A Legal Affair (14 page)

Caleb frowned darkly. Before meeting Daniela Moreau, he had never understood the power of obsession, never understood what drove perfectly sane people to do remarkably stupid things. Until a week ago, he’d never fathomed becoming so obsessed with a woman that he would willingly compromise everything—his career, his integrity, his peace of mind—just to have a taste of her. There was no other word to describe his behavior where Daniela was concerned. He was obsessed with her. No other woman had ever made him feel this aware, this
alive,
as if her very presence heightened all his senses. She fascinated him. She challenged him. She made him laugh. And she drove him out of his mind with lust.

A memory of her hot, silken mouth wrapped around his throbbing erection made him harden at once, and shift uncomfortably in the driver’s seat.

Caleb had never lacked for sexual partners, and he’d had more than his fair share of lovers whose appetites in the bedroom had ranged from tame to shockingly bold. None of those experiences, even the most pleasurable ones, came close to matching what he and Daniela had shared. The sexual chemistry between them was so explosive it took his breath away. Were it not for the fact that she was recovering from the flu and needed rest, Caleb would have kept her up all night, making love to her until neither of them could move a muscle.

The rational part of his brain told him he shouldn’t—
couldn’t
—have her again, to chalk up the forbidden experience to a lapse in judgment that would never be repeated. But his will had been all but severed from his intellect, leaving him open to anything, and everything.

Thorne men don’t obsess over women.
He heard his father’s voice as clearly as if Crandall sat in the truck beside him, shaking his head in grim disapproval over his son’s reckless behavior. From the time Caleb was old enough to comprehend the basic physical differences between males and females, his father had lectured him about the dangers of falling victim to lust. It got to the point where Caleb could hardly look at a girl without hearing Crandall’s stern warnings about the “booty trap,” and how no woman was worth throwing away his whole future for a few minutes of pleasure.

Once, when Caleb was seventeen, his father threw a lavish dinner party to celebrate the acquisition of a large corporate account that would launch the firm to a new level of success. The exclusive guest list included prominent businessmen, politicians, civic and community leaders, as well as some of Crandall’s devoted employees, among them a beautiful twenty-two-year-old paralegal named Josephine. Caleb, who’d only spoken to Josephine a few times prior to that evening, was a little surprised when the girl sought him out on the moonlit terrace, where he’d retreated to escape the roomful of heavily perfumed strangers whose cool, calculated gazes appraised him as if he were champion Thoroughbred material—which, as Crandall Thorne’s heir apparent, many perceived him to be. While the men openly speculated about whether Caleb would someday become as shrewd and formidable a businessman as his father, the women secretly wondered if his virility would surpass that of Crandall’s, whose charm and magnetism were legendary. The fact that Crandall was a widower seemed to only heighten his appeal, as women on the prowl for wealthy husbands vied for the opportunity to become the next Mrs. Crandall Thorne.

Bearing an extra glass of chilled champagne and an engaging smile, Josephine had sidled up to Caleb that evening and struck up a conversation about… Hell, he couldn’t remember what she’d been talking about. All he knew was that he was seventeen, bored out of his mind and more than a little eager to change his status as a virgin. When Josephine innocently asked for a tour of their palatial house, Caleb swore the Fates were smiling down on him. They’d wound up in his bedroom, kissing and groping each other like a pair of stags in heat. What followed were the most gratifying six minutes of Caleb’s life, and afterward he’d fancied himself halfway in love with the beautiful older woman who’d brought about his sexual liberation.

A week later, Josephine called in tears to inform him that she’d been fired from the firm. When Caleb went to his father to demand an explanation, Crandall was already waiting for him with a look of amused long-suffering. As he calmly explained to his enraged son, on the night of the dinner party, he’d overheard Josephine remark to another woman how handsome Caleb looked in his tuxedo. He’d thought nothing of the girl seeking out Caleb’s company, until he later learned that she had seduced his son. Afterward, she’d bragged about the experience to some of her colleagues at the firm, and word had gotten back to their boss.

“She was a gold-digger, Caleb,” an unapologetic Crandall informed him. “She foolishly hoped that by ingratiating herself to my seventeen-year-old son, she’d secure a permanent place for herself at the firm. Heed my words, boy. Beautiful women are rarely, if ever, to be trusted. Enjoy them. Wine them, dine them, hell, make ’em your slave in the bedroom. But never,
ever,
trust them, or you’ll curse the day you were born.”

