A Legal Affair

by Smith, Maureen

  Daniela feigned a wounded look. “You don’t approve of the way I dress, Professor Adler?”

  Shara pointedly ignored the sarcasm. “When I attended law school,” she said haughtily, “we were more mindful of the way we dressed for class. But then, most of us weren’t there to seduce our instructors in order to earn an easy A.”

  Daniela’s face flushed. Before she could muster a comeback, Shara gave the dagger in her chest another vicious twist. “As I was saying, dear, it’s a shame you don’t have any special plans this evening. Caleb is taking me to dinner, and then to the symphony for a late performance. After that,” she said coyly, “who knows where we’ll end up?”

  Daniela had a pretty good idea just where she wanted Shara to end up. Gritting her teeth, she pasted on a saccharine smile. “Thanks for sharing your evening plans with me, Professor Adler. As much as I’d love to hear more, I really think we should save it for our next bonding session, say, when hell freezes over.”

  With a curt nod, she sidestepped the scowling woman and walked over to where April stood, explaining to Caleb the creative inspiration for her photography. “Sorry to interrupt,” Daniela said, directing her apology to April. “I’m going to head down to the main gallery to check out some of the other exhibits. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  “Okay. Oh, hey, guess what, Daniela? Professor Thorne really liked the same two photos you bought. You both have the same taste. Isn’t that funny?”

  “Hilarious,” Daniela murmured, meeting Caleb’s dark gaze for the first time that evening. At the memory of their earlier encounter, forbidden heat curled through her blood. As if he, too, remembered, his ebony lashes flickered, his eyes touching her mouth like a whispered caress. It was so subtle she could have imagined it.

  “In fact,” April continued merrily, “he wants to buy the Majestic from you. He lives in those cool high-rise apartments that are built above the Majestic Theatre, and he was telling me how his parents used to take him to shows at the theater back in its heyday.”

  “Is that right?” Daniela drawled.

  Caleb nodded, a trace of wry humor in his expression as he gazed down at her. “How much?”

  “That depends,” Daniela said. “How much is it worth to you?”

  “How much is it worth to you?” he countered in a low, enigmatic voice that made Daniela wonder if they were still talking about the photograph.

  She swallowed, her heart thumping hard. “It’s not for sale. But I’m sure if you go easy on April in class, she’d be more than happy to take another photo of the Majestic for you.”

  April laughed, dividing a wary look between the two. “Hey, don’t put me in the middle of this. I will not be an accessory to bribing a professor.”

  Daniela shrugged, backing out of the room. “Suit yourselves. See you in a little bit, April.”

  Once outside, she took a moment to draw deep, cleansing breaths of the cool night air. When she felt steadier, she began making her way toward the main gallery in a connecting building. It wasn’t so much that she was dying to check out the other exhibits, though the works of some of San Antonio’s finest would be on display. She’d simply needed to get away—quickly.

  Seeing Caleb again had rattled her cage. Seeing him on a date with Shara Adler made her want to draw blood. An image of the couple gazing at each other across a romantic candlelit table, or holding hands at the symphony, brought a sick feeling to Daniela’s stomach. Knowing she had no right to be jealous didn’t stop her from being jealous anyway.

  She reached the main gallery and smiled absently at the attractive, well-dressed man who held the door open for her on his way out. As she stepped into the high-ceilinged room with its pristine white walls, gleaming hardwood floors and recessed lighting, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks that this building, at least, was air-conditioned. Not that heat generated by a large crowd would be a problem tonight. Less than a dozen art-goers milled about, and half were people she’d seen in the other gallery.

  The works on display featured an eclectic blend of traditional, contemporary and experimental art. As Daniela wandered from one exhibit to the next, she was not surprised when the courteous stranger, who’d apparently changed his mind about leaving, doubled back and began following her around the room. He maintained a discreet distance at first, casting surreptitious glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. When Daniela paused long enough to admire a sepia-toned photograph of a seventeenth-century Mexican cathedral, he made his move.

