“A potential client,” he repeated. “And that’s bad news?”
“Depends.” She moved the now empty box onto the floor. “Can you hand me that one?” She pointed across the room to a brown box labeled Personal. “It’s fragile.”
He hefted the box off the floor, surprised when it lifted easily, and placed it on the desk she’d had delivered early this morning. From a basic office supply depot, the wooden desk lacked the old charm of Griff s own, and was the complete opposite of the crystal-and-glass palace Chelsie called home.
Come to think of it, he realized, glancing around at the objects she’d already unpacked, her office decor was homey and lived in, rather than sleek and untouchable. More like the Chelsie he’d come to know. The disparate looks intrigued him as much as the woman herself.
He watched as she sliced open the box with a thin razor blade. “I’d think you’d be happy I booked a new client,” he said. “At least I’m pulling my weight.” Or beginning to, he thought. Leaving the corporate world behind in favor of family law, he hadn’t taken a single client with him from his old office. He’d wanted it that way, wanted to leave all shreds of that life and lifestyle behind.
“I would be if I thought you were prepared for this one.”
“You think I can’t handle a new client? If you trust me so little, why the hell did you agree to this partnership in the first place?” Why the hell had she slept with him and complicated his life even more?
“I’m not sure,” she murmured. “But before you start getting defensive, you should realize something.” Without meeting his gaze, she began digging through tissue paper inside the box.
More crystal? he wondered, unable to keep the disappointment from invading his mind. Had he been wrong to think the icy apartment was a sham and the warmth of her office a reflection of the real Chelsie Russell?
“This is your first domestic violence case.”
Her softly spoken words halted his callous thoughts and Griff paused. Domestic violence. Her past. Abuse. Once a part of her life. What did he really know of this woman? How could he presume to judge her time and again? “So what are you suggesting?” he asked, purposefully backing off. “I’ll do whatever you think is best.”
She raised her gaze. “Why are you so agreeable all of a sudden?” she asked warily.
He shrugged. “Because in this area of law you know best?”
“Or because you’re afraid of treading on what you now think is forbidden territory? Don’t do it. If I hadn’t admitted my past, what would you be telling me now?” Her eyes held a definite challenge.
The spar
k had returned and Griff liked it. “I’d say I could handle it,” he admitted.
“And I’m telling you, you can’t. Not without guidance the first time.”
“Why?” he asked, pushing her just as she’d requested.
She didn’t want to be pampered. He respected that. If she wanted to force him into being his obstinate, lawyerly self, he’d comply. If they were going to be partners, neither one could afford to let the other call the shots without good reason. “Considering I’ve been dealing with clients since before graduating law school, and knowing that most of them are stubborn and egotistical, why would you presume to think I couldn’t handle this one?”
“For exactly those reasons.” She squared her shoulders, a defensive stance probably meant to prove she could hold her own with him. “All your experience means zero around here. You may be a corporate wiz and you could probably challenge the toughest CEO and win, but that mentality won’t work in family law. You know nothing about the psyche of these women. You don’t know what makes them run away from the abuse or back to it. The slightest error in word choice could compromise not only your securing a new client, but her life as well.” She met and held his gaze for a brief moment before digging through the box once more.
Griff remained silent. The crinkle of tissue paper was the only sound in the now quiet room. Easing himself onto the far edge of her desk, he thought about her words. A smile pulled at his lips. She was good. Damned good. Too bad he was trained to recognize her game. She’d stroked his ego in his area of expertise while asserting authority in her own.
As frustrated as he was with her personally right now, he knew without a doubt he was going to enjoy working with Chelsie Russell. He was also going to learn about humility, because to his amazement, and despite his slightly bruised ego, he admitted to himself she was right. He couldn’t handle this first case. Not alone.
He needed Chelsie.
He cleared his throat, intending to tell her, at the same time she finally unwrapped the contents of the box.
Sentiment had no place in her life, Chelsie thought. So why had she decided to bring this collection here? And why now?
Although she felt Griff s steady gaze, he remained silent. For that she was grateful. One at a time, she unwrapped the tiny silver frames holding the cherished pictures of herself and her sister. In keeping with her sister’s love of keeping personal accounts, every year Chelsie had given Shannon a leather-bound diary for Christmas. Every year, Shannon had given Chelsie a framed picture of them as children, along with a humorous label at the bottom. The tradition continued even after Chelsie’s marriage and divorce. The only difference was the UPS man was the carrier instead of Chelsie. When she’d grabbed this box from the floor of her closet early this morning, Chelsie told herself it was for Alix.
She’d lied.
Griff was chipping away at the protective layers she’d built around herself. He was making her feel. She didn’t know whether to love him or hate him for that, since it also meant she’d be facing another loss when they ended.
She placed the mini-frames on her desk. Griff’s hand covered hers. Warmth and comfort flooded her. Too soon he moved to take the picture from her hand. He studied the photo, the only one that included her parents, taken when Chelsie and Shannon had been almost too young to remember.
“You look like a regular happy family.”