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    A Convenient Affair
    A Convenient Affair
    A Convenient Affair
    Ebook210 pages3 hours

    A Convenient Affair

    By Leigh Michaels

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    • Power Dynamics

    • Family Dynamics

    • Deception

    • Deception & Manipulation

    • Love & Relationships

    • Love Triangle

    • Forbidden Love

    • Enemies to Lovers

    • Fake Relationship

    • Rich Man/poor Woman

    • Workplace Romance

    • Hidden Treasure

    • Secret Admirer

    • Love Letter

    • Rich/poor Divide

    • Inheritance

    • Personal Growth

    • Relationships

    • Love

    • Self-Discovery

    About this ebook

    He's a thorn in her side

    Cooper Winston is a dark-haired, gray-eyed, broad-shouldered, supercilious six-foot hunk of testosterone that Hannah would much rather do without. If only she never had to see him again.

     

    She's a pain in his wallet

    At their first meeting, attorney Hannah Lowe asked a simple question that cost Cooper a cool fifteen million dollars. And things have gotten no better between them since then.

     

    But they can't ignore the sparks

    Now she's inherited an heirloom that should have come to his family. The Lovers' Box has only sentimental value – so Cooper is incensed then Hannah won't sell it to him.

    Instead, she proposes a trade. If he pretends they're a couple, she'll give him the box.

    But Cooper raises the stakes, insisting she move in with him. He says living together will make the pretense more plausible. But is Cooper trying to convince the world, or Hannah, that their convenient affair should become real?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPBL Limited
    Release dateFeb 26, 2022
    ISBN9798201413125
    A Convenient Affair
    Author

    Leigh Michaels

    Leigh Michaels (https://leighmichaels.com) is the author of more than 100 books, including contemporary romance novels, historical romance novels, and non-fiction books including local history and books about writing. She is the author of Writing the Romance Novel, which has been called the definitive guide to writing romances. Six of her books have been finalists in the Romance Writers of America RITA contest for best traditional romance of the year, and she has won two Reviewers' Choice awards from Romantic Times (RT Book Review) magazine. More than 35 million copies of her books have been published in 25 languages and 120 countries around the world. She teaches romance writing online at Gotham Writers Workshop.

    Read more from Leigh Michaels

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      Book preview

      A Convenient Affair - Leigh Michaels

      A Convenient Affair

      By Leigh Michaels

      Copyright 2001, 2022

      All rights reserved

      A Convenient Affair

      He’s a thorn in her side

      Cooper Winston is a dark-haired, gray-eyed, broad-shouldered, supercilious six-foot hunk of testosterone that Hannah would much rather do without. If only she never had to see him again.

      She’s a pain in his wallet

      At their first meeting, attorney Hannah Lowe asked a simple question that cost Cooper a cool fifteen million dollars. And things have gotten no better between them since then.

      But they can’t ignore the sparks

      Now she’s inherited an heirloom that should have come to his family. The Lovers’ Box has only sentimental value – so Cooper is incensed when Hannah won’t sell it to him.

      Instead, she proposes a trade. If he pretends they’re a couple, she’ll give him the box.

      But Cooper raises the stakes, insisting she move in with him. He says living together will make the pretense more plausible. But is Cooper trying to convince the world, or Hannah, that their convenient affair should become real?

      Table of Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      About the Author

      Other Books by Leigh Michaels

      CHAPTER ONE

      Until that morning , Hannah had started to think it didn’t matter what hour of the day or night she walked Mrs. Patterson’s dog. If she abruptly decided to take Brutus out at two o’clock in the morning, she’d no doubt still run headlong into Cooper Winston somewhere along the way.

      When she stopped to think about it, however, Hannah concluded that the wee hours of the night were actually the most likely times to encounter the occupant of the penthouse condominium. In the hours after midnight, he was apt to be just coming home to Barron’s Court from a date.

      And other associated activities, Hannah added under her breath.

      Of course, she had also run into him at the crack of dawn, at high noon, and at nine-fifteen in the evening. The time seemed to be immaterial, the encounter inevitable.

