Legally Addicted

chapter Eight



Georgia sat at the reception desk of the shelter where she was doing the evening shift. With a heavy court schedule over the last couple of days she had managed to avoid meeting Brad, but she knew that with her shift coinciding with the shelter board meeting, her luck was probably about to run out.

Oh well. She had to face him some time.

At least with several international studies on addiction centres spread out in front of her, she had plenty she needed to be concentrating on other than the awkwardness of having to speak with Brad for the first time since taking off on him.

Again.

If Caro Marsden wanted a formal business proposal then that is what she would get. She wasn’t going to give the woman another excuse to refuse to put her ideas in front of the shelter board.

Georgia chewed the end of her pen. Summarising the findings from the studies into short and punchy sentences wasn’t coming easily. Ever since the weekend, her concentration had been all over the place. Earlier that afternoon, a family court judge had been forced to repeat himself three times after Georgia’s mind had gone AWOL, deep into the heart of Spencer Town.

Ever since she had seen the new, authentic Brad in his basic unpretentious beach house, it was as if she had been balanced on a knife edge.

She felt like she was trapped, at the top of a precipice contemplating a base jump and the equal chances that her parachute would open giving the exhilarating trouble free ride that Miriam was plumping for, or jam up, resulting in a smash up of epic proportions that would leave her rebuilding her career.

All of which assumed, of course, that Brad was willing to ever speak to her again, after she had done a runner.

But right now she had to finish this report and there was so much she wanted to say, but the board members were all busy people so it needed to be short and pithy. That wasn’t easy when the brain wasn’t keen to cooperate. In the end, she decided on a series of dot points and was halfway through setting out all the reasons for supporting the addiction centre when a familiar voice made her jump.

‘Doing a spot of multi-tasking?’

Georgia’s concentration had been compromised enough just thinking about Brad, without him turning up in person and making things worse. But it’s not like she hadn’t been expecting him. She took the pen out of her mouth and tilted her head back to see over the top of the high reception desk and to meet his maddeningly composed features. His dark eyes glazed over with something she couldn’t identify. Irritation? Concern? Interest? Lust?

Focus, Georgia.

‘I’m working on the proposal for the addiction centre,’ she said, opting to zero in on anything other than what had happened between them at the beach house.

‘Good. I was hoping you’d formalise your ideas. I would be keen to have a look at it before you submit it to the board. That way we can shape it up into something that I can put my support behind before it gets put to the vote.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Let’s talk more after the board meeting,’ he said, heading for the corridor that led to the shelter’s meeting room.

Wow, that was easy.

She had been expecting to have to dig deep and turn on the charm, apologise for her behaviour at the weekend, and then cajole, using all available feminine resources to persuade Brad to get behind her proposal. Instead, he had practically given it the green light without even reading it. A pity, because getting horizontal with him again in the interests of charity was almost worth risking a replay for.

Still, it was probably for the best, she thought, pulling up on the wicked thoughts before they took her into a tailspin. Any more hot sex with Brad, and she would be in serious trouble. Miriam might think a relationship with Brad was worth jeopardising her career over, but she had come too far to lose everything she had worked for now. All they had done was to have a little simple uncomplicated fun — what was wrong with that?

Fun was all very well, but the worrying thing was that Brad’s openness at the beach house had really gotten to her. Something about seeing him as a normal person, along with the contrast of those brief flashes of vulnerability against his otherwise confident persona, was a major turn-on.

It made no sense, but she couldn’t spend any more time worrying about it. The report in front of her needed attention.

It was a quiet night for admissions, and after checking in a couple of the shelter’s regular clients, Georgia eventually lost herself in her work, managing to synthesise the key points from the research literature into what she hoped was a persuasive pitch. She had almost finished proofing the document when Brad reappeared in the reception area. Caro was at his side, rattling off a series of arrangements that sounded like catering and seating plans.

From Brad’s bored expression she guessed their conversation was about the upcoming fundraiser. Not at all interested in Caro’s natterings about table configurations or whether she should choose prawns over oysters for the starter, Georgia concentrated hard on making the last of the corrections to her report.

