Read Her Client from Hell for Free Online Page B

streets. One of the older and prettier parts of the area, a little more rundown than his mews, but nice enough. ‘Okay. Your turn. Beat that.’
    He sifted through the tales and memories of the last few years. Difficult to pick one that was funny and shocking but not too sordid. ‘Threesomes, foursomes, wife-swaps. Drugs and alcohol. You name it, I’ve seen it or heard about it. But the strangest? I was once on tour with a band and the lead singer developed an explosive habit.’
    ‘What do you mean? Drugs?’
    ‘No. He blew up—literally detonated—something in every venue. Toilets, drum-kits, seats. He liked the poeticism of shards, apparently.’ Jack shook his head. ‘Okay, yes. Probably drugs.’
    ‘Really? Blowing things up? Bizarre.’
    ‘Win?’
    ‘I don’t know; I’m thinking. I must have something to beat that. Foursomes? Really? I don’t even want to know how that works out.’ Finally she came to a halt outside a row of neat terraced houses with window boxes that had brightly coloured plants trailing over them. A vivid splash in an otherwise unimaginative backdrop. Kind of like her.
    She rooted in her satchel, tutted. Dropped it to the ground and spilled the contents out, handing bits of paper, a can opener, lipgloss to him as she searched, her fist getting lost amongst tissues and things he barely even recognised and surely should not be in a woman’s bag. Was that a spanner? Eventually she pulled out a bunch of keys. ‘Got them! Right. This is me. Number twelve. First floor. It’s not much but it’s home.’
    These were renovated apartments in a decentish part of town. No wonder she was struggling to find the rent. ‘You live here on your own?’
    ‘Yep. It was always meant to be a work-from-home kind of thing with... Never mind.’ Her shoulders hitched.
    ‘Are you talking about paring knife man?’ And why the hell he’d even asked and burst the first pleasant bubble of conversation they’d managed all evening, he didn’t know. It was none of his business and in his haphazard personal life he always— always —stayed away from backstory. Unlike in his films, where he liked the present to be filled with regret and melodrama and lost chances. People searching for the whole happy-ever-after lie that littered cheap novels and rom-com films. The pursuit of all that filled his subjects with a hope that was rarely realised. Hell, it made addictive TV. Won awards.
    She bit her bottom lip, then flashed him another of her smiles. This one was unconvincing. ‘Okay, well, thanks for walking me back. I’ll be fine from here. Have a safe walk home.’
    ‘He broke your heart?’ She’d already changed the subject but he wouldn’t let her get away with it.
    Cassie sighed as she shoved everything back into the Tardis-like bag. She blinked away a wisp of bitterness or sadness or just plain hurt and hid behind that enduring mask of cheerfulness. ‘Absolutely not. He broke my bank balance and that’s a whole bigger sin in my book. I’m over it and, make no mistake, I’m never going there again.’
    He still wasn’t convinced. ‘You sure about that? What about the gooey-eyed romance thing? The wedding catering? Isn’t it your job to believe in all of that?’
    ‘For someone else, sure. My sister. Your sister. Everyone else. But not this sister.’ Her finger pointed to her chest and he had no doubt that she believed it. Somewhere down the line she’d change her mind, but for now? He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
    The scent of her whirled around his head; the passionate tone to her voice, the fighting back, her chaos even, stoked something deep in him. The determined look in her eyes did nothing to dampen the fizz of something electric whizzing round his veins; if anything, it just made it stronger.
    With a shock he realised he wanted to crush her against the wall and kiss her.
    Turning to go up the steps, she waved. ‘So call me when you’ve spoken to Lizzie and we’ll