by Sandra Brown
The next morning when he entered the courtroom, his eyes immediately went on a busy search until they located her. Unlike previous days, she wasn’t directing her photographer and causing a commotion among the spectators seated around her.
Today she was sitting quietly holding a notepad on her lap. She and the photographer were talking together. He must have said something amusing. She threw back that mane of hair and laughed softly.
Hunter’s loins responded to the throaty sound of that laugh. When he passed her aisle, he glanced down the row of chairs and caught a glimpse of her leg in its smooth silk stocking. Her dress was green. The demure design only made it that much sexier. She was leaning back in her chair now, speaking over her shoulder to another reporter. In profile, her breast was clearly detailed.
He took his seat at the prosecution’s table and consulted the clock on the back wall. He had a perfectly good watch strapped to his wrist, but the official court clock provided him with an excuse to turn around. His eyes found hers as though by prearranged meeting.
Her gaze was expectant, and he knew she was silently asking if he’d seen her story the night before. He dragged his eyes away from her face, nodded curtly, and turned to the front of the courtroom again.
Damn! he cursed to himself. He was faced with a challenging case to prove in court and his mind was centered on what throbbed with an aching hardness between his thighs.
This juvenile infatuation couldn’t continue. Besides being physically uncomfortable and damned embarrassing, it was dangerous. As long as Kari Stewart had been hostile and vituperative, he had been safe from letting his emotions run free. But this docile Kari, this Kari who half smiled at him, was a threat he couldn’t combat. With her looking at him like that, he would never be able to concentrate on the task before him, a task his whole career hinged on.
As soon as the judge entered the court, Hunter rose to his feet. “Your Honor,” he said politely, “I request that the courtroom be cleared of all distractions, particularly those created by the video tape cameras.”
Kari gasped in disbelief. “That bastard!” she said under her breath. She had fallen for his convincing insincerity. Once again he had proved just how cold-hearted and manipulative he was.
After viewing her story on one of the newsroom monitors, Pinkie pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “You’ve really gone and done it this time, sweetheart.”
After the debate that had followed McKee’s request, the judge had ruled in his favor. Much to the annoyance of every television reporter, the video tape cameras had been evicted. The judge had consented to let sketch artists remain so the reports wouldn’t be totally without visuals for their stories.
Kari’s story strongly hinted that the banishment of cameras was an attempt on McKee’s part to keep the public in the dark about his political machinations.
“It wasn’t libelous.”
“Just short of it.” Pinkie pulled on his stained polyester sport coat. “I’m getting tired of it, Kari.”
“Tired of what?”
“This childish game of yours.”
“It isn’t a game.”
“Call it whatever you like. It’s unprofessional and reeks of the shoddy kind of journalism I never could stomach.”
Coming from Pinkie, her staunch friend and ally, that hurt. “I’m sorry you see it that way.”
“So am I.” He headed for the door. “I feel like hell. I feel so bad I may ask Bonnie to get drunk with me.” He shuffled out.
Kari had never felt so alone in her life. She drove home wondering why she was feeling depressed instead of elated. She had bested McKee again, but since there was no one to celebrate the victory with her, there was no joy in it.
She unlocked her front door and stepped inside. In one fluid motion she flicked on the lights and tossed her purse onto a chair. Then she came to an abrupt halt.
Hunter McKee was sitting in an easy chair across the room. His moss-colored eyes glowed with satisfaction at having captured his prey so effortlessly.
His coat was lying across the back of her sofa. His vest was unbuttoned, as were the first two buttons of his dress shirt. The knot of his tie had been loosened and his cuffs were rolled to his elbows. His slouching posture indicated that he had been waiting for a long time. There was an unfinished drink in his hand. His hair was even more mussed than usual.
He eased out of the chair to a standing position, keeping his eyes riveted on hers. He downed the last of his drink and meticulously set the glass on the coffee table. Stepping around it deftly, he came toward her.
“How did you get in here?” She was breathless and suddenly frightened by the determined set of his jaw and the intimidating power of his body. He exuded a masculine anger that had been aroused and that wasn’t going to be easily appeased.
“I majored in criminology.”
“But the security system …”
“I disengaged it.”
“Is it that easy to tamper with?”
“In fact, it’s a very sophisticated system.”
“But you managed to disarm it.”
“Yes. It’s working again by the way.”
He was standing close to her now. Too close. She could feel his body heat, taste the whiskey-flavored breath that fanned her face and neck, smell the citrusy flavor of his cologne. Her heart began to race.
“What do you want, Mr. McKee?”
“That’s a trifle formal, isn’t it? Don’t you think that as intimately as you’ve hated me, you could bring yourself to use my first name? Say it.” He filtered the angry words through his teeth, and she jumped back slightly.
She’d never seen a man more furious. A vein ticked in his temple. He said he’d majored in criminology. Maybe he knew how to commit the perfect crime, the clueless murder.
But she wasn’t really afraid he’d harm her physically. He threatened her with a kind of danger that was totally new to her.
“Say my name, Kari,” he whispered as he moved a step closer.
“No.”
