The Law of Attraction (10 page)

“Unfortunately not mental enough to try an insanity defense by definition of the law. He's a bit of a megalomaniac and extreme in his tactics, but by all rights he's entitled to express himself.”

Julie pointed to the smaller stack of letters. “And what are those? Bills?”

“Actually you could call them un-fan mail.” She took the one from the top of the stack and began to read. “‘Dear Ms. Hart. You harlot! Have you no shame? Leave that Massey man behind and repent!' I didn't even know people used the term ‘harlot' anymore.”

“Obviously this woman does.”

Alisha turned the page around, slid it toward Julie and pointed to the signature. “Unless some cruel parents named their daughter Horace, this came from a man. But this is mild compared to some of the others.”

Julie looked considerably concerned. “How bad are they?”

“Nothing too terrible. Just more verbal bashing. Oh, but there is an interesting one, although it's a fan letter. Some inmate in Wisconsin saw me on TV the other day and he wanted me to know that he
accidentally
robbed that bank and would I consider representing him on his appeal. And if I can't, he'd like to date me.”

They both laughed until Julie's expression turned serious once more. “These really aren't that funny, Alisha. They could mean a threat to your safety.”

“I'm not too worried about it. The police have been kind enough to patrol the area in case the press or any protestors get out of hand.” More than likely at the request of the prosecutor.

“But that's only while you're here at the office. You should let someone know about these letters. In fact, you should tell Daniel Fortune.”

Alisha grabbed a paper clip and began to unfold it. “Actually I mentioned them last night.” But only the nice letters, otherwise he might've camped out at her office door.

“You saw him last night?” Julie sat back and smiled. “Then there is something going on between the two of you. I thought Joe was just imagining things.”

Alisha glanced up to find Julie looking at her expectantly, awaiting confirmation or denial. Denial would be best. But then, she didn't have any gal pals with whom to discuss the particulars of the relationship with Daniel, and right now she could use some sound advice. Julie also dealt in confidentiality. She could trust her. “Yes, something has been going on, as stupid as that seems.”

“For how long?”

“Try New Year's Eve.”

Julie scooted up in the chair, her eyes flashing excitement. “Really? You two got together then?”

“You could say that. I went to his place.”

“And?”

How should she put this? We did a little slow dance on the sofa. We got up close and personal on the couch. “We did it.”

“Oh, wow. That's great!” Julie's grin faded into a frown. “It was, wasn't it?”

“You could say that.” And more.

“Then why do you look so disappointed?” Julie laid a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no. Last night he told you he didn't want to see you anymore, didn't he?”

“Actually, no. He still wants to see me.” The paper clip was now one long, unraveled wire.

“Then what's wrong?”

Alisha wrapped the wire around her ring finger. “It's all wrong, Julie. We're opposing each other on a high-profile case.”

“I don't know why anyone has to know what's going on with you two behind closed doors, as long as you're careful,” Julie said. “People do it all the time. And if you're worried about your behavior with him on New Year's Eve, the same thing happened to me and Joe. We were out on a blind date and I ended up in his bed. We've been together ever since.”

Alisha only felt minimally better and all too human. “It's getting complicated. He's asked me to go away with him this weekend.”

“Are you going to do it?”

“I don't know. It's risky. If anyone finds out, it could be a huge problem.”

“Maybe you should withdraw from the Massey case.”

“I've considered that, but it's too late. It wouldn't be fair to my client.” And it could mean passing up a golden opportunity to prove she was a top-rate attorney.

“Can you be objective?” Julie said.

“Yes, I believe I can. As long as I don't look at Daniel for any length of time in the courtroom.”

Julie laughed. “You have it bad for him, don't you?”

Alisha touched her fingertips to her fiery face. “It's probably just temporary lust.” But that didn't ring at all true in her mind—or in her voice.

