Hush, Hush (Hush, Hush 1)

"I dinnae ken whit ye, mate."

He's positively ecstatic now, and I just love it. I did switch accents without realizing it, but he seems to think it's funny. If only every job were this easy.

"Dinna fash yer pretty wee self."

"Where did you come from?" he asks, the corners of his lips curving upward. James takes my hand and guides the drink to his lips, his gaze never breaking from mine. We hold the glass together, and he takes a deep sip, his Adam's apple just making an appearance from behind his silvery beard.

"The loins of my father," I say with the faux English accent.

James barks out a lively laugh and then I'm grinning with him. It wasn't a fake laugh either, but one that's good-natured.

"Well, you aren't far off. It's originally from the nineteenth century and aged for twenty years. I'd rather buy a bottle of Rémy Martin and ditch this event just to hear your opinion of it. Unfortunately, I have to stay and suffer through it."

I sober up and glance over my shoulder at the lavish brunch dresses and oversized hats, the pricey suits and Gucci loafers. Contrary to the other ritchies, James seems almost bothered by the glitz and glam surrounding us.

"How long are we here for?"

"A couple of hours. Is that okay with you?"

I blink, surprised he’s taking my feelings into consideration. After all, he’s the one paying big money for me to be at his beck and call, so it’s not like I’d have any say in the matter anyway.

His shoulders are tense, and I realize with a start that I want to soothe him. I smile and slide close so our bodies are touching, then I take our joined hands and wind them around my back so he has to hug me. He gives my fingers a little squeeze. His eyes shift back and forth like he's studying me. My heart is beating a little faster than usual, sending butterflies of sensation all over me.

"I'm here for however long you want. So tell me, what's this shindig about?"

His lips twitch and he unwinds a little. I can feel the tension in his shoulders loosen.

"It's an event to celebrate the most influential personalities representing New York City, the ones who will be recipients of Super Lawyer. It's for the lawyers who provide vital support to the community with the way they collaborate and create change. It's an honor to be invited, since less than five percent get a nomination."

My brows raise. "You're a lawyer?" He nods. Another dime-a-dozen attorney in New York City. I should've known just by looking at him, but he didn't seem pompous at hello, so I was caught by surprise.

James leans into me and lowers his voice. "It's basically a snooze fest and I'd rather be anywhere but here, but since I'm a partner, I have no choice."

I focus on the way his mouth moves, how he enunciates his words in the back of his throat. He’s a true New Yorker, but he's also extremely collected. I find that insanely attractive.

He finishes the drink with a final sip. He lifts his arm in the air and waves for the waiter to bring us two glasses, then but pauses. "Did you want a glass or would you like something else?"

"No, I'll have what you're having. Thank you." After he gives the waiter two fingers to place his order, I ask, "Have you ever been a super lawyer?" I don't even know if I ask that correctly because I've never heard of it. James nods his head. "How do you become one?" I'm not a dumb girl, but this mumbo jumbo talk isn't common knowledge either, and I'm curious.

"It's a four step selection process based on specific indicators and how many points are accumulated. There's research and evaluations." He pauses and I watch his Adam's apple bob. "I've been one for about ten years in a row, which isn't normal."

"Wow. That's impressive."

He studies me. "What do you do?"

I decide not to use the preschool teacher job after the way Madam Christine had reacted and go with something else instead.

"I'm a pastry chef."

"So you're sweet and good with your hands?" He lifts one brow and I chuckle.

"I'm sweet where it counts," I reply, making sure he gets the point.

As he's about to respond, a man who looks older than James makes his way toward us with a woman attached to his side. James’s arm tightens around me, stiffening in protection. I eye him warily, but his focus is on the stout man closing the distance.

I feel a vibration rumble in his chest and try to ease his tension by grabbing his hand and squeezing it in silent support. He gleams down at me, then much to my surprise, he kisses my forehead. "Ignore everything he says. Got it?"

I nod.