sensation, but the air was charged with anticipation, as if any fantastic thing might occur.
"Do you still plan," she asked, "to hire a private detective to spy on her?"
"Yes."
"That seems harsh."
"Harsh! She's a thief! I'm not concerned about my methods of proving that she is. And if you wish to work for me, you shouldn't be either."
"What would you like to find out about her?"
"I'm sure we'll uncover all sorts of detrimental information."
"Perhaps she does…drugs."
Ms. Stone's voice was low and seductive again, as if they were conversing in a bedroom instead of a lawyer's office.
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps she throws…wild parties. Perhaps she has…lovers."
She ran her tongue across her bottom lip, galvanizing his attention. It was a calculated gesture, meant to stoke his male interest. What was she doing? An inch closer and he could kiss her. Was that her ploy?
Was she hoping to ignite a personal relationship? Was she hoping he'd agree to an affair? He was rich and handsome and available, and he never turned down what was freely offered, but honestly.
Too weird, too weird, too weird…
Behind him, in the direction of the hall, a woman cleared her throat.
He scowled and glanced around to see an older female in the doorway. She was attired in a pinstripe gray suit, her hair gray, her eyes gray, everything about her gray, gray, gray.
"Mr. Merriweather?" she hesitantly said.
"Yes?"
"I'm Carolyn Stone."
" You are Carolyn Stone?"
"Yes."
He whipped his hot gaze to the vixen perched over him, the one whose breasts were nearly brushing his chest, whose pouty lips were begging to be kissed.
"Then who the hell are you?" he barked.
"I'm Faith Benjamin." She grinned as if it was all a big joke, as if she'd played a great trick on him.
Like Poseidon arching up out of the ocean, he rose to his feet. He grabbed her and set her away, and he loomed over her, trying to intimidate, but she couldn't be cowed. She stuck out her hand, expecting him to shake it, but he glared as if it was a venomous snake.
Undaunted, she laughed and waved it under his nose, making sure he knew she deemed him an ass.
"What's going on?" the real Ms. Stone inquired. "Miss Benjamin, what are you doing in here with Mr. Merriweather?"
"I've been waiting for you," Ms. Benjamin said. "We have an appointment."
Ms. Stone blanched. "Not today. Tomorrow. At three."
"Oh, I must have gotten the dates mixed up. Silly me."
Lucas demanded of Ms. Stone, "Why were you meeting with her?"
"I decided"—Stone gulped with dismay—"I should speak with her immediately to see if I could resolve things."
"She imagined she could trap me into signing papers." Miss Benjamin batted her lashes—she actually batted her lashes!—and chortled with glee. "Tiny, harmless me, without a lawyer or expert advice. Ms. Stone assumed I would crumble and cede what's mine without a fight. Were you intending to have her bribe me, Mr. Merriweather? Did you think you could scare me, then toss me a few dollars, and I'd go away?"
That was precisely what Lucas had thought. He'd intended to threaten her with lawsuits and public shaming and jail time. Then he'd pay her a pittance to shut up and slither into obscurity.
In his musings about Faith Benjamin, he'd pictured an avaricious criminal who'd stumbled on an opportunity for larceny and had seized it. He'd wondered if she was a prostitute or meth addict. Obviously, he'd miscalculated.
She was intelligent and clever and sexy. She looked like someone's virtuous daughter, but acted like a loose, lonely wife on the prowl. How was he supposed to deal with such a person?
He took a step toward her, then another and another, until his body was touching hers all the way down. His posture hinted at physical aggression, but the idiotic woman was brave to the point of recklessness. She didn't budge.
"You think this is funny?" he raged.
"No. I think it's very, very serious."
"Do you know what I could do to you? Do you know what I could do
"Do you still plan," she asked, "to hire a private detective to spy on her?"
"Yes."
"That seems harsh."
"Harsh! She's a thief! I'm not concerned about my methods of proving that she is. And if you wish to work for me, you shouldn't be either."
"What would you like to find out about her?"
"I'm sure we'll uncover all sorts of detrimental information."
"Perhaps she does…drugs."
Ms. Stone's voice was low and seductive again, as if they were conversing in a bedroom instead of a lawyer's office.
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps she throws…wild parties. Perhaps she has…lovers."
She ran her tongue across her bottom lip, galvanizing his attention. It was a calculated gesture, meant to stoke his male interest. What was she doing? An inch closer and he could kiss her. Was that her ploy?
Was she hoping to ignite a personal relationship? Was she hoping he'd agree to an affair? He was rich and handsome and available, and he never turned down what was freely offered, but honestly.
Too weird, too weird, too weird…
Behind him, in the direction of the hall, a woman cleared her throat.
He scowled and glanced around to see an older female in the doorway. She was attired in a pinstripe gray suit, her hair gray, her eyes gray, everything about her gray, gray, gray.
"Mr. Merriweather?" she hesitantly said.
"Yes?"
"I'm Carolyn Stone."
" You are Carolyn Stone?"
"Yes."
He whipped his hot gaze to the vixen perched over him, the one whose breasts were nearly brushing his chest, whose pouty lips were begging to be kissed.
"Then who the hell are you?" he barked.
"I'm Faith Benjamin." She grinned as if it was all a big joke, as if she'd played a great trick on him.
Like Poseidon arching up out of the ocean, he rose to his feet. He grabbed her and set her away, and he loomed over her, trying to intimidate, but she couldn't be cowed. She stuck out her hand, expecting him to shake it, but he glared as if it was a venomous snake.
Undaunted, she laughed and waved it under his nose, making sure he knew she deemed him an ass.
"What's going on?" the real Ms. Stone inquired. "Miss Benjamin, what are you doing in here with Mr. Merriweather?"
"I've been waiting for you," Ms. Benjamin said. "We have an appointment."
Ms. Stone blanched. "Not today. Tomorrow. At three."
"Oh, I must have gotten the dates mixed up. Silly me."
Lucas demanded of Ms. Stone, "Why were you meeting with her?"
"I decided"—Stone gulped with dismay—"I should speak with her immediately to see if I could resolve things."
"She imagined she could trap me into signing papers." Miss Benjamin batted her lashes—she actually batted her lashes!—and chortled with glee. "Tiny, harmless me, without a lawyer or expert advice. Ms. Stone assumed I would crumble and cede what's mine without a fight. Were you intending to have her bribe me, Mr. Merriweather? Did you think you could scare me, then toss me a few dollars, and I'd go away?"
That was precisely what Lucas had thought. He'd intended to threaten her with lawsuits and public shaming and jail time. Then he'd pay her a pittance to shut up and slither into obscurity.
In his musings about Faith Benjamin, he'd pictured an avaricious criminal who'd stumbled on an opportunity for larceny and had seized it. He'd wondered if she was a prostitute or meth addict. Obviously, he'd miscalculated.
She was intelligent and clever and sexy. She looked like someone's virtuous daughter, but acted like a loose, lonely wife on the prowl. How was he supposed to deal with such a person?
He took a step toward her, then another and another, until his body was touching hers all the way down. His posture hinted at physical aggression, but the idiotic woman was brave to the point of recklessness. She didn't budge.
"You think this is funny?" he raged.
"No. I think it's very, very serious."
"Do you know what I could do to you? Do you know what I could do
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