The Pride of Jared MacKade (The MacKade Brothers 2)

"Afraid not." Thoughtfully, He picked up her driver's license, perused it. "This is invalid."

"The hell it is. I just had it renewed a couple of months ago."

"That may be," he continued, studying her now. "But as the picture actually looks like you, and is, in fact, flattering, this driver's license is obviously a fraud, and therefore, invalid."

She closed her mouth, jammed her hands in her pockets. "Are you making a joke? Is that allowed in hallowed halls?"

"Sit down, Savannah. Please."

With a bad-tempered shrug, she sat. "Did you ever hear of color?" she demanded. "This place is dull as a textbook, and your art is pathetically ordinary."

"It is, isn't it?" he agreed easily. "My ex-wife decorated the place. She was a tax accountant, had the office across the hall." He leaned back and scanned the room. "I've gotten used to not seeing the place, but you're right. It could use something."

"It could use an obituary." Annoyed with herself, she pushed a hand through her hair. "I hate being here."

"I can see that." He picked up the papers again, skimmed through them. "You understand that you're agreeing to accept a payment, by cashier's check, that equals the total cash balance of your father's estate?"

"Yes."

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"And his effects?"

"I thought.. .I thought that meant the money. What else is there?"

"Apparently there are a few personal effects. I can get you an itemized list if you like, so that you can decide if you want them sent or discarded. The shipping would be deducted from the estate."

Discarded, she thought. As she had been. "No, just have them sent."

"All right." Methodically he made notes on a yellow legal pad. "I'll have my secretary draft a letter tomorrow confirming the status and apprising you that you'll receive full disbursement of the estate within forty-five days."

"Why do you need a letter when you've just told me?"

He glanced up from the papers, the eyes behind the lenses amused. "The law likes to cover its butt with as much paperwork as humanly possible."

He signed the papers himself as proxy for his colleague, then handed Savannah back her license and social security card.

"That's it, then?"

"That's it."

"Well." Feeling awkward, and relieved, she rose. "It wasn't as painful as I expected. I suppose if I'm ever in the market for a lawyer, I'll give you a call."

"I wouldn't have you as a client, Savannah."

Her eyes fired as he took off his glasses and stood to come around the desk. "That's very neighborly of you."

"I wouldn't have you as a client," he repeated, standing behind her, "because then this would be unethical."

He caught her off guard. She'd had no idea any man could still catch her off guard. But she was in Jared's arms and being thoroughly kissed before she had a chance to evade.

If she'd wanted to evade.

There was heat, of course. She expected that, enjoyed that. But it was the lushness of it that surprised her—the silky, sumptuous spread of it that bloomed in that meeting of lips, flowering through her body.

He held her close, in a smooth, confident embrace, no fumbling, no grappling. He gave her room to resist, and as that clever, wide-palmed hand skimmed lightly up her spine, she thought only a fool would step away from that caress, that mouth, that heat.

So she stepped into it, sliding her own hands up his back until they were hooked over his shoulders.