It was a hard lesson that followed Caleb into adulthood, enabling him to drift from one superficial relationship to the next, always keeping women at arm’s length. Even Shara, whom he respected and cared deeply about, had not been able to breach the fortress he’d built around his emotions, or threaten his ironclad self-will.

No woman had. Until now.

Brooding, Caleb parked his truck in the underground garage and rode the elevator to the lobby to retrieve his mail. His boots rang out on the gleaming marble floor as he strode purposefully toward the steel bank of mailboxes.

“How’s it going, Mr. Hammond?” he greeted the uniformed security guard posted at the reception station, an older black man with salt-and-pepper hair receding from a broad forehead.

Eugene Hammond glanced up from the SanAntonio
Express-News
he’d been reading and beamed when he saw Caleb, one of the few tenants who actually spoke to him on a consistent basis. “Hey there, son!” As his dark gaze registered Caleb’s rumpled appearance, and the fact that he’d been wearing the same clothes the day before, a knowing look crossed his face. “Long night, huh?”

“You could say that,” Caleb muttered under his breath, slamming his mailbox shut. As he passed the reception desk, he said, “Take it easy, Mr. Hammond.”

“You, too, son.” As Caleb neared the elevators, Hammond added with a hint of sly insinuation in his voice, “Stay out of trouble.”

Too late,
Caleb thought darkly.

D
aniela underestimated how difficult it would be to sit in Caleb’s class on Wednesday morning and pretend that nothing had changed between them. She couldn’t look at him, pacing back and forth in front of the lecture hall, without remembering the way his body had felt under her, over her, thrusting in and out of her. And, unless she was imagining things, she wasn’t the only one with a problem. Caleb’s dark gaze seemed to land everywhere in the room but on her, though she sat directly in his line of vision in the second row. Every time she thought for certain he’d look her way, her mouth went dry and her heart lurched crazily, only to have his eyes skim over her as if she were invisible.

It was one of the most frustrating, nerve-racking experiences she’d ever endured.

And she was going to do something about it.

When class was over, she told April that she had to meet with one of their instructors, then she made her way over to Caleb’s office in the law faculty building, hoping he wouldn’t decide to have coffee with Shara first.

While she waited for him to arrive, she sipped her bottled water and studied his spacious office, committing every detail to memory, as if by doing so she could gain deeper insight into the man himself. Oak-paneled walls contained rows of law books, encyclopedias and every kind of dictionary imaginable. Books and papers covered nearly every available surface of his desk, and near the end of one wall, his Juris Doctorate degree was quietly displayed, as if he’d hung it there as an afterthought, or at someone’s cajoling. No family photographs graced the walls or desk, nor did the office contain a single plant, poster or favorite engraving. The absence of personal effects intrigued Daniela, heightening her curiosity about a man who remained as elusive as the dark secrets she’d been sent into his life to unveil.

She heard the deep timbre of his voice in the hallway as he responded to a colleague’s friendly greeting, and then he strode briskly through the door. At the sight of Daniela seated in one of the upholstered visitor chairs, his steps slowed a little, but his expression betrayed no emotion. Without a word, he closed the door behind him, and when Daniela heard the soft
click
of the lock, her pulse thundered.

Caleb rounded the corner of his desk and dropped his satchel to the floor before lowering his long body into the chair, his dark gaze holding hers in silent appraisal.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.

Daniela smiled. “I’m almost back to one hundred percent,” she replied, crossing one long leg over the other and watching, with a twinge of satisfaction, as his eyes followed the movement. She’d dressed with extra care that morning, donning a white halter top that ended just below midriff, and a khaki-brown ruffle skirt that featured an ultra low-rise waistband. The front of the tiered skirt curved upward to show off the smooth, shapely expanse of her bare legs—which, in her mind, had always been her greatest asset. Completing the gypsy look were a pair of wide hoop earrings, simple bands of gold that encircled her wrists and sexy platform sandals with crisscross straps that laced up the ankle.

Caleb’s lazy gaze ran the length of her before returning slowly to her face. In silence he watched her raise the bottled water to her lips and take a long sip.

“What can I do for you this morning?” he asked softly.

“Nothing, really,” she murmured, her tongue snaking out to chase a drop of water from her lower lip. Her belly quivered when she saw the way his pupils darkened. The air between them crackled with sexual tension.

“I missed being picked on in class today,” she told him.

His gaze lingered on her mouth. “Did you?”

Daniela nodded slowly. “And I missed
you
.”

