Читать книгу The Law And Lady Justice - Ana Leigh - Страница 10

By the time Jessica got over the initial shock of Gilbert’s murder, they’d reached the restaurant. But it wasn’t a restaurant. From the outside, the place looked like a sleazy, rundown, enter-at-your-own-risk dive. Big bold, black letters painted on the window identified it as The Precinct, and a smaller line below read Bar and Grill.

A cloud of gray cigarette smoke greeted them at the door along with Patsy Cline wailing “Crazy.”

I must be, too, to allow myself to get maneuvered into this!

The moment she entered, Jessica recognized a dozen or more faces in a glance—she’d seen them in court time enough. Good Lord, he had brought her to a cop bar!

Doug would have to have been blind not to notice that Jessica drew the curious glances of most of the men in the room.

“Hey, Your Honor, you slumming?” one of the men standing at the bar asked good-naturedly.

“Well, Detective Slocum, what a pleasure to see you outside of court. You look much taller now that I’m not peering down at you from behind my bench.”

“And if I might say, you look mighty good out from under that black robe.”

“Say it! Say it!” she teased. “It’s music to my ears, Detective.”

“How ya doin’, Judge?” another asked.

“Just fine, Tony,” she said, slapping him on the shoulder in passing.

When she spied a heavyset man at the end of the bar, McGuire followed her over to him.

“Detective Bronowski! How are you? I miss seeing you in court.”

“Heck, Judge, call me Ski. We ain’t in court now.”

“What have you been doing since you retired?” she asked.

“Jerry and I bought this place,” Ski said.

“So you and Jerry are still partners. Good for you.”

Bronowski nodded to Doug, then said, “If McGuire gives you any heat, just let me know. Jerry and I can handle him for you.”

That’s a laugh! If anyone needed help, it was him, Doug thought. She was the one giving off the heat. He got hot every time he looked at her—and it sure wasn’t from anything she said. He took her arm and steered her over to a corner table that offered a modicum of privacy.

“So this is where the long arm of the law comes to unwind,” she said, once they were seated.

“One of them. There’s a couple more in the city— Fuzzy’s and Coach’s on the south side. A couple sports bars on the north side. Mostly the guys like to hang out in the sports bars.”

One of the men playing Sheepshead at a nearby table yelled, “Hey, McGuire, when are you and the judge gonna put on gloves and sell tickets?”

“We’ve been considering it as a fund-raiser toward promoting your early retirement, Novack.”

“I hear they pulled Gilbert out of the river tonight.” Doug nodded, wishing the loudmouth would shut up and concentrate on his card game instead of them. Novack looked at Jessica. “Too bad, Your Honor. That walk you gave Gilbert got him a short swim instead. You the one that whacked him, McGuire?”

“Yeah, right.”

“Novack, you gonna deal or shoot bull all night?” one of the men in the game asked. To Doug’s relief, Novack shut up.

“Don’t think you’ll find too many Gilbert mourners in this crowd,” he said.

“Well, I’ll be honest with you…I’m not sorry he’s dead. As a judge, I abhor violence, but the citizen in me is glad to know there’s one less murderer out there tonight.”

“I tried to get that scumball behind bars where he belonged.” When she glanced around, he asked, “Who are you looking for?”

“Your friend Sherilyn and her Mr. Microphone.”

Doug chuckled. “Yeah, she’s a real piece of work, and the lady sure has got it in for you.”

“I think she’s one of those insecure women who look upon every other woman as her natural enemy.” She made an appealing sound that might have been a giggle. “I suppose it didn’t help when I beat out her boyfriend in the election.”

Doug’s approving gaze lingered on her face as he wondered how she’d look with that auburn hair tumbling around her shoulders. “She’s not even in your class, Judge Jess.”

The waitress approached with pad in hand. “How’re you doin’, Doug?”

“Real good, Kate. How’s Danny?”

