Panting and dizzy, Rachel collapsed across the bed and became vaguely aware of Brady kissing her neck. She rolled to her side, put her head against his chest, and nodded off for a moment, content to cuddle with him, to inhale his scent, to be in his presence. When she woke to find him gently playing with her hair, she knew he was ready to claim his own pleasure inside her and she was eager to offer herself for his need.
After moving together to the top of the bed, Brady’s most talented and attentive tongue was immediately upon her breasts, and she pressed his head to her chest. Other men had enjoyed her ample bosom, but there had always been the air of selfishness about their caresses. By contrast, Brady was more thoughtful in his attentions; he was slow, considerate, and reverent in how he pleasured her.
Brady removed his lips from her breasts, put his head in the middle of her chest, sighed, and gave her a little hug. They remained that way for several seconds, basking in a gentle, reflective lull in their lovemaking before he reached for a condom packet on the table next to them, slipped the sheath over his erection, and positioned himself over her.
Rachel was so weakened that she couldn’t reach to guide him into her, but there was no need; she was so slick that Brady effortlessly slid inside her. As she was unable to speak, she clenched against him hard as a small welcome.
“Damn, I love that,” Brady sighed, kissing her softly.
He moved in slow and gentle yet deep strokes; it was wonderful. This was languid and sweet, drastically different than the manic lovemaking they’d experienced during their first night together. He took his time and soon Rachel peaked again, although not as intensely as before. Brady thrust hard several more times against her before he came, whispering her name into the tangle of hair around Rachel’s neck as he climaxed.
Dozing off on his chest, all Rachel could think about was how she wanted to be with Brady like this over and over again, how she never wanted to be without him, and how she prayed he felt the same way. She had never felt like this about a man, and her last thought before succumbing to sleep was her silent self-confession that she was in love with him.
Chapter 17
Brady cursed when his alarm went off the next morning.
He had been dreaming he was holding Rachel (which, only a few short hours earlier, had been reality). Deprived of nuzzling against her sweet soft form, he’d slept poorly through the night. Even though they’d been lovers only a handful of days, he marveled at the fact he was already having trouble sleeping without her curled against his chest. Now he was bone-tired, had no Rachel to help him deal with his morning hard-on, and had to get to work early because he had a criminal trial.
And Eleanor wanted to talk.
Brady hadn’t told Rachel that Eleanor’s request worried him because he suspected his former boss wanted to talk about his now-contested judicial race. Eleanor was the kind of person who told you things you didn’t want to hear, uncomfortable truths about yourself and the world. She was brutally honest and often the bearer of bad, or (at the very least) unwelcome, news. She was a great pessimist, which also happened to make her a great lawyer. She saw pitfalls and problems others failed or didn’t want to see.
“What’s on your mind?” Brady asked as he sat behind his desk and Eleanor took a seat across from him.
“Judge Richards,” she said.
“What about Ra—I mean what about Judge Richards?”
How the hell could Eleanor know? They’d only spent two nights together. Two wonderful, mind-blowing nights.
“You’re sure she’s not here this morning?” Eleanor asked, looking toward the partition which divided the judges’ offices.
“Yes, she mentioned she’d be late today.”
That was true. After they’d made love three times, it was three in the morning and Brady had left to get back to his place and catch some sleep. Rachel told him not to count on seeing her until nine at the earliest. He’d kissed her goodbye and left her sleeping.
“Good, because I want to talk about how you’re treating her.”
“Treating her?”
He thought Rachel’s cries of ecstasy only a few hours earlier were a pretty good indication he was treating her quite well.
“Yes, I’ve heard there’s a lot of tension between the two of you, apparently over having to share this office.”
“There was at first,” he admitted, again telling the truth. “But we’re fine now. Really.”
Eleanor stared at him, and he knew she was having none of it. Brady felt like he was trying to tell his first grade teacher that he was now friends with the girl he’d knocked down on the playground.
“I heard you replaced her mailbox this past weekend,” Eleanor revealed.
He nodded. “Yes, my great aunt was driving and knocked it over. She offered to pay for the replacement, and I volunteered to do the work.”
“Someone saw you—well, they heard you at the hardware store on Saturday evening. Said you were cursing up a storm regarding the mailbox, and about having to come to the store.”
Brady blinked, not understanding at first. “Oh, yes, that’s correct. I had to go back to the store because some of the hardware wasn’t included like it was supposed to be. That did get me pretty riled up.” Eleanor again gave him a cold look of disbelief. “What is it, Eleanor? I don’t understand the problem.”
“There’s chatter about you and Judge Richards.”
“Chatter?”
“Yes, namely that you’ve not been nice to her.”
“We get along fine,” Brady said. “Better than you’d imagine. Much better.”
“So what did I see in the grocery yesterday, Brady? It looked as though you’d cornered the poor woman and were threatening her.”
He shook his head. This was stupid. He couldn’t tell her the truth, but the alternative was a totally false impression that had been created.
“We were just talking, nothing to it,” Brady said. He didn’t believe his words, and neither did Eleanor.
