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    Legally Binding: Lawyers Behaving Badly, #1
    Legally Binding: Lawyers Behaving Badly, #1
    Legally Binding: Lawyers Behaving Badly, #1
    Ebook132 pages1 hour

    Legally Binding: Lawyers Behaving Badly, #1

    By Cleo Peitsche

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Maisie can’t hide her shock the first time she sees Ethan Brennbach’s scarred, mask-like face. 

    Ethan. Gorgeous except for… yeah.

    Ethan, her new boss.

    He’s not impressed by her lack of tact. Neither are Raphael Lattimore and Trent Banno, the handsome partners at the prestigious LB&B law firm, where gossiping about Ethan’s appearance is grounds for termination.

    The whole office is brimming with secrets, some downright dangerous. Soon the secrets include Maisie herself, the illegal activities she discovers…

    ...And her special relationship with her new bosses.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPouch Productions
    Release dateMar 23, 2016
    ISBN9781524297985
    Legally Binding: Lawyers Behaving Badly, #1
    Author

    Cleo Peitsche

    If Cleo isn't writing (or reading!) erotica, she's probably sitting on her balcony, watching the wind blow through the trees. She loves snowstorms, piña coladas, horses, and pasta primavera. If she won the lottery, she would hire an assistant to take care of the technical side of e-publishing so that she could write all day.Some random facts about Cleo:1. Thinks life's too short to forgo HEAs and HFNs.2. Sprained an ankle joining the mile-high club. (Never again!)3. Favorite writers include Cormac Mccarthy, Junot Diaz and Rachel Caine.4. Gets weak-kneed for bookish guys who know how to fix things with their hands. *swoons*

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      Book preview

      Legally Binding - Cleo Peitsche

      1

      Maisie stood in front of the gleaming skyscraper and looked up, up, up. She was only vaguely aware of the morning crowd and the aromas of coffee and fried egg sandwiches from the street carts.

      Far below the sidewalk, the subway rumbled.

      She tugged her purse higher on her shoulder, then her fingers blindly sought out the long necklace dangling between her breasts.

      The tower seemed to pierce the sky. Very phallic, Maisie thought, though lately everything seemed to have sexual undertones.

      Too much job hunting, not enough dating.

      LB&B Law was on the sixtieth floor—was that even visible from down here?

      She took a tiny step back and wobbled on her four-inch heels. Then her free hand was windmilling through the air while the other gripped the necklace, as if it could keep her from crashing to the pavement.

      The men and women nearby shrank back, but then strong arms caught her, cradled her against a hard chest.

      Easy there, a deep voice said. You’re all right—I’ve got you.

      She couldn’t see the man speaking, but his voice was deep and smooth like honey. Like whiskey licked with fire. Something seductive and forbidden.

      Something comforting yet dangerous.

      As the stranger released her, the silk of his suit brushed against her bare forearms. She almost shivered with delight.

      Thank you, she murmured. Her heel had gotten temporarily caught in a subway grate, she saw now. The hem of her form-fitting dark skirt had ridden up to mid-thigh, revealing her curvy legs.

      Tugging at the bottom of her skirt, she slowly turned toward him. Because she was partially bent over, she had the perfect excuse to scope him out.

      The elegant navy blue suit camouflaged his muscles somewhat. But Maisie had felt them, and she definitely approved. His hands were large and strong, and the nails were neither too long nor chewed to the quick. With a little sigh, she took in his broad chest and shoulders.

      His head was tilted up, like he was trying to figure out what she’d been staring at.

      Then he looked at her.

      Maisie’s entire world crashed to a stop.

      A whimper of surprise and fear escaped her lips. The man—he was wearing a stiff Halloween mask—

      Except it wasn’t fake.

      The right half of his face was an artificial caricature, frozen in place, from sharp cheekbone to taut jaw. Strangely masculine but wholly terrifying.

      What the hell could even do that to someone? Fire? Acid?

      But the skin was too smooth, and the color, while several shades paler than the rest of his tanned face, was too even.

      She shouldn’t stare, but he was only inches away; if she suddenly became interested in the passers-by or the guy hawking newspapers on the corner, the reason would be obvious.