She drew a deep sigh. “About the same. He has some good days and some bad ones. He told me he saw you on television today arguing with some dumb female judge who let your collar go.”

Doug threw Jessica a quick glance, but she showed no reaction. “Be sure and give Danny my best.”

Kate nodded. “So what’ll it be tonight?”

“A couple of beers, burgers with the works and some fries.”

“You got it, honey.” Kate came back instantly, put down a pitcher of beer and two glasses, and then took off again.

“Sorry about Kate’s remark,” he said, filling her glass.

“Think nothing of it. I’m getting used to those kind of comments.”

“You can’t blame people for resenting how these criminals get off, can you? But don’t be misled by Kate’s remark. She’s one of the great women of the world. Do you remember reading a few years back about this hopped up junkie who shot his girlfriend, set the house on fire, and before shooting himself put a bullet into the young police officer who came into the burning building to rescue an infant in a crib?”

“Oh, yes. That was so tragic. If I remember, they all died.”

“Not quite. The baby died…the woman died…the perp died, but the police officer wasn’t that lucky. He sustained first-degree burns over his face and hands, and the bullet severed his spinal cord. The doctors say with continued therapy he might be able to sit up in a wheelchair in another year. In the meantime, they’ve been working on plastic surgery to cover up the burns on his face. He was pretty maimed. That young police officer is Danny Harrigan— Kate’s twenty-one-year-old son. Her husband, Jimmy, had been shot and killed five years before that incident, when he stopped a car on a routine traffic violation.”

“That’s terrible! I’m so sorry, Doug.”

“Yeah, we’re all sorry. And poor Kate. Bad enough she lost a husband—and son—but she has to work her butt off to pay for the medical bills that the insurance doesn’t cover. Any woman dumb enough to fall in love with a cop ought to go to a shrink first before marrying one.”

“It sounds to me like you really mean anyone who chooses to become a police officer ought to pay a visit to that shrink. Why did you go into law enforcement, Doug?” she asked.

“I can tell you it wasn’t for truth, justice and the American Way. I like solving puzzles. Every crime leaves some kind of clues. The challenge is to recognize them. They’re like pieces of a picture puzzle. You keep moving them around until they all fit, and the whole picture is laid out before you.”

“I would have thought the FBI would hold more of an appeal to you.”

“They did try to recruit me when I finished college, but I come from a long line of cops, so I opted to join the Milwaukee Police Department. I put in the required five years in uniform—which had seemed like fifty at the time—counting the days until I could take the promotional exam for detective.”

“Is your father on the force?”

“Not here. He’s the police chief of a small town in Northern Illinois. What about you, Your Honor?”

“Jessica or Jess. We’re not in court now.”

“Okay, Jess. How come a beautiful young woman with brains and beauty to boot chose to become a felony judge?”

“I know you won’t believe me, but I became a judge in order to see justice done.”

“Yeah, but whose side are you on?”

“Doug, I don’t take pleasure out of seeing criminals get off scot-free, but until the arresting officers play by the letter of the law, it will continue to happen. Not only in my court, but also in courts all around the country. There are too many defense lawyers out there today who know every loophole in the book. Why blame the judges for upholding the same laws you’ve sworn to protect?”

Fortunately, Kate arrived with their food, thus preventing what might have become another argument.

Jessica looked at the hamburger heaped with onions, pickles, cheese, mushrooms and catsup dripping down the sides. “I should have brought my calculator.”

“Dinner’s on me,” he said.

“You’re darn right it is, McGuire. You pulled me away from a perfectly good meal. I just need a calculator to add up all the fat grams we’re about to eat. Looks like cholesterol heaven.”

Doug took a chomp of the sandwich and wondered why a woman with a body like hers would worry about a few extra calories. He wasn’t supposed to think about the body beneath that proper suit, but sitting across a table from her sharing a meal—instead of a murder case—made him more aware of the woman instead of the judge.