Roughly he cupped her face between his hands and tilted it up. He ran his thumb along her lower lip. “Say it.”
It was a softly spoken command, but his voice held a steely ring. Reinforcing it was the fierce gleam in his eyes and the tantalizing pressure of his thumb against her lip.
“Hunter,” she whispered in fear.
“Again.”
“Hunter,” she repeated. His eyes watched her lips as they formed his name. He held her that way for a disconcerting length of time before his hands fell away and he stepped back.
Kari’s head was spinning. She was disgusted with herself for surrendering to his superior strength of will, but at the same time she didn’t want him to know that he had the slightest effect on her. “I’ve said your name. Is that all you wanted?”
“No. I wanted to paddle your butt.” He put his hands on his hips. “That was a helluva story you aired tonight. Are you proud of yourself?”
“Very. Especially after the trick you played on me.”
“Trick? What trick?”
The innocent act only made her madder. “You led me to believe that if I’d tone down my reports, you’d let the cameras stay in the courtroom.”
“My request to have the court cleared of them had nothing to do with our conversation yesterday.”
“Didn’t it? Didn’t you request that they be evicted because of me?”
“Yes, but not for the reason you think.”
“What other reason could there possibly be?”
Because you make me horny! he wanted to shout. Instead he directed the blame for the whole mess back to her. “Let’s have this out once and for all. For months you’ve been paying me back for finding your husband’s hand in the till. It wasn’t my fault I found it there.”
“He was innocent.”
“He was as guilty as hell, of a lot of things.”
She pinched her eyes shut and drew a deep breath. “I kn
ow why you discredited him along with those others.”
“He discredited himself.”
“Because he disapproved of your appointment.”
That unexpected piece of information brought him up sharp. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Finally he asked, “Who told you that?”
“Silas Barnes,” she said triumphantly.
She had spoken with the former D.A. about him? “When?”
“I called him shortly after our first meeting. I couldn’t believe your allegations against Thomas and I mistrusted your motives. You said yourself that you came here from St. Louis because you couldn’t move up the ladder fast enough. I thought you were probably trying to make a big splash and were using Thomas as one of your springboards. I called Mr. Barnes to ask his opinion of you.”
“And?”
“Oh, you’re his fair-haired boy. He said if he’d had an army of young attorneys working for him, you would still have been his choice to take over when he retired. But—” she held up her hand when he attempted to interrupt—“he also said that Thomas hadn’t approved of you. It was all off the record, of course. But Thomas had let it be known around city hall that he thought you were dangerously ambitious.”
Hunter shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, if you think I was getting my revenge on Wynne for not liking me, you’re wrong. I never knew that he disapproved of me.”
She scoffed. “You don’t expect me to believe that?”
“No, I don’t,” he said sharply. “You thought Thomas Wynne was a saint and you’ve put on blinders to the truth about him. When you were talking to Barnes did you also ask him about my allegations against Wynne?”
The haughty toss of her head was his answer. “Naturally he sided with you.”
“God!” he shouted in frustration and slapped his thighs with his palms. “The truth is right there in front of you and still you refuse to acknowledge it. Your husband was the criminal, not me.”
Rage shuddered through her. “Oh, I despise you. You’re shrewd—”
“I’m smart.”
“And manipulative.”
“I take advantage of every situation.”
“And ambitious.”
“Ambition isn’t a crime.”
“You’re a bloodthirsty prosecutor.”
“And you’re a vindictive bitch.”
“I’m only doing my job!”
“So am I!”
He didn’t even realize his hands were on her until he felt her body pressing against his. He looked down, and through the red fog of fury he saw his hands gripping her upper arms.
And suddenly he could feel her, all of her. Her breasts were heaving against his chest. Her belly was softly cushioning his hardness. Her thighs were straining against his.
Angry as she was, she had never looked more beautiful. Her eyes were wide and deeply green in the shadowy light of the room. She breathed through moist and slightly parted lips.
Without thinking beyond the moment, he bent his head and stamped his mouth over hers. His arms swept around her and he drew her closer until her small frame was imprinted on his.
He twisted his mouth over hers until her lips parted. His tongue investigated the row of perfect teeth and elicited a whimper of outrage from her. Still he went on kissing her hard and fervently, until her mouth was forced to open for breath. Then his tongue slipped inside.
It was imposition. It was violation. It was wonderful. And he kept up the rapid thrusts of his tongue until he felt her body weaken and become pliable against his.
At first Kari had been too stunned to move. Then when she began to struggle against him, she realized that she was no match for his strength. How dare he insult her this way? She hated him. But she began to hate herself more.
Because she began to like the kiss.
Could she accuse him of brutality when in fact his mouth gentled its onslaught? He still had her mouth fused to his, but his tongue was no longer hard and rough. It was velvety and sensuous. Its thrusts were no longer random and punishing, but practiced and persuasive. She felt her body’s resistance to such sweet aggression giving way.
With no instruction from her, her arms had wound themselves around his waist. When he pressed his aroused sex against her middle, she realized that she was moist and aching with want and need for it. Her breasts were full and flushed. She had the maddest longing to feel his mouth against their tightened peaks.