“Only one way to find out,” Julie said. “Go with him this weekend. Spend some time together and see what happens. If you find you don't have anything beyond the sex, then you'll know for sure. You can walk into that courtroom knowing it was fun but it's over.”

Alisha raised her gaze from the poor, misshapen clip and centered her eyes on Julie. “What if I find out it's more than just the sex? Or what if I'm so enamored of him by Monday that every time I look at him I break out into a cold sweat?”

“Then you can walk into the courtroom wearing a blindfold.”

They shared another laugh that was interrupted at the sound of an opening door and Joe calling, “Julie, are you here?”

“Yes, I'm here.” She sent Alisha a knowing look. “Don't worry. I won't tell him a thing until you say it's okay.”

“I appreciate that, Julie. Now go have a nice lunch with your husband.”

Julie stood and grinned again. “And you have a nice weekend with your
friend.
”

After Julie left out the door, Alisha pondered her suggestion. Spending the weekend with Daniel could be perilous. She might discover she actually did like him, and that was silly. She already did like him, more than she should. Liked his body, his mind, his confidence. That didn't erase the fact they were crossing lines that shouldn't be crossed, and not being able to be with him seemed totally unfair. But as they said, sometimes justice was blind. Then again, so was love.

 

“Mr. Fortune, Ms. Hart's on line two.”

Daniel grabbed the phone like some lovesick kid awaiting an answer from a prospective prom date. “About time you called me.”

“I'm still thinking about your proposition, but I need more time.”

“How much more time?”

“Tomorrow. If I do decide to go, I have one condition. And it's a big one.”

Daniel turned his chair around to face the shelves behind his desk in order to hide his satisfied grin from anyone who might happen to come through his door. “Okay, I'm listening.”

“If what you say is true—that this is not just about sex—then you'll respect my wishes if I decide we don't sleep together.”

“That decision will be all yours. Like I said, I won't touch you unless you ask me to.” He might need to borrow some handcuffs to keep from doing that, but a promise was a promise.

“Where is this place exactly?”

Daniel spun around at the sound of the knock and his boss saying, “I need to speak with you ASAP.”

“Hang on,” he told Alisha, then put his hand over the receiver. “I've got to finish up this call, then I'll meet you in your office.”

Easy as you please, Allan dropped into the chair across from Daniel's desk. “I'll wait until you're through.”

He gripped the receiver and brought it back to his mouth. “I'll have that information to you by this afternoon. And if you have any more questions, feel free to call me tomorrow. I have a meeting pending at the moment.”

“Daniel, is someone in your office?”

“That's correct.”

“Oh, God. It's not the D.A., is it?” she asked.

“You're right on that count.”

“Okay, I'll talk to you later then. I'm sorry if I bothered you.”

“No bother at all. Have a good afternoon.”

Daniel hung up and scooted closer to his desk. “What's on your mind, Allan?”

“Just wanted to see how it's going with the Massey case. You're going to be ready by Monday?”

“Not a problem.”

“Are you sure?”

Daniel was only sure of one thing—he was pissed off over Allan's untimely interruption and his doubts in his abilities. “Have I ever not been prepared for a case?”

“No, but this is probably one of the most important cases you've ever tried.”

Daniel quelled a litany of oaths threatening to tumble out of his mouth. “It's a case involving a public nuisance charged with misdemeanor offenses.”

“Don't forget the assault, Daniel.”

“I know that. But the victim's testimony might be shaky.”
Shaky
pretty much described Mrs. O'Reilly, and Alisha knew
that. Why else would she want the eighty-year-old's medical history?

Allan thankfully headed to the door. “I'm counting on you not to let me down. The party's counting on you, too.”

“I won't.” He hoped.

“And one more thing,” Allan said, his hand poised on the doorknob. “I can't recall ever seeing Alisha Hart. Is she as good-looking as I hear she is?”

“I haven't really noticed.” Definitely grounds for perjury.

“That's good. A looker in the courtroom can be an unwelcome distraction.”

