Counsel (Counsel #1) (27 page)

"A kite? We're going to fly a kite?" Angelique exclaims excitedly.

"If you'd like to." I grin back at her.

Her eyes shine as she nods eagerly. "It's beautiful, where did you get it?"

"I bought this. Dad used to help Cait and me make our own, though."

"Why did you choose a butterfly shape? It’s so unusual. "

"It reminded me of you."

"Of me? Why?"

"I'll tell you sometime," I say cryptically.

"Spoilsport!" she accuses, and I smile at her childlike, yet provocative pout.

"Come on, we need to climb to the top of that little hill." I grasp her hand, noting again just how right it feels in mine.

"Adam, look at our kite!" Angelique calls out excitedly as it takes to the air.

I've never, in the short time I've known her, seen her so alive and happy. I step up behind her, wrap my arms around her waist and place my hand over hers on the spool. "Let it out some more," I urge, my lips close to her ear.

"Watch how high it soars," I whisper, helping to unwind the cord. "See how good we can be together?" She nods, turning her head to glance up at me. I lay a soft kiss on the delicate skin behind her ear.

"Thank you," I say tightening my hold on her. She caresses the back of my hand with her thumb, and I close my eyes, savoring the moment.

We drive home in contented silence. Angelique’s cheeks are beautifully flushed, her mouth turned upward in a tiny smile. She turns her head to look at the backseat where we'd finally agreed to store the kite. On our return to the car, she expressed concern that it would be damaged in the trunk. I assured her that it hadn’t suffered on the journey there, it had cost thirty dollars and could easily be replaced if damaged, I said, but she remained unconvinced. She held it almost possessively and offered to carry it on her lap, relenting only when I suggested the back seat as a compromise.

"Would you like to keep the kite?" I ask when helping her out of the car.

"I don’t have room to store it. I know I seemed silly, but I haven't had so much fun for a very long time," she bashfully explains.

"Me too. I’ll keep it safe," I promise, squeezing her hand gently.

She invites me in when we reach her door. "I'd love to," I instantly reply. She excuses herself to freshen up and returns wearing a different top with her hair falling in loose waves.

"Can I offer you something? I'm afraid I don't have any good wine or beer."

"Coffee would be great. Can I help?" I offer.

"I can manage, but you're welcome to join me, not that there's much to see." I follow her eagerly and watch as she potters around the tiny space, then offer to carry our cups back into the living room. Angelique settles in at one end of the small sofa, and I, at the other.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do with Eleanor’s Place even more now that I know what happened to her. It's a wonderful way of giving meaning to your mother’s life," she says. "And I want you to know…I'd like to tell you why I accepted Joseph’s offer."

"Angelique, you don't need to feel obligated just because I told you about my past."

"That's not the only reason…." Her eyes cloud with emotion. "I want to tell you because of what you said … about wanting more. I don't think we can move ahead until you know why I did what I did."

"I've already told you, it doesn't matter..."

"But it
should
matter, Adam," she interjects, "If you’re involved with me, your reputation will be dragged down with mine...well, there’s not much of mine left to destroy," she says ruefully. I put my cup down.

"You're a trained and highly talented ballerina. You’re not defined by your time at Liaison."

"Just let me speak, please… before I lose my nerve," she appeals, and I nod, pushing aside my need to comfort her.

I want to destroy things. How much does one person have to go through? Losing her father so young, suffering the unwanted attentions of Quandt, her accident and painful rehabilitation, and then, as if
that
weren’t enough, the car accident that claimed her stepfather's life and caused her mother's disability. The fact that her need for money to adequately care for her mother drove her into Joseph’s clutches makes me almost irrational. I want to kill him and every man who’s ever used her, especially Justin fucking Wade. He
knew
why she needed the money, the prick; perhaps not at the beginning, but later. I really don't give a damn what he tells himself to feel better; he
used
her.

I'm practically vibrating by the time Angelique finishes, but she's looking so forlorn, I lock down my anger. I have to think of her, I remind myself.