‘I’m sure the evening will go off without a hitch. It sounds to me as if you have everything in hand.’

A note of exasperation in Brad’s voice dragged Georgia’s attention back to the conversation going on in front of her. Brad backed away from Caro, but for every step he took back, she advanced. Brad was trying to wind up the conversation, while Caro prattled on.

‘Now, about that tour you promised me, Georgia. Caro, you wouldn’t mind looking after the reception desk would you? I’ve asked Georgia to show me around.’

He shot her a glance reminiscent of the beagle-eyed look he’d given her at the board meeting.

She had never offered Brad a guided tour. He had obviously dreamed that up on the spot to escape Caro’s tentacles. Still, she’d had enough difficult conversations with the woman to have some sympathy for his position. So long as Georgia could keep her mind off Brad and on the job, a tour would give her an opportunity to pitch her ideas for the addiction centre.

She played along, gathering up her papers, stuffing them in her briefcase behind the reception desk.

‘Sure, as long as Caro doesn’t mind,’ she said, knowing full well that Caro would never contradict Brad.

‘Of course, Bradley, but then Georgia could give a far fuller explanation than I ever could. There’s nothing like an insider’s view, is there, Georgia?’ Caro asked, taking a verbal swipe at her.

What was the woman’s problem? Why patronise the shelter in the first place if she had such obvious disdain for the clientele? There must have been plenty of causes someone like Caro could take on. Once Georgia would have reacted, but she had learned years ago that it wasn’t worth it. She had found life’s best comeback was to work hard and succeed.

‘Georgia may have grown up locally, but she could hardly be described as an insider here. She’s successful in her own right and one of Sydney’s best family lawyers, for goodness sake. What exactly are you getting at, Caro?’

Brad had jumped to her defence before she had even had time to construct a reply. Warmth bubbled up in Georgia’s chest but as soon as she became aware of the feeling she squashed it. She didn’t need Brad rushing in all chivalrous. She hadn’t planned on giving Caro the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her, and if it came down to it, she could fight her own battles.

‘It doesn’t matter, Brad. Caro’s just trying to say that my mother and I stayed here when I was a child — several times, isn’t that right, Caro?’

Brad pointed a finger in the air, motioning to a large crack in the plaster above the door.

‘And my father started out as a chippy, but so far Caro hasn’t asked me to advise on any building maintenance that needs doing.’

‘I’m sorry, Brad,’ she said, then turning to Georgia, added, ‘That must have sounded terribly insensitive.’

True to form, Caro had managed to both apologise and get another jibe in at the same time.

‘This way, Georgia.’

Brad grabbed her arm, taking long athletic strides down the corridor so that she struggled to keep up in her high-heels. Drawing up to the meeting room he pulled her so abruptly that she rushed headlong into him, forcing her to take a step back. He let go of her arm to grasp her hand and pulled her inside, locking the door behind them.

‘You don’t have to put up with that. One more snide comment from Caro, and I swear, I’ll have her voted off the board.’

‘That would be pointless. For every Caro there are ten more lining up to have a go to make themselves feel bigger or address whatever insecurities they have that seems to make it necessary.’

‘I don’t understand how you can be so calm.’

He gripped her hand more tightly, and she looked up at him until their gaze met, his eyes full of the questioning concern he was confronting her with.

‘I’ve never gotten used to it, I’m just getting better at sucking it up. But that’s how Caro is. She’s equal parts philanthropist to condescending witch.’

‘Not with anyone I’m seeing, she’s not.’

‘We’re seeing each other? Since when?’

‘Don’t play dumb, Georgia. You might have taken off on me at the beach house but there is something going on between us and we both know it.’

His voice was a low growl, his eyes skirting over her body like it wouldn’t take much for him to devour her.

Brad was her colleague, out of bounds: end of story. The thing at the beach house had just been a mistake.

Another one, but that’s all it had been.

‘Even if there was something between us — you being a partner in the same firm makes things impossible.’

‘If it comes to that, I bought my way in to this practice, and I can buy my way out of it,’ he said, it as if it were a throwaway comment — inconsequential.

