Just For Her: A Cerasino Family Novella (Cerasino Family Novellas Book 3) Read online

  My heels clacked on the tiles as I made my way over to the set of elevators, drawing the brief attention of several suited professionals hovering near the coffee shop. I fit right in. I was dressed in my court attire—conservative charcoal pencil skirt and matching blazer over a sleeveless blush-pink silk shirt. My thinking was, if I dressed like a colleague, I was more likely to be treated like one.

  I pressed the button with the upward facing arrow, pleased when the doors opened right away. I stepped inside and selected the sixth floor.

  The doors were beginning to shut when I heard a male voice call out, “Hold, please.”

  I wasn’t in a rush, and seeing Miriam safe and happy had me feeling generous. I shifted my finger to the open button and did my good deed for the day.

  My Karmic reward was granted immediately. The man who entered the car was gorgeous with thick, dark hair, dark eyes, and the hint of a sexy shadow gracing a sculpted, masculine jaw despite the fact that it was still early.

  Also, he looked fabulous in a suit and smelled fantastic. Spicy and woodsy yet subtle. I wanted to move closer just so I could get a better whiff.

  He shot me a grateful look that made my toes curl. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” I spoke the words politely, keeping my features neutral, though my keen powers of observation were firing double-time. “Floor?”

  “Six, please.”

  When I didn’t move, he glanced down at the lit panel and saw that I’d already selected the sixth floor. His lips curled upward at the corners as he took me in with his assessing gaze. Curiosity burned in his eyes, but he said nothing.

  I was curious too. Did the sixth floor hold more than just the Law Offices of Paul J. Cerasino? Could he be my potential legal ally?

  The elevator announced our arrival with a ding.

  He stepped back and extended his arm. “After you.”

  “Thank you.”

  I silently appreciated his gentlemanly behavior. Confession: I liked being treated like a lady. The ideal, of course, was to be respected as a human being while also enjoying such courtesies. I was greedy that way.

  I stepped off the elevator and moved forward to the frosted double glass doors bearing the name of the law offices, slightly disappointed when my elevator companion made a hard right and disappeared around the corner. Regardless, he’d been a brief, bright spot in my day.

  The older woman at the reception desk glanced up from her phone at my approach and smiled warmly. “May I help you, dear?”

  “Yes. I have an appointment with Mr. Cerasino.”

  “Your name?”

  “Allison Kearney.”

  She checked what I assumed was a scheduling book. “Ah, yes. Here you are. You’re early.”

  “I am,” I agreed.

  “May I get you some coffee or tea while you wait?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? I made hazelnut crème today and just picked up a fresh box of PG Tips tea.” She beamed at me.

  I couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m sure.”

  I took a seat in the waiting area amid potted plants and tasteful framed prints. My early arrival was intentional. It gave me an opportunity to observe and get a feel for what I was dealing with. I put a lot of stock in first impressions, and thus far, I liked what I saw. The place had a laid-back yet professional vibe, a far cry from the harried office in which I worked.

  I waited silently and patiently, taking in everything around me while soft music played through hidden speakers. At one point, a woman came in, wearing skintight leggings and three-inch heels, clutching a cup of coffee from the café downstairs in a hand tipped with bright red talons.

  “Is he in yet?” she brusquely asked the receptionist.

  “I haven’t seen him.”

  “Good. If he asks, I’ve been here since seven.”

  The receptionist’s expression was one of blatant disapproval, and I had to say, I agreed wholeheartedly. The newcomer didn’t seem to notice the receptionist’s pursed lips, however, because she was too busy checking me out.

  She took in my suit, practical low-heeled pumps, and leather satchel, her eyes narrowing as she did so. The hair on the back of my neck rose. I knew that look. It was the look of a woman on the prowl, ready to defend her territory. I saw plenty of them hanging around the law offices, naturally drawn to successful, professional men.

  I kept my expression neutral and calmly returned her gaze.

  The phone at the receptionist’s desk rang.

  “Good morning,” the older woman said cheerfully. “Yes, your nine o’clock is here. All right.”

  She hung up the phone and turned to me. “Mr. Cerasino will see you now.”

  Ms. Territorial scowled and skulked away while I stood and followed the nice older lady through a door on the right and down a short hallway to a corner office. I was pleasantly surprised to see my handsome elevator companion stand and round the desk. There must have been a separate entrance to the actual offices, which I supposed was a good thing for a family services practice to have, given the kind of things they had to deal with.

  “Thanks, Irene.”

  The receptionist beamed at him like he was a favorite grandson and then left, closing the door behind her and leaving us alone. Strangely enough, the large office seemed almost as intimate as the small elevator, especially with those smoldering dark eyes pinned on me.

  “We meet again,” he said, his voice a rich, deep timbre that resonated pleasantly in my bones.

  “Technically, we haven’t met yet,” I pointed out.

  His smile made me feel tingly in inappropriate places as he held out his hand. His grip was firm, his fingers warm and strong. “Paul Cerasino.”

