The Law of Attraction (6 page)

Right now he was charged with the unenviable position of telling her the news—and being in the line of fire when all hell broke loose.

 

Alisha breezed into her office to find Joe sitting on the edge of the reception desk, concentrating on the portable TV set in the corner of the deserted waiting room. “Do we have so little business that you're watching cartoons again?”

Joe sent her only a cursory glance before turning his attention back to the tube. “Not cartoons. A press conference. And I think you should be watching it, too.”

Crossing the room, Alisha took her place beside Joe and nearly dropped the bag containing her meager lunch. “That's Daniel Fortune.”

“Yep. That's Daniel Fortune answering questions about your client's prosecution and the new prosecutor who'll be handling the case.”

Alisha tugged off her jacket and tossed it and the bag onto the desk. “Krauss isn't in charge anymore?”

“No, and you're not going to like who's taking his place.”

“Please don't tell me it's that creep, Goeble.”

“No, not Goeble.”

“Then who?”

“The iceman's going to do it himself.”

Alisha's mouth hung open for a few seconds before she said, “You're kidding, right?”

“No, I'm not kidding.” He reached behind him and handed
her a piece of paper. “He called earlier while you were out, I assume to let you know.”

Alisha took the paper from Joe only to find the number to the D.A.'s office. “I can't believe he didn't tell me New Year's Eve.”

“I wouldn't think a bar would be a good place to discuss it.”

She wadded up the note and tossed it in the waste bin. “Not in the bar. Outside of the bar, after I left.”

Joe had the gall to grin. “Well, did you do—”

“No, I did not. I went home and he went home, end of story.” And she was telling one whopper of a story.

She tossed Joe the sack. “Here. It's a sub sandwich. Take half an hour to eat lunch, then get moving on the Massey case. Start working on the motions we've discussed. Now's your chance to play attorney before you have to pass the bar. And call the temp agency. Have them send someone over to field phone calls, preferably one who's worked in a law office before. We're going to need all the help we can get.”

When she started for the door, Joe asked, “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Aren't you going to call Fortune?”

“Nope.” She turned with a hand poised on the knob. “I'm going to pay him a personal visit.”

“I'd like to buy tickets to that little meeting.”

“You need to get to work. I'll handle the A.D.A.”

Joe unfolded the paper from around the sandwich and crammed a big bite in his mouth. “Good luck,” he said without even swallowing.

As Alisha headed for the courthouse, she realized she was going to need plenty of luck and plenty of strength. Just because Daniel Fortune happened to be the most gorgeous, multitalented, intelligent man she'd ever known didn't mean she couldn't hold her own with him. And she would, no matter what he tried to throw at her.

 

Alisha Hart strode into Daniel's office looking as if she'd like to throw something at him. Fortunately she set her briefcase down on the chair instead of hurling it at his head. “I believe you know why I'm here.”

She sounded calm, but she looked fighting mad—and sexy as hell in her tailored blue dress that gave Daniel just a glimpse of her knees. Really great knees. “You came by to call off our dinner plans?”

“Very funny,” she said without one whit of amusement in her tone.

Daniel noticed the partially open door and pointed behind her. “Close it.”

She looked over her shoulder, then back to him, before complying. Instead of sitting, she braced her palms on the edge of his desk and leaned into them. “First of all, do you mind telling me why you didn't inform me the other night you were going to be taking the Massey case?”

Daniel greatly minded that her breasts were eye level and the cut of the dress showed a hint of cleavage. He forced his gaze to her face. “Because I didn't know until this morning. And I don't like it any more than you do. And if I recall, we decided not to discuss it the other night. In fact, I remember we stopped talking altogether after a while.”

After snatching up her briefcase, she finally sat, giving Daniel only minimal relief. “We're certainly going to discuss it now.”

Daniel leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head. “Go ahead, Counselor. But if you're here to make a deal, you'll be wasting your breath.”

“It's my breath to waste, and I don't see why we can't come to some sort of agreement and save the taxpayers money.”

“What exactly are you proposing?” he asked.

“One count of disorderly conduct, drop the indecent exposure and the trumped-up assault charge.”

“You're not serious.”

“Do I look like I'm jesting?”