      So she fixed on his eyes, stormy like a troubled sea, and felt herself sinking into their gray depths.

      But how many people even noticed how mesmerizing they were?

      Her gaze skated upward, to his dark-blond hair, thick and cut conservatively. He was about six inches taller than she was in heels. So, six-two or six-three.

      The guy was perfect, right down to the trappings of considerable wealth: expensive watch and exquisitely tailored suit, a flash of gold cufflinks.

      But that scar…

      She tried not to stare, but it didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be. But now she saw the knotty seams along his jaw and below his eye, where it connected to healthy skin.

      It kept pulling her gaze back.

      His lips pressed together in a humorless little smile as he took a step back and straightened his dark blue tie.

      What the hell was wrong with her, evaluating this kind stranger? Fucking say something, Maisie.

      Thank you. For stopping. For helping me. The stammered sentences were scarcely coherent.

      He had to know why she was flummoxed.

      And now he was the one staring rudely, as if to make a point. It threw her off.

      She blinked quickly, but it didn’t help her shorted-out brain to function. What happened to… She flattened her hands over her mouth. She’d meant to say, Do you always catch falling women? Except she’d been thinking about what had happened to his face.

      The hard look in his eyes said he knew it, too. His lips thinned even further, though not as much on the right side.

      You’re welcome. The coldness in his voice made her shiver despite the mild spring weather. He wasn’t looking at her now.

      He walked away without another word, continuing to his job or wherever he’d been heading.

      Even now, she couldn’t stop staring.

      He looked damned good from behind. It was impossible to ignore his powerful shoulders and muscles under those expensive clothes. He walked like he owned the world.

      She tilted her head. Ok, so maybe he was hot. Or… His confidence was hot. Women were staring in appreciation… at least the women who didn’t see the right side of his face.

      The others? They did double takes, their eyes widening in alarm.

      Maisie knew because she watched until he turned the corner.

      2

      It took fifteen minutes for someone to come collect Maisie from the lobby.

      After being shown to her desk and introduced to a few harried coworkers, she was shipped down to the first floor for processing, which sounded like a euphemism for something involving bolt stunners and meat grinders.

      You might want to fix your hair. The woman taking the identification photo leaned out from behind her camera to point. Tiny white stones were embedded in her long fingernails. It’s flat there.

      Curly hair is such a hassle, Maisie said, laughing, but she didn’t mean it. She’d paid a lot of money for these nice curls, which were thick spirals that cascaded to her elbows. She liked her hair a little messy, a little wild; it made up for the mousy brown color.

      She fluffed up her hair, and when she did, a faint masculine scent reached her nose.

      Hot swirls of arousal stirred up inside her and coursed through her veins like a drug.

      A heartbeat later, she understood why. The man from the street—some of his aftershave must have gotten on her when he caught her. It hadn’t quite registered in the moment. Bergamot and citrus, pine and wood-smoke. Subtle and expensive. It made her think of private jets, penthouses, and power.

      It made her heart pound.

      She shoved away the memory of his face and focused on the moment when his arms had wrapped around her. Holy hell, that had been hot.

      Guess I don’t have to tell you to smile, the photographer said. I’ve never seen someone so happy to start a new job. Ok. You’re done.

      Maisie hopped down from the high wooden stool to retrieve her purse, then joined the photographer by the machine that would print out the security pass.

      She found herself tugging at her chain. Toying with the puffy silver heart pendant was a habit she’d developed at her last job, a call center. She’d been the CEO’s assistant, a position that maybe sounded glamorous but had mostly consisted of running interference between stressed-out employees and her jerk of a boss.

      Ex-boss.

      What’s it like at LB&B Law? she asked. I haven’t heard much. Because it was impossible to get former employees on Linkt In to answer questions about the firm.

      The woman smiled cautiously. They pay well.

      Maisie already knew that. Once she’d successfully completed her trial period, she’d go from hourly to salary—and receive a bonus larger than the yearly wages of most of the poor guys at the call center. But LB&B wouldn’t pay so well unless they had to, right?

      So why did they have to?

      When she arrived back on the top floor, a well-dressed woman in her early fifties intercepted her en route to her desk. I’m Mrs. Donahue, and I’ll be giving you the tour, she said.

      "I already got

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