“Brady, you always had a tough reputation. A tough but good reputation; but then Rachel Richards got the appointment you expected. I know you were crushed, and I wasn’t surprised when you announced you were going to run against her. But I was shocked when she threw you in jail for contempt. And she was right to do it.”
“Eleanor, spit it out. I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”
“Brady, you’ve got an opponent getting ready to announce against you. Hannah Davenport is smart, but she’s also got a reputation for being a bit of a twit and has no business being a judge. You’re incredibly more qualified than she is, but she has an old Bourbon Springs name and the money behind it. She could easily beat you.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“Then act like it, Brady. You need to protect the best thing you have going for you, and that’s your reputation, your good name. You don’t need any bad talk about you—not that you’d get into some scandal; I know that’s the last thing you’d get caught up in. What I’m saying is that you need to be seen as a competent, levelheaded guy. Someone who can get along with others, especially another judge. You can’t afford to get a reputation as a jerk. Toughness might have worked when you were a prosecutor, but not anymore.”
“So other than publicly declaring that I’m friends with Rachel Richards, what can I do? If I already have this reputation—”
“That’s just it—you don’t have that reputation. At least not yet. All I’m hearing is chatter, but it’s getting louder. And, frankly, you’ve done nothing to dispel my worries. Whenever I mention Rachel Richards’ name, you look uncomfortable.”
“I think people are seeing what they expect to see,” Brady said.
“That may be, but you still need to be careful.”
“So, again—what do I do?”
“The Judicial College is coming up in a few weeks, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Go together. Get to know each other. Be friendly.
If you can’t do that, fake it. Other judges and officials will see the both of you there, and word will get back to the legal community here in Bourbon Springs about how you acted toward her.”
“So I need to be a gentleman?” Brady bit his lip to keep from smiling at that thought, but Eleanor mistook his mild and poorly hidden amusement for irritation.
“If you want to stay on the bench, that’s exactly how you need to behave in public when it comes to Judge Richards,” Eleanor said.
Rachel reached for Brady when she turned over but all she got was a handful of comforter. She sighed and looked at her clock. Seven-thirty. Usually by this time she was on her way to work or already there.
But she usually didn’t have several intense lovemaking sessions late on Sunday night into a Monday morning. In fact, she was pretty sure that had never happened.
Rachel had accurately predicted her arrival time at work; she’d told Brady not to anticipate her before nine and she pulled into her reserved parking spot behind the courthouse at exactly 9:02 a.m., according to the clock in her car. She didn’t expect to see Brady that morning because she knew he was in trial. But they needed to talk.
They never had gotten around the previous night to talking about Hannah much, although Rachel did mention that the formal campaign announcement was going to be on Saturday at the distillery. The only comment Brady made at the time was that he was afraid that this campaign might make him end up averse to consuming Old Garnet, which (like everyone else in Bourbon Springs) was his favorite bourbon.
“And if I get seen drinking anything else, I’ll get voted out for sure,” he’d said.
“I’ll make sure to keep any Woodford Reserve or Four Roses well out of your reach. Not that you’d find either of those bourbons in my house. Strictly Garnet for this Bourbon Springs girl,” Rachel promised.
When Rachel arrived at the office, she found Sherry sitting dutifully at her desk and suffering from a severe cold. Sherry coughed and sniffed, and her hunched posture made it look like she wanted to curl up under her desk and sleep.
“Seriously, Sherry, why’d you come in to work today?”
“Thought I’d feel better once I got here.”
Rachel picked up a few files from Sherry’s desk and studied her secretary.
“And how’s that working out for ya?”
“Oh, shut—” Sherry broke into a coughing fit.
“Brady on the bench, I take it? Just nod if I’m right.” Sherry nodded. “Very well,” Rachel said and picked up a few more files from Sherry’s desk. “You stay put. Better yet, go home. I’ll take these signed orders and the files down to the clerk’s office. Got anything else that needs to go?”
Sherry shook her head, took a sip of water, and whispered a thank-you to Rachel, but indicated she’d stay. Rachel again tried to get Sherry to leave, but after another minute gave up and left chambers.
Upon entering the clerk’s office with the files and orders she’d signed, Rachel brushed a small piece of lint from her green shift and greeted the clerks, all of whom perked up at her arrival.
“I’ll take those, Judge Richards,” said Lana, one of the deputy clerks. She held her hands out over the public filing counter and Rachel deposited the files in her arms. “Why’d you bring these down? Sherry not here today?”
“She’s upstairs, but sick,” Rachel said.
“You didn’t have to bring those files to us,” said CiCi Summers, the Craig County Circuit Court Clerk, as she turned from the copy machine against a far wall. “One of us could’ve come up and fetched them.”
“But I wanted to come visit,” Rachel insisted. “I hardly ever get to the clerk’s office since I got on the bench and I miss it.”
When Rachel had returned to Bourbon Springs and started the job as a public defender five years earlier, she had unquestioningly taken Mira’s advice: be nice to clerks.
Always.
It wasn’t that hard, considering CiCi had been her friend since high school and that clerks were generally easy to get along with. Clerks could make an attorney’s life easy or hellish, depending upon how an attorney chose to treat them.
