“You did what?”
“I told him that I’ll be lead,” he says. “I figured that you didn’t want it.”
“Did I say that?” I crossed my arms. “Did I even utter a word about this assignment to you?”
“No, but your grades told me all that I needed to know.” He smirks. “I would never willingly partner with someone who is only getting ninety-fives on the test.”
“A ninety-five is a goddamn ‘A’ the last time I checked.”
“It’s not a hundred, though.” He shrugs. “That’s the only thing I make.”
Okay, fuck this guy. “You know what? You can have first chair. It’s a mock-trial, i.e., not fucking real, so feel free to knock yourself out. I have to get to—”
“Argument 101.” He interrupts me. “I have that course as well.”
“Let me guess, you cross referenced our schedules already.”
“Yeah, I used an app,” he says. “Apparently, a sophomore on this campus designed it for herself, and she had to be forced to share it with everyone else.”
“She sounds like a very ambitious person.”
“Maybe a little too ambitious.” He steps forward, closing the gap between us. I can’t help but inhale the sexy, woodsy scent of his cologne. “You and I are currently tied for the number one rank in the class with a perfect GPA.”
“You’re a transfer student from an inferior school,” I look into his eyes. “I wouldn’t worry about being number one in anything right now.”
“I see.” His lips curve into a smile, and I swear I’m tempted to invite him back to my room right now for sex.
He looks that damn good.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone past seventeen who has braces,” he says. “They’re a good fit for the woman I’m about to beat in every class, though. Good job.”
And he ruins it.
“Congrats, Tyler Hudson,” I say, stepping back. “You’ve just made an enemy out of me for the rest of the semester.”
“I can’t say the same. I’m looking forward to seeing you in every class we share.”
“If you think I’m going to talk to you outside of assigned projects, you’re sadly mistaken.”
“I don’t expect you to talk at all.” He looks me up and down. “You don’t ever have to say another word. I only want to appreciate the view.”
“Don’t worry.” I head toward the steps, and I can feel his gaze on my ass. “I’ll be sure to sit far the hell away from you, every chance I get.”
“Does this mean you want me to walk with you to our next class?”
“Fuck no …”
Tyler
Present Day
Manhattan, New York
The fountain pen’s ink dripped onto the desk, far away from the temporary salary agreement with this strange firm.
If I had any sense at all right now, I would go down to Human Resources and tell whoever would listen that I was no longer interested in working here.
That I couldn’t.
It wasn’t because of Mr. Walsh talking in tangents for an entire hour about nothing at all, the endless line of female associates walking by me and winking, or with the last guy I met who said, “You and me? This is war …” before walking away.
If the other firms were any worse than this one, I could possibly handle those off features.
The main problem was “Chassie.”
My restraint wasn’t that strong when it came to her.
It never was, honestly.
She’d always been fucking gorgeous—even in college when she had wild, frizzy hair and braces. But now?
Now, she was a vixen with curves and tempting lips that made me envision her in my bed. Thoughts of her wrapping those nude stilettos around my waist while I pushed up her tightly fitted grey dress were still running through my mind.
Even her sexy sarcasm had gotten better over the years, but I knew she was still clinging on to her ridiculous “enemy” storyline. That it would probably be like pulling teeth to get her to be cordial with me.
To make matters worse, the temporary office Mr. Walsh offered me was as grand as one of the partners’ offices.
Chassie’s office was half my size, and I could sense—even all these years later, she’d find a way to blame me for it.
As I mulled over the pros and cons of working here, the door to the office opened.
Someone cleared a throat, and I looked up.
Kelsie.
Well, Chassie.
“Yes, Miss Heritage?” I couldn’t help glancing at her stilettos. “How may I help you?”
“I’m here to tell you that I won’t be able to give you a tour today.”
“Will you be giving it up to me tomorrow?”
“Why do I feel like that line is a double entendre?”
“Because it is.” I smiled. “Tomorrow?”
Her cheeks flushed red, but she kept her tone firm.
“The tour will come to you via one of the interns today,” she said. “Seeing as though I’m now second chair on a case where I’ve already done most of the work, I’m going to enjoy the rest of my day in my new apartment.”