Perfect Partners Part 2

Ryan flopped onto the sofa, his second cola in hand. "And me. Get out. I can handle things from here. I'm used to being up all night on a.s.signment, and I've had my caffeine fix." He waved the can in the air. "You need the sleep. No way you'll function in court if you're sleeping through the proceedings."

"Appreciate it, buddy. I owe you."

"Yeah. Ain't life grand?" Ryan grinned.

"It's been better."

"Haven't you gotten one decent night's sleep since the squirt moved in?"

"No."

Ryan snorted in disbelief. "Pretty quick answer. Are you sure you wouldn't like to reconsider?"

"You're a pain in the b.u.t.t, Jackson."

"Maybe. But how about some honesty? I seem to remember your mentioning one particular night when you thought you had the problem beat."

"If you know so much, then why ask the d.a.m.ned question?"

"Because friends make you face things you don't want to own up to." Ryan kicked off his shoes and propped his feet up on the sofa. "So?"

"So, yes. One night last week Alix slept. I didn't." Since the day Chelsie had run from his home in tears, he had lived with a steady and conflicting diet of guilt and desire. His fluctuating feelings regarding Chelsie Russell kept him up nights, so the one evening Alix chose to sleep, Griff tossed and turned.

The battle had been h.e.l.l on him, physically as well as emotionally. A fair exchange, given how badly he'd treated Chelsie. Yet given a second chance, he'd do the same thing all over again. Self-preservation at its finest.

"Aha," Ryan muttered.

"Don't aha me. I'm going to bed."

"If you ask me, both you and Alix need her."

"We have each other, Ryan. We don't need anyone else." Especially a woman capable of turning his life upside down. He'd seen firsthand the lengths to which Chelsie would go to get something she wanted. No different than Deidre or his so-called mother. Regardless of Chelsie's effect on him-and he couldn't deny he felt something each time he even thought of Chelsie Russell-he didn't want to add her to his already convoluted life.

"Strand yourself on a deserted island, and you'll wind up alone." Ryan flicked on the television set.

"Excuse me if I don't stick around and listen to you spout philosophy. I've got some sleep to catch up on." Griff turned and headed for the door.

"Pleasant dreams."

Griff ignored Ryan's jibe and low chuckle. His friend's poor sense of humor was a small thing to overlook in favor of a good night's sleep.

He entered his bedroom and stripped off his clothing, collapsing onto the cool sheets in exhaustion. He expected sleep to come immediately, but he lay awake with one thing on his mind. Chelsie Russell.

Until now, he had refused to contemplate the connection between Alix's well-being and her aunt, the complex lady lawyer who tormented his dreams.

Chelsie's parents were no longer interested in Alix. Since the hearing a month ago, they had stopped by only once. Because the judge's ruling had reiterated the importance of family ties and deep down Griff agreed, he'd been willing to allow the Russells supervised family visits. Apparently, having discovered that the judge's decision hadn't affected their status with the country club set, their granddaughter no longer fit into their plans. No need to burden themselves with a child if their shallow friends accepted them anyway.

A part of him acknowledged the possibility that Chelsie's parents were grief-stricken and upset over losing custody on top of losing a daughter. That didn't justify ignoring the same child whose life they had tried to turn upside down. Regardless of the reason for their absence, Griff wasn't surprised, merely relieved.

Thankfully, Alix didn't know the difference. Her restless nights were constant with or without her grandparents' presence in her life. Chelsie was a different story. Whether Griff liked it or not, and he definitely did not, Alix responded to her. Chelsie obviously created a sense of security the little girl lacked otherwise. That the cold lady lawyer could do for his niece what Griff could not aggravated him. He'd like to think the one peaceful night in a troubled month was mere coincidence. But deep down, he knew better. The child's smiles and giggles had been freer around Chelsie.

He punched the pillow and lay down with an arm tucked beneath his head. The one person Griff needed to stay away from was the one person Alix needed to put her on the road to emotional recovery. His niece had to take priority over his own feelings.

But could he be around Chelsie and not replay her role in the custody battle, not compare her to the selfish women in his past, his mother and fiancee? He thought about the tattered yellow book Alix carried around with her and exhaled deeply. Chelsie fit the mold ... and yet she didn't.