When they finished eating, they paired off in a shuffle-board game against an engaged couple on the force. Then they sat down and finished off the pitcher of beer—and discovered that they both liked old movies, old torch songs, Ella Fitzgerald singing jazz and Sinatra singing anything.

He also discovered she had a sense of humor, was easy to talk to and fun to be with. So what was missing? Why hadn’t some lucky guy nailed her with a marriage license? There’d had to be a better reason other than she couldn’t cook. The puzzle solver in him wondered about the missing piece. “You ever been married, Jess?”

She shook her head. “Dennis Wolcott and I were engaged, but we never got around to setting a date. As it turned out, it was just as well we didn’t—we weren’t in love. At least what I consider being in love. I’d never settle for anything less than what my parents had together. What about you? Have you ever been in love, Doug?”

“A babe in Sheboygan got a gold watch out of me once. The next day she returned it to the jeweler for diamond earrings. I figured we weren’t on the same wavelength, so I lost her phone number.”

“Just because the babe exchanged the gift you gave her.”

“I figure if someone you love gives you a gift, it ought to mean more to you than a damn pair of earrings!” She was tapping into feelings he couldn’t explain. Feelings he didn’t want to deal with—much less talk about.

She must have sensed that, because she grinned at him. “Maybe she just couldn’t tell time.” Glancing at her watch, she said, “But I can, and it’s getting pretty late.”

It was midnight by the time they returned to the parking lot of the Water Street Bistro to get their cars.

Jessica began to pull the pins out of her hair. “You’ll have to excuse me but I have to let my hair down. These pins are beginning to drive me crazy.” She raised her hands like claws. “I have a driving urgency to get my hands into it!”

They had another thing in common.

His stomach flopped over when she shook her hair out and the length dropped past her shoulders. “You ought to wear it like that more often,” he said, spellbound.

“I’m afraid that would make me look more woman than judge.”

“Is that so bad?” He couldn’t take his eyes off her face.

“I’m afraid you’re prejudiced, Detective McGuire.”

Detective McGuire. A few minutes ago, he’d been Doug and she’d been Jess. Come midnight, the ball had ended and Cinderella turned back into a felony judge of the Milwaukee County Circuit Court.

Except for that hair—that gorgeous long hair hanging past her shoulders.

After unlocking her car, she turned back with a smile. “Thank you, Detective Doug. I must admit I had a good time.” She stepped closer and kissed him on the cheek.

“Yeah, right,” he said, with a twisted smile. There was no way he was going to settle for a peck on the cheek like the old codger. She must have guessed his intent, and she stepped back abruptly, but not in time to avoid his arm that snagged her waist and pulled her against him. He swallowed her gasp as their mouths found a fit. Her lips were soft but tasted delicious—and he began to gorge on them, and on the smell of her…the feel of her in his arms. For the briefest of seconds she stiffened to resist, then she settled into the kiss, and slipped her arms around his neck. Her auburn hair drew his hand like a magnet, and he dug his fingers into the thickness. It felt like sliding between silk sheets.

They both gave as much as they took—jockeying for dominance—challenging, dueling and savoring, until they broke apart breathless. She looked him straight in the eye, her chest heaving, and her eyes twin pools of seduction beckoning him to jump in. His loins were on fire, and he was so hard he couldn’t move. Even his hands itched so badly to touch her that he had to clench them into fists. He wanted a lot more than a kiss, and wondered what she’d say if he suggested going home with her. Then he thought the better of it—she wasn’t the kind that hopped into the sack with a guy after one kiss. And one kiss was all he dared—another one, and he’d be pulling her into the back seat of the car. The sooner he put cold metal between them, the better. So he opened her car door and stepped aside for her to enter.

Her fingers trembled when she inserted the key into the ignition. He hoped the Park Avenue wouldn’t start—a sign that they’d stay together and let nature take its course—but the damn engine turned over and purred.

She smiled up at him and for several seconds his gaze held hers as curiosity darkened her brown eyes.

