The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(36)

Her hands folded in front of her, making it easy for me to see how badly they were shaking.

When she saw that I’d noticed, she hid them under the table, her chest rising like she was panting.

“I can tell you what I want to do, but that’s not going to change anything,” she whispered. Her eyes left mine, darting around the room before they settled on the table. “I’m not trying to bullshit you. I’m in over my head. I don’t know how to find this answer. Where to look. How to search.” Her hands lifted, and she picked up the edges of the nearest notebook. “I’m trying. I’m looking. I’m digging. I am …”

I hadn’t expected her to locate the answer immediately.

She was too raw, too much of a novice to know where to find it.

What I wanted was to see the desire on her face.

The drive.

The look of longing that was staring at me right now.

I walked over to her, stopping when we were inches apart, facing the evidence that she had spread out in front of her. “These are pieces. One”—I tapped the first bit of evidence my team had logged—“two, three,” I said, counting as my finger grazed each one. “I don’t want you to look at the individual pieces, Hannah.” My eyes eventually met hers. “I want you to look at the entire picture.”

The brownie had only intensified the vanilla scent coming off her body.

I took a long, deep inhale.

Fuck me.

I was close enough that I could touch her. That I could skim my fingers across her cheek, taking in the softness of her skin.

Would she slap me?

Or would we end up naked in the conference room?

She’s your intern, I repeated in my head, and a Dalton and your friends’ cousin.

I lifted one of the folders off the table and handed it to her. “You’re trying to find a reason why Kennedy would send that email.” I gestured toward her hands. “Did you ever consider why he wouldn’t?” I could see her brain rolling through the different options, her expression changing as she began to bounce around ideas. “That’s it. Now, you’re on the right path.”

She took off her sweatshirt, dropping it onto an empty chair, the movement in her arms showing the muscle in her biceps and the narrowness of her waist. She slid her braid to the other shoulder. She wasn’t happy with that placement and shifted it again.

Silky, dark strands that would look incredibly sexy, wrapped around my wrist.

“You’re close, Hannah. Almost there …”

She glanced up, her eyes pleading with mine. “Declan—”

“Don’t say it.”

She suddenly looked defeated. She was tired. Hungry. She had wine flowing through her veins—I could see the tiny hints of burgundy on her lips. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was going to push through.

“You’ve been studying this case since your first day here. Analyze each of the different viewpoints. Work backward if you have to.” I had an idea, and I placed a brownie on her empty napkin. “What made me put that there, Hannah?”

“The brownie?”

I nodded.

She gazed at the dessert. “You want me to focus.”

“What other reason?”

She took several deep breaths. “You had a motive.”

“Yes.” I waited until her stare met mine. “Now, take it further. Did I put that brownie there for my advantage? Or because there were too many in the container and I wanted to make room for something else?” I paused, waiting. “Not everything is what it seems.”

Her mouth opened, teeth stabbing her bottom lip.

“Remember, there’s going to be times when the opposition presents something you’re unprepared for. You have to go into court, expecting this, or you’ll risk the chance of being destroyed. So, when it happens, are you going to roll onto your back and take it?”

Goose bumps rose over her bare arms.

“Or are you going to spin what’s presented and dominate the trial?” I lowered my voice and said, “What kind of lawyer are you going to be?”

She turned her body toward me, releasing the lip she’d been gnawing. “The kind that wins.”

“Show me.” I placed my hand on the folder she was still holding. “I’ll be in my office.”

I walked out of the conference room and stopped the second I reached the hallway. My hands balled into fists, and I held them tightly, forcing my feet not to move so I didn’t turn around and go back inside and pull her into my arms.

I pushed air through my lungs.

I tried to tame my fucking cock.

There was just something about Hannah that I found impossible to resist.

Maybe it was her scent. Maybe it was her innocence. Maybe it was the determination I saw in her eyes.

Maybe it was the fact that she made me want to growl and fucking scream at the same time.

Maybe—

“Hi,” she said, instantly interrupting my thoughts.

I turned toward the doorway of the conference room, and she wasn’t there.

“Yeah, I’m still at the office,” she said. “Ugh, I’m so tired.”

She wasn’t talking to me. That meant she was on the phone.

My anger suddenly flared.

Why the fuck was she speaking to someone right now when she should have been working? Was she not taking this seriously?