Attractive Nuisance (Legally in Love Book 1) (11 page)

“I’ll bet you do.” He nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply. Man, if she thought tingles happened from the hug, she was wrong. He had her number, and he kept calling it over and over. Kazam. Right up next to her ear, he whispered, “My nose is starting to itch. We’d better go see what Falcon is saying about us.”

With his arm around her waist, he guided her, flashlight in hand along a trail through the pines toward the general gathering of the office staff. It wasn’t far, maybe twenty yards, but coming back among other people jarred her. It had felt so right, standing there under the stars alone with him, his hot breath and arms warming her. Other people’s voices…well, she just preferred not to hear them. Not after that moment they’d shared.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to join us.” Falcon stopped mid-story and swooped in on Zane, taking his hand and shaking it vigorously. “We didn’t know if you were ever going to make it out of the tent.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Cruel and Unusual

Oh, great. The boss was in fine form. Thank goodness he didn’t drink. He might have been so much worse. For now, he was just drunk on nature. It happened every year. Chances were, this was his one annual outlet. The staff got that. He was good to them all the time, so they humored him this one weekend a year. It seemed like he saved up all his chiding for October and then let it fly. Maybe he thought it all flew away with the campfire smoke. After the first time it happened, four years ago, there had been a ripple of shock that reverberated for a couple of weeks in the office. One paralegal almost quit, but Camilla talked her down from that ledge. The following year, everyone knew what it was and just wore their armor—or drank too much—for insulation.

“And you, Camilla. It’s good to see you outside. I was just beginning to discuss you next. But wait, I’m finishing up with Sheldon Cleek first.”

Zane gave Camilla a look of
what the heck,
and they wove their way through the crowd of about eighty frightened or glazed over with alcohol faces, to find a seat on a fallen log.

“And so Sheldon, for you, I present two items: the golden sandal—” Falcon held up a Birkenstock that had been bronzed. Fabulous. Honestly, Sheldon deserved that one. He should
not
have let Lydia’s father buy his footwear. Speaking of footwear…Camilla had a decision to make about what, if anything, to tell Falcon about the shoe sales statistics. It could really sink the Veldon Twiss case. Shoot. But Falcon had finished digging in his awful Santa Claus sack and held up an aerosol can. “—And a can of pest repellent. This is to spray on pests who won’t listen when you tell them ugly sandals are not appropriate for the office. Even on casual Friday. Which we don’t have, by the way, people. Casual Saturday. That’s your day.”

Camilla sighed, and the crowd gave courtesy clapping and guffaws. Falcon usually knew how to make it fun, but he was ending kind of flat. She wondered how long this had been going on, and if there was any way out now.

“And now, we’ve saved the best for last.” Falcon made eye contact with Camilla through the crowd, across the smoke and flames. That answered that. At least there was the joy of not having to sit through the rest of everyone else’s embarrassment. “Our final two staffers have joined us, and I get the pleasure of toasting first of all our newest attorney, Zane Holyoake.” At this, the crowd clapped with enthusiasm. Sheldon’s wife turned around and winked at Camilla. Oh, great. Now, since they came together, everyone on staff
and
their families would think things.

Well, maybe they were right. After all, maybe Zane was as solid and steady as she was discovering him to be. Maybe she’d let things go a little farther than she’d let them go with anyone in years. Hand holding? Sure, why not? He already had his arm around her waist and let her wear his jacket. And those hands, with their crevices and roughness. She wouldn’t resist if he tried interlocking his fingers through hers.

“Zane, Zane, Zane. Where should I start?” Falcon sighed and began pacing back and forth—which people instantly recognized as Zane’s signature move when he addressed the jury. He had a serious pacing habit. The crowd buzzed a little with the entertainment. Camilla glance to see him redden. Oh, it made her heart ache a tiny bit—to see him blush. She reached over and put her hand on his, where it rested on his knee. As soon as her palm made contact, he flipped his hand over and laced his fingers through hers. Wow! He took hints fast! Pretty much every nerve in her body started sparking. It took a moment for them to settle enough for her to hear what Falcon was saying again. He was partway through an anecdote when she tuned in.

