Читать книгу The Law of Attraction - KRISTI GOLD - Страница 8

“I can’t believe you spent all day with the naked guy.”

For once Alisha Hart was thankful for the barroom buzz drowning out the cute and somewhat cocky Joe Alvarado’s comment. Unfortunately her current law clerk had a definite lack of decorum at times. But he worked cheap, and with her fledgling law practice, cheap was all she could afford.

Moving her glass of champagne aside, Alisha folded her hands before her on the scuffed wooden table and frowned. “Do you think perhaps we could call him Mr. Massey—his appropriate name—instead of ‘the naked guy’?”

Joe loosened his tie, reclined in the high-backed chair and chugged another drink of beer. “I just call ’em like I see ’em. And let’s face it, plenty of San Antonio’s good citizens have seen him. All of him.”

“Not all of him.”

He forked a fast hand through his dark hair and gave her his usual impatient scowl. “Okay. Most of him.”

Alisha couldn’t argue that point, but she would soon have to argue the now infamous case of the “San Antonio Streaker.” Without an official public defender’s office in the county, she’d qualified to be added to the list of practicing attorneys willing to represent those who couldn’t afford private counsel. Just her luck of the draw that she’d been assigned as Les Massey’s public defender. True, the man had posed almost in the buff at several notable tourist attractions, but he’d been clever enough to keep certain parts of his anatomy covered. As far as Alisha was concerned, he might be a misguided man on a mission, but he was within his rights to express himself, even if he freely expressed himself practically naked.

“Regardless of what he’s done,” she told Joe, “he’s still a client and deserves my attention.”

“More or less a nonpaying client.”

Alisha recognized that Les Massey would soon receive the benefit of her services without handing over a dime of his own money—as if he had any—courtesy of the state of Texas. “That’s what the system is all about, Joe. Solid legal representation for the indigent. The ‘little guy,’ so to speak.”

He let go a strident laugh. “From what I hear, Les wouldn’t be considered a ‘little guy.’ Rumor has it that was one long coonskin tail he had covering his goods during his little show at the Alamo. Have you seen any evidence of that?”

“Oh, dear God, Joe. I’m not even going to go there.” Granted, Alisha had been mildly curious, but she suspected that the legend of Les’s “goods” had been blown totally out of proportion. And even though he would be considered a fine specimen, with his buff body and surfer-blond hair, she wasn’t interested in his “goods” or any other aspect of his person. Besides, he was seven years her junior, rarely utilized all three of his brain cells at once and was a little too smarmy for her selective taste in men. “Can we change the subject now?”

“Sure. Let’s play Twenty Questions. Guess who just walked in?”

“Your wife?”

“Nope. Not yet.” He leaned forward. “I’ll give you a hint. He’s practically a legend in legal circles.”

Couldn’t be Les, unless he’d escaped from jail. “I give up.”

“Would you believe the big man himself?”

“Isn’t it a little late for Santa?”

“Try Daniel Fortune.”

Great. Just what she needed—the man who delighted in pushing all her hot buttons whenever the opportunity presented itself. The man who ruled the criminal courts like a king. The man she wanted to cling to like cheap plastic wrap every time he came near her—a fact that would remain a secret to everyone, especially the senior assistant district attorney.

“Well, I should’ve known the iceman cometh,” Alisha said, trying to keep her tone nonchalant. “The temperature just dropped a few degrees in here.” In reality, her body temperature had risen to rainforest proportions.

“He’s brilliant,” Joe said. “One of the best prosecutors in the state.”

One of the best-looking prosecutors in the country. “Yes, he’s got a good record.” And a great butt.

“Don’t look now, but he’s heading this way.”

Alisha battled the urge to look and she won out for the time being. Maybe Mr. Fortune would keep walking right on past her. Maybe then she could sneak another peek at his derriere.

Joe slapped his palms on the edge of the table, startling Alisha. “I’m going to go to the boys’ room, then give Julie a call. If she doesn’t get here quick, she’s going to miss the festivities.”

Alisha wanted to ask him to please stay, which was totally absurd. Chances were the esteemed A.D.A. wouldn’t even bother to say hello. And even if he did, her obligation only required she be polite and toss out a few insults if necessary. “Fine. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Trying to appear relaxed, she turned her attention to the wide-screen TV across the room and pretended to watch the Times Square globe beginning its descent, signaling the arrival of the new year on the East Coast. Pretended not to be at all concerned that the preeminent attorney was somewhere on the premises. Pretended she didn’t care where he was or what he was doing, even if she did. She’d just sit there and blend into the surroundings—not at all that difficult considering she had blending in down to a fine art in crowded bars.