No, but she looked pretty damn good, Daniel thought. So good he almost couldn't think. But he had to think. “Let's start with the indecent exposure. We have a witness who claims she saw his genitals during his little show on the river taxi and that he in fact was aroused.” That much he did know, although he knew nothing about the witness. Truth was, he hadn't had time to thoroughly review the case. He sure as hell hadn't prepared for the impact of seeing Alisha again—and knowing he couldn't touch her now. Or later, for that matter. At least not until this mess was over.

Her expression remained battle-ready. “My client was strategically covered by a wide sash, therefore his genitals were not exposed. As far as his alleged arousal is concerned, the temperature was below forty degrees. In those kinds of elements, I highly doubt Mr. Massey capable of an erection.”

The last thing Daniel needed to hear coming out of her pretty coral-painted mouth was the word
erection.
“Our witness says otherwise.”

“Your witness is mistaken. Or perhaps she was engaged in some wishful thinking.” Alisha looked at him straight on. “You know, if Mr. Massey were a woman, we wouldn't even be having this argument.”

“Why's that?”

“Because a woman's arousal wouldn't be noticeable.”

“Any man worth his salt can tell if a woman's aroused, obvious or not.”

“Not in the dark.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely in the dark. I can always tell. One of these days I'll prove it to you.”

“We're not going to talk about that.” Her gaze drifted away before coming back to him. “My point is, only one witness claiming my client was exposed and aroused isn't solid evidence.”

“You can argue that during the trial.”

She stared at him again. “I guarantee I will if we have a trial. I'll have my motions on your desk by tomorrow.”

Frustrated with her persistence and his own lack of research, Daniel said, “If you're trying to convince me to go easy on this guy, forget it, Counselor. Mr. Massey assaulted a senior citizen. That's a class A misdemeanor. The state isn't going to budge.” That fact had been more than apparent during his earlier conversation with Allan Vera.

She grabbed her briefcase and stood. “Okay. Have it your way. Hopefully the presiding judge will see it my way.”

Daniel came to his feet. “Anything else?”

“Not at the moment, but if I think of something else, I'll let you know.” She swept her hair away from her face with one hand. Today it fell to her shoulders in soft curls, just as it had the other night. Daniel was assaulted by the sudden fantasy of having those curls raking over his bare chest—and lower. He needed to get a grip, and not on her.

“I hope you're ready for this, Counselor,” she said.

Daniel rounded the desk and stood before her. Not too close, but close enough to get the full effect of her vivid blue eyes. “I'll be ready.”

“So will I.”

“But you're not going to win this one, Alisha.”

She lifted her chin and sent him a smug smile. “Wanna bet?”

He streaked a hand over his jaw. “Sure. What should we wager?”

Her smile faded into a frown. “I wasn't serious.”

“I am.” He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to her. “How confident are you that you'll win?”

“Might I remind you, if anyone found out money exchanged hands between us, we'd both be disbarred.”

“I didn't say a thing about money.”

Alisha eyed him skeptically. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

Something that would be deemed downright dirty. “I'd have to think on it, but I have a few ideas.”

“So do I,” she said, continuing to clutch the briefcase to her breasts. “If you lose—which you will—I'd consider something involving a little public humiliation. Maybe I'll make you wear Les's sequined toreador outfit, sans pants, and you can give a speech on the courthouse steps.”

“You know, Alisha, if you want to get me naked again, you don't have to win a bet. You only have to ask me.”

She wagged a finger at him. “We're not going to go there again, Counselor. Not now.”

That “not now” thing gave him some hope. “Later?”

“You're going to continue to give me a hard time, aren't you?”

“I'll give you whatever you want me to give you,” he said.

She drew in a shaky breath and her eyes took on a hazy cast. No way could he miss it. “I want you to consider keeping this case out of court.”

“I'm not talking about the case and you know it.”

“I know, and we can't talk about what's happening between us,” she said. “We certainly can't act on it.”

At least she'd admitted there was an “us.” “True, but this trial isn't going to stop me from thinking about it.” He took her hand and pulled her forward. “And you'll be thinking about it, too.”

“Daniel, this isn't a good idea at all,” she said without much conviction. And even more telling, she didn't yank her hand out of his grasp.

“Yeah, I know. That's why I'm not going to do anything but this.” Lifting her hand, he turned it over and brushed a kiss on her palm, followed by a streak of his tongue, before releasing her. “If that's what I have to settle for right now, then I'll live with it.”