  “Powerful, isn’t it?” he remarked, materializing beside her as if by pure accident. The heavy spice of an expensive cologne tickled her nostrils. “Makes you feel reverent in the face of all that holy splendor.”

  Holy splendor?

  Daniela murmured noncommittally and moved on to the next display. She hid a knowing smile as the stranger pretended to linger over the photo, studying it with his head tipped thoughtfully to one side, before following her.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before,” he said. “Is this your first time at First Friday?”

  “I’ve been here a few times,” she answered vaguely. In truth, she’d been coming to the event since she was a teenager, accompanied by her mother and brothers. Pamela Roarke had been a staunch advocate of exposing her children to the arts, arranging her schedule at the hospital so that she was off the first Friday of every month. Although Kenneth and Noah had to be dragged to the event and spent the entire time alternately yawning and complaining of boredom, Daniela had always looked forward to each excursion. Some of her favorite memories included trips to the Blue Star, and feasting on hot Frito Pies from Sonic afterward.

  “I think it’s a wonderful way to showcase the talents of our local artists,” the stranger was saying. “A lot of people don’t realize just how much San Antonio has to offer. We’re so much more than the Riverwalk and a championship basketball team.”

  “Well said,” drawled an amused voice behind them.

  Daniela and her companion turned in unison to find Caleb standing there, hands thrust deep in his pockets, a lazy smile on his handsome face. Automatically Daniela’s pulse spiked.

  The stranger looked startled, his pale green eyes widening in surprise. “Th-Thorne,” he stammered. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Same thing everyone else is doing,” Caleb murmured, gazing at Daniela until she glanced away. “Admiring art.”

  “Of course that’s what you’re doing here. I didn’t mean—”

  Caleb chuckled dryly. “I know what you meant, Stuart. I see you’ve met Miss Moreau.”

  “Not quite,” Stuart said. “We hadn’t gotten around to introductions yet.”

  “Allow me,” Caleb offered smoothly. “Stuart Epps, I’d like you to meet Daniela Moreau, a student of mine at the university.”

  Daniela wondered if she’d only imagined the possessive note in his voice when he introduced her as “a student of mine.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Daniela,” Stuart said, reaching forward to grasp her hand eagerly. “Daniela. What an absolutely beautiful name.”

  “Thank you,” Daniela said, giving her hand a discreet tug when he held on a little longer than etiquette necessitated. She forced a pleasant smile. “And how are you and Professor Thorne acquainted?”

  “Caleb and I went to UT together,” Stuart explained. “We had a bit of a friendly rivalry going back then—with academics, sports. Girls,” he added with a wink at Caleb.

  “Ahh, yes,” Caleb murmured, nodding. “Stu married the girl we all wanted, the lovely president of the Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority. Where is Nicole tonight, by the way?”

  Stuart’s copper-toned face reddened. “Uh, she had to work late. We’re, uh, supposed to be meeting for dinner at—” He glanced at his Rolex and started in surprise. “Damn. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

  “Better not keep Nicole waiting,” Caleb warned softly. “She always did have quite the temper.”

  With an emba
rrassed look at Daniela, who was biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing, Stuart Epps turned and beat a hasty retreat.

  “Poor Stuart,” Caleb lamented with a mournful shake of his head.

  Daniela covered her mouth with her hand to muffle a peal of laughter, but it spilled forth anyway.

  Caleb chuckled, watching her. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

  “For what?” she gasped between giggles.

  “For rescuing you from the clutches of a notorious womanizer.”

  At that she sobered, the laughter dying on her lips like a flame that had been suddenly doused. Her chin went up. “Well, you would know.”

  Caleb frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re the brilliant professor,” she said, moving on to the next display. “I’ll let you figure it out.”

  Caleb followed her. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me, Miss Moreau?”

  “Where’s Shara?” she answered with a question of her own.

  He hesitated. “On her way home. Her son called to say he wasn’t feeling well. Seems there’s a flu bug going around.”