“And so when Zane starts in on his story about the desert tortoise—again, for the fourth time in Judge Harper’s court—the judge himself hits the gavel and says, ‘Badgering.’” Ah, as in badgering the judge with the same story over and over. Ha ha. “But what can I say? Zane. He’s just like his dad. Old Skunk Holyoake. We had a royally good time at the fraternity in college, and Skunk could spend six hours telling all of you about the skeletons from my deepest darkest closet. So I have to be careful about how I prod this bear.” By now Falcon had made his way around the fire and at this point prodded Zane in the shoulder, then handed him a box of Frosted Flakes cereal, the kind with the cartoon tiger on the front, a glossy eight-by-ten black and white photograph of a badger—oh, for badgering—and a teddy bear. Ah. Because Falcon was prodding the bear. Got it. Man, there were way too many bear references in her life right now.

“But I do see you’ve taken the tiger by the tail, just like I meant for you to do. Good boy, Zane. Good boy.” He winked in an exaggerated fashion then stumbled over someone’s foot and nearly tottered into the fire.

“Wise move, Mr. Torres. ’Cause I got the goods on you.”

Everyone snickered, and the fire popped, sending glowing orange sparks up in a plume of light against the black sky. Black and orange. Like a tiger’s stripes.

Oh, wait. The tiger—Falcon was referring to
her
as a tiger. What the— And did he just say Zane had taken her by the tail? Of all animals in the zoo, Camilla resembled the tiger least. Maybe more the baboon. Or the toucan. Call her the flamingo or the capybara if you must, but… And in
what
way did Falcon mean Zane had her by the tail? Ugh. This whole insinuation just rankled.

But wait.

Did Falcon just say that Zane was the son of the frat brother the boss was originally trying to set Camilla up with, back at the end of summer when she refused to go? The skin on her back crawled with cold. If she remembered right, Falcon had said something like, “I need you to go out with this guy. He’s kind of a ne’er do well who’s lost his way and just needs the love of a good woman to guide him.” That couldn’t mean Zane. Or could it?

Oh, geez. If so, that meant Falcon didn’t take no for an answer. Instead, he’d gone to extreme measures, hired Zane on as staff, and then threw them together whether she liked it or not. And she hadn’t liked it. But she’d been sucked in by his charm. Camilla had fallen right into the trap.

Maybe it wasn’t such a horrible thing.

Zane squeezed her hand. Camilla looked at him. He gave her an apologetic wince of a smile. She shrugged a shoulder, the one closest to his, and he bumped against it at hers. She bumped back, but stayed, not bouncing off him. His shoulder was strong. She wouldn’t mind having his arm around her again. Soon.

“I’ll share this cereal with you, if you want.” Zane leaned in and whispered in her ear. “It’s the dinner of champions.”

So he’d noticed she ate cold cereal for dinner based on her bowls and spoons scattered around her living room. Alas. Too late now. He knew she was a slob with a penchant for sugar. If he still stayed on this date with her, with the blinders off this way, she might not think he was half bad. She might give him a longer term chance.

“Or I can let you sleep with this teddy bear.” He tossed it in her lap with a little, low growl. “Now you can say you got attacked by a bear while you were in the woods.” He got that twinkle in his eye, accompanied by a little bit of a hungry look. Falcon
had
referred to Zane as a bear. Maybe that was the bear attack Zane had in mind. Oh, geez. Now her mind was running away with her. She’d better rein it in. Falcon was sharpening his talons to use on her. He’d picked up his Santa bag, now looking limp and nearly empty, and tossed it between his left hand and his right. What was he planning to chuck at her? She shuddered.

“Which brings me to my final prey for the evening.” Falcon took a bow as the crowd at last cheered with some sincere enthusiasm. “The prettiest single girl in the office, Camilla Sweeten.” A wolf whistle sounded from the back of the group, and Camilla felt her face blaze—and not from the heat of the fire. “Where do I begin?”

Falcon rubbed his palms together. “Let’s see. Where to start.
So
much material to work with.”

Hey. Not nice. Camilla let her hand drop from Zane’s and folded her arms. He reached his arm over her shoulders. “You want me to stop him?” he murmured.

She just shook her head. Wouldn’t that be worse? Everyone else could take whatever Falcon dished out. And so far, the couple she’d heard had been in good spirited fun. Right?

“First, we all ought to apologize to Camilla. We never should have started that rumor about her being the Judge Whisperer. Because it’s not true. With her long legs and short skirts, she’s the judge distract-er.”

Hey, that wasn’t nice. And Camilla’s skirts were
not
that short. Nor were her legs that long. Come on. She was only five-foot-four. The back of her cheek stung in her mouth, like she’d just eaten one of those sour apple gummy ring candies.

