Dr. D Spills the Tea

Mood

Brent was still seated on the couch, chin resting on his closed fist, gazing out the picture window distractedly when I stepped out of my bedroom. His arms were spread over the back of the couch, seated at eased with a powerful body that made the whole space seem smaller. The watch at his wrist was gold, his dress casual with a light shirt and pants that hugged him in all the right ways. He'd maintained incredible eye contact as I'd questioned him, never faltering or shrinking backwards. His words had been precise with no attempts of deflection or belittlement.

Earlier, it had felt less like a cross examination and more like open communication between colleagues. Either the man was genuine or an incredible actor.

Turning, as if he'd felt my eyes on him, he gave a low whistle as he rose to his feet. "You clean up nice."

The outfit I'd chosen was more casual than my usual wardrobe, just a white blouse and jeans. It was simple but elegant with matching strappy sandals. "So do you," I admitted.

He took in my frown and gave a small smile, aware that he wasn't quite off the hook.

I'd left the room to regroup, to decide what the best course of action was for me.

A part of me wanted to put all the concern about Brent's intentions behind us. It was a business venture, one that would rightfully benefit both of us, and the deal he was offering me was a fair one. The other part of me, the part I was currently trying to ignore, wasn't ready to overlook the fact that he'd said he was pursuing me, that he'd wanted to work with me all these years. Ever since graduation, apparently.

He'd never reached out to me and I was certain he'd had my number programmed in his phone. Why wait until now? Had Theodore Blackwell given him a nudge? I was beginning to suspect I wasn't the only person signing some kind of agreement with Brent and it bothered me that Blackwell might be using his influence to push him into "pursuing" me.

If I found out that Brent was being disingenuous in any way, I would refuse to sign.

Pursue offers elsewhere.

"Sweets?" Brent had held his arm out, gesturing for me to go to lead the way out my apartment and looked concerned when I'd been too busy staring at him to notice the cue. "You okay?"

I narrowed my eyes at him and he quirked a dark brow which was irritating. Men shouldn't be allowed to look attractive when you're still uncertain about whether or not they should be in good standing with you. It's distracting. Silently, I grabbed my purse from the kitchen counter, tossing it over my shoulder as I marched to the front door--but he caught me by the wrist, bringing the entire procession to a halt.

"Diana." His tone was soft, careful. "Hey." Stiffly, I glanced over my shoulder to find him giving me an imperious look. He was walking on thin ice with me as was. It wouldn't take much for this entire deal to crumble. He seemed to recognize the threat in my expression and chose to proceed anyway. "I don't know what happened with George or what you're going through with Mr. Blackwell, but we can reschedule if you're not feeling brunch." He'd said it calmly, expression much softer than one would expect. "You're not going to hurt my feelings if you need some time to regroup."

Turning completely to face him now, I hated that I had to tip my head back to look at him. He was close, his stature probably twice that of George's but his presence was a quiet one, nothing threatening in his stance. Even the way his hand had gripped my wrist was light and he'd let me go as soon as he was sure he'd gained my attention. When I didn't respond right away, still undecided on what I wanted to do, he just waited.

I didn't remember Brent as incredibly patient. Or quiet. I wondered what else had changed about him in the years we'd been apart.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I gave a slight nod. "Brunch sounds nice."

"With me?" he wondered seriously.

I had to fight a smile at the question. He seemed well aware that he hadn't won me over just yet. Maybe I'd worried him with my put-offish behavior. "Yes, you."

He grinned. "Sounds great. I'm starving since my breakfast date canceled on me."

There was no question who he was referring to. Amused, I felt my smile widen. "Her loss."

Brent feigned shock. "Who said it was a her?" I rolled my eyes up at him as I we stepped into the hallway. He struggled to fight off a smile, adding in a fake serious tone, "That was information was confidential, Sweets. I'll have to fire my secretary."

"Do you even have a secretary?" I wondered in amusement, locking the door behind us.

He raised his brows. "Not anymore."

It was a bit funny, if only because I was certain the answer had been no. We both laughed at his joke, moving down the hallway, oddly in sync, the entire mood lightening. It was strange that the feeling of his hand at my back didn't feel foreign, our banter oddly comforting. The elevator stopped a floor down and a couple of women stepped in, eying Brent curiously. He didn't seem to notice, probably accustomed to those kind of glances.

I could only imagine how the female jurors felt watching him present in court, dressed in a full suit, commanding everyone's attention with ease. "When is your next court date?" I asked in a hushed tone.

Leaning down a bit, his voice matched my lowered level when he wondered, "Why are we whispering, Sweets?" One of the ladies had glanced back at the sound of "Sweets".

My shoulder bumped into his side as I glanced up at him. "I don't like being loud in public."

There was a gleam in his dark eyes, as he mumbled, "And in private?"

I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. "What?"

"I'll be meeting for an arraignment in court next Wednesday," he said, much clearer, words focused. That definitely wasn't what he'd just said. I went to verify what he had said before but he beat me to the punch, asking, "Why?"

Oh. "I'd like to see you in action."

He grinned. "You want to see if I'm worthy of your company, huh?" Dark eyes focused on me, I realized we were standing incredibly close to one another. Vaguely, I was aware that it was my fault for speaking so low in the first place.

Giving an impetuous nod, I turned forward, noticing that the woman in front of us had too. If Brent didn't have me standing next to him, I was certain the woman would have already approached him. "I want to see what kind of at attorney I'm dealing with."

A deep chuckle sounded from beside me and I noticed the woman in front of us peek back at him once more. His voice was just as attractive as, well, everything else about him so I couldn't really blame her for noticing. "I'll send you the all the pertinent information about venture." There was a lilt of amusement in his voice as the elevator dinged, his hand moving back to the small of my back. "It will be a quick, boring event but I'll make sure to wear my finest suit for the audition."

Audition. I supposed it was something like that. Dressed in a suit, standing before a judge, I would know at a glance whether he's a formidable attorney or a well dressed clown. "I appreciate you humoring me."

"Any time," was his breezy response.

The elevator dinged and the woman scutted out. As we stepped off the elevator, I noticed the red Tesla parked in front of my apartment building and grimaced. Brent seemed to notice too, his hand draping over my shoulder as we stepped outside, pulling me tighter to his side as he steered us away from the idling vehicle. His smile had slipped. "My offer from earlier still stands, Sweets."

The offer to have a friendly chat with my ex, to ward him off. I frowned at the thought. "No, it's alright."

"Is it?" he wondered, glancing back toward the car, still present, idling.

Admittedly, I wasn't quite sure.

"Diana," he said as he hailed a cab for us, "I think we should move you to a hotel room for tonight."

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the Tesla had taken off. Still, there was no telling when he'd be back. I thought about him leaned back against the couch, ignoring my very clear instruction to leave, and shivered. What does he want?

As the cab pulled up, Brent opened the back door, ushering me in first. Sliding in after me, he gave an address I didn't recognize to the cab driver and I stared at him quizzically. He just smiled, "Don't look so worried, Sweets. I've got everything under control."