidence,’ Max said dryly as he glanced at Pete. He looked back at Ali and rolled his eyes. Her mouth twitched into a small smile and he found himself intrigued despite himself.

Pete ignored his friend. ‘I like it. Maybe we could have done the same for you, Max?’ Pete leaned in close to Kat. ‘Max’s divorce was final today.’

Ali watched as Max’s gaze, which had glinted with humour just seconds ago, grew suddenly bleak again and it stopped the breath in her lungs. He looked as if he’d had his soul sucked out.

And didn’t she know how that felt?

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured.

Max looked directly at her. For a moment he felt a bizarre connection with her, a recognition of a fellow human being in misery. Ali had obviously had it rough too.

He shrugged. ‘C’est la vie.’

Silence fell between the four of them for a moment or two before Pete dived back in. ‘So, Ali, what do you do?’

Ali dragged her gaze from Max to Pete. Not that Pete was even looking at her. She fought the urge to smile. She had to give the man his due—Pete was doing his damnedest to play the charming host. But she didn’t for one moment think Pete gave a rat’s arse what she did.

She slid a sidelong glance at Kat who had tensed. ‘I’m a b—

‘Barista,’ Kat finished.

Ali blinked, not comfortable with her promotion from humble coffee-shop girl to barista. And certainly still not comfortable with the chain of events that had led to her current state of employment.

Even though she loved the simplicity, the freedom of it. Even though it appealed immensely as an alternate career path.

‘Oh, whereabouts? Max and I are often looking for good coffee.’

Ali cleared the emotion from her throat. ‘The River Breeze, at Southbank. It’s Kat’s place.’

A five-minute conversation followed on the merits of different coffees. It required very little input from Ali and Max.

‘That’s excellent,’ Pete murmured. ‘We’ll have to drop by, won’t we, Max?’

Max slid his friend a patient look. ‘Why yes, Pete, we will.’

Ali suppressed a smile. It was obvious Max wanted to be a party to this as much as she did. He looked as if he’d come straight from work, his teal and grey striped tie loosened, his top button undone.

Well, why didn’t they just speed it up? Pete and Kat could barely keep their eyes off each other—why drag it out? Get the regulation chit chat out of the way so she and Max could both leave and tomorrow their friends could justify jumping into bed together at such short acquaintance.

‘And what do you do, Max?’ she asked politely.

Pete, Who was smiling at Kat, jumped in quickly. Too quickly. ‘He’s an accountant.’

Ali looked from Max to Pete and back to Max again. ‘You’re not an accountant, are you?’

Max felt himself smile. It wasn’t something he’d done a lot of lately. It felt foreign so he stopped. ‘No,’ he said dryly, ignoring Pete’s eye roll.

Ali felt the full impact of that brief smile. His dimples became defined and deepened. His grey eyes seemed less bleak. She had to wonder how he’d look in full blown belly laughter. ‘So, what do you really do?’

‘I’m a lawyer.’

Ali’s first instinct was to flee. After all, Tom was a lawyer. Not to mention she was going to spend the next who knew how long—months probably—with a lawyer. A very, very good one apparently.

The best.

Still …

The desire to flee was overwhelming and she pushed up off her chair reflexively. Kat caught her wrist and held tight before Ali even had the chance to lift her backside.

Max ran the back of his knuckles along his jaw, taking time to process Ali’s surprising reaction. ‘You either don’t like lawyers or you’re a fugitive.’