Club Prive (3 page)

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Authors: M.S. Parker

BOOK: Club Prive
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I quickly gathered myself, and as the meeting went along, I did everything I could to avoid eye contact with Gavin, focusing on jotting down notes from what was discussed. Instead of giving in to my desire to look at him, I turned my attention to his boss and, hopefully our future client, Howard Weiss.

 

He was an impressive figure. Tall and in great shape for a man in his forties. Up close, he was even more handsome than I remembered from the bar. He reminded me of a strong, old-fashioned leading man straight out of a classic movie. It was obvious that Mimi was affected by him. She acted very different from her usual demeanor. Could it be that she was nervous about representing such a powerful client, or was there a more passionate reason? I was betting on the latter and permitted myself a small smile. Good for her.

 

After almost an hour, the meeting was coming to an end, and as soon as Howard Weiss and Gavin had left the conference room, I quickly gathered the notes. Before leaving, I turned to Mimi to ask her the one question that had been pressing on my mind ever since Gavin had entered the room.

 

“Ms. Styles, sorry for asking, but how did this meeting come about? Did you know Howard Weiss from anywhere?”

 

“Funny you should ask,” she said. “I have no idea how he found me, but I’m glad he did. Seriously, this could be the biggest case of my life.”

 

“It’s pretty amazing. When did he set it up?” I hoped I sounded more casual to her than I did to myself.

 

Mimi shuffled the pages in her calendar. “Hm…it was booked Monday. His secretary called and arranged it. Why?”

 

“It’s just…I’ve seen both of them before. Last Friday at Huggins Bar and Grill, at the happy hour. I even talked to Gavin for a brief moment, but I never mentioned where I worked. I hope it’s not—”

 

“Oh. I’m sure that’s a coincidence, Carrie,” she interrupted. She gave me a sharp look. “Tell me this isn’t going to affect your ability to help me with this. Because I don’t want to jeopardize my chances of getting this case.” Her mouth spread into a thin-lipped smile.

 

“No, of course not,” I said firmly. “Nothing happened between us, and I’m committed one hundred percent to you and this case. Always, Ms. Styles.”

 

“Wonderful.” The smile widened and warmed. “I’m glad you’re here to help. One day, you’ll become an excellent attorney, Carrie.”

 

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m just grateful to be here.”

 

I left the room with my papers in hand and walked towards my desk, ready to start putting the notes together into a presentable format. To my surprise, I saw someone waiting for me.

 

“How did you know this was my desk?” I asked as my eyes met Gavin’s and a shiver ran through me.

 

“The lovely lady over there told me,” he said, pointing towards Leslie, who was following the conversation from her cubicle.

 

She raised her eyebrows at me, her eyes darting to Gavin and back again.

 

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I murmured. I glared at her and she grinned. I turned my attention to Gavin. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I’m helping out my friend Howard, obv—”

 

“No, I mean, why are you standing here in front of my desk waiting for me?”

 

Gavin smiled. “I came here to collect.”

 

“Collect what?” I was puzzled for a moment, then I remembered. “Oh, I get it. You want your favor.”

 

“Exactly,” he chuckled. “How about going out for lunch with me and we’ll call it even?”

 

As he stood there with a cocky smile, I couldn’t quite figure out if he was coming on to me or if this was part of a game for him. Usually, I was good at reading people. Gavin, however, threw me.

 

“I had a feeling that I’d regret that promise.” I sighed. Might as well bite the bullet and get this over with. “All right, let’s do it. So where are you taking me? I only get an hour for lunch.”

 

“I know just the place. Are you ready now?”

 

“I need to file this, so give me ten minutes and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

 

“Wonderful. See you in a bit.”

 

As I walked towards the file room, my mind was running wild with questions. It had to be a coincidence, right? I mean, how could he have known where I worked? He didn’t know anything about me. Not really. And stranger things had happened. I couldn’t think of any off the top of my head, but I was sure that they had.

 

It only took me a few minutes to file the notes but, not wanting to seem too eager, I waited a little over ten minutes before leaving. As I rode down in the stainless steel elevator to meet Gavin, I felt butterflies in my stomach. I glanced at my reflection. My hair was a mess, my face flushed. I seriously needed to pull myself together.

 

As an aspiring attorney, I was supposed to be calm and collected. Not acting like a high school girl about to go on my first date. I smoothed down my hair, and I felt the elevator slowly brake down to a stop. Hopefully, the color would fade from my cheeks quickly.

 

As I exited the elevator, I spotted him right away. He was waiting for me in the lavish high-tech lobby of the Goethe House building where the Webster and Steinberg office was located.

 

Now I was actually glad that I’d been late this morning. In my hurry getting ready, I had picked the first thing in my closet, which just happened to be my beige dot-laced Kensie skirt with a black top instead of my usual long pants suit. Paired with a set of Jennifer Lopez heels, the miniskirt made my legs look longer than they were and the top showed off my curves perfectly.

 

I appreciated that when I noticed the beginning of a smile tipping the corners of Gavin’s mouth as he watched me walk towards him.

 

“I wasn’t sure you were still coming.”

 

“I’m sorry for the wait. I had to double-check the notes from the meeting. I’m meticulous like that,” I said.

 

“Well, as long as you will still allow me to entertain you for a full hour, you’re forgiven.” He turned up his smile a notch and offered me his hand. “Let’s officially meet. My name is Gavin Manning.”

 

I shook his hand in a businesslike manner. “I know. I’m Carrie Summers.” His smile was infectious. I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

 

Damn, he was sexy.