“It’s not true. You always dress professionally.” Zane pulled her tighter to him with his arm. She felt protected, even though she also felt mad. Why would Falcon call her out on her wardrobe? At least it wasn’t Birkenstocks.

“But seriously, let’s just all bow to her work ethic. Ready? Everyone bow. She’s easily the hardest working staffer I’ve ever hired. Come on, everyone. Bow.” Falcon motioned for everyone to swivel toward Camilla and bow. They did. It was reluctant. Camilla inhaled deeply and stared upward. Let this end soon, please.

“Nobody stays later. Nobody comes in earlier. Nobody clocks the hours like Camilla.”

“And so finally—” At this phrase from Falcon, the crowd erupted in applause and cheers. “Okay, okay. I’m almost done here. Then you can roast yer little marshmallows and eat your sticky s’mores. I’ve only got one last thing for your pretty colleague.” The boss reached in his pack and pulled out a brown bottle. Spray tan. “Since she spends so little time outside that some of the out-of-town defense attorneys have asked me if she’s a vampire afraid of sunlight, the tan that comes in a can. Wear it, Sweeten, and stop creeping out the boys from Phoenix.” He guffawed at his joke, and it made Camilla cringe. “Haw, haw. Maybe if you didn’t terrify them by looking undead, one of them would ask you out and I wouldn’t have to force Zane Holyoake to take you on pity dates.”

Pity dates! What— Camilla’s confidence came crashing down all around her like a building in a Haitian earthquake. Hurt erupted in her heart, spreading all through her core and out to her fingertips and toes. She wanted to leap up and run away from the wincing, pity-filled faces of the other staffers, but the moonless night would have eaten her up, crashing her into trees or tangling her feet in bulging roots. She’d trip, hit her face, and disfigure herself, making herself even more undateable than she apparently already was.

So all she could do was sit in frozen pain.

Shouts erupted from the perimeter.

“Somebody. Hey, help. My daughter is missing!” Panicked gasps rose from the group. Camilla shot to her feet, and she ran toward the voice, which she found belonged to Lydia, Sheldon’s wife.

“Lydia. I didn’t know you even brought Destry. When did you see her last?”

Lydia had started crying, and Camilla put an arm around her, holding her tightly.

“Come on.” Camilla fumbled in her pocket for her flashlight, her legs moving fast. “Let’s go.” She started shouting Destry’s name, as did everyone around them. The air rang with voices. Destry wasn’t some three year-old who’d be afraid of the dark or just toddle off. She was fifteen, and generally a great kid. Camilla adored her.

“Destry! Destry!”

Lydia breathed hard beside Camilla as they covered ground fast. “I saw her an hour ago. She said she had to find an outhouse, so she was going around the lake.”

Camilla groaned. Falcon! He could have prevented this by picking a better campsite. Camilla should have spoken up—she knew last year this was a problem.

They headed for the road. “Would she venture into the woods?”

“Only if she couldn’t find another option. She’s not too keen on the woods. I had to bribe her with promises of boy band concert tickets to get her to come up here.”

“Destry!” Lydia’s voice cracked. “Sweetheart?”

Echoes of other voices begging for the girl to appear floated above the trees in the otherwise silent night—up toward the cold stars. Everything felt darker now, and Camilla realized how petty her own little hurt inflicted by Falcon really was.

“My dad used to bring me up here. I know the area pretty well.” That was a stretch. She’d stayed by the lake, fishing. But she had to say something to buoy up Lydia’s faith.

They rounded a bend in the dirt road and emerged onto the asphalt near the lake. “Would she come this far?” Camilla paused, and Lydia stopped beside her. “Which direction would she veer?”

“I don’t know.” Lydia sniffled, and Camilla pulled her tight.

“It’s going to be okay. Really.” She tried to hide the tremor in her voice, but images of vicious bears floated in her imagination. She batted them away. “Listen. Zane Holyoake—he’s a serious Boy Scout, even a Scout leader. It’s going to be fine. He’ll know what to do.”

Just saying this aloud did wonders to calm Camilla’s own fears—because she believed it.

“Destry?” Camilla called again.

Suddenly, cheers and whistled erupted from back at camp. A horn honked in rhythm of “Shave and a Haircut.” Camilla and Lydia exchanged glances.