The Law of Attraction (9 page)

With head held high Alisha put on her professional face and
walked the corridor, prepared to enter the bowels of publicity hell. She was met with a chorus of “Ms. Harts” while she elbowed her way through the gathering, several microphones barely missing her mouth.

The crowd closed in on her, impeding her forward progress. “Do you believe that Mr. Massey's recent displays are the antics of a pervert or freedom of expression?” said one slick reporter who looked like a TV telemarketer.

“No comment.”

“Do you think his causes are worthy?”

“No comment.”

She managed to make it through the double doors, but the questions still came on the courthouse steps. “How do you feel about Mr. Massey's overwhelming support from a large part of the female population in San Antonio?”

A large part of that female population had taken up residence on the sidewalk, some holding signs that read, Masses for Massey, while others chanted, “Free Les!” Mass foolishness at its finest, as far as Alisha was concerned. Just two more steps and she could make a dash across the street to her car. Then she would be home free, for now.

But that wasn't to be when a woman with golden-blond hair and a perfectly made-up face blocked her path. “Ms. Hart, as a rank novice public defender, aren't you concerned that you're outmatched now that A.D.A. Fortune has taken over this case?”

Be it stupid pride or simple stupidity, Alisha said, “I'm not a
rank
novice, otherwise I would not have been assigned this case. I will represent Mr. Massey to the best of my ability and he will receive a better than adequate defense, regardless of who the district attorney has chosen to handle it. As far as I'm concerned, Mr. Fortune is just another prosecutor.”

As if Alisha needed a reminder, the woman said, “The best prosecutor in the city. Perhaps even the state.”

“And I assure you Ms. Hart will handle her duties well.”

Alisha glanced back as the crowd turned toward the sound of the deep, authoritative voice. And there he stood, the ice
man himself, immaculately dressed in business-blue, his brown hair combed neatly into place, his self-assured stance presenting the portrait of the state's official deity.

It appeared that he'd decided to play the white-knight role, and although she didn't really see the need, Alisha had to admit she was grateful. Now she could make a speedy escape. When the cameras focused on Daniel, she was approached by a security guard. “I'll see you to your car, Ms. Hart.”

She gave him a blank look. “It's right across the street. I'll be fine.”

“Mr. Fortune insists. He wants to make sure you're safe.”

Okay, so maybe he was a little more of a hero than she'd realized. Of course he was. The man shouted integrity. And overt sensuality.

After they made it to the car, the guard offered Alisha a sealed envelope. “Mr. Fortune asked me to give this to you. He said you left it in the courtroom.”

Alisha didn't recognize it at all and believed it must be a mistake, until she turned it over and read “For Alisha Hart— Personal and Confidential” printed in the corner. More than curious over its content, she almost opened it right there, then opted to wait until she returned to the office.

She thanked the guard and headed out of the parking lot, but before turning onto the street she glanced Daniel's way again and their gazes met. He subtly lifted his hand and sent her a smile, seemingly without missing a beat with the press inquest. Although the weather was cool, she felt the need to turn on the AC in order to alleviate some serious heat.

On the drive to the office Alisha chastised herself for repeatedly falling under Mr. Fortune's spell. She continued that mental bashing all the way into the office entry.

“Did it go that badly?” Joe asked when Alisha leaned against the door as if she needed it to stay vertical.

“Actually, no. There won't be any weapons charge and we can subpoena the elderly woman's medical records.”

“Then why are you the color of hospital bedsheets?”

Alisha pushed away from the door and started to drop her briefcase onto the chair before remembering it contained the mysterious envelope. “I always look pale, Joe. I am pale.”

He shook his head. “Not that pale.”

“It's stress,” she said as she walked into her office. Once there, she set the case on her desk and removed her jacket, leaving her wearing only the sleeveless black shell. At least she wasn't quite as warm as she'd been in the car—or in Daniel's company. “Did you talk to the temp agency?” she called to Joe.

“Yeah. They're screening applicants now. Aren't you even going to ask me how it went at the doctor this morning?”

How inconsiderate of her not to remember. She went back out to the reception area. “I'm sorry. How did it go?”

He grinned. “Great. It's a boy.”

“I didn't realize Julie was far enough along to tell.”

“She's not. I'm just sure it's a boy.”

“I hope it's a girl. You deserve that.”

Joe studied her for a long moment and frowned. “You have a hickey, Hart.”

Alisha's eyes went wide. “I do not!”

He pointed. “Yeah, you do. Right there at the bend of your neck.”