After a slight catch of her breath, the confidence returned to her face. “A hand kiss. And I thought chivalry was dead.”

He brushed her hair from her shoulders and rested his mouth at her ear. “Sometime in the future I'm going to kiss more than your hand, starting with that sexy mouth of yours, then I'm going to move my lips lower until—”

She pulled back and started backing to the door. “We're going to behave ourselves during this trial, Daniel.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.” But he bit back a laugh when he realized she was trying to convince herself as well as him.

“I'm going now,” she said without making a move to leave.

“Fine. I'm not stopping you. Not this time.”

“Since when have you ever stopped me?”

He couldn't resist getting in one last comment before she disappeared. “I sure didn't stop you Saturday night. And I'm not going to stop you if you decide you want a repeat performance in the future. But it's going to be your decision. You know where to find me.”

“Yes, I do. Opposing me in a courtroom.” With that she jerked open the door and rushed away, leaving Daniel assessing his total loss of logic.

For years he'd walked the straight and narrow, never veering off course, never doing anything that could ruin his aspirations, especially not with a woman. But Alisha wasn't just another woman. She was tough. She didn't give a damn about what his status could bring her. And most important, she was nothing at all like his mother—a woman who suffered abuse from her alcoholic husband at the expense of her own children's sense of safety. And still she'd stayed with him, until staying had cost her her life.

But that was all in the past, where Daniel intended to keep it. He also intended to see where this thing with Alisha Hart might lead. Hopefully not down the path of destruction.

A
s if her little encounter with Daniel Fortune hadn't been bad enough two days ago, now she found herself at the jail for another meeting with Les Massey. She'd had very little sleep and too much to think about—namely the prosecutor. Right now she had to think about her client, who sat across from her giving her a suggestive smile that probably worked on most women but not on her.

She shuffled her notes to keep from looking at him. “Okay, Mr. Massey, we need to go over a few things before I have to go before the judge for the hearing.”

“I'm all yours, Ms. Hart. Knock yourself out.”

When she finally looked up to discover his orange prison-issue jumpsuit unzipped to his sternum, she wanted to knock him out. “First of all, in reference to the woman you pushed—”

“I told you I didn't push her.”

“All right, the woman you allegedly pushed while making
your escape down the walkway following the river-taxi incident—”

“I wasn't escaping.”

“You were running.”

“I was sprinting. No one was after me except maybe a few girls. They were trying to take my sash.” And he looked proud of it.

“You don't remember even accidentally nudging the woman?”

“I don't even remember her. In fact, the last thing I remember was running headlong into the cop. He cuffed me and brought me down here.”

Alisha leaned forward and gave him the full extent of her scowl. “One of you is lying.”

“She's lying. I didn't push anyone. I'm not that stupid.”

Since the guy delighted in putting on a show half-naked in public, leaving himself wide open for arrest, Alisha could definitely debate that. “Next point. You haven't been formally charged with a concealed-weapons violation, but it's a possibility. Did you have a gun?”

Now Les scowled. “I swear I didn't have one. Where would I have stuck it?”

Where Alisha had wanted to stick Billy Wade's toupee on New Year's Eve? She didn't dare ask that for fear he might confirm her suspicions. “I only know that the prosecution has a witness's statement that claims you tossed something into the water and it looked a lot like a gun. I don't want any surprises if they happen to recover it from the river.”

Les sat back and rubbed his chin with one tanned hand. “It was probably the maracas.”

“Maracas?” This was the first she'd heard about that.

“Yeah. I was shaking them while I was singing ‘Jingle Bells' on the riverboat. I was going to throw them to this group of girls standing on the riverbank, but I missed and they fell into the water.”

Good thing, otherwise he might have hit one of the girls in the head, resulting in another assault charge. “Okay, this is where we stand. I'm going to argue against the weapons charge, but my guess is we're going to have to go to trial on the other charges.”

“There's going to be a trial?”

Wake up and smell the coffee, you jerk, Alisha wanted to say to him. Instead she said, “Yes, and that means you'll need to clean up your act and be on your best behavior.”

“Do I have to cut my hair?”

“Wouldn't hurt.”

“Oh, man.” Les collapsed back into the seat and sighed. “I was hoping it wouldn't come to this. I've got better things to do than get tied up with a trial.”

