Cole buzzed Myra on the intercom. "Show Zach in, please."
"Sure thing, boss," came her prompt response.
He grinned. He'd asked her a dozen times since she'd followed him from Jones, Markham and Simmons to please call him by his first name. She did so only when she was worried. So long as she referred to him as "boss," everything was fine.
He got up from his desk and opened the door to admit Zach, clasping his hand as he came through the door. Cole motioned Zach to sit down, noting that his eyes were filled with worry. And to be honest, the man had cause.
"I finally got discovery from the D.A.'s office," Cole said.
"It took long enough," Zach responded, sitting down. "Maybe it's a sign they don't have much of a case."
"Don't bet on it." Cole leaned against the edge of the desk next to Zach.
Zach glanced down at his hands a moment, then asked, "What do they have?"
"Some good points, and some not so good." Cole picked up the folder and opened it. "In our favor, they didn't administer the breath analysis test until more than an hour after the accident. The D.A. will probably try to disallow their own evidence since they didn't handle it well."
"And that's good, right?"
Cole nodded. "That's good. Not in our favor, the arresting officer swears he smelled liquor on you at the scene."
"He's lying," Zach said.
"Or maybe he's confused. There was an open bottle in the other car, which may have made the crime scene reek." Cole searched through the papers in the folder, and handed one to Zach.
"What's this?"
"The statement from the accident reconstruction team. According to the report, you both entered the intersection within a split second of each another." Cole paused, waiting for Zach to look at him before he continued. "You both were speeding. If there's anything in our favor here, it's that you hit your brakes sooner."
Cole took another sheet out of the folder and handed it to Zach, who read the top line of the report, then said, "They can use this?"
Cole nodded. "Your prior arrest record is the strongest evidence the D.A. has in the case."
"I thought a trial had to focus on only the facts directly involved with the case." Zach glanced at Cole. "You hear about that all the time."
"Maybe, but your drunk driving record is public, and the D.A. will use it," Cole said. "Right off the bat, it gives us a credibility problem."
"But I went through rehab last year," Zach said. "Doesn't that count?"
"It all depends," Cole answered. "If we go into court asserting that you haven't had a drink since then, we'd be lying."
"I haven't been drunk," Zach insisted.
"But you have a record of driving drunk prior to that," Cole said, holding up a finger, then adding a second. "And your buddy Theo at Score admitted that you have a couple of beers pretty regularly—"
"Never more than two. And I switch to ginger ale before I drive, and I always give myself at least an hour."
Cole nodded. "I know that, too. I don't want any surprises. No storekeepers saying that you buy a case of vodka a month. No acquaintances who've seen you drive under the influence. No family members with tales of public … or private … drunkenness."
"No one will say any of those things, because none of it is true," Zach said. "I've made mistakes. Plenty of them. But this accident wasn't one of them."
"But you did have a couple of beers in the bar earlier." Cole folded his arms across his chest.
Zach stood up, his gaze unwavering. "I did. Why the hell are we covering this ground again?"
"I'm just making sure."
* * *
That night, when Cole went to pick up Brenna after she got off work, he went inside to wait for her. She smiled at him from across the room, and he ordered a beer from one of the other waitresses.
Cole looked critically around the bar, thinking of the damaging points the prosecution could make about the place. His biggest challenge would be convincing a jury that Zach MacKenzie was more than the prosecution would make him out to be.
"Are you worried about something?" Brenna asked a few minutes later as they left the bar.
"Just thinking about the MacKenzie case." Cole took her hand and pulled her close to him as they strolled toward his car.
"Are there problems?"
"No more than the usual," he said. "I'm just trying to figure out what surprises the prosecution will have for us."
"I thought they had to share all their evidence with you ahead of time."
"They do," he agreed. "That doesn't mean there won't be a surprise or two, though."
"You don't like surprises?" she teased.
"Only nice ones. By definition, that excludes anything that comes up in court."
