by Lisa Childs
Her face flushed, and her eyes got bright. She sighed and admitted, “Because I lusted after you for years.”
He couldn’t help the grin from spreading across his face. “Really?”
“Like you didn’t know,” she said.
He shook his head. “I had no clue.”
She tugged his tie free and let it drop to the floor. Then she moved on to the buttons of his shirt. She didn’t rip them open this time. Instead, she took her time with each one, slowly opening his shirt. “How can you look like this and not know every woman in court is lusting after you?”
He chuckled. “I thought you hated me,” he said.
“I do,” she readily replied.
Even as a pang struck his heart, he laughed again. “Really?”
“Of course. You represent rich and privileged clients.”
“You’re rich and privileged,” he reminded her.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “No. My father is.”
And she’d made certain not to trade in on that. He respected that. If only she respected him, too.
“I don’t hate you,” he told her.
She tilted her head and studied his face. “But you hate losing.”
He couldn’t deny that. “I do.”
“And you’d do anything to win,” she said, repeating his client’s words.
“That’s not why I kissed you.”
“Word got out around the Meet Market that you and your partners deliberately set out to seduce women to get what you want.”
He pulled back and stared down at her, dumbfounded. “I don’t know what surprises me more—that you go to the Meet Market, or that you’d listen to gossip about us.”
“Gossip?” she said. “That’s all it is?”
Damn, she was too good.
“Simon and Ronan might have done something like that,” he admitted. “But they were just trying to find the office mole.”
“That’s why you came to see me that first night,” she said. “You wanted to find out how I got that information about Mueller’s alibi. Did you think I was the office mole?”
“You don’t have access to our office,” he said.
She smiled. “Miguel and I go way back.”
“Are you the office mole?” he asked.
She arched a brow. “Guess you’ll have to seduce me to find out.”
He laughed again. He’d been so angry with her just a short time ago. What was it about her that beguiled him so much that he forgot the anger—that he forgot everything but how much he wanted her?
* * *
What the hell was wrong with her?
Hillary never should have allowed him into her apartment. Hell, she hadn’t allowed him inside; she’d dragged him through the door with her. And just like that day he’d kissed her in her office, she was the one who’d undressed him.
His shirt hung open over his chest, glimpses of muscles dusted with dark hair teasing her. Maybe that was why she’d lost her mind. Why she was flirting with him.
The sight of his body turned her mind to mush.
It had to be mush for her to want him as much as she did. It was almost as if she needed him.
But that wasn’t possible. Hillary had never needed anyone. She’d gotten along just fine after her mother had died. And leaving her father for boarding school hadn’t bothered her a bit. She’d made friends wherever she’d gone. And if they left her for other schools, she’d made more. But she hadn’t needed them, either.
She’d never needed anyone. So, of course, she didn’t need Stone. But she did want him—badly—at the moment.
“I am not like my partners,” he told her. “I am not a charmer. I just say it like it is. So no, I cannot seduce anyone.”
He had no idea.
“You don’t need charm for seduction,” she told him.
“I don’t?”
She rose on her tiptoes and skimmed her lips along his jaw, down his neck. His pulse leaped beneath her mouth. “All you need is your lips.” She pressed hers to his. But she kept the kiss brief, pulling back. Then she skimmed her fingertips down his chest. “And your touch.”
“Ohhhh...” he said, and he smacked his forehead as if he’d had a sudden realization. “You’re right. I did seduce you.”
“Yes, you did,” she said and was surprised that a giggle slipped out.
“Or did you seduce me?”
“I don’t know.” And she didn’t care anymore. Because he was kissing her, sliding his lips across hers to her ear and her neck.
She shivered in reaction as her skin tingled. Then he touched her, skimming his hands down her sides to her hips, then over her ass. He found the button on her skirt, undid it and her zipper, and the skirt fell down. Then he pushed off her jacket, which she’d already unbuttoned in the elevator. She wore a thin sweater beneath it. He lifted that over her head and tossed it onto the floor, too.
She stood before him in just her bra and underwear. But it was her new bra and underwear. She’d splurged on some sexy lingerie she’d been seeing advertised everywhere.
And she was glad that she had when she saw his reaction. His whole body tensed and his breath escaped in a whoosh like he’d been kicked—hard.
“Damn, woman!” he exclaimed. “What the hell do you have on?”
She touched one of the cups of the bra, which was secured to the strap with a bow. “Bette’s Beguiling Bows.”
He shook his head. “No damn wonder Simon lost his mind...and Ronan.”
“What?” she asked, totally confused what his partners had to do with her new underthings.
“The lingerie designer, the model...” He gestured at her underwear. “That’s what they do.”
And his partners did them, apparently.
“Shouldn’t I have bought it?” she asked.
“Depends,” he said and he pushed her fingers away from the bow to toy with it himself. He tugged it loose so that the cup dropped away, freeing her breast. He cupped it in his palm and flicked his thumb across the nipple.