Pivoting around like a demented top, Alisha went back into the office and grabbed a mirror from her drawer. When the reddish spot came into view, she stifled a gasp. Daniel Fortune had left his imprint on her person like an oversexed teenage jock, and she'd let him. And how could she have not seen it until now? Easy. She'd gone to bed in a rush last night and dressed in a rush that morning. The jacket had thankfully concealed it. She hadn't had time to do a hickey search, not that she'd ever dreamed she'd have one. In fact, this was her first hickey. At age thirty-two, how miserable was that?

She mentally rummaged around the treasure trove of excuses she'd heard in her formative years coming from the girls who got all the hickeys in high school, as well as all the
guys. “I must've burned myself with the curling iron,” she called out.

“You're hair's straight today,” Joe called back.

“Oh, I meant the flatiron.”

Joe's chuckle had a fingernail-across-the-chalkboard effect on her nerves. “I'm betting that's a big ol' lip-smacking hickey you got from the iceman.”

“Shut up, Joe,” Alisha said before slamming the door.

Just when she was seated with the case in her lap, ready to reveal the contents of the mysterious envelope, the intercom buzzed. “Drop it, Joe.”

“This is business. Mrs. White called and asked if you've reached your decision about taking her case.”

Because of her preoccupation with the A.D.A., Alisha had almost forgotten. “Yes, I have. I'm going to represent her. Call her and set up an appointment. We're on the docket for a week from Monday with the Massey trial, so I should be able to work her in the following week.”

“Not a problem, considering your schedule is kind of light.”

That light schedule made Alisha all the more determined to do well on the Massey case. As much as she hated the process of gaining notoriety, she recognized that the publicity could earn her more clients—and hopefully those who preferred to keep their clothes on.

At the moment her concern centered on the piece of paper she withdrew from the envelope. Slowly she unfolded it and read the message penned in surprisingly meticulous handwriting.

Meet me next Tuesday night at P.C.'s Bar at 8 p.m. I've enclosed a map. We need to talk.

Alisha had no clue as to the exact location of said bar or exactly what Daniel needed to discuss. And why on a Tuesday? His request brought about more questions, and the answers would come only if she joined him. But did she really dare to show up?

S
equestered in a corner booth at half past eight, Daniel started to believe Alisha wouldn't bother to show up. He hadn't seen her since the hearing the previous Friday, hadn't spoken to her by phone and he couldn't deny he missed talking to her.

None of this made much sense. Not his need to see her. Not his inability to escape thinking about her for more than an hour at a time, if that. Nor did inviting her to meet him with the possibility of getting caught hanging over their heads. But the rural, out-of-the way lounge generally attracted blue-collar locals and retirees, the reason why he'd chosen this setting. Tonight only three men sat at the bar around the corner, watching some sitcom, paying him little mind. The chance they would be seen together was minimal, and it looked as if the chance Alisha might make an appearance was probably slim to none.

Just when Daniel had decided she wasn't coming, he spot
ted her crossing the smoky room past the pool tables. She wore low-riding jeans and a black turtleneck sweater instead of her standard suits. Basically every inch of her skin was covered, yet Daniel reacted as strongly as if she'd strolled in wearing nothing at all.

He stood beside the booth and signaled her over when she caught his glance. As usual, she looked composed, at least superficially. But when she made it to the table he noticed the wariness in her eyes.

“Have a seat,” he told her, indicating the booth. When she complied, instead of sitting across from her, Daniel slid in beside her.

She presented a pretty serious scowl. “Don't you think it might be best if you moved to the other side of the table?”

“No. If you're worried someone's going to see us, then look around. This isn't the kind of place that draws our usual crowd. And this way we have our backs to everyone in here.”

She leaned around him and surveyed the area. “I can't argue that. Do you come here often?”

“Once in a while, when I want to hide out.” Like tonight.

After setting her purse aside on the table, Alisha turned and leaned her back against the paneled wall. “Okay, I'm here. Now tell me
why
I'm here.”

“Because I wanted to see if you're doing okay.”

“That's it?”

He shifted toward her and draped an arm over the back of the booth. “Yeah. I've been concerned about all the attention this case is getting. Especially after that fiasco on the courthouse steps.”

“I'm fine. Really.”

Daniel braced for some serious business. “Alisha, there are a lot of crazies out there. If you start getting any kind of threats, let the police know. Or better still, call me and I'll handle it.”

“Threats?”

“Letters. Phone calls. That kind of thing.”