“Hey, Hart, did you really get the guy with the big schlong?”

Following a spattering of laughter, Alisha’s gaze snapped to the man posing the query seated two tables over—the lard-bellied lawyer, Billy Wade Carlisle, not board certified in anything since “bottom feeder” had yet to be designated as a specialty. Right now she would like to take his ratty toupee and stuff it in an orifice where no toupee belonged.

So much for remaining anonymous. Of course, the place was rather loud and a bit rowdy tonight. With any luck, Mr. Fortune hadn’t heard Billy Wade’s brilliant query.

“Looks like you could use a drink.”

The sound of his voice coming from behind her, deep and downright deadly, drew Alisha’s complete attention. So did the very masculine hand that slid a glass of champagne before her. She visually tracked his navy coat sleeve up to his wide shoulder and, against better judgment, continued on to his eyes. Tonight those eyes looked dark even though she knew they were green—not crystalline green but a deep green that at times looked almost brown, other times green-gold, depending on the lighting. Intense eyes that shouted power. Considering the definite cast of amusement in his gaze, no doubt he was about to contribute to her status as current courthouse laughingstock.

“Don’t even start, Counselor,” Alisha muttered.

He had the nerve to look innocent—and stunning, with his brown hair combed back in neat layers and his jaw surrounded by a spattering of evening whiskers. “Start what?”

“Your commentary on my recent appointment to represent Mr. Massey.”

He moved beside the table, giving her the full effect of his striking face. “No commentary involved. I just wanted to buy you a drink.”

She tried to look pleasant and calm despite her frenzied pulse. “Thank you, but I still have one.”

“Save it to toast the new year.”

The drink would probably be warm by then, and that definitely complemented her current state at the moment. “I appreciate it.”

He surveyed her face from forehead to chin before centering his gaze on her eyes. “I take it you’re getting your share of digs about the streaker.”

Alisha rimmed her glass with a fingertip, purposefully avoiding his gaze. “He doesn’t streak, he poses.”

“Poses until he evades the authorities, then he streaks.”

“I’m not going to give you any details about my defense, if that’s what you’re after.”

“I’m only wondering how you’re handling all the exposure.”

Cute. Real cute. She risked a quick look at him to find him sporting a half smile. “I assure you, I’m handling it fine.” As fine as she could with an extreme exhibitionist who enjoyed strutting like the cock of the walk, something she’d discovered during the first encounter with Les Massey at his arraignment.

Daniel propped his hand on the back of her chair and leaned closer. “Just another quick question.”

He was nothing if not persistent. And darned if he didn’t smell good, too. “I said I’m not going to—”

“Are you alone?”

That she wasn’t expecting—a query posed in a provocative tone that sounded as if he was quite capable, and willing, to end her solitude.

Fortunately Joe picked that moment to return to the table, prompting Alisha to spout out, “I’m with him,” followed by a wave of her hand in the clerk’s direction. After all, Daniel Fortune didn’t have to know that her companion was blissfully married. She certainly didn’t want him to think that she was so pathetic she’d been forced to spend New Year’s Eve without a date, even if she had been dateless for some time now.

In the blink of an eye, the A.D.A. straightened and restored himself to consummate professional. The iceman returneth. “Good to see you again, Mr. Alvarado.”

“Same here.” Joe shook Daniel’s offered hand with gusto and grinned like a down-and-out miner who’d struck gold. “The way you handled the Richardson case last year was amazing. I still don’t know how you managed to get a conviction without the victim’s body.”

“I owe it to the San Antonio PD’s spotless investigation.”

Good answer, and good grief. When Alisha noticed Joe’s starstruck expression, she expected him to fall prostrate at the A.D.A.’s feet and kiss the large shoes he walked in. “Joe, I’m sure Mr. Fortune would just as soon forget about work tonight.”

“You’re right, and I’m being rude.” Joe gestured toward the chair next to Alisha. “Why don’t you join us? My wife should be here in a minute.”

So much for Alisha’s pretense that Joe was her date. Daniel sent her a quick glance, as if asking her permission to join the party, which she didn’t give, and not because she wouldn’t like to have him join them. Because she would like for him to join them, and that wasn’t necessarily advisable. Considering her status as a part-time public defender and his as full-time defender of the public, for all intents and purposes they were enemies. Especially now with the high-profile Massey case hanging over her and his office in charge of convicting him, not to mention her unwelcome attraction to the prosecutor.

