Falling for the Lawyer - By Anna Clifton Page 0,1

elbow firmly in his hand and guiding her away from the kerb and into the foyer of a nearby office block. There they found some respite from the tempest building around them.

“So this guy wants to get rid of you,” he began again, resuming his posture of leaning enquiringly towards her as he spoke, his umbrella tossed to one side. “What have you done exactly, although you look like you could be trouble,” he added with the flash of a quick smile.

“I’m not trouble!” Alex protested, choosing to ignore the teasing curl to his lips. “And as a matter of fact I haven’t done anything yet, but he’s arriving today and he’s not called the ‘Grim Reaper’ for nothing.”

“If you’re not trouble then why are you at risk?”

“Because I’m an Assistant PA and my law firm has decided we’re an unnecessary expense, like the biscuits in the tea room.” Alex was staggered at the bitterness driving her indiscretion but at that moment felt completely powerless to rein it in.

The stranger’s expression was thoughtful. “I see, and they call this new guy ‘The Grim Reaper’,” he repeated, his mouth forming an unreadable straight line.

“We’re all dreading his arrival. No one in litigation thinks their job is safe with him around. Not that it’s your problem of course,” Alex added quickly, disconcerted by his increasingly pensive look as black clouds exploded into thunder claps above. “So thank you for your concern but I’d better go and find somewhere to get cleaned up.”

“Don’t be daft,” he drawled, snapping out of his reverie at once. “You won’t be able to clean yourself up under a tap in some ladies bathroom. Half that stuff on you is engine oil. Nothing less than soap, hot water and a change of clothes is going to sort you out but don’t despair, I’ve got an idea. There’s a frock shop up the road. I know the manager. She won’t be open yet but she gets in early. We can get you a change of clothes in there and she’ll have somewhere you can clean up.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Alex objected; it was bad enough being in the hands of fate, let alone in the hands of a perfect stranger.

“I’m afraid it is necessary.”

Again, Alex was distracted by his eyes as they rested intently upon her and waited for her answer. Nevertheless she tore her gaze away from his to look down at her filthy beige skirt, drenched cotton shirt and sodden black shoes. Biting her bottom lip she looked up at him.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Does The Creature from the Black Lagoon ring any bells?” He raised his eyebrows at her then in wry amusement.

Alex began to tug at the wet tendrils of her hair as she cast her eyes around her. She prayed some other solution might emerge out of the rain but of course none did. Once again her life was being tossed around by the forces of the cosmos as they played astrological tennis with her future—with grim resignation she admitted to herself that the man next to her was her only hope.

“You’re sure this boutique manager won’t mind?”

“Positive.”

“And you’re sure you have time to do this?”

“Aye,” the stranger laughed at her. “And I’m sure there’s not going to be an invasion of little green men in the next five minutes too.”

“Okay then,” she agreed finally, again deciding to ignore his sarcasm. “If you’re sure it isn’t too much trouble.”

“I’m sure,” he replied as the walk signal changed to green at the nearby crossing. “Come on.”

Before Alex could object the stranger had grabbed her hand and was dragging her through unremitting sheets of driving rain, across the street and up the wide pedestrian mall on the other side. Alex ran as best she could behind him, her umbrella wobbling uselessly above her head as she struggled to keep up with his cracking pace. Finally he dragged her up the stone steps of a nineteenth century building fronted by a string of shops. It was towards one of these that he guided her when she stopped dead and shook her head.

“You’ve got to be kidding! I can’t go in there!”

The stranger turned to her. “Why not?”

“You said a frock shop! That’s not a frock shop. That’s an exclusive boutique for customers with very exclusive black credit cards. Look, I really appreciate your offer of help but an outfit from there will set me back months.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to pay for this. The owner’s a