Like she didn't. “Well, you're going to be tied up and locked up until then. If we're lucky, the trial will be scheduled within the month.”

“I have to stay here a whole month?”

Weary of Les's whining, Alisha gathered her notes and shoved them into her briefcase. “Most likely yes. And while you're here, try to keep your clothes on, okay?”

“I'll try, but there's this woman jailer and I think she has the hots for me.”

Oh, how she wished she could order full-body restraints for the streaker. “The last thing you need is to seduce a jailer. Otherwise you'll be spending a lot longer than a few weeks in here, guaranteed. Any questions?”

Les unfolded from the chair and stuck out his chest like a barnyard rooster heading for the henhouse. “Nope. I'll let you know if I think of anything.”

“You do that. I'll be back when we're ready to discuss your testimony.” If she decided to put him on the stand, assuming they went to trial, which she honestly hoped they didn't.

Alisha called for the guard, and as she turned to go Les said, “I thought of something.”

She faced him again. “Yes?”

He gave her a lecherous once-over. “Since I can't give you any money, I've thought of how I can repay you.”

Oh, joy. “That's not necessary. The state pays me.”

“But I'd like to show my gratitude in some way. Maybe we could have some dinner?”

“How do you intend to pay for that?”

He hesitated a moment. “Good point. Maybe I'll get a job.”

He said it as if that whole concept just now occurred to him. “Good idea, Mr. Massey.” She wanted to suggest the cabaret club on the interstate that catered to women but refrained.

Alisha strode out of the conference room as quickly as her feet allowed. Ironic that she'd been asked to dinner twice in recent days by two men—an egotistical exhibitionist and an irresistible testosterone tank. One wasn't at all her type. And the other, well, for all intents and purposes, he was a nemesis. A handsome hunk and expert lover who still plagued her thoughts on an hourly basis.

Funny, sleeping with the enemy again had never looked so good.

 

“Mr. Fortune, you have a call on line one.”

In the process of readying to go home, Daniel took a quick glance at his watch. He needed to get out of there. Otherwise he'd be late to his function, even though he wasn't too thrilled about an evening of schmoozing. “Who is it, Lucy?”

“It's Ryan Fortune, sir. He says it's important.”

Daniel had hoped the call might be from Alisha Hart, even if it did pertain to business. He hadn't seen or heard from her in over a week aside from official correspondence, and he'd missed her—a lot. But if his cousin was calling at this time of day, it was bound to be important. He picked up the receiver and said, “Hey, Ryan. What's up?”

“Plenty.”

That one word, said with serious concern, worried Daniel. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah. First, are there any leads on Jason Jamison's whereabouts?”

“Nothing substantial yet, but they'll get him.”

“I hope they do. Real soon.”

Daniel knew the man well enough to know when he was holding back, like right now. “What else is bothering you, Ryan?”

“I've been getting some threats.”

“Threats?”

“Yeah. Some messages on my voice mail. Someone saying they're going to hurt someone I love.”

Daniel experienced a sick feeling in his gut. “Have you reported this to the police?”

“Yeah. So far the calls have been untraceable. I'm almost a hundred percent sure it's Jason making the threats.”

“I'm going to make a few calls to the Red Rock Police Department and the sheriff's department. I'll make sure they send out extra patrols. You also need to up your private security. I could call Vincent and see if he can handle it.”

“Don't bother your brother. He's still on his honeymoon.”

True, Daniel thought, but Vincent's extended trip with his new wife had a lot to do with protecting her. Natalie would be Daniel's star witness in the case against Jamison since she'd witnessed him murder his presumed wife. Provided Jamison ever turned up again. “I'm sure he has someone handling things at his company in his absence.”

“Don't worry about it. I've got another…” Ryan paused as if trying to gather his thoughts. “I've got another security company here locally that can take care of it. I just wanted to let you know what's happening.”

“I appreciate it. And, Ryan, we will catch the bastard.”

“I hope I live to see that happen.”

“I don't think it's going to take forty years.”

“Life is short, Danny. You never know when it's all going to come to an end.”

Daniel's concern increased. He'd never known his cousin to be anything but positive. “Are you sure you're okay, Ryan?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. And I need to go. Lily's waiting dinner on me. Thanks for talking with me, Danny. I appreciate it more than you know.”