"I'm so sorry. I wish I'd known you then. What you did was selfless, Angelique."

"I want… I
need
you to really think before we become involved, Adam," she pleads. "I simply can't stand the thought of hurting another person. I'm not even sure if I should be involved with Eleanor’s Place. I’ll attract the wrong kind of attention to this wonderful thing you’re doing."

I clasp both of her hands. "I don't have a choice in the matter, I don't think I
ever
had a choice. I care about you too much. I want to be with you; I
need
to be with you. Do you share even the
smallest
part of that desire?" I ask.

"I do," she replies brokenly. I cup her beautiful face and lower my head to touch my lips to hers. If I weren’t already sitting, I'd collapse from the force of feeling that rips through me; it's like holding a flaming torch to tinder. I deepen our kiss and groan as she surrenders to me. Finally,
finally
, I get to suck on that bottom lip that’s taunted me for so long.

I have never felt such heat. I swear I feel it down to my toes. We kiss and kiss, our tongues stroking softly at first and then intertwining more forcefully as passion builds. Angelique wraps her arms around my waist and then runs her hands up my back, her nails applying exquisite pleasure. I let out a guttural sound at the feel of her soft breasts pressed against my chest. I move my hands into her silky hair as I delve into her warm mouth, overwhelmed by the need to devour her.

I withdraw with herculean effort and rest my forehead against hers, our breath mingling as I struggle for control. I cover her face in soft kisses, her smooth brow, delectable, upturned nose, her eyelids, and her kiss-ravaged lips. "We have to stop, or I won't be able to control myself," I whisper hoarsely, then let out a shuddering breath. "Will you excuse me for a minute?" I ask.

She nods, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. I can't resist. I kiss her again… lingeringly, but more gently this time before making my way to the bathroom.

I splash my face with cold water, reminding myself of all the reasons I need to take things slowly. Men have used her for sex, and as much as I want her, I can't and won't have her thinking that's all I'm interested in. I have no idea how I'm going to hold back now that I've tasted some part of her; but for her, I'm prepared to have as many cold showers as it takes until she's as certain about this as I am.

I hadn't, in my wildest dreams, thought we'd cover this much ground today; but now, knowing that she's interested in me, there's no way I'll be able to give up on her. Every fear she expressed about us being together is valid. We'll no doubt face heavy criticism, but I'm determined to ride out the storm.

I return to sit beside Angelique, moving her hair aside to softly kiss the base of her neck. "Would it be all right if I just held you?"

"I'd like that," she says with a soft smile.

"Scoot up," I urge, leaning back against the armrest. "Do you mind if I put my legs up?" She stands to give me room, and I swing a leg up before reaching for her. "Lean against me." She does and puts her legs up, allowing me to cradle her body between my legs. I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her temple. "I've dreamed of this," I say.

"So have I," she whispers. We’re contentedly silent then. I think that, like me, Angelique’s allowing the significance of the day's events to sink in. Our idyll is short-lived, however, broken by the sound of Cait’s ringtone. I ignore it.

It rings again, and Angelique turns her head to look at me. "It's Cait, if we ignore her, she may go away," I say irritably. She giggles.

"I love that sound," I whisper, kissing her neck. The damned phone rings again.

"I love my sister, but sometimes I want to throttle her," I mumble as Angelique hands me the phone.

"I'm busy Cait," I snap.

"I don’t want to disturb your date, big brother, but I thought you might want to see the social-cum-gossip section of today's paper."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Just check it out online, Adam," she says and with a quick, "I love you," hangs up.

"Do you have a laptop?" I ask a now concerned-looking Angelique, who, sitting up, motions toward the dining table. She’s about to move, but I stop her by brushing my mouth across hers in a reassuring kiss before releasing her. Angelique remains silent as we navigate the short distance to the table where she raises the computer lid, opens her browser, and steps aside. It takes me only moments to locate the article.