Daniel hadn't been able to concentrate for the past two weeks, thanks to the public defender. And if Alisha did decide to join him this weekend, maybe he could get her out of his system, at least for the time being, and get his brain back on business. Then again, she could nix the idea altogether. Maybe she could use a little more convincing.

“J
ust stick it on the break room table and I'll be in to get it in a minute.”

“That sounds like an offer I can't refuse.”

Alisha's gaze snapped to her open office door when she realized the voice didn't belong to her clerk. On the contrary, it belonged to a man who'd plagued her thoughts all afternoon long.

She came to her feet but decided to stay behind her desk. “I thought you were Joe. He went to get us takeout.”

Without even so much as a greeting Daniel closed the door and walked into the room, looking as groomed as if he'd just begun the day instead of ending it. How unfair was that when her hair most likely looked like a frizzy fireball because of the sudden onset of winter rain? Wet and cold, the worst kind of atmosphere for her unruly locks. But with the surprise visit from the A.D.A.,
wet and hot
would best describe her current state.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice had taken on a tinny quality, reminiscent of her eighth-grade English teacher, Miss Simons, who'd always sounded as if she were being goosed.

“I'm here on business.” He strolled to the desk and handed her an envelope.

Alisha turned it over. “What's this?”

“Directions to my cabin.”

She gave him a supersized scowl. “I thought you said this was business.”

“I wanted to make sure you were ready for the business of having a good time this weekend.”

She couldn't deny she was looking forward to it, holed up for two days with Daniel in the love shack—if she decided to go. “I told you, I'm still thinking about it.”

His smile came into play slowly. “Lean forward.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just do it.”

And she did, like some silly schoolgirl who couldn't resist the town bad boy. Daniel circled his hand around her nape and used his mouth on her like a thief wielding a high-powered weapon. By the time they parted, she was ready to hand over all her worldly goods.

She straightened and tugged her jacket down. “If that's all, I'll be going back to work now.”

Instead of leaving, he rounded her desk.

“What are you doing?” she asked, as if she didn't know.

“One more for the road,” he told her as he pulled her forward into his arms.

And once more she accepted his slow, deliberate kiss. Accepted that he had too much power over her when he kicked her chair away, turned her around, lifted her up on the edge of her desk and then took his place between her parted legs.

His palms came to rest on her thighs, now exposed because her skirt had shifted up to the point of indecency. She really
should protest. She really should hop down and push him away. But what she should do warred with what she wanted to do. Wanted him to do.

As if he'd channeled her thoughts, Daniel slipped his hands completely beneath her hem while she tightened her hold on his shoulders. When he broke the kiss, she managed to say, “We can't do this.”

“Trust me, we can with very little effort.”

“I meant we
shouldn't
do this.”

She gasped when he drew a line with his fingertip where the band on her panties met the crease of her thigh. “Do these say anything special today?”

“No. It's not a holiday.”

“Maybe not. But I'm guessing your body's definitely saying something about now.”

Loud and clear. “You promised you wouldn't touch me unless I asked.”

“You're right,” he said, but he didn't remove his hand. He continued to rim the elastic band with his forefinger and thumb. She saw challenge in his eyes, knew he was waiting for her to tell him to stop or to go or maybe even to beg. His movements became more deliberate, a little bolder, as he inched a little farther beneath the silk. Her pulse thrashed in her ears, throbbed in the place so close to his fingertips.

Alisha couldn't begin to understand why she continued to throw caution to the wind where he was concerned. At the moment she didn't want to question it; she only wanted him to soothe the ache, quiet the need.

“Do it,” she said in a husky voice that didn't remotely resemble her own.

“Do what?”

“Touch me.”

Before he could answer her demand, Alisha heard the buzzer indicating a visitor, followed by the sound of the door opening behind her.