Alix's cries pierced the night. Griff was halfway out of bed before he remembered Ryan was on duty. He lay back onto the mattress and groaned aloud.

Chelsie Russell. Could he be around her and not want her? He was about to find out.

Chelsie turned on the television and inserted an exercise video into the VCR. She preferred her own company to the patrons of the health club around the corner from her office. Her secretary and next-door neighbor, always a reliable source, had informed her that most women went there to meet eligible men. Since Chelsie had decided to steer clear of the male species, her apartment was as good a place as any for working out.

She secured a rubber band around her hair and unlocked the door for her neighbor. Though an efficient worker, her secretary was always late and sometimes a no-show for their exercise sessions. Since Chelsie had spent the last two days tied up in court, her friend's schedule was anybody's guess. Chelsie decided to start without her.

She began with a tough series of stretches before settling in for serious relaxation. After such a long day, she could use both. Almost running into Griffin Stuart hadn't helped. She raised her right arm above her head and counted aloud. "And one ... and two ..." Though she knew Griffin had begun working out of his home, she hadn't figured him for a family-court type of pract.i.tioner. After his go-for-the-jugular display the other day, she'd pretty much decided he'd stick to cut-throat litigation or hard-ball corporate law. She lowered her right arm and lifted her left. "And one ... and two ..."

Dealing with broken families and children required a heart. Though he displayed his heart for Alix, Chelsie had seen Griffin's other side. In an effort to avoid him, she'd headed for the nearest door. When she ended up in the cafeteria, she succ.u.mbed to a chocolate craving. Now she was working off both stress and sweets, courtesy of a man who obviously didn't understand the meaning of forgiveness.

Leg lifts, she decided, as she raised her right leg in the air, were more painful when she skipped a week between sessions. She ought to cut back on her caseload, but knew better than to think she could turn away a needy client. Despite her heavy breathing, she felt good, as if she were exorcising all the demons that Griffin Stuart had brought back into her life.

Experience had taught Chelsie to learn her lesson the first time. "I'm sorry" only counted when the person uttering the words had the ability and the desire not to repeat his mistakes. "I didn't mean it" was the coward's way of not accepting responsibility for his actions. Chelsie had believed her husband one too many times. She'd stayed in her marriage and paid the ultimate price. Abuse wasn't only physical, and one such relationship was one too many.

With Griffin, she'd slipped, but never again. She didn't intend to give him a third chance to insult her. Nor did she want to be reminded of her own painful past, something he'd managed to do quite easily and without much remorse. No, she could find time to see her niece when he wasn't around.

She tucked a stray strand of hair back into her ponytail, switched sides and lifted her left leg. Chelsie didn't need another slap in the face. She'd made a huge mistake. She'd also apologized. His penetrating eyes and s.e.xy looks didn't ent.i.tle him to treat her like dirt.

He wasn't worth another thought.

So why have you wasted an entire workout session obsessing about him? She wouldn't dignify that thought with an answer. Chelsie lowered her leg, lay down on her back, and began the deep breathing session of the tape.

"h.e.l.lo?" Griff knocked lightly and pushed the door open further. Though he felt like an intruder, he entered anyway and peered inside. One glance at Chelsie stretched out on the floor and he rushed in, kneeling beside her for a closer look.

Her chest rose and fell in steady intervals. Once he realized she was okay, he noticed more than her even breathing. A cranberry-colored bodysuit and tights molded her lithe body. With each breath she took, her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s became more evident. Damp tendrils of hair clung to her slender neck. His body hardened at the sight. She looked sated. The word brought sensual images to mind. Images of those long legs wrapped around him as he ...

What the h.e.l.l was wrong with him? He tore his gaze from her body and noticed the TV had faded to black-and-white fuzz. Grateful for the diversion, he popped the tape out of the VCR and shut down both it and the television. He glanced at the video in his hand. "Exercise and Relaxation." He shook his head in disbelief. She'd fallen asleep mid-exercise with her door open and unlocked.

His gaze drifted to her sleeping form. Her cheeks were flushed pink from exertion, her full lips parted slightly in repose. With a shake of his head, he tried to clear his thoughts. He'd have to do better if he intended to have her around. For Alix's sake, he had no choice. He snorted in disgust.