  My heart stuttered once or twice, which had never happened before upon shaking a man’s hand and hearing him state his own name.

  “Allison Kearney.”

  A short knock was the only warning before his door opened, and the stilettoed woman barged in with a notepad and pen. She looked pointedly at our clasped hands. Paul’s—uh, Mr. Cerasino’s—hand flexed ever so slightly around mine before he let go.

  “What are we doing?” the woman asked, positioning herself beside him and pinning me with another territorial glare.

  I was fairly certain I knew on whom she’d set her sights. Whether or not he was aware of it was still undetermined.

  “I don’t need you to sit in on this one, Stella,” he told her smoothly. “What I do need is those notes from Friday’s deposition transcribed and back to me for review ASAP.”

  As a paralegal, I knew exactly what it was like to be ordered around by men and women higher on the totem pole than me, but any empathy I might have felt for Stella was overridden by her catty attitude. I was here in a professional capacity on behalf of my sister and had done absolutely nothing to warrant her ire.

  Her eyes flicked from him to me and back to him. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. Thank you, Stella.”

  “Of course, Paulie.” Her small smile was forced as she made her way out, shooting several glances over her shoulder, as if hoping he’d change his mind, even going so far as to leave the door open on the way out.

  I cheered silently when he crossed the office and firmly closed it.

  “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

  “No, thanks.”

  He indicated that I should take one of the chairs in front of his desk, waiting until I was seated before sitting down himself. “How can I be of service to you, Ms. Kearney?”

  Direct and to the point. I liked that. However, I was ashamed to admit that the last few moments in his presence had temporarily wiped the purpose of this visit from my mind.

  “You’re seeking counsel concerning an abusive relationship?” he prompted gently.

  “Yes,” I confirmed, my brain coming back online. “Not for myself, but for my sister.”

  I went on to briefly explain Miriam’s situation and how s
he had recently relocated to Cecilton to make a fresh start for herself. He listened quietly, giving me his full and undivided attention.

  “Is there any reason to believe your sister’s ex will not adhere to the terms of the restraining order?”

  “Nothing more substantial than a feeling,” I admitted after a slight hesitation.

  This was where I usually started to lose whatever support I was seeking. Police, lawyers, social workers, judges—they wanted something more concrete than feelings and intuition.

  “But even if he doesn’t,” I continued, “the order is only temporary, and it’s unlikely to be renewed. It was like pulling teeth to get the judge to issue the first one, and we probably wouldn’t have even gotten that without eyewitness testimony, affidavits, the whole nine yards.”

  “Who worked on the original case?”

  “I did.”

  The attorney whose name was officially on the case had been a useless coward, in my opinion. I was the one who’d done all the legwork and drafted the arguments. All he’d had to do was show up and cash his hefty fee.

  Mr. Cerasino raised an eyebrow. “You’re a lawyer?”

  “A paralegal,” I corrected.

  His eyes lasered in on mine. I could practically see him picking up the few crumbs of information I’d provided, studying them, dissecting them, and drawing conclusions.

  “Where?”

  I gave him the name of the county DA office where I worked.

  “You’re a long way from Boston, Ms. Kearney.”

  “Yes, I am, Mr. Cerasino, which is why I’m speaking with you.”

  His lips quirked at the corner. I found my eyes drawn to the movement. They were some fine male lips.

  “As a paralegal, you know there’s not really much I can do at this point.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m simply trying to lay some groundwork. I want Miriam to have options. Someone who understands this state’s laws and can hit the ground running in case something does happen—at least until I can return and assist.”

  “Have you spoken with the local police and made them aware of the situation?”

  I hadn’t because I knew it would be pointless. “As you said, there’s not much anyone can do at this point.”

  “I see.” He sat back, his fingers touching in a tent, and said nothing.

  Normally, I was adept at reading people, but he was proving to be an exception. Or maybe I was just too distracted by his intense attractiveness.

  Let me just pause here and say that it wasn’t just a physical thing. Yes, he was a very handsome man, but it went beyond that. I couldn’t explain it other than to say whatever weird ability I had to accurately read people told me that Paul Cerasino was just as attractive on the inside as he was on the outside.

  “All right, Ms. Kearney,” he said finally.

  I sat up a little straighter. “Yes? You’re willing to help?”

  “If it comes to that, which I sincerely hope it doesn’t, I’m willing to take on your sister’s case should she seek my counsel.”

  “Thank you!”

  “Have her make an appointment, and we’ll establish a base file.”

  I reached into my satchel and extracted the file I’d already prepared. “This has all the pertinent information. Names, dates, et cetera.”

  He didn’t take it from my outstretched hand, as I’d hoped. “Excellent. She can bring it with her when she comes in.”

  “Can’t you just take it now?”

  He tilted his head slightly, his eyes even more probing than before as he quickly put the pieces together. “She doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”

  “No.”

  Coming here had been all my doing. I hadn’t even told Miriam I was going to. I knew she wouldn’t approve. Miriam’s experiences with lawyers thus far had destroyed her faith in the system.