CiCi waved Rachel back into her private office behind the public filing counter. Once there, CiCi closed the door, put her hands on her hips, and frowned at Rachel. She tilted her head, causing her abundant curly brown hair to tumble to one side, and sighed.
“Are you doing OK?” CiCi asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Rachel asked, surprised. “Do I look sick or something?” Rachel felt great, a state of mind and body she attributed to her weekend activities.
“No, no,” CiCi said, and indicated Rachel should take a seat in front of her desk. “You actually look smokin’ hot.”
“Thanks,” Rachel said, and felt warm.
CiCi grinned and raised her eyebrows. “You know, I heard Bo Davenport is back on the market,” she said, but Rachel shook her head. “But I heard that he’d broken up with his girlfriend up in Shelbyville,” CiCi protested.
“That’s true, but it’s not really true he’s on the market. The man has no time except for that distillery, according to Hannah.”
“You’re right,” CiCi conceded with a sigh as she walked behind her desk and fell into her chair. “But what a pity. You two would be cute together. You know, the best friend and the brother.”
Rachel itched to tell CiCi that she was very much taken, and started having little flashbacks to the number of times Brady had done just that—taken her.
“I guess you’ve heard Hannah is making her announcement this week?” Rachel asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from her personal life.
“Yes, and that’s what I wanted to discuss. Well, not Hannah but the guy she wants to replace.”
“Br—Judge Craft?” Rachel asked, and CiCi nodded. “Look, I can’t discuss that judicial race. The judicial ethics canons—”
“I know you can’t talk. With your best friend in the race that has to be tough for you.”
“You have no idea,” Rachel sighed, looking at the floor.
“I probably won’t go to the announcement, and I don’t expect you will either, but I did want to talk to you about something. Not sure I should mention it to Hannah.”
“But I can? Is that what you’re thinking?”
“No, no, it’s about Judge Craft. I’ve heard—” CiCi stopped and bit her lip, apparently thinking the better of what she was about to say.
“What? Spit it out!”
“That you two haven’t exactly gotten along. I mean, everyone knew that you went at it in court, but that was to be expected. But then you both got on the bench, and I’ve heard he’s not changed. And now your best friend is running against him. That can’t make for the best work environment.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
CiCi rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard he’s still just as much a jerk to you as he was when he was a prosecutor.”
“That’s just talk,” Rachel said, shaking her head.
“But I heard that you two had an argument in the grocery yesterday.”
“Argument? No—”
“Rachel, people saw you two in Minnick’s. Well, they saw him getting in your face.”
“Well, I was there and I can tell you absolutely that we were not arguing. I guess it did look odd—he was standing in the freezer case because he was hot since he’d been out exercising,” Rachel said, providing a half-truth.
Seeing CiCi’s still-skeptical look made Rachel launch into the story of how Brady had fixed her mailbox after Marie had destroyed it on Saturday. Rachel knew that by telling the tale to CiCi, the biggest gossip in Craig County, the incident and Brady’s corresponding graciousness would be widely retold.
“So he’s not being a jerk?”
“I promise that he’s not being a meanie to me,” Rachel said, crossing her heart.
CiCi tilted her head and sighed. She didn’t look convinced of Rachel’s assertion, but chose not to challen
ge it.
“Glad to hear it, but most people don’t think that way. In fact, my deputies aren’t too sure about him. I mean, they don’t hate Judge Craft, but...” CiCi trailed off, and shrugged.
“But they don’t like him, either, do they?”
CiCi shook her head. “Not really, but they’re willing to give him a chance. It would do him a world of good to come see us once in a while.”
“I’ll mention it to him.”
“You will?”
“Sure I will.”
“But—what about Hannah?” asked CiCi.
“What about her?”
“Well, I just thought that you wouldn’t pass that on to him.”
“Why shouldn’t I? As a judge, he needs to have a good relationship with the clerks, doesn’t he?”
“No, I mean what if she finds out you helped him?”
“Then I’ll repeat what I already told her: I can’t get involved in the campaign. And merely telling Judge Craft it would behoove him to get to know the clerks hardly qualifies as taking sides.”
CiCi smiled. “Too bad he’s not as nice as you are.”
“He is,” Rachel stated, and turned to leave, “but you—and your deputy clerks—just haven’t learned that yet.”
Chapter 18
“This damn trial is going to go well into the evening,” Brady lamented upon entering chambers after adjourning court for lunch. Removing his robe, he tossed it onto a nearby chair and loosened his tie.
When court had opened that morning, he expected the defendant to accept the very generous plea offer proposed by Jorrie Jones, the new Assistant Commonwealth Attorney who had taken his old job. But no such luck. Now Brady was likely stuck in court until after dinner, which meant ordering food for himself and the jurors since the jury would likely be deliberating at that time. He was pretty good at estimating how long certain kinds of felony trials would take, and this one, a nasty assault case, was not going to be quick and easy for anyone involved (who knew you could assault someone with an old rotary-dial telephone like that?).
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