Cold Feet/C13 Chapter 13
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Cold Feet/C13 Chapter 13
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C13 Chapter 13

RICK

I can’t stop thinking about her. Seeing her this morning as I was leaving George’s house was the last thing I expected. She is beautiful. More than beautiful. She has a certain something about her that attracts me. I don’t know what it is but I’ve never felt it before.

I remember the time we spent together the night before. I would give anything to have another opportunity to spend time alone with her like that. If only we had more time before we were interrupted. Things might have been different. We could still have spoken more civilly if only the groom hadn’t been caught with his… well, if he hadn’t been so stupid.

Talking about offering legal services was the wrong thing to do, and giving Trish’s parents my business card was just plain foolish. I now realize that it made me look exactly like the person she thought I am. And as far as meeting her this morning went?

I am sure she thinks I was there to talk about Trish divorcing Eric. Well, I was, but they also want me to sue Viola.

I’m not happy about it at all and now I regret giving my card to the Bentons.

I mean I do want to see her again but not to subpoena her. Besides, if I am the attorney of the client that’s suing her, I’m not allowed anywhere near her and once it’s over, she’ll never let me near her anyway. She probably doesn’t want me near her now anyway but a man can try. I have no-one to blame except myself. In my mind, I hear the nails being knocked into the coffin of what I hoped would be an amazing relationship as I ring the bell on the door of her house and wait for an answer.

She opens the door. She opens her mouth and then closes it. I think she must have a million thoughts running through her mind just then and none of them are saying, “Hello”.

I make the first comment.

“Twice in one day. That’s a record, even for me.”

“What do you want?” she asks coldly.

“To come in if I may?”

She looks at me a few moments longer and bites her lower lip. She’s weighing up a snarky response against simply letting me in. She can’t resist the comeback.

“You came close last night but it’s never going to happen now. You’re also not getting any more of my underwear.”

I can’t fight the hint of the smile that pulls at the corner of my mouth before I manage to force it away.

“Please?” I ask not rising to the bait.

“Please what? Can you come in or have some more of my underwear?”

I know she’s not teasing me. She’s turning our moment of intimacy the night before into a blade and trying to cut me with it.

I don’t answer but wait for her to calm down and decide to let me in or send me away.

Decency wins at last, and she steps back opening the door wider. “I’m sorry. Please come in.”

“Thank you.” I look around as she closes the door and leads the way to her living room. My eyes follow her hips as she moves. Her ass is perfect in the white shorts she is wearing and those legs… Her golden, brown legs are perfectly contrasted against her white shorts. It’s more than the contrast though. They are perfect in every way, not to mention her firm ass too.

I should be embarrassed, ashamed even but I can’t help the thoughts running through my mind. I remember how great her ass felt in my hands the night before. I am intoxicated further as I catch her soft, feminine scent as I follow in her wake.

She finally stops and turns in the living room. “Please have a seat,” she says coldly. “I was just making coffee. Would you like some?”

“That would be great, thanks,” I say trying to smile but feeling like it’s the most nervous and awkward thing I have ever done in my life. What the hell is wrong with you? No woman has ever done this to me.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” she says and turns heading for the kitchen which is visible from the living room. I watch her as she goes. She is wearing the same cotton top she wore when I saw her this morning, but she has removed the vest she wore underneath so her white lace bra is visible through it. I feel my desire hardening rapidly and I sit down quickly.

I listen to Viola making coffee in the kitchen. I believe there is a lot that watching people and listening to them can tell you. The sounds she makes are soft, calm. She is a gentle person, at peace with herself and her life. I think so anyway. There’s no frustration or rush in the sounds they make. They are simply normal, gentle, slow, and soft sounds of a beautifully calm person.

I look around the room and spot the shelves behind me. They are filled with books. From where I sit, I can see that many of the books are romance books. Figures. She’s a wedding planner. I wonder how many ideas she’s extracted from those books and turned into part of someone’s wedding experience. She really is a professional. It’s a shame that I’m going to have to be the one to tear her world apart.

She returns from the kitchen carrying a tray with two cups and a plate of biscuits. I have to hand it to her, even in the face of adversity she stays calm and treats the enemy decently. Perhaps it’s because she doesn’t know how much of an enemy I am right now.

She sets the tray down and her blouse falls forward giving me a good view of her lace bra inside it. I feel like a pervert but I can’t help myself. I wonder if I should turn this case down and pursue her instead. I’m guessing she’ll never talk to me again after what I’m going to do and that’s not what I want. But then nothing is ever long-term with me. I don’t do commitment. It’s why I’m so good at divorce. I don’t get emotionally involved. Well, perhaps I do, but not for the sake of seeing marriages saved. I’m more emotional about seeing them dissolved.

Viola finishes setting the tray down and looks up at me. My gaze is fixed on the opening of her blouse and her bra revealed inside it as my train of thought has drifted far away.

Viola realizes where my gaze is and her hand quickly flies to her blouse pressing it against her chest as she blushes. She must be really embarrassed for me to see the red glow in her golden brown cheeks. I realize that I have been caught and my face reddens in embarrassment.

She hesitates briefly before sitting down opposite me and crossing her fine, perfect legs. I try to keep my gaze off them as she crosses them. I fail dismally and she rubs her legs as women sometimes do absentmindedly. I wonder if she is doing it absentmindedly or on purpose. Either way, it drives me wild.

“How can I help you?” she asks coldly and then suggests some answers before I can reply, “Come to gloat? To say I told you so?”

“I… um…” Dammit! I’m at a loss for words. I’m never at a loss for words. “I saw our mutual client George this morning,” I say recovering as quickly as I can.

“I am aware of that,” she replies with the slightest hint of a smile at the corners of her beautiful mouth. She seems to have realized that I am finding this difficult and she seems to be enjoying it.

“I did not want to come here today to bring you this news but I had to,” I say.

“What, that you’re handling the divorce for Trish? I thought they would just have had the marriage annulled?”

I shake my head. “No. George feels betrayed, his daughter’s been hurt and he wants blood.”

Viola nods, “I understand. I don’t blame him. What I don’t understand is what it has to do with me.”

I shift uncomfortably. “Well, the thing is that he doesn’t just want Eric’s blood for hurting his daughter...”

Viola says nothing looking at me expectantly. I realize then that she knows. Of course. She saw George after I did. He must have told her.

“He wants my blood too,” she remarks in a tone that suggests it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Her eyes narrow briefly and she casts a glance out the window to the garden. Her face is set grimly when she looks back at me. “He wants you to sue me?”

I nod.

“And?”

“He wants the maximum damages he can get.”

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