She should have known better than to be drawn into thinking there was more to Brad than his wealth. When push came to shove and trouble struck, as a Spencer, Brad could simply buy his way out of it.

‘Money. It’s your answer to everything.’

‘Is that right? Tell me then, how much is that addiction centre of yours going to cost?’

Three million a year.

She couldn’t believe it, but that’s the figure that kept coming up in the literature for centres similar to what she was recommending. Not that she would be telling him that. Not yet anyway. Now wasn’t the time to try to approach him to donate the impossibly huge sum of money she was going to have to secure for her proposal to fly.

‘It’s not the same,’ she said, trying to change the subject and divert the conversation away from her pet project. It would be far better to raise the issue in another environment more conducive to him opening his big fat wallet than a time like right now, when things were so…

Charged.

‘Really? Money spent on something you believe in, whether it’s a person or a cause, isn’t the same?

He believed in her? The statement was a ball flying out of the blindside.

No-one had ever said that before. Schoolteachers and professors had put her forward for scholarships, praised her for her academic successes, but no-one had ever outright said they had faith in her. He stared at her, his gaze intensifying until her stomach reacted, going all screwy inside. What was Brad doing? Why was he making this so damned hard? Making her feel, feel…she searched for the word.

Only one was forthcoming — barely a word even, but it fitted the feeling exactly.

Icky.

‘You believe in me?’ Before she could stop herself, the words came out incredulous, almost childlike.

Weak, Georgia, real weak.

She cringed at the sound of her own voice.

‘No, Georgia, I believe in us.’

Us.

She had never been part of a relationship significant enough that it warranted the application of a pronoun in the first person plural. No family, no relationships that could truly be classified that way; just a mother who was physically present, but emotionally absent.

There was something about that word, and the way Brad said it, that touched her soul.

She tried to come up with some smart response, but she had forgotten he still had her by the hand. He slid his fingers up over her shoulder until they caught the back of her neck. Suddenly his lips were on hers, and once she felt his body pressed against her, all sensible thought fled her brain.

As Brad’s tongue teased the inside of her mouth, Georgia let go, allowing him to guide her backwards until the top of the boardroom table made contact with the back of her legs. She let her weight fall onto the edge of the table, shimmying backwards until her legs were free to wind around him. As he leaned in towards her, one hand enmeshed in her hair, the other caressing her back, she responded, pulling him closer until she felt him hard against her. She shivered as he ran the back of his hand down her abdomen as low as it would go, teasing her there until she wriggled up out of her skirt to give him better access. He grasped her thong, ripping it down her legs and below her knees and she flicked it off, along with her shoes.

She closed her eyes, wanting to stay in this delicious fuzzy zone they had created. But Brad released her and the sound of a chair scraping across the floor forced her eyes back open. She felt the back of the chair nudge the table and she lifted her head as he straddled the seat of the chair, pulling her legs over his shoulders and dipping his head between her thighs. In response, she collapsed down onto the tabletop. She closed her eyes again as his tongue sent a cascade of sparks rising up through her centre. The sparks caught hold, building up to an inferno that set her perilously close to coming. She shivered, raking her fingernails over the surface of the table.

‘Wait, I’m going to — ’

‘Shush.’

Brad gently let her legs down and she heard the chair scrape away again, the whirr of a zipper releasing and the rip of foil. He grasped her thighs, pulling her to him and even though she was expecting it, when he entered her, she took a sharp intake of breath. He paused for a moment and she whispered sweet curses of encouragement. Somewhere at the back of her mind she was vaguely aware of pressure points where the hard wood surface connected with her shoulder, her back, and her butt, but the pleasure of every thrust was an anaesthetic taking her to a place higher than any illicit substance could.

She and Brad were an ‘us’. Her mind repeated the word until it became a mantra. For once she belonged to someone, and that thought alone took her to the edge.

Brad did the rest, pushing into her with force and urgency until they came together. He shuddered with her undulating charges of electric energy until, fully spent, he folded over her, panting softly in her ear.

After kissing her hard on the lips, as if he was somehow sealing what they had just done, he withdrew.

