Page 4 of Not That Guy

Weston

Well, damn. I’d expected another boring Monday, made worse by a bitter divorce fight in a case I’d taken over for a colleague with the flu. Instead, I’d gotten lucky. In a manner of speaking.

Brenner Fleming.

I hadn’t seen him since that frantic, mind-blowing jerk-off in his hotel room, and all it had taken was one of his growls of annoyance to get my stuck-in-neutral motor revved and running.

It might’ve been a drunken romp neither of us would ever admit to, yet it had become the gold standard I’d judged all my other bed partners against. And they’d come up lacking every single time.

Back at my office, I should’ve been writing up my notes for the case, but instead I sat, remembering that night where I’d completely lost control for the first time. Who knew under that buttoned-up, tight-assed, prickly-as-shit jerk, a wildcat lay in wait?

And why the hell would it be Brenner Fleming to turn me on?

I’d chalked it all up to a night where we’d both let alcohol drive away our inhibitions, because no man before or after had drawn my attention. Yet here I was, thinking about him, and my dick twitched. This wasn’t me. I didn’t let my libido run my life in the office. Plus, I wasn’t into men.

After that encounter, I’d filled my nights with women, eager to erase the echoes of Fleming’s gasps and groans.

I sure as hell didn’t want another man, but my brain wouldn’t give up the taste of Fleming’s hot kiss, nor the sound of his sexy growl.

Curious as to what he’d been up to, I googled him. My intercom buzzed.

“Yes, Daniel?”

“Come on by, West. I’d like to hear how it went this morning.”

I’d only recently moved to the New York City offices of Walden, Booth, and Roth, one of the top firms in the country.

They’d hired me straight out of law school, and after a week of fun in the sunny Med, I’d joined them and stayed in Boston.

But after all the years of living in New England, I’d been ready for a change, and when an opening had popped up in their New York City office, I’d jumped at the chance for a transfer.

“Sure thing. Be there in two.”

I exited out of my looky-loo of Brenner, picked up my coffee, and headed over. As a founding partner, Daniel Roth had one of the best offices in the building, his double-exposure windows overlooking a stretch of midtown all the way to the East River. I admired the view as I settled into a chair.

“Thanks for handling the Swanson mess this morning. Normally I wouldn’t send in someone at your level, but all our associates were handling other matters.

” Daniel had been the main cheerleader for me to join the New York branch.

We’d worked on several cases together—ones where nasty custody battles had walked hand in hand with huge real-estate holdings. “How did it go?”

I relayed the sanitized version of the case.

“It started out like any typical acrimonious divorce, but once the two ex-lovebirds sat across the table from each other, they decided maybe they did love each other, talked it out in private without Mommy and Daddy egging them on, and concluded that a reconciliation might actually work.”

Daniel didn’t register surprise. “Happens in about a third of the cases. Who was opposing counsel?” He again checked the screen. “Roman and White? They’re good.”

“Brenner Fleming handled the case.”

Hearing that, Daniel removed his reading glasses. “Fleming? That’s surprising.”

Anxious to know more, I hitched my chair closer. “How come?”

“He’s a partner.” Amusement danced in his eyes. “Maybe they were also slammed and sent in their big guns.”

The reasoning seemed solid. As I recalled, Brenner Fleming’s gun was pretty big.

“I wouldn’t know. We’ve never met across the table. Or in court.”

“You two went to law school together, weren’t you? Didn’t you know each other?”

“Somewhat. Same section and fraternity, but we weren’t friends.”

But I do know what his dick looks like.

Somehow, I didn’t get the feeling that Daniel Roth, almost fifty years married and grandfather of three, would appreciate that bit of information, so I kept it to myself.

“ Hmm-hmm .”

In the year I’d been working in the New York office, I’d heard that hmm-hmm on numerous occasions, usually before delivering news that would levy a significant change for the firm.

Minutes passed with Daniel clicking his mouse through whatever he had on his computer screen.

Not that I didn’t like spending time with the senior partner in his massive office, but I did have cases to get to.

Still, I kept my butt in the chair and waited.

“We’re looking to expand the family-law division. In our senior-partner meeting last month, we decided to make offers to several attorneys we’ve had our eye on. What would you say to Brenner Fleming joining the firm?”

That came out of nowhere. True, the office was very busy, and while I wouldn’t mind help, more partners might not necessarily be a good thing.