For what seemed liked infinity, he simply stared at her and she stared back, until she heard, “Sorry I’m late.”

Alisha released her gaze on Daniel to find Julie Alvarado standing at the table, all five feet six inches of head-turning brunette. The kind of woman you wanted to hate—model-beautiful—but was simply too nice to despise. A social worker who devoted her life to protecting children and spoiling her husband. “Hi, Julie. We were starting to worry you might not get here in time.”

“I was beginning to wonder, too.” Julie tossed her bag on the table and leaned to give Joe a kiss. “Sorry, honey. I had something I had to take care of tonight. An emergency removal of three kids. What a way to end the year.”

Joe stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, looking very proud, and rightfully so. “Mr. Fortune, this is my wife, Julie. Julie, this is Daniel Fortune.”

“We’ve met,” Julie said. “I testified during one of your trials.”

“The Henson trial,” Daniel said. “That was a tough one.”

Julie regarded Joe again. “The one where the boyfriend put his girlfriend’s five-year-old daughter into a coma because she spilled her juice on his CD collection.”

Alisha inwardly cringed when she recalled the details she’d only read about. Thank God she’d still been working at her former firm defending rich executives involved in white-collar crimes, and that so far when appointed by the court she’d only represented misdemeanor offenses and not heinous felonies.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Joe pointed to the empty chair beside Alisha. “We can count down together.”

Alisha counted to ten before Daniel said, “Maybe some other time. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

With another glance at Alisha, he strode away with blatant confidence, his wide shoulders straight, his large hands dangling at his sides, while heads turned as he passed. No doubt about it, he was a natural attention-getter. He’d certainly gotten hers on more than one occasion.

After Julie sat down beside Joe, Alisha pushed the glass of champagne, compliments of the A.D.A., toward her. “Take this. I still have some left.”

Julie exchanged a veiled look with her husband. “I don’t care for any champagne, but I guess it will work for a toast.” She held the flute aloft. “To the new year. May it not royally suck.”

They all touched their glasses together with a shared “Here, here.” Joe and Alisha took sips of their drinks while Julie merely pushed the untouched glass aside.

Joe narrowed his eyes and said to Alisha, “That Daniel Fortune is something else. You should do him, Hart.”

She nearly gasped. “Why would you even think such a thing?”

He looked at her as if she’d just plummeted several rungs on the intelligence ladder. “Because he wants you.”

What a colossal joke. “Oh, sure he does.”

“Don’t be obtuse, Alisha,” Joe said. “I saw the way he was looking at you. In fact, I’ve seen him look at you that way before at the courthouse. He treats everyone else with indifference, but he treats you like he’d like to get into your drawers—and not the ones in your file cabinet.”

She shrugged off the remark. “He razzes me because he doesn’t like defense attorneys.”

Joe sighed. “Jeez, Hart. Have you been out of the dating loop so long that you don’t recognize a few come-ons? The guy’s got a hard—”

Julie slapped a hand over Joe’s mouth. “My husband is trying to say—and failing miserably—that Daniel Fortune’s hot for you.”

Alisha found that hard to believe. Yes, she worked at being attractive, both inside and out. Yes, she had worked hard for respect and had enjoyed substantial success in her thirty-two years. But as far as physical attributes were concerned, she had unruly red hair that she futilely flatironed every day only to be sabotaged by humidity—the reason why she’d kept it curly tonight. She was short, not particularly busty and she’d inherited her mother’s ample hips. Her skin practically blistered with only a few minutes of sun exposure, and although she didn’t have a forest full of freckles, she had more than her fair share. She certainly didn’t see herself as the kind of woman that would seriously interest Daniel Fortune. He probably preferred bombshell blondes with more body and less brain.

Julie leaned forward and laid a hand on Alisha’s arm. “I can certainly understand why he would be interested in you. You’re very pretty and smart.”

“And a redhead,” Joe added. “Men like redheads. A lot of mystery there. You know, about whether they’re natural redheads or not.”

“We’re not going to discuss that, Joseph,” Julie said.

He gave his wife a whipped-dog look. “Sorry, but it’s true. Anyway…” He looked back at Alisha. “You should do him. If I were a woman, I would.”

Alisha rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Julie loves hearing that.”

Joe aimed his grin on his wife. “She’d do him, too. Wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

Julie batted her eyelashes. “Why would I want to when I have you, honey?”