Caleb closed his eyes and groaned softly, as if he were in pain. “Daniela—”

“I’m just being honest,” she said. Suddenly restless, she set aside her water, rose from the chair and walked over to a floor globe mounted on a gleaming oak stand. Idly she gave the globe a quick spin, saying, “My mother always taught me to speak the truth, so that’s what I’m doing. I missed you, and I won’t apologize for it.”

“No one’s asking you to apologize for anything, Daniela,” Caleb said quietly. “If anything, I’m the one who should be apologizing for—”

Without turning around, Daniela held up a hand. “I already know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me that making love was a mistake, that you never meant for things to go that far. And you’re going to apologize for taking advantage of me when, if anything,
I
probably took advantage of
you
. I wanted to be with you, Caleb, and I have no regrets about what happened between us. Whatever feelings you may have about the experience are entirely your own, but please don’t let guilt be one of them.”

After several long moments of silence, she heard the slight creak of his chair as he got up and came toward her. “Since you’ve become such an expert at reading my mind,” he murmured, “can you tell me what I’m thinking right now?”

The husky timbre of his voice sent erotic images tumbling through her mind. Deep in her stomach, a knot of desire unfurled and spread sinuous fingers of heat through her limbs. As he drew nearer, her breasts grew heavy, her nipples hardening against the lace of her bra. She was vaguely aware of the room growing dimmer, as if Caleb had closed the blinds.

He stopped directly behind her, and her pulse accelerated as gentle, callused fingers swept the heavy mass of her hair over one shoulder, then cupped the back of her neck and began to stroke her skin in slow, tantalizing circles. She wanted to hear him say he’d missed her, too, but then he lowered his head and touched his lips to her nape, and she closed her eyes with an involuntary sigh and let her head fall forward.

“You always smell so incredible,” he muttered thickly as his mouth trailed down the exposed column of her neck, nipping and raining hot, bone-melting kisses along her sensitive flesh. “What’s the name of your perfume?”

Her mouth curved in a private smile he couldn’t see. “It’s a secret. If I tell you, you might run out and buy some for your girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he murmured distractedly, nuzzling her throat.

“Don’t you?” Much as she was enjoying the sexy interlude, some reckless part of her wanted to punish him, wanted to torment him as she was tormented by her overwhelming need for him.

She turned around slowly. Allowing herself only a glimpse of the smoldering heat in his gaze, she began to edge past him. “I should go,” she announced, the firmness in her tone belied by the wobbliness of her legs.

She got as far as the desk before he caught her by the waist, pulling her tightly against him. “Stay,” he whispered, his warm breath in her ear making her shiver. Resistance was futile.

Suddenly she found her bottom pressed against his straining arousal, her palms braced on the surface of the desk. She felt warm and dizzy as his hand glided possessively over her hips, inching the material of her skirt higher, while his other hand sought the smooth flesh of her exposed midriff. Her heart hammered in her chest as his mouth skimmed her ear, her neck and her jaw while he reached under her skirt, his fingers burning a path up the inside of her leg to the juncture of her parted thighs. She ached with a fierce need to have him inside her, and shamelessly rubbed her buttocks against his groin, drawing a rough sound of hunger from him.

His fingers eased beneath the elastic trim of her lace panties. A sharp moan of pleasure escaped from her mouth when he parted the soft, springy curls and slid one finger deep inside her.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned, the sound both tortured and approving.

As he teased and stroked her, his thumb simultaneously caressed the outer folds of her sex, circling the slick nub of her clitoris until she gripped the edge of the desk tightly, feeling as if she were about to be torn apart by an internal force she couldn’t contain. Though she tried to be mindful of where they were, and how disastrous it would be if anyone overheard them, she felt a desperate cry welling up inside her. When Caleb pushed a second finger deep inside her, her back arched sharply. With skilled ease, he turned her in his arms and covered her mouth with his, capturing the helpless cries that tore from her throat as she came apart in an explosion of clenching pleasure.

Afterward, he cradled her protectively in his arms as she slumped against him, weak and spent, certain her mind and body would never be the same again. His own breathing was slightly erratic as he straightened her skirt, stroked her back and kissed her damp temple.

As he gazed down at her, tenderness shone in his dark, glittering eyes. “I missed you, too,” he said huskily.

Her heart soared. “You don’t have to say that just because I did.”

He shook his head, his gaze intent on her face. “One thing you’ll learn about me, Daniela, is that I never say things I don’t mean.” He leaned down, taking her lips in a hot, deeply possessive kiss that drugged her senses and left her feeling even weaker than before.