Two photographs, the first, of our family with Angelique and the second, one of her and me, are featured. It's the second that commands my attention, though. We're standing close, oblivious to our surroundings, our bodies leaning toward each other as if drawn by some irresistible force. Angelique looks up at me seemingly enthralled, whereas my expression can only be described as one of unbridled love. It takes me moments to tear my eyes from the captivating sight to absorb the words blazoned above the article.

An Unlikely Coupling: The Prosecutor And The Escort.

-End Of Book One-

An Unlikely Coupling: The Prosecutor And The Escort.
The veiled censure makes my blood boil.

Personally, I don’t give a damn about the impact of this kind of sensationalist drivel. To me, it’s like water off a duck’s back, but I worry about its effect on Angelique because her confidence has already taken a beating, delivered primarily by the tabloid press like this rag. And this latest broadside, despite its attempted subtlety, could further crush her spirit and, quite possibly, cause her to question the wisdom of entering into a relationship with me.

I take a deep breath, tamp down my anger and keep reading because I need to know
exactly
what we have to deal with.

Seeing Assistant District Attorney Adam Thorne in the company of a beautiful woman is hardly surprising. What had surprised was that his companion was none other than Angelique Bain, the woman at the center of the prostitution case involving Senator Justin Wade. Ms. Bain had, only weeks earlier, faced Mr. Thorne from the witness stand where, under his relentless questioning, she was forced to make humiliating admissions about her relationship with the senator.

Equally astounding was discovering that Ms. Bain is, in fact, an extraordinarily talented ballerina and the star in last night’s local production of Romeo and Juliet. The biggest shock, however, came when witnessing the intimacy between the prosecutor and highly paid escort. The pair appeared oblivious to their surroundings, caught up in an intimate bubble while chatting. Shown photographs of the couple taken last night, social observers of Mr. Thorne commented that they had never seen him as captivated by a female as he so obviously was by Ms. Bain.

One of Boston’s most wealthy and eligible bachelors, the prosecutor was last photographed in public with socialite beauty Lisa Delaney. Ms. Delaney, daughter of Judge Anthony Delaney, is a member of one of Boston's most respected families. Her appearance with the man, who many predict will be our next district attorney, sparked speculation about them being Boston's newest power couple. That conjecture seems to have been premature because Mr. Thorne’s taste in women has, very obviously, changed.

I turn to find Angelique’s face drained of color, her eyes fixated on the computer screen.

Shutting the laptop firmly, I wrap an arm around her. "It's nothing to be worried about," I assure her, urging her toward the sofa. She remains transfixed, so I do what I’ve longed to do so many times over the past weeks. I sweep her up and carry her across the room to sit on the sofa with her cradled in my arms, whispering over and over that it'll be all right; that, together, we'll weather this storm.

In time, I loosen my hold only to grasp her hands, afraid that if I break physical contact, she'll decide that it's not worth it; that I'm not worth it.

"We can't do this… your job…” she finally speaks, her voice ragged as she stares down at our entwined fingers.

"Angelique
stop
," I gently admonish, lifting her chin to look at me. My heart breaks at the mixture of shame and defeat reflected back at me. I cup her cheek, "I knew this would happen. I
expected
it."

"Adam, they’ll destroy your reputation. That woman… she's part of your world; you should be with her —"

"Do you care for me?" I interrupt.

"That's not —"

"Just answer me; do you care for me?"

"You know I do."

"Tell me,” I insist.

"I care for you,” she says, a stray tear dropping onto our hands.

"And I care for you
very
much," I tell her, bringing my other hand to her face. "I know this is probably too fast for you, but I can no longer deny my feelings. I hoped we'd have some time before having to confront the media, but it's happening, and we're going to deal with it. I don't regret being at that performance, Angelique. I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

I know I'm about to push her, but I need to for both our sakes. I have to know, without a doubt, that she wants this relationship, and she needs to believe in it, or she’ll never withstand the public scrutiny we’re bound to attract. If she can’t, any potential we have will be destroyed.

“Can you see a future with me?" I ask, and after a moment of agonizing silence, she nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Tell me," I press.