The sound woke her. She took one look at him leaning over her and let out an ear-piercing shriek, loud enough to deafen him for life.

"Calm down. I'm not a stranger." Stupid words, but what else could he say to a woman whose apartment he had entered uninvited and whom he had wakened from a sound sleep? Especially when he was fairly certain he wouldn't be welcome under ordinary circ.u.mstances.

She scrambled to her knees and scurried backwards, placing a large distance between them. Her eyes seemed wide and unfocused. Fear. She appeared paralyzed by the emotion. If he wasn't mistaken, she didn't recognize him.

"Chelsie?" He reached out a hand and gently touched her shoulder, his fingertips connecting with her silken skin.

She shook her head and strands of hair fell from their binding. As if in response to his touch, her gaze focused on him, awareness dawning slowly in her dark eyes. "Griff?" she asked in a shaky but husky voice.

His name on her lips sounded incredibly intimate. She'd never called him by name before, especially not the abbreviated version used by his close friends. He was surprised she did so now.

"Can I help you up?"

She grasped his extended hand and allowed him to pull her to a standing position. Her palm felt cold and clammy, similar to Alix's forehead when she awakened in fright. Given his unexpected appearance in her apartment, he supposed Chelsie's response was normal, yet he couldn't help wondering if there was more to her reaction than just shock.

Intending to lead her to the couch, he placed one hand on the small of her back. This time, she stiffened at his touch and pivoted around to glare at him. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing in my apartment?"

"For a supposedly smart woman, you aren't too bright. You live in the city of Boston and fall asleep on the floor with your door wide open. Anyone could come in. Anyone could see you lying on your back, half dressed, ready for heaven knows what..."

A deep flush crept up her neck and stained her cheeks. "Well, don't be subtle about expressing yourself." She turned her back to him and picked up an old gray sweatshirt pulling it over her upper body, effectively hiding her s.e.xy shape from his view. "Excuse me for a minute," she said and disappeared into another room.

As his gaze swept the expanse of the small living area, he noticed his surroundings for the first time. Crystal animals and fragile ornaments accented an otherwise sleek decor comprised mostly of leather and gla.s.s. Hardly a place for a child. At least he'd left Alix at home with Mrs. Baxter. He'd hate to think of the damage a little girl could do in such an environment.

Griff picked up a crystal rabbit and fingered its smooth contours. Miss Russell obviously loved fine things. He thought of his mother, of the expensive pieces she'd bring home after a romp with one of her many men. "A woman wants more out of life," she'd told him on the afternoon Griff had watched her pack. "And your daddy can't give it to me. But I'll find it just you wait."

She'd looked around before closing her tattered suitcase, her eyes focusing on the chipped coffee table in the center of the room. And Griff, like the twelve-year-old child he'd been, had thought she'd take the picture of himself and Jared, that she'd be back. Instead, her hand grasped a perfume bottle, one of the many objects she'd used to flaunt her affairs before his father. Griff had been wrong on both counts. And Chelsie, it seemed, was similar to his mother and ex-fiancee, sharing their love of possessions and probably valuing them above people.

This visit had been a mistake. She couldn't help Alix. He wanted to turn and run before she returned. He nearly did, until his eyes focused on the bookshelf in the corner. Mixed in with the expensive trinkets were a set of books worn by use and age. A gap between two of the volumes indicated one was missing. He thought of Alix and the death-grip she kept on the d.a.m.ned yellow story book. There it was again-Chelsie Russell and her contradictions.

She cleared her throat. With a sound that was half sigh, half groan, he faced her. She'd covered her long legs with baggy sweats that matched the oversized sweatshirt. Unfortunately, instead of s.e.xy, she now looked soft and cuddly. Neither helped Griff's frame of mind.

"The rabbit's my favorite," she said.

He frowned and replaced the animal.

"Getting back to your point." She gestured towards the door. "As it happens, I live in a high-security building. And the door was unlocked, not open."

"Like a burglar or rapist would have recognized the difference," he said. "And it must have opened while you slept."

"Oh." She looked down, apparently duly chastised.

At least he'd made his point about her safety.

