All the Way (Romancing Manhattan #1)(12)

Her legs are bare, and I can’t help but imagine what they’d feel like wrapped around my waist while she moans in my ear.

Settle down, Cavanaugh.

“Hey,” she says with a smile. “You’re a tiny bit early.”

“Gabby says girls like that.”

She laughs and walks away from me into the house toward the kitchen. She has a slight limp, but it’s getting better. I’ve hated watching her limp. Not because I’m an asshole, but because there’s literally nothing I can do to help her, and that’s just about the worst feeling in the world.

But it’s good to see how much progress she’s made in her recovery. She’s an incredibly strong woman.

“I just have to lock up back here and grab my bag,” she says, her back to me. “Is Gabby at her sleepover?”

“No, she insisted that she’s not feeling well enough for it, so I told her she could stay home.”

“Oh.” She stops cold. “She can join us.”

I smile at her kindness and cross to her, pulling her into my arms the way I did last night when she’d been so nice to Gabby. She’s so fucking small, but she fits against me perfectly. “No,” I whisper, and kiss her forehead. “She can’t. I love her, but it’s time I got some time alone with you.”

She takes a deep breath and fists her hands in my shirt at my sides, making me wish I could strip us both naked, boost her on this kitchen counter, and have my way with her.

But we’re not there quite yet.

“Does the Lobster Shack sound okay for dinner?” I ask, pulling away and breaking the sexual chemistry.

“Sounds delicious,” she says with a smile. “Let’s go.”

I lead her out, wait for her to lock her door and set the alarm, and then we’re on our way to the nearby restaurant.

“So does this mean that Gabby is alone?” she asks.

“It does.” My hands tighten on the steering wheel. I’m still not convinced this is a good idea.

“She’ll be fine,” London says with a confident nod, as if she’s trying to convince both of us. “You look nice.”

I smile over at her and let my eyes travel leisurely over her body. “You’re fucking stunning.”

Her eyes widen before I look back at the road and I hear her clear her throat. That’s right, the attraction is there.

“Thank you,” she says quietly as I park in front of the restaurant. It’s on the beach, and serves seafood, as the name suggests. The decor is fishing nets and life preservers, boat oars, stuffed fish. It’s as casual as you can get.

We’re shown to a table, and the hostess gives us each a plastic bib along with our menus.

“This is sexy,” London says when we’re alone. “I should wear this daily.”

“You’d look amazing in anything,” I reply as I tie my bib around my neck. “I wonder how this would look in a courtroom.”

She snorts out a laugh and covers her mouth with her hand. “I think you should try it. It could be a new fashion sensation.”

We order the famous bucket of food and a beer and I check my phone for the fourth time since we got here eight minutes ago.

“She’s fine,” London says patiently. “I promise.”

“If she runs off—”

“She won’t.” She reaches across the table to take my hand in hers and squeezes tightly. “She’s not stupid. Stubborn and moody, but not stupid. She ran away because she knew you’d find her. And now she wants you to trust her.”

“You’re an intelligent woman,” I reply, and guide her hand to my mouth. I plant a kiss on her knuckles before she pulls it away and rests her chin in her hands, watching me.

“I was once a girl her age,” she says with a shrug. “Just wait until she’s sixteen.”

I cringe. “Her dad can handle that.”

“You’re still close with her dad?” London asks as she takes a sip of her beer.

“Very. He’s a partner at our firm. It’s me; Gabby’s dad, Carter; and my brother, Quinn.”

“All three of you are lawyers?”

“Yes.”

“Do you handle a lot of estate law?”

I smile and shake my head no. “I did that for your dad because I admired and liked him. I’m a corporate attorney.”

“Ah,” she says with a nod. “So was Dad. No wonder you got along well. You’re awfully young to own a firm, aren’t you?”

“How old do you think I am?”

She cocks a brow, and then laughs. “I don’t know, thirty-five?”

“I’m almost forty.” I take a sip of my beer, waiting for her response, but there isn’t one. “Does the age difference bother you?”

“It’s eight years,” she replies. “I’m not a minor. I think we’re good.”

I tilt my head to the side, watching her.

“So tell me more,” she says. “How did you come to own a successful corporate law firm with your brothers before you’re forty?”

“It is unusual,” I concede. “About five years ago I was an associate attorney at a firm and got the case of my career. I won’t bore you with all of the legal terms, but needless to say it made me a lot of money. More than I thought I’d make in my career. So I left that firm and asked my brothers to join me in our own. We’ve managed to build a reputation and an impressive caseload.”