"I see a future for us,” she answers, and I lower my face to touch my mouth to hers. She wraps her arms around my waist as I tangle my fingers in her hair, drawing her close to deepen our kiss. My heart stammers as she surrenders, allowing me to explore her warmth in a kiss filled with passion, hope, and promise.

"I'll do anything,
everything
to secure our future together," I assure her when, some time later, we’re settled on the sofa once more.

"Are you ready to talk about it now?" I ask.

"I'm worried… and scared," Angelique confesses.

"I'll do everything I can to protect you."

"I'm not just afraid for
me
," she says with a hint of renewed agitation.

"How about I get us some tea, and we can talk while we have it," I offer.

"You don't like tea, admit it," she challenges with a tiny smile I'm relieved to see.

"I could get used to it," I playfully counter.

"I'll make you coffee,” she says, her smile widening in response. I follow her into the kitchen because I can't bear to be separated while she’s still so obviously fragile.

"Tell me exactly what you're worried about," I ask when we're seated in the living room once more.

"I’m concerned about your reputation, your job, of course... and your family," she says after a moment’s hesitation.

"I pursued a relationship with you with my eyes wide open, please don't ever doubt that; and no harm can come to my family. They want to support us in this."

She doesn’t seem appeased, so I place both of our cups on the table before taking her hands in mine. "I'm ready to deal with whatever comes up, and you have no idea just how strong and determined my family can be."

"What about your job, Adam? You can’t get involved with me; the press will question your position,” she counters, anxiety evident in the way she bites her bottom lip. I free it, using my thumb to stop her from marking her skin.

"Angelique, being in a relationship with you won’t prevent me from doing my job. My growing feelings didn't stop me from grilling you on the stand; not that I'm proud of that," I hastily add before continuing.

"No one can legitimately claim that I showed bias. If anyone in the media even dares to hint at impropriety, I'll issue a public challenge to prove it and sue for libel if whoever made the assertion can’t."

"But what if you’re fired?"

"If that happens, it will prove that the reasons I became a prosecutor are no longer valid. I want justice for victims of crime, and you were a victim; I wish you'd see that.

“How
just
would it be if I were fired because I entered into a relationship with someone who’d been taken advantage of? I wouldn't
want
to remain in my job if that were the case. But, if it would make you feel better, I'll speak to the DA about our relationship,” I add at her imminent protest.

"Hush now," I soothe as her tears spill over. "I hate seeing you cry. I want to make you happy."

"You
do
make me happy; I'm just overwhelmed that you'd risk so much." She strokes my cheek, making my heart flip. I believed, for so long, that Angelique despised me that my heart reacts each time she initiates even the smallest physical contact.

I lift her hand from my face to kiss her palm. "Something you said earlier bothers me. Tell me why you’d think some other woman would be more suitable for me?”

"What?" I prompt as her eyes cloud over.

" I… you should know…" She hesitates, and I hold her gaze, silently communicating that I’ll wait until she's ready.

"I didn't love Justin," she eventually says, and I have to fight to maintain an open expression. The mere
possibility
that she might have loved him cuts like a knife.

"I didn't ever love him," she adds as if reading my mind. "But I grew fond of him, and I foolishly believed he returned those feelings. I knew he accompanied other women, including Cynthia Buchanan, to social events. I also understood that I wasn't in a position to object, but he didn’t once tell me he was in a serious relationship with anyone, so it was a shock to learn that he and Cynthia are expected to marry.

“Seeing them at the courthouse brought me face-to-face with the reality of my situation. I felt humiliated and even more ashamed when I realized you’d witnessed my embarrassment." She looks away, mortified, and I tug at her hand until she looks up at me.

"I'm not sure if you know this, but Justin and I were once friends; some might say we were the best of friends." Her eyes widen in astonishment, but I don't stop to explain.

“Despite the obvious differences in our background and outlook on life, I always thought of him as a good man at the core, and he hadn’t, until recently, caused me to think otherwise. I understood the burden that his family’s history and his father’s expectations placed on him, yet I thought Justin capable of being his own man. But as I got to know him and Tom, I realized that they, like many others from that world, believe in their privileged positions too much; fundamentally, they don’t want to change. They may associate with people from the other side; they may even accept them as friends, but they’ll never view them as equals. I understood that, no matter how much they professed friendship, they would never consider me their equal.