"Would you like to come to dinner on Sunday?" she asked.
Cole laughed at the sudden change of subject. "A surprise?"
"I hope not. My cooking isn't that bad," she said. "It's Michael and Jane's anniversary. I'm watching Teddy while they go out."
"A date with you and Teddy," he said.
"Not a date," she hedged. "I'm baby-sitting."
"And this—us right now, going to have pie—"
"That's not a date, either."
"Dating isn't such an awful thing, Brenna."
"It implies a whole bunch of stuff I'm not ready to get into," she responded. "Boyfriend, commitment, plans for the future—"
"Whoa." He held up his hands. "I don't want to be your boyfriend."
She stopped walking and faced him. "No?"
"No. I'd rather be your friend."
"That sounds nice." A smile lurked at the corner of her mouth, and she resumed walking, slower this time.
"I don't want any commitments from you. I'm not asking for anything from you."
"That would be a first," she murmured.
This time Cole stopped walking, pulling on her hand. "Maybe, but get this straight, fair lady. You don't want the pressure of commitment, and hell, I couldn't give you one if I wanted to. My life is a mess."
"So, I'm safe."
He gave her a quick kiss. "You sure are," he drawled. "As long as friends can kiss friends." He squeezed her hand. "As long as they can bring wine for a dinner that's not a date."
Brenna ought to have been reassured that she could be friends with Cole without getting hurt. The man had just given her everything she had asked for. No commitment. But friendship. And kissing. No dating. But time spent together. Contradictions, every one. Just like the man.
Charm that hid steely determination. An easygoing manner that masked his intensity. Gentleness that almost hid his protective streak.
Having him for dinner wasn't that big a deal, but she worried off and on about it over the next several days.
She took Teddy shopping with her the morning of their no-date dinner for the groceries they needed. She had taken shopping for granted for years, but she had a sudden anxiety attack. What if she confused baking soda with corn starch—never mind she didn't intend to purchase either one. She wished she could afford scallops and hated the idea of serving anything as mundane as chicken.
"Jeez, Auntie Brennie," Teddy complained after they had been in the grocery store for half an hour. "It's only dinner. How 'bout pizza?"
"No pizza," she said, his statement echoing her own internal scolding. It's only dinner.
In deference to keeping the apartment cool, she decided on cold boiled shrimp with an assortment of vegetables. Her choice pleased her even more when she slid the platter into the refrigerator.
"What's an anniversary?" Teddy asked, following Brenna into her bedroom where she went to change her clothes.
"Like a birthday," she told him, sitting down at the dressing table. "Except it counts the number of years since your wedding."
"When will Mommy and Daddy be back?"
"Later tonight. Probably not until after you've gone to bed."
She opened a jar of face cream and smoothed it over her cheeks and foreh
ead while Teddy leaned against the table and watched her.
"Are you gonna get married?"
"I hope so. Someday, anyway." She replaced the lid on the jar of cream and reached for the eye shadow.
The doorbell rang and Teddy scampered down the hall. "I bet that's Cole!"
"Ask who it is before you open the door."
"I will," he promised, then loudly called, "Who is it?"
Brenna didn't hear the reply, but a second later she heard the door open. She brushed the eye shadow on and picked up the mascara.
"Cole. I knew it was you. Hi!" Teddy's voice carried toward Brenna. "Did you know that Auntie Brennie says she's getting married? Are you?"
Cole's laughter floated to Brenna. "She is, huh? Well, I guess I could, too, then. Where is your Aunt Brenna?"
Brenna paused with the mascara wand halfway to her eye. She stared unseeingly at the mirror as a flash of images swirled from her imagination. In the back of her mind she heard her own voice telling the man she wanted only to be friends. Except the pictures in her mind were more than friendship.
Herself. Cole. A two-story house with a big wide porch and a swing. Starched priscillas hanging at the dining-room window. Wide-open spaces with enough room for a big dog and little kittens. Children with golden brown hair and blue eyes.