“Okay, let’s say you didn’t have me.”

Julie shrugged. “Yeah, I’d do him. In a heartbeat.”

Joe turned his attention back to Alisha. “See?”

Time to quell the conversation before Alisha seriously considered the suggestion. “I don’t do prosecutors, okay?”

Joe looked somewhat frustrated. “You don’t do anyone, Hart, and that’s your problem. You might be in a better mood if you got laid now and then.”

“And you need to lay off her, Joe.” Julie smiled, exposing perfect white teeth to match her perfectly lined lips. “When she’s ready, she will.”

Alisha wasn’t ready to do anything other than get out of there. But politeness dictated she hang around, at least for a while longer. Yet she found herself enduring the couple mooning over each other like two besotted teenagers, so obviously in love that only a fool couldn’t see it. Even their names sounded perfect—Joe and Julie, lovers extraordinaire. They did include her in general conversation a few times, but only to be nice, Alisha decided. She suspected they’d really like to be home and in bed, carrying on like most happy husbands and wives. That was so far out of the realm of Alisha’s comprehension that she found herself growing suddenly melancholy.

Everyone in the world, or at least in the bar, had seemed to pair off. Even Billy Wade, who’d latched on to some big-haired blonde. He was singing “Auld Lang Syne” off-key and the woman didn’t even seem to mind. Alisha minded. He was definitely one acquaintance she’d rather forget. In fact, she wanted to forget this whole scene and go back to her apartment. At least there she wouldn’t have to tolerate watching everyone engaged in the traditional midnight kiss when a partial glass of warm champagne was the only thing available to wrap her lips around.

She pushed her chair back from the table and stood. “Listen, guys, I’m out of here. I’ll see you on Monday, Joe. Bright and early.”

“Do you really have to go?” Julie asked.

Alisha slipped her coat on and grabbed her purse from the empty chair beside her. “Yeah, I do. I’m tired.”

“I understand.” Julie’s knowing expression said she did. Only a woman could appreciate another woman’s plight of being all alone during a party. “Why don’t you have dinner with us tomorrow? It’s just going to be the two of us.”

“I’ll think about it,” Alisha said, knowing full well she’d already made her decision. As much as she loved being around the Alvarados, she hated being a third wheel more. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning and let you know.”

“Be careful, Hart,” Joe said. “Lots of crazies on the streets tonight. But God forbid, if you are involved in an accident—” he hooked a thumb over his shoulder “—I’ll be sure to call Billy Wade’s number. One-eight-hundred-bad-legal-advice.”

“You do that,” Alisha said, leaving them with a fake smile before elbowing her way through the milling crowd. Although she shouldn’t do it, she couldn’t help but scan the area to see if by chance Daniel Fortune was still hanging around. Why, she couldn’t say. Even if he was still in the bar, she had no intention of approaching him. By the time she reached the door she confirmed that he had left, and probably not alone.

Right now Alisha had more concerns than Daniel Fortune’s sex life. She had plenty to accomplish in regard to the Massey defense, not to mention a few other cases pending. Very few. A couple of divorces involving women who didn’t quite qualify for assistance, one contested will, one product-liability case. All basically hinged on settlements before she saw a significant amount of money. But these clients needed her help, and she was more than happy to offer it. Plus, she did get paid when she was selected from the public-defender rolls. The money was decent, although she wasn’t sure they would ever be able to pay her enough to make the Massey mess worthwhile.

Yes, she had much to do, and so what if she didn’t have anyone to date? No big deal. At least she wouldn’t be worrying about contributing to the divorce rate anytime soon. But Daniel Fortune was tempting. He also qualified as a potential mistake.

When she pushed out the door into the cool, misty night, that potential mistake was leaning against the lone lamppost, hands in his pockets, face illuminated by the halogen bulb. Suddenly making that mistake didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

You should do him, Hart….

Alisha could not imagine that. All right, she could imagine it. And she had. Several times. She certainly wasn’t going to make the first move. Or any kind of move, for that matter. But she faced a certain dilemma. She had to walk past him on her way to the pay-by-the-hour parking lot across the street. Of course, she could ignore him—as if that were really possible since he’d already seen her. Or she could sprint to her car with only a muttered good-night.

How silly. She could handle this situation with adult diplomacy.

This is not that difficult, Alisha.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, Alisha studied the stars and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “A really nice night for sex.” Oh, crap. She’d been paid a visit by Freud instead of Baby New Year.

