Hot Asset (21 Wall Street #1)(11)

“In Ian’s defense, whipped cream has led me to many an interesting encounter with women,” Matt says, lifting his hands above his head in a stretch.

Damn it. Now a vision of Lara McKenzie wearing only whipped cream and her librarian glasses has me biting back a groan.

“Grandpa here’s right, though, about you needing a lawyer ASAP,” Matt says, his face turning serious. “Kate’s looked up every detail there is to know about this woman. She’s good. Doesn’t lose cases, doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t screw up on a technicality. Doesn’t back down. Ever.”

“Sounds like someone we know,” Kennedy says with a pointed look in my direction.

“Right, because you two are so easygoing,” I snap, losing patience with the lecture. “Look, I’m working on it.”

“Work harder. McKenzie will send you to jail if she can, man.”

I rub a hand over my face as Matt punches Kennedy. “That’s not what he needed to hear.”

“He needs to take it seriously,” Kennedy snaps back.

Enough already. “I am taking it seriously. I know I’m in deep shit. You think I’ve just had my thumb up my butt the past two days? I’ve got a dozen phone calls out—”

“Don’t bother,” Kennedy says. “You need Vanessa Lewis.”

“Oh, definitely,” I agree. “Just as soon as I capture a unicorn.”

“You won’t know until you try—”

“I did try. You think I didn’t think of her first?” I say. Vanessa Lewis is the best white-collar defense attorney in the city, and everyone knows it. “Her office said she’d put me on the waitlist. You guys are good with numbers . . . Tell me, if I’m eighty-sixth on the list, how good are my chances?”

“A hell of a lot better if you got some help,” Kennedy says.

“Good plan, Dawson. I’ll just toss a few coins in a wishing well. Better yet, does anyone know a genie?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of calling the best fixer in the city,” Kennedy says.

Matt groans. “No. Anyone but—”

“I didn’t say you had to talk to her,” Kennedy points out.

The three of us have been walking as we talk, so we’re now outside my apartment building. I rock back on my heels a bit, contemplating Kennedy’s suggestion. “It’s not a horrible idea.”

One I should have thought of first, if I hadn’t been so distracted . . .

“It’s a damn good idea,” Kennedy says. “Call her. And for the love of God, do not talk to the SEC again until you get an attorney.” Kennedy’s already continuing at a slow jog toward his own apartment building a few blocks over. “Cannon, try to keep up.”

Matt glares at Kennedy’s back, then gives me a nod goodbye.

I lift my hand in farewell as I head into my lobby, grateful for the blast of air-conditioning. Grateful, as I am every damn day, to have a roof over my head to call my own—one I don’t have to worry about getting kicked out of the next day when someone tires of me.

Yeah, I know. Foster-kid issues. You’d have ’em, too, though. Trust me.

The lobby’s big and modern, the amenities state of the art. The building is fifty-eight stories. I live on the fifty-sixth. It’s not the penthouse, but hey, as we’ve already established, I thrive on challenges.

I open the door to my living room and toss the keys on the side table. My apartment is pure bachelor pad—big TV, black leather couch, sideboard, bar cart, big bed, the whole deal.

I pour myself a glass of water, downing it in three gulps as I check my e-mail on my phone. There’s one from a hookup a few months back that includes an NSFW subject line, a kiss-face emoji, and a picture of her on her bed. Naked.

I grin, remembering Lara McKenzie has access to my e-mail. That should blow her prudish little mind.

My cock twitches, and I realize my mistake—thinking of Lara and blow in the same sentence. Damn it.

What is it about her?

That I can’t have her? That she doesn’t want me?

I take a shower, in which I take care of business, if you know what I mean, picturing Lara McKenzie in nothing but whipped cream and glasses, then pull on boxers and an undershirt before heading into the kitchen to make coffee.

My phone buzzes. A text from Kennedy. Call her.

It annoys me, but he’s right. I need to get a lawyer, and not just a good one. I need the best one. I need Vanessa Lewis.

Kennedy’s also right that I need to ignore Lara McKenzie until I do so. I’d like to think I can stay out of any trap she lays for me, but I’d be an idiot to test my willpower with a woman who makes my blood hum like Lara does.

I scroll through my favorites until I find the number I’m looking for.

“Hey,” I say the second she picks up. “I need you.”





6

LARA

Week 1: Friday, Lunchtime

“So, do you think he did it?”

I tuck my cell phone beneath my ear so I can pull off my blazer. What started as a pleasantly warm morning has turned into a sweltering afternoon, and I’m keenly aware of my blouse plastered to my sweaty back.

“Too soon to say,” I tell my dad, shrugging my arms out of the sleeves of the blazer and rolling it into a tidy bundle to stuff into my purse.