Legal Attraction. Lisa Childs
Her lips curved into a slight smile. âWhat do you want, Lawrence?â
âBad,â the photographer shouted back. âI need you to be bad.â
She was bad, and Ronan had proved that in court. She claimed those witnesses had been lying, though. Why would they lie? Why would they risk perjury charges? Theyâd had nothing to gain from their testimony.
Muriel Sanz was the liar. And Ronan intended to prove it. He just had to get her to admit to forging those memos. Could he seduce her into a confession?
Those witnesses had claimed she was addicted to sex and that was why sheâd cheated on her husband. So if she was addicted to sex, maybe he could get her addicted to sex with himâso addicted that she would confess all to him.
He knew it was possible for a person to get addicted to another person. That had been his fatherâs downfall: his addiction to Ronanâs mother despite how badly sheâd mistreated him. Sheâd been a lot like Muriel Sanzâbeautiful and selfish and completely devoid of a conscience.
âI need you to be the badass of Betteâs Beguiling Bows,â Lawrence said.
This photo shoot was for the line of lingerie Muriel exclusively modeled. That line had been designed by her friend and Simonâs former assistant, Bette Monroe.
He had to admit that Bette had a talent for design. Her lingerie was the sexiest heâd ever seen.
Unfortunately, so was Muriel.
âOh, I can be a badass,â she assured the photographer. But she was looking at Ronan now. He could feel her gaze on him, and his skin began to heat even more. She raised her husky voice a little more, probably making certain he would hear, and added, âI can be very, very bad...â
Ronan chuckled. Sheâd already started confessing...and he hadnât even touched her yet.
The camera clicked.
She ran her fingertips down her deep cleavage to the bow between her breasts. And she toyed with the ends the way heâd toyed with the bow the other night...in the elevator.
Too bad that bow hadnât been between her breasts, too. Then he could have touched her, like she was touching herself.
As she stroked her fingertips up and down her cleavage, she sank her teeth into her bottom lip then swiped her tongue across it.
And Ronan groaned. The photographer echoed the sound and shot a glance at him. Instead of admonishing him for trespassing on the set, the guy grinned at him. âYou must be the reason for that sudden spark in her eyes,â Lawrence said. âYou made her bad.â
Ronan chuckled. âNobody made Muriel that way.â Least of all him. Sheâd already been bad.
âIâm good,â she said. And she tilted her head provocatively. âVery, very good...â
And both men groaned again.
Lawrence muttered, âNow I understand why her ex...â
âWhat?â Ronan asked when the guy trailed off. âWhy he what?â Divorced her or married her?
The photographer just shook his head. âYou can stay,â he told Ronan. âBut donât distract me.â
âWhat about me?â Muriel asked.
âHeâs a good distraction for you,â Lawrence said.
Could he be? Could Ronan distract her enough that she would withdraw her complaint to the bar association?
He had to try, at least. That was why he was here. That and the fact that thoughts of her and that damn kiss had been keeping him awake.
He wanted more than a kiss.
* * *
He was not a good distraction for her. But as Muriel peered over Lawrenceâs shoulder at the computer monitor at the thumbnails of all the photos the photographer had taken, she couldnât deny that Ronan had certainly inspired her. This was by far the best shoot sheâd ever had and she had been modeling since she was fourteen years oldâmore than a decade.
âIf youâre not going to take that man out for a drink, I will,â Lawrence said. âHe got you to the money shots, baby!â He turned around and kissed her lips. âYou have never looked more gorgeous!â
Muriel chuckled at the photographerâs enthusiasm. âIâm sure heâs already gone.â
She couldnât imagine why he had showed up to begin with...unless he was after the same thing she was.
The truth...
He probably wanted to know how sheâd gotten her hands on the memos sheâd turned over to the bar association. At least he must have finally accepted that Bette hadnât given them to her. That was good. She never would have used them had she known the problems it would cause for her friend.
âIâm still here,â a deep voice murmured.
That was not good.
She glanced up to find his long, muscular body leaning against the doorjamb of Lawrenceâs office. He was wearing a suit; he must have come either straight from the office or from court. Who elseâs life was he ruining?
She was afraid it might be hers again if she dared to try her plan to seduce him into a confession. Could she take the chance?
âI can leave,â he offered, âif Iâm interrupting...â
âYou interrupted the shoot,â she said. âAnd you didnât offer to leave then.â Hours ago. He had stayed through changes in wardrobe, hair, makeup and backdrops.
Why had he stayed so long?
âHe improved the shoot,â Lawrence said. âYour best work ever...â He turned back to the computer monitor with all the frames and murmured, âMaybe mine, too.â
A little thrill chased through Muriel, but she worried it had less to do with the praise than with how Ronan was looking at her, with how heâd been looking at her the past couple of hours. With every wardrobe change, his eyes had gotten darker and his body even more tense. Despite the way he was leaning now, she could feel that tension; it fairly radiated from him.
So that she felt it, tooâcoiling low in her body, pulsing in her clit. She couldnât remember ever wanting a man more, which was crazy. She had been in love before and hadnât felt this powerful attraction. But this manâthis man she hatedâshe wanted more than any other.
Maybe she had lost her damn mind. That was the excuse she was going to use for what she was about to do. âSo, how about it?â she asked as she walked toward the doorway. âDo you want to go for a drink?â
His dark eyes narrowed as if he was as suspicious of her offer as she was of his showing up at the photo shoot. Now a little chill moved through Muriel, raising goose bumps on her skin despite her having changed into street clothes of jeans and a sweater. She hadnât felt a chill like this when heâd been staring at her, when sheâd been wearing nothing more than a bra and panties. Then she had felt hotter than hell. And it showed in those photos.
But wondering how heâd tracked her down unnerved her. How had he found her?
She hesitated as she neared the doorway where he stood. But then he stepped back into the hall. âI didnât come here just to watch,â he said. âThatâs not my thing...â
She narrowed her eyes with suspicion. Was it just that everything he said sounded like sexual innuendo or was he actually implying that there was something