      Today, however, the chain appeared to have been broken. She and Brutus had gone all the way from Barron’s Court up Grand Avenue to the governor’s mansion and back, encountering their share of commuters and joggers and even a few bundled-up babies taking their mothers out for an airing in the autumn sunshine.

      But for once Hannah hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of a dark-haired, gray-eyed, broad-shouldered, supercilious six-foot hunk of testosterone named Cooper Winston.

      By the time they once more reached the lobby of the condo complex, Brutus was breathing hard and Hannah could feel a glow throughout her whole body from the exercise and the crisp October breeze. She punched the button to summon the elevator and bent to release the pug’s leash from his collar. If you wouldn’t pull so hard, she reminded him, you wouldn’t be so out of breath at the end of your walk.

      She hadn’t heard the art deco doors open, but even before the man inside the elevator stepped into the lobby, she knew he was there.

      So much for thinking my luck has changed. She slowly straightened up, turning to face Cooper Winston.

      She wasn’t sure precisely why the hair at the back of her neck always stood straight up the moment he appeared on the scene. Probably sheer dislike, coupled with a touch of apprehension—for there was no doubt that lately she was the one who had been coming out the worse for wear in their encounters.

      Whatever the reason, it was definitely a negative one; it wasn’t as if there was anything she found magnetically attractive about the man.

      Not that he was exactly hard on the eyes. The first time she’d encountered him—over a negotiating table at Stephens & Webster, where she was an associate attorney—Hannah had thought Cooper Winston was extremely good-looking. She was partial to tall men with black hair and curly eyelashes and chiseled features. Of course, that had been before she’d encountered the tight-set jaw, the perpetual crease between his brows, and the icy silver of his gaze.

      All of which were in evidence right now.

      She considered asking him—sweetly, of course—if he’d drunk his vinegar for breakfast as usual. But since there was nothing to be gained by gratuitous insults, she looked through him instead and said with cool politeness, Good morning, Mr. Winston.

      He didn’t answer. She felt his gaze slide over her, and she was suddenly and painfully aware of her tousled hair, her wind-reddened cheeks, her far-from-new sweatsuit, and the faint aroma of dog that she’d acquired when she’d scooped up Brutus and carried him across Grand Avenue to beat a stream of traffic.

      If the man dared to make a comment...

      She looked straight at him, her chin held high.

      Cooper didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to, Hannah thought bitterly. One dark eyebrow, lifting just a fraction of an inch, said it all.

      At her feet, Brutus growled.

      Cooper looked down. You no doubt have some logical reason why this animal isn’t on a leash, Ms. Lowe.

      Brutus has never bitten you, she pointed out.

      He’s threatened often enough.

      Only because you make it so plain that you don’t like him.

      What’s to like? He’s ugly, overweight, and ill-tempered.

      Being ugly isn’t his fault, Hannah said crisply. All pugs are. And if you were locked up all day, every day, in Mrs. Patterson’s teeny little apartment, you’d probably be— She bit her tongue, but it was already too late.

      Cooper’s voice was silky. Overweight too? And even more ill-tempered than I already am?

      I didn’t say that.

      What a nice compliment you’ve paid Mrs. Patterson. She’s quite a powerful woman, if merely being in her company could have such a destructive effect.

      Wait a minute! If you think I was saying that Mrs. Patterson is boring— Hannah sputtered to a stop. He’d done it again, she admitted, irritated. Without even trying, he’d put her squarely in the wrong—and it wasn’t much comfort to know that this time she’d handed him the opportunity.

      I’m sure you wouldn’t dream of saying such a thing, Ms. Lowe. At least not where Mrs. Patterson might hear about it.

      Hannah bristled. I simply meant that her arthritis keeps her from taking Brutus for walks, so of course he’s fat and irritable and not well-conditioned.

      But you’ve been exercising him for weeks now, Cooper pointed out, "and though he does seem to have slimmed down and stopped wheezing like a hippo, he’s still in a bad mood all the time. What does that say about your company, Ms. Lowe?"