He kissed her deeply once more, rubbing his tongue against hers and snuggling her middle against his hips. Then gradually he withdrew. His mouth lingered, dropping delicate kisses on her bruised lips, before he pulled away completely and took a backward step.
He stood perfectly still as he stared down at her. She wished she could vanish into thin air. She hadn’t responded. She hadn’t! she screamed to herself. Still, in case he thought she had, she was afraid to face him. Reluctantly she lifted her eyes to his face.
“What was my biggest fault, Kari? Discrediting Thomas? Contributing to your miscarriage? Wanting you? Or making you want me back?”
He picked up his suit coat. At the door he turned. “One of these days you’ll admit the real reason you’re angry with me.”
He let himself out.
Hunter entered his dark apartment and walked straight to the telephone. He had held out for a long time. But tonight he had kissed, really kissed, Kari Stewart. That had changed his mind. He dialed the long-distance number and after three rings, she answered.
“Pam, it’s me, Hunter. You’ve been right. I’ve been mule-headed. I’m going to give you your divorce.”
Chapter Seven
HE HAD DECIDED TO SIT OUT ELECTION DAY AT HOME.
He knew there must be something wrong with him. He was a healthy, red-blooded American male. But he preferred solitude to a crowd. He preferred watching the evening television newscast to a party.
He sat in front of his TV set like a deviate at a dirty movie. He watched her, mesmerized. By now her speech patterns, facial expressions, and mannerisms were endearingly familiar. He would recognize the flowery scent of her hair anywhere. The texture of her complexion lingered on the pads of his fingers. He knew what her mouth tasted like. He wanted her.
And, by her own admission, she despised him.
What if they’d met under entirely different circumstances? What if he’d met her two years after Wynne’s death? Or what if there’d been no Wynne at all? That would have been even better. They would have liked each other immediately. In fantasies anything was possible, wasn’t it?
He would have invited her out to dinner a few times. They would have talked about their careers, current issues, movies and books. He would have told her his repertoire of jokes and she would have thought him extremely entertaining. They would have discovered that they had a remarkable number of things in common.
One night she would have invited him in for a nightcap. She would have been smiling invitingly. When he took her in his arms, she would have come willingly. Her lips would have parted obligingly beneath his. She would have been hungry for his kisses, craving his caresses.
“I think it’s only fair to tell you that I was married.”
“Was?” Her hair would sweep his hands as her head fell back. His mouth would skate down her throat.
“I’m divorced.” Her breast would fill his palm and he would sigh her name as his thumb found her responsive nipple. “I’ve been alone a long time. Since I’ve met you … Well, I’ve never felt this way about any woman. I want you, Kari. I need your softness and sweetness in my life. Let me love you.”
She would have taken his hand and led him into the bedroom and …
His telephone rang and he jumped. Snatching it up, he growled into the receiver. “McKee.”
“Mr. District Attorney, you mean.” Guy was shouting over the racket in the background. “You took it hands down. Of course you were a shoo-in, but the final results of the election have just been announced. You’r
e officially the D.A. now.”
“Thanks for calling.”
“You’ve made a grand slam this week. First the conviction of that kid who wasted his old man. And now the election.”
Hunter was ambivalent about sending a sixteen-year-old to death row, but this wasn’t the time to squelch the enthusiasm of his junior assistant. “Thank everyone who helped.”
“You’re not coming to the victory party?”
“No.”
“But, Jeez, McKee, we’re all gathered in someone’s apartment. I’m not sure who lives here, but there’s booze galore and food and …” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know Marilyn in the tax assessor’s office, the one with the set of knockers that would put your eyes out? She’s been anxious to see you all night, if you know what I mean.”
Hunter called to mind a leggy redhead with a penchant for tight sweaters. He felt a momentary flare of desire but didn’t know if it was a remnant of his daydream about Kari or the thought of Marilyn of the tax assessor’s office. “I don’t know, Guy.”
“You’ll hate yourself in the morning if you pass up an offer like this. Take it from me, buddy, she’s hot.”
Hunter laughed. “In that case, how can I say no?” Maybe that was just what he needed, a rowdy tumble with an obliging sexpot. What better way to eradicate one woman from his mind than to absorb himself with another?
“What’s the address?” Guy supplied it. “If Marilyn should need a ride home,” Hunter said suggestively, “tell her to meet me outside in ten minutes.”
“Gotcha!” He could hear Guy’s grin through the telephone. “I guarantee she’ll need a ride home.”
Before his better judgment got to him, Hunter grabbed up his jacket, his car keys, and left his apartment. The substantially endowed Marilyn was waiting at the curb as promised. How easy it was to score these days. Where had girls like Marilyn been when he was in high school?
“Hi,” she said, opening the passenger side door and sliding in.
“Hi.”
She was wearing her trademark sweater and it was as tight as all the others in her wardrobe. If he were any judge of the female anatomy at all, she was wearing nothing beneath it. Her perfume was heavy and sweet and unfortunately reminded him of cheaply made, sleazy French films.