Daniel pushed off the pole and narrowed his eyes. “What did you just say?”

Alisha felt the fire rising to her face and more than likely she probably looked as if she’d been slapped. Someone should slap her for the questionable comment. “I said it’s a nice night in Texas.” Good save, Alisha. “Why?”

“Because I could’ve sworn you said something about sex.”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts and prepared to lie. “I’m not surprised you thought that. I hear men think about sex about every six seconds.”

“A total exaggeration. More like every ninety seconds.” He topped off the comment with the most patently seductive smile she’d ever seen on a man.

“I stand corrected.” Although right now standing before him made her want to drop to her knees in brazen worship as if he’d been ordained as a D.A. demigod.

I’d do him…in a heartbeat….

A round of pop, pop, pops from a series of firecrackers echoing through the streets yanked Alisha back into the real world, where defense attorneys and prosecutors didn’t mingle, especially between the sheets. Yes, it happened, that much Alisha knew. But not to her. She’d learned her lesson the hard way, and since that time she’d walked the professional line even though right now she wanted to walk right up and kiss the esteemed Daniel Fortune. The way she’d fantasized about kissing him for months now. She’d fantasized about a lot more than that.

He broke the silence by asking, “Why didn’t you wait inside until midnight?”

She hugged her bag to her chest. “First, it’s too crowded. Second, Billy Wade was singing like a wounded banshee. Third, sleep’s at a premium these days and I need to get home.”

“Yeah. I imagine it is with the Massey case pending.”

She attempted to look appropriately incensed—very hard to do in the presence of a man who took charisma to a whole new level. “You’re determined to get me to discuss that, aren’t you?”

“No. Just making an observation.”

And that was the reason for his attention. “You’re being too polite to me, Counselor, which leads me to believe you’re making nice so I’ll give you a clue about my strategy.”

“There’s a couple of things you need to know about me, Counselor. The Massey case isn’t my problem because my job is to prosecute the worst of the worst. Felonies, not misdemeanors. And I don’t make nice with a woman to gain information.”

“Then what do you hope to gain by making nice?”

“I don’t hope to gain anything. At least, not in terms of our professional relationship.”

Alisha wasn’t sure where this could be leading but she did know it could be down a dangerous path. “We don’t have anything other than a professional relationship.”

“We could.”

That almost shocked Alisha right out of her viselike heels. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a prosecutor and I’m a defense attorney.”

“No reason why we can’t be friendly outside of the courts.”

Alisha could think of one big reason—namely she’d gotten a little too friendly with a colleague and she’d lived to regret it. “Maybe having a personal relationship with associates might work for you, but I’ve never considered it to be a wise move.”

“I don’t know if it works for me because I’ve never done it before.”

That was a hard one to swallow. “You’re telling me that you’ve never fraternized with one of the many female attorneys in this town?”

“Never found one I cared to fraternize with.” The look he gave her said, Until now. Or maybe her imagination was commandeering her brain again.

Turning the topic back to their profession seemed wise. “By the way, I wanted to add my congratulations on your handling of the Richardson case.”

“And I should congratulate you on bulldozing the new guy into taking a plea on the Langston case.”

“I didn’t bulldoze him. I just did some serious negotiating.”

“You scared the hell out of him.”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Okay, call me scary. I’ve been called worse.”

“Such as?”

“Stubborn. Single-minded—”

“Sexy as hell?”

Ha! “Can’t say that I’ve heard that in anyone’s verbal repertoire when describing me.”

“Well, it’s in mine, because you are. Especially tonight.”

Alisha fought the inclination to look behind her to see what other woman had arrived on the scene. She pointed toward the street. “I’m going to head home now.” Before she did something totally stupid.

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“In an apartment north of town, about twenty minutes away.”

“I’m a lot closer. Only a few blocks away. The new condo development.”

“The one that overlooks the river? That’s rather pricey. I didn’t know the D.A.’s office paid so well.”

“I manage. The view alone is worth it.”

“I’m sure it’s great.”

“You should come over tonight and see for yourself.”

Surely this couldn’t be happening to her, a tremendously sensual man asking her over. Actually it couldn’t be happening, or it shouldn’t. “Let me guess. You want me to go over your briefs.”

“My briefs are in order, unless you feel the need to do a quality check.”

She rolled her eyes for the second time tonight, even though she had a sudden image of doing that very thing. “You’re a big boy. I’m sure you’re quite capable of tossing out your old underwear when necessary.”

“We were talking about underwear?” His grin was teasing and terribly tempting.