And having Brenner Fleming underfoot definitely wouldn’t be a distraction I’d look forward to.

That irritating scowl, the stiff, holier-than-thou expression…

was that really something I wanted in my face every day?

In law school, it had been fun to tease and poke him.

Our competitiveness had driven us to be better, but I’d always had the option to walk away or ignore him.

Here, in the real world, I wouldn’t be able to.

“Why Fleming particularly? Not that he isn’t a good attorney, I’ll give him that, but there are probably a thousand Brenner Flemings in the city, or the country, for that matter, who’d be thrilled to work with this firm.”

“We’ve been thinking about this for a while now, almost as long as when we brought you over last year from Boston.

Prenuptial agreements are becoming more complicated, involving real-estate trusts, stocks, bonds, even pets.

Custody battles are heating up, especially with same-sex marriage.

Frozen embryos for IVF, adoptions, surrogacy…

who knows what will come up in the future? But we need to be on top of it all.”

“Yeah, a whole new aspect of the law has opened up.”

“We’ve made some inquiries and narrowed it down to several likely candidates, but Fleming is my first choice. I like his backstory as well as his contacts—Fleming knows a lot of real-estate developers, and we think that could bolster our real-estate division.”

Ahh . That made perfect sense. It was all about the bottom line. Now I understood.

“What contacts does Fleming have? And what about his backstory is appealing?”

Curious eyes met mine. “You don’t know?”

My mind was a blank when I searched my memory banks, and I shook my head. “We didn’t exactly run in the same circles in law school.”

“Not surprising. I didn’t think Senator Preston Lively would welcome a foster kid to his house for Christmas.”

Shock waves rippled through me. “Foster kid?” The news was stunning, to say the least. There’d never been a hint of Fleming’s background.

He’d come and gone at the holidays like everyone else, but then, we’d never made small talk about presents received or trips taken.

I sure as hell wasn’t going to spill the beans about my dear old dad and let everyone think my life as a senator’s son was anything short of glamorous.

Aloof and quiet, Fleming hadn’t had many friends, aside from Bailey and a couple of library nerds.

Most of his time had been spent trying to top me.

“I-I had no idea. Like I said, we were more classmates than friends. Rivals, to tell the truth.”

A lineup of family photos sat on Daniel’s credenza.

I’d met his wife, Rachel, and his oldest son, Lev, who worked in the real- estate division of the firm.

They hosted monthly dinners in their Upper West Side apartment, with Daniel strongly encouraging attendance.

For a large firm, it boasted a family atmosphere.

“There’s no room for that in the here and now.” Why did that simple statement sound like a reprimand? “Whatever was in the past between you two, it’s long ago. I’m sure if he does come on board, you’ll show him the ropes and work together amicably.”

“Of course. I’m all about being a team player.”

Rah fucking rah.

“I’ll keep you updated as to our search and its success.”

That was my cue for being dismissed, and I rose to leave, but couldn’t keep from asking, “So you’re ready to extend an offer to Fleming? And whomever else you’ve decided on?” Not that I cared about anyone other than Brenner.

“Close to it.”

Back in my office, I had to forgo my research project on Brenner Fleming to do my actual work.

I reviewed two prenuptial agreements from my junior associates, three divorce decrees ready for filing, and instructed my paralegal, Delia, to set up mediation sessions.

There were four new clients to meet and interoffice meetings with our real-estate and estates-and-trust divisions.

Delia waited for my okay on the dates for all, and I watched my calendar fill up for the rest of the month.

“Jesus, I’m tired just looking at this schedule,” I grumbled, and from the doorway, Miranda Holt, a third-year associate, laughed.

“Come on, Weston. You’re sounding like an old man.” She licked her full, glossy lips. “And I know you’re anything but.”

My exterior remained calm, but inwardly I seethed.

Miranda had been present that night when Brenner and I had hooked up—God, I hated that phrase—and had been at the bar when I’d returned.

She’d spent the rest of the evening questioning me on where I’d disappeared to, had asked if I’d wanted to leave for someplace quieter, and what I thought of interoffice romances.

“Can I help you with anything? I’m kind of busy.” I waved a legal pad at her. “Monday and all that.”

“I’m busy too. SEC filings to go over and all that ,” she mimicked. “Just wondering if you’ve heard the rumors.”