Georgia finally opened her eyes as he removed the condom and tied it up, looking around the stark meeting room, rolling his top lip over the bottom one in a comical expression.

‘Houston, do we have a problem?’ he said.

Georgia raised her head and giggled.

‘It’s okay, I think they keep tissues around here.’

Sliding off the table, she opened a cupboard where Caro kept the water jugs and other meeting supplies. She found a box, and handed them to him, then pointed to a lidded rubbish bin in the corner.

‘Every time you sit at that table for the board meetings, you’ll think of me now,’ Georgia said, wrestling her skirt back down then bending to pick up her thong and retrieve her shoes.

‘That’s for sure. Poor Caro — but I guess what she doesn’t know…’

He set down the tissues and pulled Georgia into his arms. With a shoe in each hand, she crossed her arms around behind him and nuzzled into his shoulder, stifling a laugh when she realised what Brad was getting at. Caro’s place as board chair, at the head of the polished oval table, would have her forever positioned at the scene of the crime.

Once they rearranged their clothing, Brad steered Georgia out of the meeting room and back down towards reception. His hand was firm on her shoulder, the supportive strength fanning out from his grip giving her the confidence she needed to walk back through the reception area and pick up her briefcase on the way out.

Caro looked up from the desk to say goodbye, but wisely made no other comment.

Brad held the main door back out on to the street open for her.

‘Your place or mine?’

‘Yours.’

Out on the footpath, Brad was relieved to find that his driver was waiting right outside. This wasn’t a neighbourhood in which someone in a designer suit would want to linger. Instinctively, he pulled his jacket sleeve down over the ostentatious watch his mother had given him. Georgia looked around furtively.

He hadn’t expected that. She had grown up here, and yet even Georgia was nervous?

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

Despite what she said, Georgia shuddered and almost leapt into the back of the car when the driver opened the door for them.

He slipped in beside her and Georgia shuffled over, throwing her briefcase down on the floor.

‘No, you’re not okay. You’re afraid. Something upset you, Georgia — out there on the street. I saw it in your eyes. What’s going on?’

Georgia balled her hands into fists, and then looked away from him, out the window.

Brad shook his head, fully expecting the wall Georgia had built around her to come crashing back down, guillotine-like, but instead she turned towards him, looking him briefly in the eye before staring down at her hands.

‘I ran into someone here a couple of weeks back. Someone I used to know — a drug addict. He was strung out. He asked for money. I said I didn’t have any. He left. It was fine.’

‘It can’t have been fine, or you wouldn’t have looked like that back there. Tell me.’

He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his gaze locked on to hers.

Georgia sighed and he released her, sensing she was about to open up.

‘He, I mean Jake, was an old boyfriend of my mother’s. He…well, he was in his twenties when he lived with us. My mother was a drug addict as well.’

‘I wondered if she was an addict. I’m so sorry, Georgia. Is she…?’

‘Yeah. She’s dead — dirty needles, drugs cut with poisonous substances, or sheer carelessness. If addicts can’t get clean they all die one way or another in the end. She had a pretty good innings considering. She was in her forties when she finally overdosed. I found her. I called an ambulance. They administered Narcan, but it was too late.’

‘How old were you when that happened?’

‘Twenty — I was already in law school. I had just dropped into take her some food and check up on her, but she was already gone.’

‘Jesus. I’m so sorry, Georgia. This Jake, did he hurt you?’

‘No. He tried — plenty of times, but I was always two steps ahead of him.’

Georgia lent against his shoulder and gripped his arm with both hands. He breathed in her sweet fragrance; fruity and floral, it reminded him of something innocent and precious. Something he had an overpowering need to protect.

‘Good,’ he said, and not just because Georgia was safe. He was pleased not to have to find this Jake and take care of him; conduct that would be considered unbecoming of a solicitor.

Not that censure by the esteemed New South Wales law society would be sufficient deterrent, if it came to that. He might not be ready to divest himself of the Spencer family fortune for Georgia, but at that moment, with the perfumed scent of her hair in his nostrils and her warm body clinging to his, he couldn’t think of anything else he wouldn’t do for her.