Suddenly, she glanced up, her dark eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Just how did you get up here without the doorman calling first?"

"I latched onto a large party headed for another floor. I didn't think you'd be too receptive if I called ahead."

"Good thinking."

"And if I could do that, so could anyone."

"Point taken. I'll be more careful in the future, though I was expecting company."

Male or female? None of your d.a.m.ned business. This evening was not going as he'd planned. Both his thoughts and his actions were betraying him. He needed to focus on the purpose of his visit and not his past ... or her impossibly long legs. "Good," he muttered.

"What do you want?" she asked.

You. He shook his head in pure frustration. Focus, he reminded himself. "Look, I realize I frightened you and I'm sorry."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Apology accepted."

The silence in the small apartment overwhelmed him. Obviously, she intended to make him pay for his rude behavior last week. Anything for Alix, he thought, and prepared to grovel.

THREE.

Chelsie glanced at her surprise visitor, who obviously planned on taking his time before revealing why he had come. Resigned to a drawn-out conversation, she lifted her arms, then let them fall to her side. "Have a seat."

So far he'd done nothing more than berate her bad judgment. Now that she thought about it, though, her open-door policy with her neighbor wasn't smart. Safety was a state she'd worked hard to achieve, one she couldn't afford to risk by being careless. A security guard sat at the only entrance to the building and, given the small number of apartments on each floor, each guard knew every tenant by name. Chelsie felt secure here, which was why she'd chosen the building. Obviously, she hadn't shut the door completely. In the future, she'd try to be more careful.

When she'd awakened to the sight of a man standing over her, she'd almost pa.s.sed out. Such an overwhelming reaction hadn't happened to her in years. Griffin Stuart had an uncanny knack of bringing up the worst memories of her life, but she couldn't fault him for coincidence, only for his abominable behavior. Which made her wonder again what he wanted.

"Drink?" she asked, recognizing he wouldn't be rushed.

He shook his head. She curled into the corner of an oversized chair and motioned toward the couch.

"Thanks." He sat across from her, leaning forward on his elbows. "You're more gracious than I've been."

"That's an understatement. What can I do for you?"

He rubbed a hand wearily over his face. For the first time, she really looked at him. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and razor stubble covered his face. He looked depleted, exhausted, and yet incredibly s.e.xy. Heat curled in the pit of her stomach, followed by a rush of surprise.

She hadn't reacted to a man in years. She'd thought s.e.xual desire had died along with her marriage and unborn child. Apparently, Griff brought out more than just memories of her past. He made her feel desire and need. Those were sensations she'd buried long ago and didn't dare resurrect. She wished he would get to the point of his visit.

"I need a favor," he finally said. "And after your role in the custody hearing, I figure you owe me one."

Both curiosity and need vanished, replaced by anger at his high-handed tone. "I owe you?" She shook her head, unable to believe his nerve. "Try asking me without laying on the guilt. I've already apologized not once but twice. I've been insulted. I've been told in no uncertain terms to stay away from you and my niece. And, if you'll recall, I've been practically thrown out of your home. So if you think I haven't paid for taking the d.a.m.ned case, think again."

She paused for a steadying breath. Since losing custody, her own parents hadn't been forgiving either, having retreated to sunny Florida to "heal." She'd never been particularly close with either parent, which was why she'd tried so hard after her sister's death to bring her family together. Thanks to her conscience, she'd been paying for that misguided attempt ever since.

Griff's continuing hostility bothered her more than her own flesh and blood's, and more than she cared to admit. She met his gaze. "Under the circ.u.mstances, I've treated you a h.e.l.l of a lot better than you've treated me. Now. I'll ask you again. What can I do for you?"

He gulped hard, causing his Adam's apple to bob up and down. Chelsie wondered if he'd swallowed his pride.

His light eyes reflected some inner torment and drew her in deeper than was prudent.

"I need you," he grudgingly admitted. "I mean, I need your help with Alix." Griff steeled himself, waiting for Chelsie's I-told-you-so reaction.

He hadn't exactly handled this evening with finesse, so he figured she'd take advantage of having the upper hand. After all the grief he'd given her, he fully expected her to grab the opportunity.

"What's wrong? Is Alix okay?"