Say it, McGuire! Even if you choke on it, get it out now before you have any more time to think about it. “Good night, Judge Jess.” He slammed the car door.

As she drove away, he stood and watched until the tail-lights disappeared around the corner. Then he headed back to the precinct.

His lips were hard, urgent, against hers. How could he make her insane for more with just the touch of his mouth? Then he touched her with those big, hard hands, and her body came alive as it had never been alive before. She wanted to touch him, too, but for some reason she couldn’t reach him. She moaned his name and opened her eyes.

“Doug?”

The word echoed in an empty room. Moonlight silvered the Belgian lace curtains that shrouded her windows. Jessica lay alone in her bed, sheets tangled about her legs, hot despite the coolness of the night. She rolled onto her side and looked at the clock—3:30. Gee, a whole hour later than she’d awoken after the last erotic dream of—

“McGuire,” she muttered.

Why on earth had she let the man kiss her? Now she couldn’t stop thinking about their first embrace.

If they hadn’t been in full view of everyone on the street, she’d probably have yanked his clothes off right there. Heck, why not be honest? She hadn’t been thinking about the public eye, or anything else while he kissed her. Her dreams proved that. All she’d wanted then—all she wanted now—was all of Doug McGuire.

Liz’s words of that afternoon came back to her. Was her dissatisfaction with her life a result of too much work and too little sex? Would a torrid affair with the delectable detective make everything better? She would certainly sleep better tonight if she wasn’t sleeping alone.

By the time the sun peeked over Lake Michigan, Jessica had given up trying to sleep. She took her coffee onto her terrace and had a stern little talk with herself.

You’re an adult. He’s an adult—or so he professes—though you wouldn’t know it from his behavior. Her words sounded peevish, even to herself, but she was so tired. Her skin felt twitchy, as if it didn’t belong on her body. A scalding hot shower had done nothing to relieve the feeling. Too much coffee, too early in the morning was making her head buzz.

I want him, and from that kiss last night I’d say he wants me. What could be simpler? That sounded better. Definitely more mature. If she could manage to sound like that when talking with McGuire there would be no problem. Of course talking wasn’t the problem—wanting to put her hands all over him was the problem.

Jessica dumped the last of her coffee into the sink and glanced at her watch. Just enough time to stop at the police station on her way to the courthouse and have a heart-to-heart with Detective McGuire.

Though her reception at the front desk was far from welcoming, Jessica had little trouble being directed to her quarry. She walked through the station, head held high despite the stares and whispers. She had not gone into the law to be popular—she’d gone into it to make a difference. Although on some days—like yesterday—she thought she was losing the battle, but most days she figured she’d win her part of the war.

The desk sergeant had directed her to the lower level, third door on the right. Taking a deep breath in the hallway, she steeled herself against her usual libidinous reaction to McGuire. She was here to… Jessica dropped her hand from the door. To what? Offer herself on a platter? She gritted her teeth. With McGuire it wouldn’t do to seem so eager. He was a competitive man. She was a competitive woman. He wanted her, but she didn’t think he liked her very much. So then, why had he kissed her that way? There had been more than desire in that kiss—and she wanted to know why.

Jessica shoved open Door Number Three and nearly swallowed her tongue at the unexpected sight that greeted her.

McGuire, wearing baggy gray sweatpants and nothing else. She’d have thought he had a good butt, she hadn’t gotten a look at his chest. She stood in the doorway and watched the man work.

He was doing bicep curls if she remembered correctly from the single time she’d allowed herself to be tortured in a weight room. The muscles in his upper arms flexed and released, rippling beneath bronzed, smooth skin. Her gaze traveled over the light dusting of hair covering equally defined pectoral muscles and a flat, ridged stomach. The sweatpants rode low on his hips, a drawstring hanging down the front, enticing her gaze to the easily distinguishable bulge despite the looseness of his clothing.

“See anything you like, Your Honor?”

She swallowed and met his eyes. Amusement filled his gaze and she flushed, mortified to be caught ogling him as if she wanted to slip a dollar bill beneath his waistband.