  “That’s too bad,” Daniela murmured. “You two had such a romantic evening ahead of you.”

  Dark eyes narrowed on her face. “I fail to see,” he said, drawing each word out carefully, “how that could possibly be any concern of yours.”

  Her cheeks heated. “It’s not.”

  Caleb arched a brow. “If I didn’t know better, Miss Moreau, I would think you were jealous.”

  Her temper flared. Before she could respond, he turned and sauntered over to an exhibit on the facing wall. This time she followed him.

  “I’m not jealous of you and Shara,” she snapped, reaching his side. “If you think I am, think again.”

  Caleb said nothing, his arms folded across his wide chest as he studied the black-and-white photograph mounted before him. It was an edgy, experimental piece, a portrait of a nude man and woman locked in a passionate embrace against the backdrop of French doors. The photo had been skillfully retouched, the background softly blurred to bring the couple into sharper focus, creating an image that was at once artistic, and shockingly erotic. Beneath the photo, the caption read Voyeur.

  How apropos, thought Daniela, feeling as if she were intruding upon an intimate moment between two strangers. As a slow flush crept over her body, she wondered whether it was a reaction to the provocative portrait, or to the silent, brooding man beside her. Even in her anger she was acutely aware of him. His utter maleness beckoned to her, wreaking sheer havoc on her senses.

  She stole a look at him beneath her lashes, covertly admiring his profile—straight nose, strong jaw, the curve of those masculine, sensual lips. Obsidian eyes rimmed with a thick fringe of black lashes, matched to the slash of his brows. He was beautiful, wickedly so.

  And she wanted him. Wanted him like no other man she’d ever wanted before.

  “This thing between us,” he said suddenly, his voice low and controlled. “It can’t happen.”

  Fresh anger swept through her, though she didn’t know whom she was angrier with—herself or Caleb. Spurred by a recklessness she didn’t question, she stepped directly in front of him, forcing herself into his line of vision. She might as well have thrown herself before a ravenous wolf.

  “Is that what you came all the way down here to tell me?” she challenged hotly.

  His dark eyes flashed a warning. “Don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what, Professor Thorne?” she taunted, knowing she was playing with fire, too far-gone to care. “Don’t cause a scene? Or don’t call you a liar?”

  Before she could react, Caleb grabbed her by the wrist and strode purposefully from the room.

  Chapter 10

  Caleb felt dangerously out of control as he hauled Daniela into a tiny room located off the main gallery. Once, on a previous visit to the Blue Star, he’d made a wrong turn on his way to the men’s room and had stumbled upon the closet, which was used to store old props and photography equipment.

  Daniela stared up at him as if he’d lost his mind as he kicked the door shut behind him and advanced on her. She took three steps backward and he matched her step for step, until only a hairsbreadth separated them.

  Nervously she passed her tongue over her lush bottom lip. “What are you—”

  He never let her finish. Before he could help himself, or stop to consider the consequences of his actions, he cupped her face in his hands and slanted his mouth possessively over hers. The moment their lips touched, he was lost. All thought and reason fled, leaving only need, an all-consuming need that pounded through his body and made him greedy for more.

  At the first intrusion of his tongue, Daniela gasped a little, and he took full advantage, thrusting deeply into the honeyed warmth of her mouth. She tasted sweet, even sweeter than he’d imagined. She was heaven on earth, and the exotic scent of her was as sexy and alluring as the fevered mating of their tongues. When her hands slid up his chest and wreathed around his neck, he groaned low in his throat and pressed closer, deepening the kiss.

  He kissed her because he wanted—no, needed—to feel the softness of her lips, because he had been driving himself crazy thinking about her since the day they met. He kissed her because he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her tonight, exquisitely breathtaking in the low-cut black dress that clung to her lush curves and fueled his imagination with thoughts of sliding it off her milky-brown body, one strap at a time, and watching it fall in a heap at her glorious feet. He wanted her a hundred different ways, under him, over him, any part of him inside any part of her.

