Killing time, I played with the melody that had been going through my head for weeks – longer. The song had been chasing me.
Broken promises.
I knew plenty about those.
Although the song was there, dying to be written, it hadn’t wanted to come; but tonight, whether loosened by stress or something else, I managed to get a few more lines down and fix the opening.
I had Leslie in mind as I played.
Wrong as it might’ve been, I could no longer pretend that Brinke was any kind of inspiration. She hadn’t been for a while, and I’d been writing without a muse.
There was nothing romantic about the lyrics coming out of me – it was all sex and heat and that was fine.
It felt like the sun coming out after months of storm.
I looked up only when the phone rang, and I realized it had gotten dark. Dark. And it was still quiet in the penthouse, which meant it was well past time for Brinke to have been home with Carter.
Swearing, I started to fumble for the phone I almost always had in my back pocket when I realized it was already ringing. On the coffee table.
I grabbed it, seeing a picture of Alex and Carter flash on the screen. My gut, already slippery and twisted with tension, eased a little.
“Yeah?”
“Paxton.” It was indeed Alex and her normally calm, confident voice was not calm or confident.
Don’t panic, I told myself. Don’t panic.
“What’s up, Alex? You guys running late?” Obvious answer is obvious, genius.
“We were finally getting ready to go, and I got up to use the restroom. Carter didn’t want to go with me so I left her with Brinke. I just got back to the table and they're gone.”
I blinked, my brain not processing. “Alex?”
“They're gone, Paxton,” she nearly screamed. “The manager is here telling me that Brinke said I was taking care of the tab because it was her birthday – the bill is over three thousand dollars – ” Her voice hitched and then steadied. “I’ll handle it, but they're gone.”
“The fuck you’ll handle it,” I said, furious and getting more so. “Give him the business card I gave you for expenses and…” My brain stopped functioning after that because that was the only thing I had a definite solution for.
Don’t panic, I told myself. Don’t panic.
“She’s probably fucking with us,” I told Alex, forcing myself to calm. “We both know she was pissed off because I insisted you go with her. Go on outside and see if you can find them anywhere nearby. I’ll try calling her.”
Don’t panic, I thought again. And I managed to listen to my own advice.
For a while.
I sent text after text to Brinke. No response to any of them.
Alex came rushing in less than thirty minutes after she’d called, her eyes half-wild.
I’d shaken my head and after a little while, I told her to go ahead and go on down to her place. No reason for us both to sit there and stare at my phone like it was a snake.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
But by the time midnight rolled around and I still hadn’t heard from Brinke, fuck it, I was ready to panic.
Chapter Twenty
Leslie
The hours drifted by in a haze.
I knew I’d gotten in my car, driven back home, and put my car back into my space. I knew I came inside and changed into my pajamas.
After that?
I thought I sorta drifted around the apartment, smiling stupidly as I gazed toward Manhattan and the general direction where Paxton would be. Carter would be home by now.
Hopefully, she’d had fun, and now she and Paxton were settling in for the night. Having dinner maybe, or she was taking a bath, and he was cleaning up in the kitchen. The mega-rich, mega-beautiful Paxton Gorham didn’t mind getting his hands dirty in the kitchen. It was kind of hot.
At some point, those silly daydreams turned into real dreams, and I fell asleep on my bed, curled up on my side.
Paxton was there and this time, we didn’t have borrowed time or a few stolen hours.
We just had each other.
When the phone rang, it jolted me out of a hot, sexy dream, and I sat there a few seconds, confused. The phone rang again, and I grabbed it, staring at it blearily before the number clicked and I realized who it was.
“Hello?”
“Leslie. It’s Paxton.”
“Yes?”
A few taut moments of silence passed before he said anything, and my heart began to beat in hard, slow beats, each one of them becoming more and more deafening until I could barely hear anything past it.
When he finally spoke, I was aware of nothing but his voice.
“It’s Brinke,” he said finally.
I swallowed, my hand going damp where it clutched the phone. Shit.
“Leslie…she…she hasn’t come home yet. She and Carter…they’ve disappeared.”
I heard the words – they made sense, logically.
But, in that moment, all I could do was picture Carter and the way she and her father looked at her.
Carter…
“Leslie!” Paxton’s voice barked out of the phone in harsh demand.
“I heard you,” I said quietly, struggling to keep my voice level. My mind spun.
“They’ve disappeared, dammit! What in the hell am I supposed to do?”
A Legal Affair continues in Book 2, which will be release April 1st, together with the complete Box Set.
Also by M. S. Parker
Indecent Encounter
Dom X Box Set
Unlawful Attraction Box Set
Chasing Perfection Box Set
Blindfold Box Set
Club Prive Box Set
The Pleasure Series Box Set
Exotic Desires Box Set
Pure Lust Box Set
Casual Encounter Box Set
Sinful Desires Box Set
Twisted Affair Box Set
Serving HIM Box Set
Acknowledgments
First, I would like to thank all of my readers. Without you, my books would not exist. I truly appreciate each and every one of you.
A big “thanks” goes out to all the Facebook fans, street team, beta readers, and advanced reviewers. You are a HUGE part of the success of all my series.
I have to thank my PA, Shannon Hunt. Without you my life would be a complete and utter mess. Also a big thank you goes out to my editor Lynette and my wonderful cover designer, Sinisa. You make my ideas and writing look so good.
About the Author
M. S. Parker is a USA Today Bestselling author and the author of the Erotic Romance series, Club Privè and Chasing Perfection.
Living in Las Vegas, she enjoys sitting by the pool with her laptop writing on her next spicy romance.
Growing up all she wanted to be was a dancer, actor or author. So far only the latter has come true but M. S. Parker hasn’t retired her dancing shoes just yet. She is still waiting for the call for her to appear on Dancing With The Stars.
When M. S. isn't writing, she can usually be found reading– oops, scratch that! She is always writing.
For more information:
msparkerauthor
www.msparker.com
[email protected]
M. S. Parker, The Client
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