Realizing she stood in an open doorway, Jessica shut the door and leaned back for support. McGuire turned around to replace the free weights in their stand, giving her an excellent view of the backside she liked so much, with the added bonus of naked and rippling shoulder muscles. Her skin began to hum again, and her palms itched to touch that back.

She wished for a moment she hadn’t worn her suit jacket. They kept this place far too hot for a workout room. Sweat prickled her brow.

McGuire turned and began to walk toward her with the loose-limbed, confident grace that was so much a part of him. Suddenly the door at her back no longer supported but confined her. He stopped—too close—invading her space as he always did.

She could smell him, and amazingly the scent excited her: heat, and salt—and man. Mesmerized, she watched a drop of sweat slide down his neck, and she imagined how it would feel to catch the droplet on her tongue, put her lips to that chest and learn the ridges and valleys of his body with her mouth.

“Judge?”

“Hmm?”

“If you’re going to keep looking at me like that, I’m not going to be responsible for what happens.”

She straightened, the ridges of her spine grinding against the door. “Like what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t, huh? Fine, we can play it your way.” For some unknown reason he seemed annoyed with her already. He stalked away, grabbing a water bottle from a nearby bench and taking a long drink.

Jessica lost her train of thought as she watched his throat contract and release. Water ran out of his mouth and down his neck, streaking across glistening muscles. Her head began to buzz, and she put her fingers to her eyes, rubbing against the dry, gritty sensation caused by too little sleep and too much McGuire in the night.

“What brings you to my side of the tracks?”

“Uh, I…ah…” Jessica dropped her hand and pushed away from the door. She could not look at him and think straight. Instead she fiddled with her purse, moving items around as if she were in desperate need of finding some hidden treasure within.

“You must have a good reason for coming to a grimy police station weight room. I can’t recall seeing you on this side of the street before.”

She glanced at him, then quickly away. He was right. She rarely came to a station. Her job was at the courthouse. Though they were on the same side of the law, technically, their jobs and their outlooks couldn’t be further from one another. Had she made a mistake in coming here?

“Listen, Judge, I had a lousy night thanks to you. A cold shower didn’t do me a damn bit of good, but an hour in here was getting my head straight—until you showed up. I’m not in the mood for an argument, so if that’s why you’re here, you can just use those great legs of yours to take that sensational little tail of yours out of here.”

Jessica was too interested in the fact that he’d been up all night and needed to take a cold shower because of her to get insulted over his chauvinistic assessment of her body. She abandoned her purse to look his way, startled to find him too close once again.

Their eyes met, held. Her lips parted and she whispered, “Why did you kiss me last night, Doug?”

His gaze dropped to her mouth and he inched closer. Excitement flooded her as he aligned his body to hers; his thin sweatpants did little to contain his arousal. Her body responded to the evidence of his interest, pressing into him even as he pressed against her. He reached past and flicked the lock on the door, his knuckles brushing her hip as he withdrew. A shudder rumbled over her. Raising his arms, he placed a hand on either side of her head, and leaned closer, looming over her, but his size did not threaten, it soothed her. No one would ever hurt her if he were around.

“Kissing you seemed like a good idea at the time,” he growled. “And you know what?” She shook her head, unable to trust her voice anymore. “It seems like a better idea now.”

His mouth took hers. He tasted of the sea—salt and fury. Was he angry at himself, at her or at what they felt despite the futility? Suddenly the why didn’t matter, she had to kiss him back—to touch his skin or go mad.

Opening her mouth, she met his intensity with all the pent-up desire and need of a lifetime. She splayed her hands on his chest, fingers tangling in the hair, palms smoothing the taut muscles.

He moaned into her mouth, nipped her lip, then his hands were in her hair, yanking the pins free with a desperation that matched her own. The bun she’d so carefully constructed sprang free, and her hair spilled over his hands, over her shoulders. Grasping great handfuls, he tilted her head and plundered her mouth more deeply. This man would never do anything halfway. When he kissed he did so with all of himself.