“It didn't upset me,” I add at her pained look, “I'd already dealt with
those
emotions when I learned the truth about my biological father. His family, like Justin’s, has wealth and power dating back over two centuries. Eleanor was young, beautiful, and innocent. Adam Winston wanted her, so he had her and then discarded her when she fell pregnant. He didn't view her, or me for that matter, as being good enough to be part of his life.

“So you see, it's not
only
because you were an escort that caused Justin to consider you unsuitable. Unless you were part of his world or could, in some way, advance his ambitions, I doubt he would ever have seen you as suitable. Cynthia Buchanan shares his background and has always been in love with him. Justin didn’t love her then, and I’m sure he doesn’t love her now; he tolerates her because a union between their families would serve his political ambitions.

“Most importantly, Angelique, you should realize that I’m
not
Justin Wade or anything like him in that regard. I’ve dated women from that world, but I have
never
seen a future with any of them, and most certainly not Lisa Delaney. So, if you’re afraid that I'm going through some phase, or that I'm looking to pass time with you before settling down to marry someone else, let me assure you that I'm doing none of those things.

“Only
you
; I've only ever seen and wanted a future with you."

She lets out a strangled sob and clambers onto my lap. I hold her for the longest time before raising her face for a kiss. I let her know with every stroke of my tongue, every thundering beat of my heart, just how much I want her.

When passion threatens to overwhelm me, I settle us back onto the sofa into the position we were in before Cait chose to interrupt our perfect day.

.

.

On Monday, I race from one meeting to another and, at lunchtime, end up gulping down a sandwich at my desk. It’s mid-afternoon when I finally receive the call from Rita to advise that the DA can accommodate the meeting I requested early that morning.

Bristly’s shocked, of course, when I tell him about my newfound relationship with Angelique, and his first question, predictably, is to ask when we became involved. I detail the timeline of every meeting, including my visits to the dance studio when I hadn't even spoken to her. He then subjects me to a first-hand experience of just how lethal a prosecutor he’d been as he barrages me with question after question, from the time of our first meeting to the end of Justin’s trial. Finally, appearing to be somewhat mollified, he relaxes his stance.

"You could, of course, have made this a damned sight easier on yourself and everyone else by waiting, Thorne," he says, his even tone belying the severity of his words. I suffer a momentary pang of guilt, but I don’t come close to regretting my actions. I offer to resign if he feels it would be best for the department instead.

“Unless you’ve wantonly demonstrated bias or broken the law, neither of which I can see, there shouldn’t be a need for that or to dismiss you.”

“Perhaps it would be better if I step down as lead counsel on the Cordi case. Jodi could take over, and I could second-chair.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he replies without hesitation. I assure him that Jodi’s more than capable.

“I understand Maddox’s talents,” he tells me pointedly, “but I want you to prosecute.” He then asks whether I’m sure it’s all worth it. I know what he wanted to ask is whether Angelique is worth it.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," I respond emphatically.

“I can see your mind’s made up. Just remember that these cases have attracted a lot of media attention and have cast an even bigger spotlight on you. You're our best prosecutor and adroit at handling the media, but how do you plan on dealing with questions about Ms. Bain, Adam? Their goal will be to goad you into responding irrationally; they'll be looking for reasons to cast doubt on your ability to do your job."

I start to answer, but he cuts me off. "The only time I've seen you even remotely lose your objectivity was when they last mentioned the young lady’s name. Don’t misunderstand me, I endorse what you said in Ms. Bain’s defense, but you know, as well as I do, that their current interest in her will escalate dramatically once news of your relationship gets out.”

I tell him I intend, at the first question about my private life, to make one, definitive statement on the matter. After further discussion, we agree that I provide him with a draft copy of my planned announcement by the end of business the next day.