And she lost her breath for a moment as pleasure streaked from her breast to her core. “On what?”
He moved his hand from her breast to the bow holding up the other cup. He toyed with the end of the bow for a long moment before pulling it loose. Then he cupped that breast in his hand, but he held his thumb just a breath away from the nipple.
“On what?” she asked, as desire burned inside her.
“Did you buy it for me or dopey Dwight?”
She smiled. “You.”
And he touched her nipple, rubbing his thumb across it. Once. Twice. “But you were mad at me and I was mad at you.”
“We usually are,” she said.
He nodded. “That’s right. You hate me.”
“I do.” But her heart felt all warm and big, and she was afraid that she didn’t hate him enough. She needed to hate him more. “That was another reason I bought this,” she said. “Figured I would let you sneak a peek and then deny you.”
“There’s one problem with that,” he said, and he pulled that hand away and stepped back.
“What’s that?” she asked, and her brow furrowed.
“If you deny me, you deny yourself, too.” And he turned as if he was going out the door.
She cursed. Him and herself.
But he only turned the dead bolt before whirling back toward her and lifting her in his arms. He headed straight toward the bedroom.
They denied each other nothing. Their mouths and hands moved hungrily over each other. He tugged loose the bows on her hips that had held her panties together. Then he slid his fingers inside her. He teased her, intensifying the pressure inside her, the need for release until she squirmed on the mattress.
She held out her arms, trying to pull him down with her. She had
never needed anyone before, but in this moment—in the heat of passion—she needed him.
Finally, he stepped back and pushed down his pants and boxers. Then he sheathed himself before joining her on the bed. He lifted her legs, hooking them around his shoulders as he eased himself inside her.
She had never considered herself a flexible person until now. She was able to bend and contort so that he slid even deeper inside her.
The sensation was incredible. He was incredible.
He leaned over more and kissed her—deeply, hungrily—as he set a frantic rhythm. She joined him, grinding her hips against him, meeting his every thrust, until finally that unbearable tension broke.
He slipped away for a few moments before coming back and crawling into bed. He rolled her limp, satiated body into his arms and held her closely.
She had never been so satisfied. So content. So happy...
But then she tensed as she realized she was falling for him. She was beginning to need him. That could not happen.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he stroked her back.
But his voice sounded funny, almost strangled as if emotions were getting to him, too.
“We have to stop doing this,” she said.
“You dared me to seduce you,” he reminded her.
She knew. And it had been stupid. “You know this will never work.”
“This?” he asked. “What is this?”
“Wrong,” she said. “We’re on opposite sides of this trial.”
“A trial that shouldn’t even be happening,” he said. “You need to drop the charges.”
She rolled out of bed and picked up his clothes from the floor, throwing them at him. “That is the only reason you’ve been kissing me, having sex with me—you want me to help you get that two million dollars.”
“Hill—”
“It’s all about money with you!” she accused him. “That’s why you represent the clients you represent. You don’t care that you could be putting a killer out on the streets—”
“And you don’t care that an innocent man could go to prison,” he said. “It’s better that ten guilty men go free than one innocent man suffer.”
“Don’t throw that quote at me,” she said. “You know you’ve helped more than ten guilty men go free.”
“So you’re going to make Byron Mueller pay for that?” he asked.
“No. I’m going to make Byron Mueller pay for killing his wife.”
Stone just shook his head as he pulled on his clothes. “It’s like you’re determined to think the worst of me for some reason,” he said.
“I didn’t say you murdered your wife,” she said.
“But you won’t believe anything I tell you.”
“I can’t trust you.”
“Why not?” he asked.
She grabbed the tangled sheet from the bed and wrapped it around herself. She didn’t want to have this conversation naked. She didn’t want to have this conversation at all. “You know why.”
“Because I’m a defense lawyer?” he asked. “C’mon, Hillary, you know everyone’s entitled to a fair trial. Is it just me or can’t you trust anyone?”
Maybe that was the problem. But she wasn’t about to admit that to him.
“Is it because your mom died when you were so young? Then your dad shipped you off to boarding schools. Don’t you trust people to stick around?”
She gasped with shock. “You’ve done your research on me,” she said. “Or did you have Allison McCann pull up that dirt for a press release? Going to use that against me?”
“Hill—” He reached out for her, but she slapped his hand away.
“Get out of here,” she said. “I’ll see you in court tomorrow unless you have the sense to accept a plea for your client. Murder two.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going to plead for an innocent man.” And she suspected he wasn’t talking just about Byron now. He was talking about himself. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.
But he’d done everything wrong.
He’d made her fall in love with him.
But she’d get over it—just like she had everything else in her life. She lifted her chin and shored up her resolve. “Fine. It’ll be better to beat you in court, anyway.”
“That’s all you really care about,” he said. “Winning. Not justice.” He headed out of her room, and seconds later, the apartment door slammed.