      She smiled up at him. Are you ever going to forgive me for interfering with your agreement to sell that restaurant chain, Mr. Winston? I was only looking after my client’s best interests. The sale did eventually go through as you’d arranged, even though the terms were slightly altered.

      "That’s what you call slightly altered? Ms. Lowe, I’ll forgive you about the same time I forget the fifteen million bucks your interference cost me."

      Hannah feigned a sigh of relief. Then, since fifteen million is pocket change to a man like you, I must be well on the way to rehabilitation.

      Fifteen million, he mused, and all because you batted your eyelashes like an ingenue and asked a last-minute, breathless, innocent-sounding question.

      It wasn’t like that.

      "You mean it wasn’t as innocent as it sounded? I’m glad you’re at least admitting to being cold and calculating." He didn’t give her an opportunity to answer but strode across the lobby toward the street.

      Just as well that he’d moved on. Brutus had only growled at him, as usual; Hannah herself would have been tempted to bite the man if he’d kept it up.

      On the fifth floor, she delivered Brutus to his owner and with regret refused a cup of coffee. Then, rather than wait for the elevator again and risk the chance that instead of leaving for the day Cooper had only been going to the convenience shop down the street for a newspaper, Hannah took the fire stairs up two flights and walked down the hall to Isobel’s condo.

      Isobel’s condo. Even though Hannah had lived there for nearly three months now, she still didn’t call it home.

      She paused just inside the door, bracing herself to face the silence. The rooms had never been quiet like this when Isobel was alive. But it had been almost exactly a month since Isobel had gone to a friend’s house in Windsor Heights one afternoon to play bridge—and never came back.

      It seemed to Hannah that the condo which had been Isobel’s home for so many years was waiting for her to return. The sofa cushions were still crushed as if she had stood up just moments ago. The magazine she’d been reading lay face down on the fainting couch in her silk-draped bedroom. The satin and lace peignoir she’d taken off when she’d dressed for her bridge party that last afternoon still lay across the foot of her bed. Bath powder still dusted the glass top of her mirrored dressing table.

      Even the musky scent of Isobel’s perfume had hardly faded; it seemed to be embedded in everything she’d owned, and every time Hannah opened a drawer or a closet, she released a new cloud of fragrance.

      It might have been a little easier to make the transition if Hannah had lived there for more than a couple of months before Isobel died. But she’d still felt pretty much like a guest—cautious of every action and every word, trying her best not to get in her elderly hostess’s way or upset Isobel’s longstanding routines—on the day Isobel’s heart had abruptly given out. Now, living alone in Isobel’s condo, Hannah felt like an intruder.

      She’d intended to move out immediately, but that was more easily said than done, considering the shortage of apartments in the city just now and the prices they commanded.

      Besides, when she’d mentioned the move to her boss at the law firm, Brenton Bannister had simply shaken his head. It isn’t as if you don’t have a right to be there till the estate is settled, he’d said. Your aunt was one of our clients, and I’m sure Ken Stephens would prefer to have the condo occupied—especially by someone he can trust—than to leave all of Isobel’s treasures there unprotected while he deals with the paperwork and gets everything in order.

      She wasn’t my aunt, she was a distant cousin, Hannah had reminded him. And Barron’s Court is the most exclusive condo complex in the city. It’s not exactly a high-crime district.

      Brenton had only smiled at her as if she’d said something terribly witty, and the next day he assured her that he’d spoken to the senior partner who had been Isobel’s attorney and gotten approval for Hannah to stay on.

      So Hannah had stayed, but her discomfort hadn’t lessened as the weeks went by. Every time she touched one of Isobel’s possessions—even if she was only moving it out of her way—she had to fight off a superstitious shiver. And it might take months to sort out Isobel’s estate; there appeared to be no end to the things the woman had owned.

      Regardless of what Brenton thought about her rights, Hannah decided it was past time to find another place to live.