Her fingers clenched around the wand. Dare she hope for a future she saw so clearly? She had friendship for a while. But a future with a man like Cole? How could she dare hope for that?
"She's putting stuff on her face," Teddy said. "We're having shrimp for dinner. I helped."
Brenna quickly finished getting ready, then gave herself a last check in the mirror. Smoothing her hands down her skirt, she left the bedroom.
"Hi," she said a moment later from the living-room doorway.
"Hi." He stood up and held out a paper sack, which was wrapped around a bottle of wine. He gave her a thorough glance, then grinned. "You look great."
She took the sack from him and pulled out the bottle. "White wine. Thanks. It's just right for dinner."
"Where do you keep the corkscrew?" he asked, following her into the kitchen.
Brenna rummaged through a drawer and handed him the corkscrew.
"Can I have some wine, too?" Teddy asked as she took down three goblets from the cupboard.
"No. But I'll put your Kool-Aid in a goblet if you want. If you promise to be careful."
Teddy smiled. "I promise. Can we make a toast, too?"
Brenna filled his glass from the pitcher in the refrigerator.
"Sure you can." Cole pulled the cork out of the bottle and poured the wine into the two glasses Brenna had set on the counter next to him. He handed one of the glasses to Brenna, took the other one, and knelt on the floor, at eye level with Teddy. "Who do you want to toast?"
Teddy's face screwed up as he thought about it.
"How about to your aunt?" Cole suggested.
Teddy nodded in agreement.
"What do you want to say?"
Brenna handed Teddy his goblet of Kool-Aid and knelt next to him. He lifted his glass, sloshing a few drops over the rim. "I wish Auntie Brennie had her own house again. And … I wish … she had a daddy."
"I have a daddy. Grandfather James."
"Oh. I mean a daddy. You know, Auntie Brennie, like Mommy and Daddy."
"You mean a husband?" Cole asked.
Teddy's face brightened. "That's it."
Brenna suspected her own face was beet-red when she glanced back at Cole.
Seeming not to notice at all, Cole clicked his glass with Brenna's. "To Brenna. May you have all the things that make you happy."
* * *
Chapter 10
« ^ »
"Thank you. Both of you." Brenna took a sip of the wine, her eyes never leaving Cole's as he also sipped the wine. Cole took her hand and stood up, pulling her with him. She recognized the longing in his eyes, feeling his hunger as though it were her own.
His eyes still intent on hers, Cole lifted Brenna's fingers to his lips, pressing a warm kiss on each of them. Each separate caress pooled in her stomach, which tightened into knots just shy of painful. Then he turned her hand over and pressed a lingering kiss into her palm, the most sensual caress she had ever received.
"Is this part of the toast, too?" asked Teddy.
"Sometimes." Cole kept Brenna's hand within his own when she would have pulled it away. He took another sip of his wine and offered his goblet to Brenna. "Just like sharing glasses is part of the toast, sometimes."
Teddy lifted his glass, now only half full of Kool-Aid. "I'll share mine."
Brenna glanced down at Teddy, whose upper lip was covered in a red Kool-Aid mustache.
"You should never mix your drinks," Cole said with a chuckle.
Teddy proved to be a diversion during the rest of dinner. Cole couldn't decide if that was a blessing or a curse. He had never wanted to kiss anyone as much as he wanted to kiss Brenna. Throughout the evening, he was caught within the visceral memory of that instant when her breath had caught and her wide luminous eyes had reflected a need as great as his own. Little boys were a diversion he didn't want—not for the kind of grown-up games he had in mind with Brenna.
That thought was uppermost in his mind as he helped Brenna get Teddy ready for bed. Cole recognized stalling tactics when he saw them. Teddy proved his mastery beyond any doubt when he asked Cole for one more bedtime story. Nothing could have topped the two stories Brenna told Teddy. Cole was relieved when she gently insisted lights-out time had come.