“I'm back, Hart, and I have—”

She jerked Daniel's hand from beneath her skirt and practically jumped off the desk as if she'd been hurled out of a cannon. Daniel faced the window while she turned to the door where Joe now stood holding two white sacks and sporting an I-can't-believe-I-just-saw-that expression.

Joe backed away with a muttered “Excuse me” and closed the door.

Only then did Daniel face her. “Damn.”

Alisha tightened her curly ponytail and readjusted her skirt. “Damn is right.”

“Sorry.” He didn't look at all contrite.

“No, you're not.”

“Yeah, I am. I'm sorry we almost got caught before I could finish. But he couldn't have seen what I was doing.”

“He saw enough.” She moved completely away from Daniel, positioning her back to the shelves on the far side of the room. “I doubt he's at all surprised. He's been on to you since New Year's Eve.”

Daniel came around the desk and leaned back against it. “Onto me?”

“After you left the table at the bar, he told me you wanted me.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Uh-huh. And he said I should go for it. Of course, I didn't have any intention of taking him up on his suggestion, even though it turns out I did.”

“I didn't realize I was that obvious.”

Suddenly chilled, Alisha folded her arms beneath her breasts. “It takes a guy to know how a guy thinks.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No!” She hadn't meant to sound so forceful, but that's the last thing she needed—Daniel and Joe comparing notes. “I'll talk to him. I know he won't say anything to anyone. We can trust him.”

“Good,” he said. “Because it's fairly obvious I can't trust myself around you.”

“And that's probably why we should forget about this weekend.”

“No, that's exactly why we should go through with it. If I don't make love to you again soon, I'm going to be ready for involuntary commitment to the psych ward.”

He could join her there, Alisha thought. “You're still convinced that spending two days together is going to cure this thing between us?”

“Not cure it but relieve it for the time being. Otherwise we'll never get through the trial. Or at least,
I
won't.”

“Then we're going to just tear it up and wear it out so we won't be tempted to jump each other in front of the jury?”

“Something like that.”

If she knew what was good for her, Alisha would insist they call the whole thing off. But she only knew one thing—she wanted more of Daniel and less reason. “Okay, I'll go. What time?”

His smile returned and Alisha felt the effects all over her body. “Eight o'clock.”

“That early?”

“Yeah, that early.”

“If I decide to turn around and head back on Saturday, you're not going to give me any trouble, are you?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “I'm not going to give you any trouble.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. But I'm damn sure going to give you plenty of reasons to stay.”

He turned and walked out the door without even a goodbye, leaving Alisha alone to plan what she would say to Joe. No planning required. She'd simply pretend it hadn't happened unless he brought it up.

After donning her nonchalant face, she strode into the
small break room to find Joe sitting at the table, several red-and-white cartons set out before him. “Yours is in there,” he said, pointing at the sack with his chopsticks.

Alisha rummaged around and withdrew her share of the Chinese food, opting to use the plastic fork instead of chopsticks, otherwise she might end up impaling Joe in the forehead because of her strong case of nerves.

She plopped down in the chair, took a napkin and laid it in her lap. “Did you go over Mrs. O'Reilly's medical records?”

“It's dangerous, Alisha.”

“I wouldn't consider it dangerous at all. It's the only chance we have of disproving the assault theory.”

“That's not what I'm talking about and you know it.”

Alisha dumped a mountain of rice onto a paper plate and began shoveling her kung pao chicken onto the pile. “What
are
you talking about?”

“You and Fortune.”

She tossed down the fork and sat back in the rigid chair. “That's rich coming from you. I recall you foisting me off on him on two occasions.”

Joe tossed his chopsticks aside and sighed. “Look, I think it's great you two hooked up, but with the publicity this case is getting, you could get caught. In fact, the last two reporters only left about an hour ago. They could've seen him coming here.”

“And that wouldn't be questioned considering we're working on the same case. Besides, we're being discreet.”

“Yeah, right. Real discreet. That's why I almost caught you getting down on your desk.”