      Of course, she’d never find anything as nice or as convenient to the office as Barron’s Court was, even if she could afford the price such a place would cost. But even if she ended up living in a cracker box, at least she wouldn’t be running into Cooper Winston all the time. That would be the biggest benefit of all.

      WHEREVER COOPER HAD gone that morning, it wasn’t far enough for Hannah’s taste. When she pushed open the lobby door, her nemesis was standing under the portico, obviously waiting for his car to be brought around from the garage at the back of the complex.

      She almost drew back in order to avoid him, knowing that the parking valets wouldn’t keep him waiting long. But Brenton would be along any minute to pick her up for the short ride to work, and he wasn’t known for patience any more than Cooper was. Hannah gritted her teeth and went out into the crisp autumn air.

      The portico wasn’t very large, so Hannah found herself standing uncomfortably close to Cooper.

      His gaze slid slowly over her emerald green suit, the best-quality item her wardrobe boasted. I must say I like that fashion ensemble better than the one which includes the dog. I realize it isn’t saying much.

      You know, Hannah mused, your grandfather would have done us all a favor, when he remodeled this building into condos, if he’d provided separate front entrances.

      A sleek red sports car pulled up in the fire lane and Brenton Bannister lowered the passenger-side window and leaned across the seat. Good morning, Winston. Can I offer you a lift?

      Hannah wondered for an instant if he seriously expected Cooper Winston to fold himself into the sports car’s tiny rear seat, or if Brenton had forgotten about her altogether.

      They’re bringing my car around now, Cooper said. But thank you.

      You don’t carry any hard feelings over that last little deal, I hope, Brenton probed.

      "Not where you’re concerned." Cooper opened the passenger door of Brenton’s car with a flourish and held out a hand as if to help Hannah get in.

      Or to push me into the street. Hannah avoided his touch, though she thanked him with elaborate politeness.

      As the car pulled away from the curb, Brenton said, He’s mellowing. I thought he would, given a little time. He’s a businessman, and he knows you can’t always win on every point.

      Hannah stared at him in disbelief. Hadn’t he heard the irony in Cooper’s voice? "Mellowing? I suppose you think Mount Rushmore is made of bleu cheese, too."

      Hannah, you’ll never get Winston’s business with that attitude.

      Stephens & Webster will never get his business at all.

      Why not?

      After all the money we cost him last time around—

      Fifteen million is peanuts to Cooper Winston, Brenton said comfortably. Anyway, that’s precisely my point. As soon as he cools off, he’ll want us on his team because we’re demonstrably better than the firm he was using. They never anticipated that little loophole.

      Hannah bit her tongue. It wasn’t her job to try to break through Brenton’s delusions.

      And just think, Hannah. That deal was a very small one, relatively speaking. There will be more. When Winston’s monolith swallowed up its rival in that merger deal, they got all kinds of side businesses that they won’t want to keep. The restaurant chain our client bought was only a fraction of the package. There’s a shipping firm and the aircraft refitters and a string of nursing homes... He was practically drooling at the thought.

      I think it’s a little early to start looking for buyers, Hannah said dryly. He said good morning, he didn’t offer us a retainer.

      It still wouldn’t hurt to be nice to him, Brenton argued.

      Yes, it would, Hannah thought. It would hurt a great deal.

      Compared to the effort involved in being nice to Cooper Winston, suffering through an impacted wisdom tooth would be like winning a prize.

      WITHIN TWO HOURS AFTER she arrived at the firm, Hannah was beginning to feel as if she’d been buried alive in the law library archives. Her table, located in the farthest corner, was surrounded by boxes stuffed with crumbling documents, and each time she moved a page, the musty aroma made her want to sneeze.

      The first few days of digging through Jacob Jones’ old files hadn’t been so bad, but with each passing hour her claustrophobia seemed to grow worse. This case was nowhere near as interesting as the transfer of the restaurant chain had been.

      But so long as she was merely an associate, the lowest-level attorney the firm had, the tedious details would fall to her. The restaurant case had had its dull days, too, she reminded herself. In fact, it had been pretty much

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