"I'd forgotten how exhausting kids can be," Cole said after they left his room. He went into the kitchen, poured the last of the wine into a single goblet and brought it into the living room.
"Kid," Brenna corrected. "Although, I admit Teddy sometimes makes me feel like he's more than one child."
"My sister has two little girls. At least they have each other to play with."
"Do you get to see them often?" Brenna turned on the stereo, and the soft sounds of a Vivaldi concerto filled the room. She sat down at the opposite end of the couch Cole had claimed and curled her bare feet under her.
"Not often enough. Three or four times a year. They live in Cheyenne. Dinner was delicious." He took a sip of the wine, then offered the glass to her.
"I bet you say that whenever you're invited to dinner," she teased. She took a sip of the wine. "And this is lovely wine."
He took the goblet back and set it on the coffee table. "Now that we have all this polite stuff out of the way, do you want to know what I really think?"
She glanced at him.
"I think you're a special lady. You're wonderful company. I like being here with you."
Her eyes dropped, the color in her cheeks high and her expression full of a discomfort that bordered on … pain, he decided with surprise. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking, which would have been fine if he had thought she'd tell him. He doubted she would.
"That embarrasses you?" he asked, wishing he understood what had made her so uncomfortable.
She shook her head. "No."
"But?"
Her eyes met his. "The gracious thing to say is 'thank you.' Right?"
He grinned. "Right." For the moment he'd content himself with returning to the more neutral topics she seemed comfortable with. "Dinner was delicious. Shrimp is my favorite. I ate too much, and I'm stuffed."
"That's good," she said.
Staying away from her was impossible. Gently Cole pulled on her arm. When she didn't come closer to him, he slid across the couch, eliminating the distance between them. "I'm glad cooking is one of your talents."
"I always thought being domestic was overrated, myself." She tipped her head back, and the corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled up at him. "Besides, maybe this is the only thing I know how to make."
"Suits me," he said. "I make a great steak. Between your cooking and mine, we'd eat real well."
She chuckled. "Expensive, too."
"Then I'll just have to round up a few more clients, preferably ones that pay a fat monthly retainer."
"I thought getting away from that very thing was one of the reasons you left the old law firm."
"Nope. I just wanted to get away from having to accept cases I didn't want." He picked up the goblet and offered to it Brenna again, watched as her lips left a faint mark against the glass. He traced the side of her face with one long finger, then wrapped a strand of her hair around it.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered.
Her eyes grew wider, and she gave her head a tiny shake. "You are to me," he insisted. "From the very first time I saw you, I wanted this."
His hand slid behind her head, his fingers raking through her dark hair, drawing her closer. He brushed his lips lightly over hers, feeling as though she left a mark on him just as she had on the glass.
His warm lips barely touched hers before drawing a hairsbreadth away, then touched again, each separate surface of her lips brought to life under his touch.
Torture. Wanting to feel his mouth completely. Wanting more to extend the moment, to let the anticipation stretch until she thought she'd die from it.
She opened her eyes and found Cole watching her, the gold flecks in his blue eyes hot, molten.
"My beautiful Brenna," he whispered against her mouth. His eyes closed and his tongue traced the inside line of her lips. Brenna sighed and leaned against him, her lips parting under his unspoken request. Cole increased the pressure of his mouth against hers, but withheld what she wanted. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her across his lap.
Brenna put her arms around his neck and slid her hands through his hair, feeling each strand against her fingertips, giving herself to the moment. If he wanted to tease, two could play that game. She touched his lips with the tip of her tongue, feeling his warmth to her core. He imitated exactly her gossamer caress, then deepened the caress ever so slightly, which she answered in kind. Kissing—mere kissing—had never been like this. At once satisfying and making her hunger for more.
At last long last his tongue touched hers.
CASSIDY'S COURTSHIP Page 10
