Read Online Know When to Hold Him by Lindsay Emory - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lindsay Emory
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couldn’t help but smirk.
Knock knock, motherfucker.
The receptionist returned. “Right this way, please.”
They were led to a modern conference room overlooking downtown Dallas.
With an appraising eye, Spencer analyzed the white leather chairs and the long glass table. A little flashy for her taste, but then she wasn’t trying to woo professional athletes. Her conference room was designed for comfort and safety. Hightower & Associates clients needed reassurance that they were going to come out the other end of a scandal in one piece, financially and emotionally intact. OPM’s clients needed to hear a cha- ching sound when they entered this conference room.
She imagined a room full of football and basketball players, with gold chains, the latest in high-tech sneakers and obnoxious championship rings, bragging about their groupies, their mansions and indoor pools, their latest appearances on Pimp My Ride.
The door opened and Spencer turned, ready to do battle with a sleazy, greased up Ari Gold-type with a flashy watch and shiny shoes. What she saw was Liam, wearing rolled up shirtsleeves and the same scuffed boots he’d worn at the Buchanan ranch.
Knock knock, motherfucker, indeed .
…
Liam had been pulled from his office by Angii with two I’s and a junior agent, both babbling about Troy and an apparent invasion of some baby doctor. He had headed down the corridor, intending to put an end to any further extortion of his client. It was also a welcome excuse to avoid spreadsheets. But when he’d opened the door to the conference room, Spencer waited for him, and all rational thought escaped him for a moment. She was as excited for their evening as he was. Obviously. It was the only possible explanation.
Then the brunette opened her mouth. At first, Liam couldn’t concentrate on whatever information she was sharing. His mind was still distracted, filled with Spencer’s image.
The brunette-she introduced herself as a doctor, even though he’d never seen a doctor this pretty or one with a purple streak in her hair or with a tiny gold stud in her nose-kept talking, and she was pretty intense about it, saying things like “client” and “baby” and “paternity.”
Whoa.
Liam inhaled a deep breath and held up both hands. “Hang on. You can’t just come here and start slinging accusations against an innocent man.”
“Dr. White tried to call. You refused to speak to her,” Spencer stated. Liam was startled by the chill in her voice.
The puzzle pieces clicked in Liam’s mind.
Good grief .
“So you took some bonehead’s advice and decided to barge in?” He tried to sound self-deprecating, but Spencer didn’t laugh. She crossed her arms and fixed him with an honest-to-God glare. Yeah, he didn’t get women some times, but this he got. Spencer was pissed as hell. And he hadn’t done anything. He was almost 90% sure of that.
“Let’s take a seat and discuss this,” Liam offered, stretching a hand out to the line of white leather swivel chairs. He’d intended for the four of them to take a corner of the table, friendly-like. But the three flinty-eyed women lined up like soldiers and took seats across from him.
Maybe he needed some backup. Or an offensive line-man.
Spencer produced a card and slid it across the table. Picking it up, Liam read, “Spencer Hightower, Hightower & Associates. I have your number.” Liam pointed out, referring to the new cell phone he’d just sent over.
“And you have Dr. White’s number. She left it with your receptionist,” Spencer retorted.
“And this is Nora Dexter.” Spencer introduced the cute redhead with the thick glasses. He recognized her from the benefit. And somewhere else. But where? “We represent Dalynn Kay, a young woman who is currently eight-and-a-half months pregnant.”
Liam leaned back in his chair, tapping Spencer’s card against the glass tabletop. “And she claims the baby is Mr. Duncan’s,” he finished.
“Ms. Kay and Mr.
Knock knock, motherfucker.
The receptionist returned. “Right this way, please.”
They were led to a modern conference room overlooking downtown Dallas.
With an appraising eye, Spencer analyzed the white leather chairs and the long glass table. A little flashy for her taste, but then she wasn’t trying to woo professional athletes. Her conference room was designed for comfort and safety. Hightower & Associates clients needed reassurance that they were going to come out the other end of a scandal in one piece, financially and emotionally intact. OPM’s clients needed to hear a cha- ching sound when they entered this conference room.
She imagined a room full of football and basketball players, with gold chains, the latest in high-tech sneakers and obnoxious championship rings, bragging about their groupies, their mansions and indoor pools, their latest appearances on Pimp My Ride.
The door opened and Spencer turned, ready to do battle with a sleazy, greased up Ari Gold-type with a flashy watch and shiny shoes. What she saw was Liam, wearing rolled up shirtsleeves and the same scuffed boots he’d worn at the Buchanan ranch.
Knock knock, motherfucker, indeed .
…
Liam had been pulled from his office by Angii with two I’s and a junior agent, both babbling about Troy and an apparent invasion of some baby doctor. He had headed down the corridor, intending to put an end to any further extortion of his client. It was also a welcome excuse to avoid spreadsheets. But when he’d opened the door to the conference room, Spencer waited for him, and all rational thought escaped him for a moment. She was as excited for their evening as he was. Obviously. It was the only possible explanation.
Then the brunette opened her mouth. At first, Liam couldn’t concentrate on whatever information she was sharing. His mind was still distracted, filled with Spencer’s image.
The brunette-she introduced herself as a doctor, even though he’d never seen a doctor this pretty or one with a purple streak in her hair or with a tiny gold stud in her nose-kept talking, and she was pretty intense about it, saying things like “client” and “baby” and “paternity.”
Whoa.
Liam inhaled a deep breath and held up both hands. “Hang on. You can’t just come here and start slinging accusations against an innocent man.”
“Dr. White tried to call. You refused to speak to her,” Spencer stated. Liam was startled by the chill in her voice.
The puzzle pieces clicked in Liam’s mind.
Good grief .
“So you took some bonehead’s advice and decided to barge in?” He tried to sound self-deprecating, but Spencer didn’t laugh. She crossed her arms and fixed him with an honest-to-God glare. Yeah, he didn’t get women some times, but this he got. Spencer was pissed as hell. And he hadn’t done anything. He was almost 90% sure of that.
“Let’s take a seat and discuss this,” Liam offered, stretching a hand out to the line of white leather swivel chairs. He’d intended for the four of them to take a corner of the table, friendly-like. But the three flinty-eyed women lined up like soldiers and took seats across from him.
Maybe he needed some backup. Or an offensive line-man.
Spencer produced a card and slid it across the table. Picking it up, Liam read, “Spencer Hightower, Hightower & Associates. I have your number.” Liam pointed out, referring to the new cell phone he’d just sent over.
“And you have Dr. White’s number. She left it with your receptionist,” Spencer retorted.
“And this is Nora Dexter.” Spencer introduced the cute redhead with the thick glasses. He recognized her from the benefit. And somewhere else. But where? “We represent Dalynn Kay, a young woman who is currently eight-and-a-half months pregnant.”
Liam leaned back in his chair, tapping Spencer’s card against the glass tabletop. “And she claims the baby is Mr. Duncan’s,” he finished.
“Ms. Kay and Mr.
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