She would win. And yet she knew the victory would feel hollow, not because she had any doubts about Mueller’s guilt—but because she’d lost Stone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“ALL OF THE evidence presented in this courtroom has proved what I told you that very first day,” Hillary said as she stood before the jury. Then she turned back and pointed toward the defense table. “This man is a bad man.”
And like the first time she’d said it, Stone wasn’t sure if she was referring to him or his client.
“He thinks he is above the law,” she said. “He paid a man to lie and alibi him.”
And now she pointed her finger directly at Stone. “He offered his lawyer a two-million-dollar bonus for getting a not-guilty verdict.”
Stone flinched. And Byron clutched his arm. “Can’t you object?”
“You told her,” Stone murmured. But he should have told her more: the truth.
She turned back to the jury. “I hope you send him the message that your integrity cannot be bought. That nobody is above the law.”
Stone stood to offer his argument. But he had no rabbit to draw out of a hat—nothing like his usual flash and pomp. His client had tied his hands. He did his best.
But it wasn’t enough. He saw it in the disapproving faces of the jury. They thought, like Hillary, that he was just all about the money.
Two million dollars. He didn’t care about the money at all. He cared that Byron Mueller was going to die in prison for a crime he hadn’t committed.
But there was nothing more he could do. To save Byron or himself.
Hillary had shut him out—and not just out of her apartment the other night. She’d shut him out of her life. Maybe he’d crossed a line, but he’d only been trying to get through to her.
But she was too closed off. She’d found a way to protect herself, just like he had all these years. But at least he’d let his friends get close to him. He suspected she’d let no one close.
She didn’t want to need anyone.
He wasn’t too proud to admit he needed his friends—hours later—after the verdict had been returned. Simon patted his back where he sat, slouched at the bar to which they’d dragged him. “It’s too bad, man...”
He wasn’t sure if Simon was commiserating because he’d lost the case or the two-million-dollar bonus. But unlike Hillary, he was willing to give his friend the benefit of the doubt. She hadn’t given that to him or his client.
And neither had the jury.
“How could they not have reasonable doubt?” he asked.
“She presented a strong case,” Trev said, but he’d dropped his voice to a low whisper, as if he didn’t want to be overheard admitting it. “Maybe you should have had Allison go after her harder in the press.”
He could have. He could have gone after her in his closing argument, too. He could have said she was biased against his client because he was a rich billionaire like the father who’d abandoned her after her mother died. But Hillary wasn’t on trial.
And he couldn’t have hurt her like that.
Like she’d hurt him.
Of course, she hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true. His client had offered him a hefty bonus. A bribe?
“Do you think, ” Trev continued, “that he could be guilty?”
Stone shook his head. But she’d obviously swayed his partner. “No, it was his kid who k
illed her. I’m sure of it.”
“Or do you just want that to be the case, because you’d convinced yourself you were representing the good guy?” Ronan asked. That was how, as a divorce lawyer, he broke down his cases. There was a good guy and a bad guy. And he always thought he was representing the good guy. But he’d been fooled recently and had wound up hurting the good guy—or in this case, beautiful woman.
Muriel had forgiven him, though.
He wasn’t sure that Hillary would. But he hadn’t done anything wrong. She was the one who’d sent an innocent man to prison.
Stone shook his head again. “No. I’m sure the kid did it. Byron all but admitted it to me. But he wouldn’t give a statement to Hillary.”
“He’s protecting his kid?” Simon said as if shocked at the prospect. And given how his con artist father had set him up to take the rap for their earlier cons, it was no wonder he would be shocked.
Stone was, too. His father had set up his mother to take the fall for some of his drug deals. Not that she hadn’t been complicit as well. He had no doubt that eventually his father would have had him selling drugs, too, if he hadn’t run away.
“You said the kid was the one cheating with the wife,” Ronan said and shook his head. “Can’t believe he’d protect him after that.”
If his own partners didn’t believe him, it was no wonder that Hillary hadn’t. Maybe he had been too hard on her.
And he realized that the sick hollow feeling in his stomach wasn’t just because he’d lost the case. It was because he’d lost Hillary.
* * *
Despite her victory, Hillary had that sick hollow feeling in her stomach that she’d feared she would have. She’d won the case, but she’d lost Stone. He’d seemed more devastated over the verdict than Byron Mueller had.
The press, of course, was having a field day with that. Stone’s handsome face was all over the news, the headlines reading Street Legal criminal attorney devastated to lose...two-million-dollar bonus.
That had been a low blow, even for her. She shouldn’t have included that. She closed out of the news browser on her computer. The office was quiet. Everyone else must have gone home. Nobody had offered to take her out for a drink to celebrate—maybe because her boss was furious she’d won. He’d wanted the victory for himself. And of course, it hadn’t helped that the press reports had said she was certain to get his job now.