 

As we were no longer in the meeting, I gave in to my previous desire to give him a thorough look. He was wearing a well-fitted gray shirt with collar, and dark tight jeans that didn’t leave much to the imagination, tucked into a pair of black Calvin Klein boots; I could only imagine how hot he would be, naked, on top of my bed. Even when standing in front of me now, fully clothed, he was sexier than any other man I had ever met.

 

I had to do something to keep myself from voicing my admiration. “So tell me, why are you taking me out for lunch, and how did you end up in my office? Was it a coincidence, or are you stalking me?” I looked up to meet his gaze as we walked towards Stella’s, a nice New York deli two blocks down the street from my office. He was taller than I remembered. Even with me in high heels, he was towering over me by a head. He laid his arm over my shoulders in a gesture that seemed natural, almost casual.

 

“You don’t hold back the questions, do you?” he chuckled, seemingly unaware that his touch had sent my heart into palpitations.

 

“Well, I
am
studying to be an attorney. Asking questions is part of the job description,” I replied while removing his arm. His touch made it hard to think straight.

 

“An attorney? Impressive.” He nodded. “It’ll suit you well. I can already tell you’ll be a sharp and dangerous opponent in a trial court.”

 

“Will you stop avoiding the questions, Mr. Manning, and just answer me, please.” I exaggerated the tone of my voice as if I were interrogating him in a courtroom.

 

“All in good time, Ms. Summers.” He laughed again. “But now that you are pressing so hard, I do have a confession to make. Ever since I met you last week, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. You never called me back,” he said in a sad voice. “I was very disappointed.”

 

“I never thought you wanted me to call. After all, I assumed you were just being polite and helping out a ‘damsel in distress,’” I countered, using his own words against him.

 

“Hmm…I did say the damsel in distress line, didn’t I?” He gave me a charmingly sheepish grin. “Can you believe what I dork I am? Dishing out clichés like that?”

 

I tugged the hair behind my ear. “I actually thought it was kind of sweet. A little lame perhaps, but also sweet. But you still haven’t answered how you ended up at my job. At least tell me that much.” I was so caught up in our conversation that I hadn’t noticed we were now standing in front of the deli.

 

“What do you know? We’re here.” Gavin smiled down at me. “Let’s get a table and I’ll tell you everything over lunch.”

 

Like a gentleman, he held the door open for me, and a few minutes later, we were sitting comfortably in a small booth, perusing the humongous lunch menus. Stella’s was an old-fashioned deli, typical of something seen in the movies. It was bright and colorful, and the end wall featured a floor-to-ceiling wall painting of the Brooklyn Bridge. I loved it.

 

“You don’t sound like you grew up around here,” he said, looking up from behind the menu.

 

I could sense a genuine interest in his eyes, and it almost made me want to squirm. “Nope. Alabama. I guess I can’t hide my roots. It’s not easy getting rid of a Southern drawl.” It was my turn to chuckle.

 

“I think it sounds cute.” The warmth of his smile echoed in his voice.

 

“Thank you.” There was something almost hypnotic about him. The smooth tone in his voice and the Nordic blue of his eyes were dragging me in deeper. I felt the need to change the direction of the conversation before I lost control of the situation. Part of me wanted to jump over the table, rip open those almost too-tight jeans and...I cringed at the place my mind was taking me. I blamed it on how long it had been since I’d gotten laid.

 

The waiter arrived and we both ordered a salad. Gavin also suggested a bottle of Chardonnay to go with our meals.

 

When I started to protest, he said, “Listen, I originate from Sweden, and in many places in Europe it’s normal to have a glass of wine with lunch. Besides, we can’t make a real toast with ice tea.”

 

Truth was, I could use a glass to loosen my nerves a bit, and I knew the lawyers at the firm often had a glass of wine with their business lunches. And this could be considered a business lunch, after all. “Sure, why not? Let’s do it.”

 

Minutes later, we were toasting to casual encounters.

 

“So, did you grow up in Sweden then?” I asked.

 

“Not really. I was born there. My mom is Swedish, and I actually lived there for a few years as a baby. My dad was working for the US embassy in Stockholm. That’s where they met and fell in love. A couple of years after I was born we moved here to New York.”

 

We continued our casual talk, swapping stories of our very different childhoods, but staying away from anything too personal or anything about our first meeting. The place was busy for lunch, but finally the food arrived, bringing a pause to our conversation. As I was picking at my chicken salad, I studied his set face. His teeth were even and white, but something about them suggested they were all natural. He had a ruggedness and vital power around him that titillated me as his gaze traveled over my face and searched my eyes.

 

“Thank you so much for joining me for lunch,” he said as he poured more wine into our glasses. “I was hoping to get a chance to see you again.”

 

I extended my hand to stop him from filling my glass to the brim. “Gavin, I’m really enjoying this, but I have to get back to work soon. You still haven’t told me how you ended up at my job today.” It was time to get to the things I really wanted to know.

 

“Trust me, I’m not stalking you, but I did go through a couple of hoops to make sure I would get a chance to meet you again.” He was wearing that cocky smile of his again.

 

“Oh really?” I said, raising my eyebrows. “How did you find out where I work?”

 

His grin widened. “That’s kind of what I do for a living. Part of my job is gathering information about people.”

 

“So you’re some sort of a detective?” I asked curiously. He certainly didn’t look like the typical detective, but since I had never actually met a real-life detective before, maybe this was what they looked like. I could see the amusement in his eyes.

 

“Not exactly,” he chuckled, the sound going straight through me. “I’m more of a consultant, I would say. My clients hire me to attend to their needs. Making sure they get what they desire without drawing attention to themselves. That requires gathering information of various sorts.”

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