Her hands flitted over his belly, and the muscles fluttered like butterfly wings against her fingertips. When she ran a finger inside the waistband of his sweatpants, he took a deep, rasping breath, and before she could delve inside he grabbed her hand and pressed her palm to his arousal.

A pounding on the door at her back vibrated through Jessica, causing her to freeze as if ice water had been dumped over them both. McGuire tore his mouth from hers. “Get lost,” he shouted, his voice harsh and loud in the silent room. “I’m busy.”

Whoever it was moved away, grumbling. Doug lowered his forehead to hers. “You make me lose my mind, Jess.”

He let go of her hand, which still cupped him in her palm, and she jerked her fingers away, the loss of his heat and hardness making her ache despite the knowledge she should not be touching him that way.

What had come over her? She had thought their conduct had been irresponsible last night. How was this for crazy?

He raised his head and looked down at her. She didn’t remember touching his hair, but the usually well-combed strands were rumpled, and a wayward lock drifted across his forehead. His mouth was wet from hers, the day’s growth of beard and dark circles beneath his eyes giving him a haunted look she knew too well. The same look had stared back at her from the mirror that morning.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

He frowned but did as she asked. Her hair swirled about her face as she bent to pick up the pins on the floor. He knelt to help and their hands brushed. They both pulled back as if scalded, and Jessica held her breath until he moved away, trying to ignore the intense flare of need his mere touch sent up her arm.

She stood and turned away, then began to repin her hair. Her trembling hands caused the task to take longer than usual. What if someone had come in and seen them? What if someone saw her now? Hair unbound, makeup kissed off her mouth, her jacket askew and her blouse completely untucked.

“So, what are we going to do about this?” he asked.

She took a deep breath and turned. “This?”

His lips tightened and his blue eyes went icy. “You know what I mean, Jess. You annoy the hell out of me.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“I know. Still I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep my hands off you. What are we going to do about that?”

Well, there she had it, an answer to the question that had haunted her all night. He wanted her. She wanted him. What could be simpler?

But she could see that any kind of relationship with McGuire wouldn’t be simple. How could a man like him be anything but complicated? Once she took this step there would be no going back. This man could not be as easily dismissed as Dennis Wolcott. He could never be forgotten. And she had a feeling that someone was going to get hurt. That someone would probably be her.

“Jess?” he pressed.

Fear made her stiffen her spine, pick up the things she’d dropped and walk to the door. She’d been naive enough to believe they could have a casual affair, but now she knew better. She could never keep it casual—and McGuire would want nothing more. “We’re not going to do anything, McGuire. Not ever again.”

She left him behind and went to work.

The descent of the sun finally signaled the end of a very bad day. Jessica watched the sun go to sleep in the west then turned to stare at her living room. The sight only made her feel lonelier than she’d ever felt in her life.

As she had no court appearance scheduled that day, she’d finally relented to Liz’s insistence and gone home early. A nap had taken care of her headache, but the dreams set her more on edge. She could push McGuire out of her mind while she was awake, but when she was asleep he returned to torment her.

So she decided a special “just for Jessica” night was in order. A split of champagne and a romance novel read in a tub full of bubbles. The electric lights were doused, giving way to the swaying flames of every candle in her apartment. After donning her favorite white silk lounging gown and negligee, she feasted on her last box of Godiva chocolates to the soothing sounds of a New Age CD recording of falling water and gentle winds.

She still felt lousy.

She jumped at a sudden pounding on the door. Since her building was secure, unauthorized people could not enter unless cleared and admitted by the doorman. Perhaps her father had gotten her message and come over instead of calling as she’d asked. Jessica hurried over and opened the door.

The sight of Doug McGuire lifted her depression. Why fight fate? With a resigned smile, she threw caution to the wind.

“What kept you?” she asked.