Page 23 of A Legal Affair

Daniela sensed there was more to the story, and she wanted to probe deeper. But he smoothly turned the tables on her.

“Why do you want to be a lawyer, Miss Moreau?”

“Please, call me Daniela.” At his guarded look, she hastened to add, “At least outside the classroom. It feels weird to be on such formal terms over a friendly cup of coffee. Please?”

He hesitated, then gave a slight nod. “All right. Now, tell me why you want to be an attorney. What was your major in college?”

“Accounting.” It was another detail, like her first name, that she and her brothers had decided not to fabricate. The less she lied about, the less risk she ran of blowing her cover. Theoretically, anyway.

“I earned a bachelor’s degree in accounting, became a CPA and went to work for a large accounting firm. But after just three years, I knew it wasn’t for me.”

“How did you know?”

Something in his gentle tone made her want to tell him everything—about the long nights, demanding clients, unscrupulous bosses. About the tears of frustration she’d shed on the way home, then quickly scraped away before going inside the house so her mother wouldn’t notice and worry even more.

“I was unhappy,” she said simply. “The reason I became a CPA was that I’d always been good at math, so it seemed the natural choice for me to go into accounting. And, quite honestly, I wanted to make a lot of money—and I did. Enough to buy my dream house, that sweet little convertible and a wardrobe full of designer clothes.”

“But it wasn’t enough for you,” Caleb said quietly.

“No, it wasn’t.” A sardonic smile curved her mouth. “When the whole Berkshire financial scandal broke, I realized that what had happened to those employees could just as easily happen to me. The next day, I walked into my boss’s office and handed him my resignation letter.”

“That took a lot of guts,” Caleb said in a voice laced with admiration.

She shrugged. “Not really. I should’ve done it a lot sooner.”

Caleb nodded slowly. “So what have you been doing since then?”

“Freelancing. Preparing taxes, doing bookkeeping—stuff like that.”

The waitress materialized with their orders, setting each item carefully on the table. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she inquired, looking at Caleb.

He shook his head, and Daniela asked, “May I have a spoon?”

“Oh. Sorry.” The girl fumbled out a set of napkin-wrapped silverware from her apron pocket and passed it to Daniela without ever taking her baby blues off Caleb and his ripped muscles. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

His mouth twitched. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Okay. Well, just let me know if there’s anything else you need. Anything at all.”

“Will do,” he said with a wink that made the girl blush and smile. “Thanks again.”

Daniela shook her head at Caleb as the starry-eyed waitress reluctantly moved on to the next customer. “Is it just me,” she muttered, “or do you seem to have a brain-melting effect on every woman that crosses your path?”

He took a sip of steaming coffee, dark eyes glinting with amusement over the rim. “How would you know that? We’ve been acquainted all of, what, two days?”

“Three days. I met you bright and early on Monday morning.”

“Not so early,” he pointed out dryly. “You were ten minutes late to my class.”

“Semantics.”

He laughed, a strong, deep sound that rumbled up from his chest and curled Daniela’s toes inside her wood-heeled Jimmy Choo sandals. “You’re going to make a fine lawyer someday, Miss Moreau,” he drawled, a smirk on those kissable lips.

“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment,” she quipped, enjoying the repartee so much that she didn’t bother correctinghim on the formal address. She spooned vanilla ice cream into her mouth, then followed up with a sip of espresso.

A deep, languorous sigh escaped her lips. “Mmm-mmm.”

Caleb was watching her, cup halfway to his mouth. “That good, huh?” His voice sounded rough, tight.