  “Then, I’m sorry. I cannot in good conscience accept that.”

  “But you said—”

  “I said I’m willing to help,” he clarified. “But I’m not willing to accept confidential information on a potential client without explicit consent.”

  My hopes fell, but I understood and even respected him for his honesty. He was covering his own ass, and I couldn’t blame him for that. I shoved the file back in my satchel and stood. He stood as well.

  “Thanks for your time, Mr. Cerasino.”

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  “That’s it,” I confirmed, forcing a smile. “I’ll show myself out. Have a good day.”

  Stella was loitering in the hallway. I didn’t even glance her way as I walked past with my head held high. I wished the receptionist a good day and left the office. I didn’t take a full breath until the elevator doors closed and I was on my way down.

  I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

  Chapter Four: Paulie

  Hours later, I couldn’t stop thinking about Allison Kearney. It was making me edgy. I had a mountain of work piling up on my desk that required my full attention. The last thing I needed was a distraction in the form of a golden-haired paralegal with Cupid’s bow lips.

  And yet, there I was, staring at my screen and thinking about the disappointment in those pretty green eyes as she’d left my office. The fact that I’d been the one to put it there left a bad taste in my mouth. Did I agree with her methods? No. But she was only trying to look out for her sister. That was something I could respect and admire.

  A knock pulled me from my thoughts. As usual, Stella didn’t wait for permission before opening the door and walking in. She’d been doing that a lot today. My guess was, she had something on her mind, but I wasn’t going to be the one to open that can of worms.

  “I’m getting ready to leave for the day.”

  “Okay,” I said, returning my attention to my screen and the notes I’d been typing on an upcoming mediation. “Did you finish that transcript?”

  “Yes. I put it in the case file.”

  I nodded. “Thank you. Have a good night.”

  In my mind, the conversation was over. Apparently, I was wrong.

  “Staying late again?” Stella asked, much closer than she’d been only a minute or two earlier.

  A cloud of perfume assaulted my nose, stronger than usual.

  I tried not to sneeze as my fingers tapped out more words. “That’s the plan.”

  “Another dinner meeting?” Her biting, almost accusatory tone made me pause.

  I turned to find her next to me, leaning against my desk, arms crossed.

  “Excuse me?”

  “There were takeout containers in the conference room trash this morning.”

  I blinked, surprised that, one, she’d been looking in the trash, and two, she thought anything I did in the office after hours was her concern. I was already on the verge of cranky and didn’t appreciate having to explain myself.

  “I get takeout most nights. You know that.”

  “Last week there were enough for two.”

  I thought back to why that might be, recalling my sister’s unexpected visit with some effort. The days were melting together. I’d spent the entire weekend at the office, with the exception of those few hours on Sunday in which I’d made a mandatory appearance at Mama C’s.

  “Gina stopped by with food on her way to the library. I told her she could use the conference room.”

  Stella’s features visibly relaxed. “Oh. That makes sense. Is she coming by again tonight?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “You know, I could pick up some takeout and bring it back here.”

  Warning bells tolled in the back of my mind, right along with the echo of my sister’s words. “Thanks, but no, thanks. I’ll pick something up later.”

  “You sure? I don’t mind.”

  “I’m sure. Good night, Stella.”

  I turned back to my computer. She hovered for a few moments and then let herself out. The moment the door closed, I sat back and exhaled. It looked as if Gina might have
been right about Stella after all.

  How had that even happened? As far as I knew, I hadn’t said or done anything that would suggest I was interested in something more than a purely professional, working relationship. I didn’t have time for a social life. My job was my life, and honestly, after seeing the dark side of relationships day in and day out, I was perfectly okay with that.

  Additionally, I had yet to meet a woman who made me reconsider my all-work-and-no-play bachelor plan.

  Oh, I wasn’t a complete nonbeliever in happily ever afters. I knew there were successful relationships out there. My parents were a perfect example, as were my grandparents. And more recently, two of my brothers had found their right ones too. But me? Cupido had yet to shoot an arrow into my ass, I was happy to say.

  Once again, an image of Allison Kearney popped into my head. Sea-green eyes sparkling with intelligence and concern. Conservatively and professionally dressed. Classically pretty. Well-spoken. Overall, she’d made a great first impression on me.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t think I’d made a favorable impression on her. It irked me, enough that I was having trouble concentrating. I needed to get out of the office for a little while. Maybe some food and fresh air would help clear my head enough, so I could come back later and actually get something done.

  I locked up and exited the building, pleased to see that there was still some daylight left, and started walking without a specific destination in mind. I stopped at Manetti’s, the convenience store not too far from my building, and grabbed a hoagie and a bag of chips.

  Dinner of champions. Or overworked counselors who didn’t have a life outside the office.

  I wasn’t ready to head right back, however. Earlier passing showers had left the air smelling fresh and noticeably cooler. I decided to walk a few more blocks instead, my feet subconsciously carrying me toward my grandparents’ bookstore.