“Anytime, Ryan. Feel free to call to check in, and I'll do the same.”

After shared goodbyes, Daniel grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and loosened his tie. The conversation left him with a sudden sense of foreboding. Something was definitely wrong with Ryan. He never stumbled over his words. He'd always been sharp and succinct. Maybe it was just stress. God knew the man had had enough of that lately.

Unfortunately Daniel didn't have much time to worry about that now. After he made the necessary phone calls to the authorities, he needed to get home and grab some dinner and a shower in preparation for a social event heralding the upcoming opening of a family-crisis center, a place he'd supported both financially and emotionally. He knew all about families in crises. Despite that fact, if he had his way, he'd stay in tonight and look over the Massey case. Correction: if he had his way, he'd be spending the evening with one Ms. Hart.

Unfortunately that wasn't in the cards. At least not tonight. Not unless she happened to show up at the reception, too. Not out of the question since a good deal of the law community would be in attendance.

He probably wouldn't be so lucky. But if she did show up, the possibilities were limitless, even if wisdom told him to stay away from the lady before it was too late.

 

“You're late, Hart.”

Nudging the office door closed with her bottom, Alisha
crossed the waiting room and tossed her briefcase on the desk behind which Joe was seated. “Late for what?”

“Your appointment. You were supposed to meet with a prospective client forty-five minutes ago.”

Alisha slapped her palm to her forehead. “I forgot. Did you reschedule?”

“I tried, but she wanted to wait.” Joe hooked a thumb behind him. “I got her some coffee and stuck her in your office.”

“Any idea what this is about?”

“She's a referral from…” Joe looked at the sparse schedule on the computer screen. “Someone named Laci Wagner sent her.”

“She's a former colleague. I worked with her at Gailey and Breedlove.” And a good friend, or at least she had been before the debacle that had caused Alisha to leave her former firm. “Hold all my calls while I talk to her. What's her name?”

“Sheila White. A nice woman.”

“Good.” She didn't mind talking with a nice woman after counseling her current client, the self-serving stud muffin.

Alisha breezed into the room and encountered a tall, rail-thin lady, her gray hair pulled back into a long braid. The woman's gaze darted around the room as if she wasn't sure where to look.

Alisha rounded her desk and held out a hand. “I'm Alisha Hart, Ms. White. I'm so sorry you've had to wait. I was tied up with a client longer than expected.”

The woman sent her a tentative smile to go with a brief handshake. “It's Mrs. White, and I don't mind if you call me Sheila. And I didn't mind waiting because this is important.”

Alisha sat and pushed her chair beneath her desk while Sheila reclaimed the chair before her. “Now tell me what I can do for you.”

“This is about my son's accident. He was paralyzed from the waist down.” The mist of tears in her eyes caused Alisha's heart to clutch. She pulled a tissue from the holder and handed it to the distraught mother.

“I'm sorry,” Sheila said as she swiped at her eyes. “It's still so hard to talk about.”

“No apology necessary. As soon as you're ready, I'd like to hear how you were referred to me.”

She recaptured her composure much quicker than Alisha expected. “I clean Miss Wagner's house, but she says she can't help me because the place where she works is representing the woman who hit my boy.” She pushed an envelope forward. “Miss Wagner told me to give this to you.”

Alisha took the sealed envelope and opened it to find a handwritten note.

Alisha wasn't sure what shocked her more—Laci's willingness to take such a risk by revealing confidential information or the fact that if she agreed to represent the Whites she'd in turn be taking on her former firm. Then again, revenge could be very, very sweet.

Setting the documents aside, Alisha folded her hands before her. “Tell me about the accident.”

Sheila plucked her purse from the floor, withdrew a photo and handed it to Alisha. “This was my Barry last year when he was a junior in high school.”

Alisha studied the picture of the gangly, smiling young man dressed in some kind of track uniform. “He's a very nice-looking boy.”

“He was a cross-country runner. Last summer he was out jogging near a park and that Kenneally woman ran him down.” Anger had replaced the sorrow in her voice. “They said it was an accident. They said Barry ran out in front of her. He doesn't remember what happened, but I still don't believe it. When the police got there, her car was up on the curb.”

“Did anyone see the accident?”

“One lady did and at first she said the woman lost control of the car. Later she told the police she didn't say that. I think she's lying now.”