A Wolff at Heart

“Nevertheless, the records had to be preserved somewhere.”

“That’s what we’re hoping. How long will it take you to get them?”

Nikki frowned. “You seem to have the misguided notion that you are the only case I have to consider.” His single-mindedness was understandable, but unacceptable.

“We can pay.”

Nikki felt her hackles rise. “I don’t like it when rich people throw their money around and expect everyone else to jump.”

He glanced at her expensively framed diplomas. “Harvard isn’t exactly cheap, Ms. Parrish. I doubt you’ve ever clipped coupons.”

She willed her anger to subside, regulating her breathing until she could speak without inflection. “You’d be surprised.”

He stared at her. “I’ve never cared much for lawyers.”

One by one, he was pushing each of her buttons. Teeth clenched, she glared. “Are you always this obnoxious?” She stood, smoothing her skirt.

Pierce closed the small distance between them, running a hand through dark hair that was thick and a little shaggy. “Are you always this difficult?”

Their breath comingled. She could see a pulse beating in the side of his neck. His deep-brown eyes were too beautiful for a man. “I rarely brawl with my customers,” she muttered. “What is it about you?”

He stepped back. It irked her that her reaction felt more like disappointment than relief. “I’m not myself,” he said, looking somewhat abashed.

“Is that an apology?”

“I still don’t like lawyers.”

“You can’t really afford to be choosy, can you?”

His eyes flashed. “This wasn’t even my idea.”

“No,” she drawled. “Your mommy made you come.” She taunted him deliberately, curious to see if he would tell her to go to hell.

Instead, he surprised her by laughing out loud, his entire face lighting with humor. “This is the first time in my life that I recall ever paying to be insulted.”

She shook her head, bemused by the almost instant connection between them. A negative kind of rapport perhaps, but a definite something. “I do believe you bring out the worst in me.”

“Bad can be good.”

He said it with a straight face, but his eyes danced.

“I don’t flirt with clients,” she said firmly, shutting him down.

“Why is this office for rent?”

He shot the question beneath her defenses, leaving her gaping and struggling to find an ambiguous response. “Well, I...” Damn it. She was cool and deadly in a courtroom. But that was with hours of preparation. Today she felt quicksand beneath her feet.

Pierce cocked his head. “State secrets?”

She sighed. “Not at all. If you must know, I’ve sold my practice. I have an offer to join a firm in northern Virginia, just outside D.C. With one of my law professors.”

“I hear a but in there somewhere.” His curious gaze belied his earlier gruffness.

“I asked for time to think about it. I’ve been out of school for six years. Never taken more than a long weekend for vacation. Burnout is such a clichéd word. But that’s where I am.”

“You must be pretty sure of your decision if you’ve already sold your practice.”

“I’m not. Not at all. But even if I don’t take the offer, I’m ready for something new. I’d like to work as legal counsel for a nonprofit.”

“You can’t get rich doing that.”

“Have you ever heard the phrase follow your bliss? I want to live my bucket list as it comes...not wait until I’m old and half-dead.”

“I can relate,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She doubted it. He had silver spoon, heir-of-the-manor written all over him. She glanced at her watch. “We’ll need to continue this later,” she said. “I have another appointment.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ve found out all I need to know. You can give me your whole attention. I like that.”

Was it her ears, or did every word out of his mouth sound sexual? “I’m beginning a va-ca-tion,” she said slowly.

“Yes, I know. And some deep introspection. I can help you with that. Whatever your fees are, I’ll pay them. And together we’ll exhume the skeletons in my closet that honest to God, I’d rather not meet. But in the meantime, I’ll help you become more of a human being and less of an uptight lady lawyer.”

“I haven’t said I’ll take your case. And besides...what qualifies you to help me unwind?”

He adjusted the portrait over the fireplace until it hung perfectly straight. Then propped a hip on the corner of her very expensive desk. “You’ll see, Ms. Nicola Parrish. You’ll see.”

Two

Pierce had been forced to cool his heels for six days before Nicola wrapped up her appointments and was officially off the clock. Even now, he’d been coerced into helping her move out of her office in exchange for a face-to-face meeting. Fortunately, his father was holding his own, but Pierce wasn’t willing to wait much longer for the answers he needed.

At Nicola’s request he’d brought a truck he and his dad used to transport inner tubes and kayaks. Pierce had to give it to her—she was a master negotiator. He could think of several hundred things he’d rather be doing on a hot summer day than moving boxes.

His mood, however, took a definite uphill swing when he knocked at the street door and Nicola let him in. She looked far more approachable today. A simple headband kept her pale-blond hair off flushed cheeks. Brief khaki shorts left those gorgeous legs on display, and the outline of her breasts in a close-fitting white T-shirt dried his mouth. The black espadrilles on her feet made her look far too young to be a successful lawyer.

He cleared his throat. “Truck’s parked outside.” His tone was gruffer than he had intended, but he was trying to hide his reaction to her casual attire.

Nicola frowned. “You’re late.”

Eyebrows raised, he promised himself not to take the bait. “There was an accident on the way over. I had to take a detour,” he said mildly.

She swiped a finger across her forehead, grimacing. “It’s hot as Hades in here. Someone got the dates wrong and turned off my power two days early.”

“Bummer.” He stepped inside, not surprised to see the reception area reduced to a large pile of boxes. “Do you live on the second floor?”

“Good Lord, no. That would be a terrible idea for a workaholic.”

He followed her up the stairs, his gaze level with her curvy butt. “Most people who are workaholics don’t admit it.” It was a good thing he was about to do some literal heavy lifting, because he needed something to distract him from carnal thoughts about a woman he barely knew.