When he lifted his head, she could only gaze at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Believe it or not,” she murmured, her words sounding slurred to her own ears, “I didn’t come here this morning to seduce you.”

Caleb chuckled softly. “You don’t hear me complaining, do you?”

“Mmm. But you should. I didn’t return the favor.”

Caleb groaned, nuzzling her throat. “Don’t tempt me, woman.”

“Oh, but it’s so much fun,” Daniela teased.

“Don’t be cruel,” he said, drawing away to tweak her nose playfully. He lifted her by the waist and deposited her gently on the corner of his desk before reclaiming his own chair.

As Daniela watched, he deliberately arranged his features into a sober expression. “I’m going to get serious on you now,” he warned her, holding her gaze as if to channel “serious-mood” wavelengths into her. “Are you ready to go there with me?”

Smothering a grin, Daniela gave a dutiful nod. “I’m ready.”

Caleb’s mouth twitched. “I want to run a couple of things past you,” he said, reaching for a pen and a small notepad tucked beneath a sheaf of paperwork. “I’ve been doing some thinking since our last conversation, when we spoke about what you hope to get out of law school. Have you heard of the National Black Law Students Association?”

When Daniela shook her head, he explained, “It’s a national organization designed to improve the educational and social experiences of African-American law students. We have a chapter here at St. Mary’s—the Black Law Students Association. As you already know, African-Americans are greatly underrepresented at the university, particularly in the law school, so an organization like NBLSA is really valuable in providing support and networking opportunities for black law students. NBLSA also sponsors various fund-raisers and community service projects, and hosts a minority law symposium in the spring.” As he spoke, he scribbled in his notepad, then tore off the sheet and passed it to Daniela. “That’s the name and phone number of the NBLSA president. She’s a 3L—”

Daniela, still somewhat dazed from their steamy encounter, gave him a nonplussed look as she accepted the slip of paper. “3L?”

“Third-year law student,” Caleb clarified, his mouth twitching. “Don’t worry. Before long, the abbreviations will be rolling off your tongue. Anyway, if you’re interested in attending an NBLSA meeting or just want to learn more about them, give Sonja a call. She’s always looking to recruit new members, so I know she’d be happy to hear from you. I also think she could serve as a great mentor.”

Daniela gave him a look of tender gratitude. “Thank you for thinking of me, Caleb,” she said sincerely. “Maybe I
will
give Sonja a call. The NBLSA sounds like a wonderful organization.”

“It is,” Caleb concurred. “The students are terrific, and really committed to fulfilling the mission of the organization. I was the faculty advisor up until last year, when I decided to take a break to work on some other projects. But I left the NBLSA in the good hands of my friend and colleague, Bernard Holt.”

“Does he teach first-year classes, too?” Daniela asked curiously, crossing her legs and propping her elbow on one knee.

“No, but you’ve probably seen him around campus before. There are only three of us here—meaning, three black law professors—so at some point or another you’ll run into all of us.” Leaning back in his chair, Caleb laced his fingers together and rested them on the hard surface of his stomach. “That brings me to the next thing I wanted to discuss with you.”

Smiling, Daniela leaned forward on the desk, her chin resting in the curve of her palm as she made an exaggerated show of giving him her undivided attention. “I’m listening.”

His mouth twitched at her playfulness. “Would you be interested in doing an internship at my father’s law firm?”

Her smile faltered, and she stared at him in bewildered disbelief. “Of course, but…I thought internships were only available to second-and third-year students?”

“Most are,” Caleb agreed. “For example, you can only qualify for a judicial internship after you’ve completed your first year. But we’re talking about a private firm here, which means that the hiring of interns is at my father’s discretion.”

“Does he normally hire first-years?”

“Not normally,” Caleb admitted. “But he would consider it, if a particular student came highly recommended.”

Daniela’s eyes widened. “You would recommend me?”

He inclined his head. “I would.”

She felt a surge of excitement, even as her conscience pricked her. She glanced away from him for a moment. “I—I couldn’t let you do that for me, Caleb,” she murmured.

His lips quirked into an ironic half smile. “Believe it or not, Daniela, I’m not making this offer because we’re involved. I think you’re a very intelligent, mature young woman, and your strong work history can be substituted for your lack of legal experience. In light of the conversation we had on Monday, I believe you could really benefit from interning in a law firm. It would give you a terrific opportunity to learn how the criminal justice system works and to gain firsthand knowledge of the legal profession. If nothing else, at the end of your internship, you may decide a law career is absolutely the
last
thing you want.”