“We need to have a talk, dog. I saw you sniffing around my dress shoes. Don’t even think about it.” He lifted his dark eyes from the canine and looked her over. Heat flared there briefly. Then he banked it. “Good morning, Belle.”
No skipping out now. Eric might not press her to talk immediately. She could invent a reason to convince Tate that she needed to go upstairs. But Kellan would either tie her to a chair…or follow her upstairs. God knew what would happen then.
“Good morning,” she murmured. “I was just going to grab some coffee before I showered. I bought some things from the convenience store down the street, but I haven’t made it to the grocery store yet. I’ll go out in a few minutes to find us some breakfast.”
That would take a chunk of time. Today was Monday, so she had to believe the guys intended to get back to work and Chicago soon. They wouldn’t leave Sequoia alone at the office for long, surely. So if she could survive a couple of hours without pining for them too obviously, then she would be alone again. Rattling around all by herself in the empty house would be unnerving, so Belle promised herself that she’d call today to get a good security system. And find a nice bottle of wine because she was probably going to cry herself to sleep tonight.
Kellan shook his head. “Eric’s already been to the grocery store. He cooked bacon and eggs. They’re waiting for you. It’s going to be a little simple for a few days, until we can get the oven working properly. You should get in there. Tate’s already had a plate. He’ll go back for seconds and thirds. Eric claims he eats like a hobbit. I don’t know what that is, but apparently it’s always hungry.”
Kellan wasn’t big on fantasy films. Tate really did eat somewhat like a hobbit. He was constantly snacking, but somehow that didn’t affect his perfect body.
Belle walked into the kitchen and found utter chaos. The big table was covered by paperwork and computers. Cords slithered across the tables like snakes entwined with one another. Cups of coffee cooled in between all the other clutter. Someone had placed a TV on the counter. Currently, the little device spit out news and stock quotes while Tate and Eric both spoke into their cell phones.
“Don’t you dare pull that clause on me. That is not the intent of the verbiage, nor is it the language. I will sue you so hard, your children will still be feeling it when they turn eighteen. Do you understand me?” Tate was a sweetheart with her, but he got pissed off when people used his words against him. Belle swore sometimes that he grew claws and fangs when he went into lawyer mode.
“No. No, I can’t make that date. We need to settle this. I understand that we have science on our side, but they have a sick little girl with asthma holding her teddy bear. Have you looked at the visuals on this one? No one is going to listen to a bunch of boring medical journals. We’re going to lose.” Eric ran a hand across his head in an obvious sign of frustration. “We need a different strategy pronto.”
Belle stared at her formally grubby kitchen. Every surface she could see appeared to have been wiped clean, then utilized as office space.
She turned on Kellan. “What the hell is going on here?”
He smiled sardonically. “Welcome to the New Orleans branch of Baxter, Cohen, and Kent. I think it’s going well for a startup, don’t you?”
She gaped at them. They could not be serious. In fact, she could think of a dozen reasons that was impossible—starting with the fact that they didn’t have licenses to practice law in Louisiana. Not only that, they could not run a business out of her kitchen. What about their office and life back home?
Eric put a hand over his phone. “Belle, baby, did you get the latest numbers from the EPA on the Hanover case?”
She’d put them on his desk last week. Unfortunately, his desk was in Chicago. “This is my kitchen. There are no latest numbers on the Hanover case here.”
Kellan reached over her toaster and pulled some paperwork off what appeared to be a damn fax machine. “Here you go. I had Sequoia fax them. What a surprise. He sent a note protesting the use of fax machines and said to pass that on to you, too. Apparently we shouldn’t use hard copies because it’s bad for the environment.” He turned back to her with a sigh. “Give me one good reason I can’t fire him.”
Belle half heard Kell. What had these crazy men done? Instead of using their heads and realizing they couldn’t possibly run a practice from her house, they’d bought every piece of office equipment known to man and set it up in her kitchen. She was fairly certain she glimpsed a copy machine in the butler’s pantry. “Given his connections, you know you can’t. Don’t forget, you have a very nice office in Chicago. Then Sequoia wouldn’t have to fax you anything. Much comfier chairs there as well. This doesn’t make a good office.”
Eric covered his phone and murmured, “But you’re here.”
Belle didn’t want to, but she melted a bit.
“See that you do, you piece of crap,” Tate yelled into his phone, then paused. “Sure. Yeah, tell your mom hi for me.” Another pause. “I doubt Wednesday will work. It looks like I’ll be here for a while and the Internet sucks, but I’ll see what I can do. Good luck on the raid.” He frowned as he hung up the phone. “Sorry, that was Phil from Greene and Associates. He’s such an ass, but he’s in my guild. We’re supposed to raid Jondor on Wednesday.”
Most lawyers made deals on the golf course. Not the new geek. Instead, they made contacts in role-playing games online.