“The only phone calls I've been getting are from nosy reporters requesting interviews. I have Joe fielding those. And as far as letters are concerned, I've received a few, but mostly letters supporting Mr. Massey. I haven't received any threats at all.”

“Good, but be prepared. More than likely you'll get a few.”

She looked altogether skeptical. “I appreciate your concern, but you could've told me this over the phone.”

“True, but I have an idea that I want you to consider.”

Suspicion crossed her face. “What would that be?”

“I have a small two-bedroom cabin out on Lake Mondo. You're welcome to use it this weekend to get away from all the bedlam.”

“That's very nice of you, but I don't think that's necessary.”

“You might change your mind the closer it gets to the weekend.” And he planned to help her change it.

“Then you're saying that if I want to escape, I can run out to your cabin and be alone?”

“Not alone. I plan to be there. We can leave on Saturday and return on Sunday.”

“I should have known there was more to this than a friendly offer.”

“That's exactly what it is, a friendly offer. You can stay in the spare bedroom, if that's what you want.” He didn't want that at all, but if that's how he got her there, he'd leave the option open.

“And that's two days I could use to get ready for the trial on Monday.”

He expected all the arguments and he planned to shoot them down one by one with whatever means necessary. “You can bring your work with you.”

“And give you the opportunity to peruse my defense? No way.”

“I don't have any plans to peruse your defense.” He had other things he'd rather peruse. “Besides, it's an open-and-
shut case, Alisha. If you're not prepared by Friday, then you should've asked for a continuance.”

That brought about some serious fire in her eyes. “I am ready. In fact, I could take you on tomorrow if I had to.”

He really wanted her to take him on tonight. “Great. That means you can go this weekend.”

“Daniel, that's insane. I don't know what you expect to accomplish by doing this.”

“I want to be able to keep an eye on you.”

Her smile came into play. “Is that all you want to keep on me?”

Time to lay it out in the open. “All right. My reasons are twofold. I would feel better knowing you're safe. And I admit it, I wouldn't mind spending some time with you alone. Might help us concentrate better on the trial.”

“Oh, I get it. Screw like bunnies until we don't want to screw anymore?”

She still didn't get it, but then neither did he. Not really. “Alisha, when we were together on New Year's Eve, it was hot but it was rushed. I'm not complaining, mind you, but there's something to be said about taking things slowly. And the fact is, this isn't just about lust. I like being with you.”

She drummed her fingers on the table. “I'm sure you can pull out your little black book and call some woman to serve as your weekend girl.”

“I don't want another woman. I want to be with you. Only you.”

“I'm just not sure if we should even consider this.”

At least she sounded as if she was considering it. “It's only two days,” he said. “Actually a day and a half.”

“You know, we keep going over the same territory. Ethically speaking, it's not a good idea. I have much more to lose than you because I have to maintain strict client confidentiality.”

He replied, “And I have no intention of holding you down
and torturing you to get you to talk about Massey.” Holding her, yes, torturing her, no.

She just sat there, seemingly digesting his words. “I still don't think we can afford to see each other socially right now.”

“And I can't not see you socially.”

She rolled her eyes to the pitted ceiling tiles. “Come on, Daniel. It's not that difficult.”

“Maybe not for you, but it is for me.” He moved a little closer and lowered his voice. “When you walked into Slagle's court last Friday, I had one hell of a time concentrating on my business. Didn't help that you had on that damn skirt.”

“It was decent enough.”

“It nearly killed me, and I figured that's why you wore it, even when I asked you not to. You were using it as a weapon and, lady, it worked. I had trouble forming a coherent sentence.”

She lifted her chin a notch. “I don't care for anyone telling me what I can or can't wear.”

“You wanted to distract me and you did. But that's okay. It's one of the things I admire about you. You're your own woman. And it doesn't matter what you're wearing, you still do things to me. So if you think that turtleneck's going to discourage me, you're dead wrong.”

She rimmed her finger around the tight collar. “I'm wearing this turtleneck because of you, and it has nothing to do with discouraging you.”

He frowned. “Care to explain that?”

“It seems, Counselor, you left a calling card the other night. It's just now beginning to fade.”

“You mean—”

“A hickey. Isn't that special?”

Daniel couldn't stop his laugh. “I'll be damned.”

“I happen to bruise easily.”

“You must, because I didn't mean to do it.”

“Well, you did. And worse, Joe saw it first.”

Oh, hell. “You didn't tell him it was me, did you?”

“No, but he was making some assumptions because you took me home after the reception. I denied everything but I frankly doubt he bought it. I'm sure I looked guilty.”