She laid a dramatic hand on her chest. “My apologies, Mr. Fortune. I guess I’ve confused you with all of the other male jurists who just love to throw out those clichéd legal pickup lines.”

“You mean things like ‘Let’s engage in a little discovery’? ‘I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours’?”

“Yes, but we can’t forget my personal favorite—‘Let’s go back to my place and study the penal code.’”

He took a step toward her. “How about ‘I have no statute of limitations when it comes to making you feel good’?”

From the deep, compelling tone of his voice Alisha inherently knew he was telling the truth. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“That’s because I just made it up. I can be pretty quick on my feet.”

She was surprised her feet were still holding her up. “Very creative, Counselor. And to quote another cliché, I don’t want to end up as another notch on your bedpost.”

He sighed, a rough one. “Why is it that women always think men have ulterior motives?”

“Probably because they do.”

“Believe it or not, my reasons for inviting you over don’t have anything to do with sex.” He rubbed a hand over his nape. “What if I told you that I could just use a friend?”

She could tell him she related to that on a very personal level. “I’m sure you have plenty of friends.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to know who your friends are in this business.”

How true, Alisha thought. “I’m not sure we can really be friends.”

“Sure we can.” He moved a little closer. “We can have a friendly conversation, like we’ve been doing since the first time we met.”

“Friendly? You call telling me my car was a piece of junk when I asked you about a mechanic the other day friendly?”

“And then you told me in explicit detail where I could drive it.”

“True, but you deserved it.”

Daniel shrugged. “I think you take everything too seriously.”

“And you don’t?”

“Yeah, most of the time, but not around you. Beats the hell out of me why you bring out that side of me.”

Exactly what Joe had said earlier. “That’s because I’m not like most women you know. I don’t automatically swoon in your presence.” It took great effort on her part not to do that.

“To be honest, I like that about you. That’s why I want to spend some time with you. We can watch the fireworks from my living room window. Do you see a problem with that?”

Alisha saw a big problem—namely she’d be sorely tempted to climb all over him if he moved even a millimeter closer. “For all intents and purposes we’re opponents.”

“We’re not opposing each other on any case.”

“We could in the future.”

“I’m not concerned about the future. I’m only thinking about tonight.”

How tempting it would be to take him up on his offer. How very, very tempting. But Daniel Fortune’s status as an unflappable attorney was second only to his rep as an in-demand lover.

He took another slow step toward her. “Do you really want to spend the rest of the evening alone, Alisha?”

She didn’t want to react so strongly to the way he’d said her name, but she did. “I’ve been alone before.”

“So have I, but it’s New Year’s Eve. People shouldn’t spend the holiday alone if they have other options. Unless you’re involved with someone.”

“Not currently.”

“Then I don’t see any real harm in it. Nothing complicated. Just two friends seeing in the new year together.”

Alisha hadn’t really viewed him as a friend per se, but he wasn’t a seedy stranger. After all, he’d made it his life’s work putting criminals behind bars. In that regard, he was safe. His magnetism…well, that was another thing altogether.

But she truly didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. She would keep a tight grasp on her control. She would go to Daniel Fortune’s apartment and take her chances. “Do you have any wine?”

His gorgeous grin heralded success. “If I do, then you’ll come home with me?”

“Yes. To watch the fireworks and have a drink.”

“You’re welcome to check out my bedpost for notches.”

She didn’t dare get anywhere near his bed. “No thanks.”

“I wouldn’t mind showing you my custom-made wet bar. Lots of shelves. And counter space.”

“Room enough for two, no doubt.”

“Probably so, with a little careful maneuvering.”

Alisha felt as if she’d been thrust into some unknown dimension. Maybe he did want to do her. Worse, she wanted to do him. Joe and Julie would be so proud. But caution spoke louder than carnal need. “Be careful, Counselor, or I’m going to rescind my offer.”

He looked somewhat contrite. “Sorry, but you walked right into that one.”

She only hoped that when she walked into his apartment she’d keep a choke hold on her hormones. “Where’s your car?”

“I’m on foot.”

She pointed to the lot across the street. “Mine’s over there. I’ll drive us.”

“Save your gas. We can walk it from here.”

Maybe walking wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe then they’d be too tired to do anything that might be deemed risky. Maybe they should jog. “Okay, Counselor. Lead the way.”

And with only minimal second thoughts, Alisha accompanied Daniel Fortune to his condo, feeling as if tonight she might go anywhere he cared to take her.