  His hands roamed down her back, spanning her tiny waist before, at long last, cupping the exquisite swell of her bottom. Her soft moan of pleasure joined his own, making his loins tighten in a rush. He braced his legs apart and crushed her body to his, fire shooting through him as his thighs brushed the outside of hers and his erection nudged her belly. He wanted her so bad, he ached. It was crazy to want like this.

  “Caleb…” The sound of his name on her lips gradually penetrated the thick fog of desire clouding his brain. Sanity returned in slow degrees, along with a healthy dose of self-disgust over the way he’d lost control with her.

  Daniela’s long raven lashes flickered open as he stepped away. Like a woman in a daze, she lifted a hand and touched her fingertips to her swollen lips.

  Caleb watched her, his eyes hooded. “I didn’t mean to kiss you,” he said huskily. “But if you stand there a minute longer, I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

  Wide, dark eyes lifted to meet his gaze. She opened her mouth to speak, but the look on his face undoubtedly made her reconsider.

  Without a word, she turned and left the room, walking out on him for the second time that day.

  And not a minute too soon.

  Daniela did not remember returning to the first gallery, collecting her purchases from April and saying good-night, then walking the short distance home.

  Inside the moonlit darkness of her bedroom, she unzipped her dress and let it slide slowly from her body, imagining the silk was Caleb’s big, warm hands. She stripped off her black lace underwear and stepped out of her high-heeled sandals, then slid, naked, beneath the bedcovers.

  The memory of Caleb’s mouth on hers, hot and demanding, made her belly quiver in wanton response. She’d known the man would be an incredible kisser, but never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined how far reality would surpass the fantasy.

  She felt a thrill of wicked pleasure, remembering the way he’d lost control and dragged her out of the main gallery. If any other man had pulled a stunt like that, Daniela would have been livid, and she certainly wouldn’t have gone without a fight. Resisting Caleb had never crossed her mind. Instead she’d felt a heady mixture of alarm and excitement, fear and arousal.

  She’d pushed him to the edge, and he’d snapped.

  And, oh, how he’d snapped, she mused wi
th a naughty smile.

  She thought of the blazing intensity in his coal-black eyes as he’d backed her into the room, one deliberate step at a time. A delicious shiver ran through her.

  She wanted him.

  And one way or another, she was going to have him.

  But when she awakened at the crack of dawn burning up with fever, she knew it had nothing to do with her exploits of the night before.

  She had the flu, which would explain the headache and fatigue that had plagued her the day before. She’d caught the virus from her mother.

  Great. Just great. Of all the years to skip my flu shot.

  She stumbled out of bed, struggled into a thick chenille robe from her walk-in closet and staggered down the hall to the bathroom. Assiduously avoiding her haggard reflection, she opened the medicine cabinet and rummaged around for the flu medication she’d forced upon her mother less than a week ago. To her dismay, the bottle was nearly empty. She unscrewed the cap anyway and chugged down the remaining drops of cherry-flavored liquid, then tossed away the container with a disgusted grunt.

  She couldn’t afford to be sick. She had way too much to do, such as work on her case brief, outline her class notes, wash two loads of laundry. Oh, and devise the perfect scheme for seducing Caleb Thorne. She couldn’t seduce anyone looking as if she belonged in a commercial for a cold/flu medication.

  Since it was Saturday, her doctor’s office was closed, which meant she wouldn’t be able to get a prescription for Tamiflu until Monday. In the meantime, she’d have to run to the store and buy more flu medicine. But as she leaned over the bathtub to turn on the shower faucet, her head spun dizzily. With a groan, Daniela sank weakly onto the edge of the clawfoot porcelain tub and dropped her aching head into her hands. She was in no condition to walk or drive anywhere.

  When the dizziness had passed, she got up and shuffled back to her bedroom, where she crawled under the covers and fell asleep once again.

  Three hours later she awakened feeling worse than before. Having no other choice, she reached for the phone on her nightstand.