He laid his palm on her knee. “Are you going to deny that you haven't thought about us together even once since that night?”

She picked up a squat fake-crystal saltshaker from the table and studied it. “Maybe once or twice.”

He rimmed her knee with a fingertip. “You weren't even the least bit preoccupied when we were in court together?”

She set the shaker down and turned her blue eyes on him. “Okay, maybe a little, but I handled it okay. So did you.”

“Not that well. And that's going to continue to be a problem all throughout the trial, unless we find some way to put a stop to it.”

“That's easy. We just make a conscious effort not to think about each other.”

He opened his palm and laid it on her thigh. “Do you really believe you can do that?”

“Sure.” She didn't sound at all confident.

Daniel wasn't at all confident. Turning everything off wasn't realistic. “I don't think I can do it. In fact, I know I can't. But it might help if we spend some time together beforehand.”

Regardless of their surroundings and without any hesitation, Daniel braced his palm on her waist, leaned over and brushed his lips across hers.

Her eyes went wide. “What was that for?”

“Just trying to convince you that my plan's a good one.”

“You're going to have to do better than that.”

She didn't have to tell him twice. This time he kissed her thoroughly. Kissed her until he realized that in a matter of moments he was going to make an offer she would probably refuse, and one he shouldn't make.

She pulled away and smiled. “I have to say that was a good attempt.”

“We could go back to my place and I could work on you some more.”

“We could, but we should put that on hold until this weekend.”

Mission accomplished. “Then you're going to go?”

“I'm warming up to the idea.”

He shot her a grin. “You'll go. In fact, I'm willing to bet my car on it.”

“Your ego has reached enormous proportions, Mr. Fortune.”

“It's not that complicated, Alisha. All you have to do is say yes, and we'll leave all this Massey stuff behind. I won't ask anything of you that you're not willing to give. You'll run the whole show.”

“Does this mean you'll cook?”

“Yeah. You won't have to touch a pan.”

“Do you leave the seat up?”

“When I'm alone, but I'll try to remember to take care of that.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You'll avoid touching or kissing my neck?”

That was a promise he wasn't sure he could keep. “I'll try to refrain from leaving any love bites.” At least, obvious ones.

“And you'll promise you won't touch me at all unless I ask you to?”

That one was really tough, he thought, but he said, “I promise.”

“We won't talk about the case?”

“Not one word.”

She hesitated for a few moments before finally saying, “I'll think about it.”

Daniel let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. “Good. You can give me your answer tomorrow.”

“Fine. I'll let you know.”

He pointed at the plastic menu propped up behind the silver napkin holder. “Do you want something to eat?”

“I've already had dinner, but you go ahead.”

“I grabbed something before I got here. How about a glass of wine?”

“No thanks. I need to get home.”

Daniel didn't want her to leave, unless they were leaving together. But he'd already pushed his luck by proposing the weekend getaway. “I'll walk you to your car.”

“I'm parked right outside. I'll manage.”

He slid from the booth and held out his hand. “I insist.”

She seized her bag, came to her feet and stood before him. “I insist you let me go by myself. Otherwise we both know what could happen.”

He grinned. “That's true. All the more reason for me to walk you to your car.”

She smoothed his collar, then patted his butt. “You could use a few lessons in patience.” Then she walked away, tossing a smile over her shoulder, indicating she knew full well she had him exactly where she wanted him—ready to explode.

He continued to stand there until she disappeared out the door, leaving him behind to analyze where this situation was heading. He didn't care. He cared about her, more than he wanted to acknowledge. And for Daniel Fortune, that was as rare as losing.

 

“Are you busy?”

Alisha looked up from the stack of mail to find Julie Alvarado standing in her doorway. She pulled off her reading glasses and waved her in. “Please rescue me from these riveting reads.”

Julie moved into the room with enviable grace and took the chair across from Alisha's desk. “Just thought we could visit while I'm waiting for Joe to get back from the university. We're going to have lunch together, if that's okay.”

“Of course it's okay. He's been working so hard lately, he could use a break.”

“I thought I wasn't going to get past all the media vultures hanging around outside.”

“I was hoping they would have given up by now.”

“Believe me, they haven't.” Julie studied the mountainous piles of letters divided into two stacks. “What is all that?”

Alisha pointed to the pile on her left. “Fan mail.” At Julie's puzzled look, she explained, “Mostly from women and a few from men who support Mr. Massey's cause.”

Julie wrinkled her nose. “The guy is a mental case.”