Alisha's face heated up, but not from the spicy food since she had yet to take a bite. “We thought you were still gone.”

Joe leaned forward, looking way too serious. “If you want to see him, then see him. I'm just saying you need to be careful.”

“I am being careful.” What a joke.

“And you're going to have to watch what you say to him.
You know how it is when you're sleeping with someone. Things manage to slip out in the heat of the moment.”

She stared at him. “Do you really think I'm going to recite case law and reveal my strategy while in the throes of passion? I'm not stupid, Joe.” Just smitten.

“I'm not saying you're stupid. I don't want to see you get hurt. I mean, the guy's in his midthirties and he's never been married. What does that tell you?”

“He's a player.” Something Alisha already knew.

“Exactly.”

“Well, maybe I want to be a player, too.”

“Sure. And I want to take up salsa dancing.”

Alisha's appetite disappeared along with her patience. She no longer wanted to eat, nor did she want to continue this discussion. She had too much to do before the weekend rolled around, and despite the pesky voice that kept telling her she might be making a mistake, she planned to go to the little cabin by the lake and forget about everything else. And she'd definitely keep her emotions tightly bound in a strait-jacket while Daniel Fortune kept her in a constant state of madness.

 

Punctuality wasn't Alisha's stronger suit, something Daniel realized when she showed up at the cabin at ten o'clock, spewing gravel as she sped up the drive at breakneck speed. He'd been standing on the porch step for over an hour waiting for her, worried she'd changed her mind.

But there she was, getting out of her white sedan that had seen better days, lugging a paisley tote bag over one shoulder. She wore a nylon jacket, sunglasses and a wide-brimmed straw hat fit for a beach, even though the gray skies threatened rain. She also had on a pair of washed-out jeans that fit way too well, chipping away at his determination to keep things light at least for a while.

When she reached the bottom step, Alisha took off the hat
and shook out her curls, then shoved the sunglasses on top of her head. “Sorry I'm late.”

“Are you? I didn't notice.”

She cracked a smile. “Yes, you did.”

He leaned a shoulder against the wooden porch support and stuffed his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't grab her up and haul her into the house. “Did you get lost?”

She set the tote down at her cross-trainer-covered feet. “Actually, yes.”

“Why didn't you call me?”

“Because it took me ten minutes tops to get back on track. I spent most of the morning putting out a few fires.”

“Problems?”

“Just the usual stuff. I went by the office first to do some work and then I got waylaid by a reporter. He wanted to know if the rumor that Les wears a prosthetic penis is true.”

“Is it?” he asked without skipping a beat.

“How would I know?”

“Just checking in case you decide to file that into evidence.”

“Oh, wouldn't that be nice, receiving a plastic penis in a box during discovery.”

Daniel laughed as he descended the remaining two steps and took her bag. “Well, no reporters here, as far as I know.”

She looked alarmed. “As far as you know? Have you seen any around?”

“No, not here. I haven't spoken with any since the day I appeared on the courthouse steps to save you from the hassle.”

“You know, I was handling that fine without your help.”

“I'm sure you were, but I wanted to make sure you didn't get too overwhelmed by the process.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

He started up the stairs, held open the screen door and waved her inside. “And this should be the last time we discuss the trial.”

“You're right on that count,” she said as she moved past
him, the scent of some sort of clean-smelling perfume carrying to him on the breeze.

Once inside the small living area, Daniel set her bag down on the weathered chintz sofa that had once belonged to his mother. The sofa where she used to tell the kids bedtime stories, before bedtime had been disrupted by his father's unwelcome arrival home from work.

Determined to keep those memories at bay, he turned his attention to Alisha, who was giving the room a thorough search. “It's plain, but it's comfortable,” he told her.

She turned slowly around before facing him again. “And neat. Don't you have any clutter? Maybe shoes lying around?” She snapped her fingers and pointed. “I bet you have lots of stuff shoved under your bed.”