STONE HAD A killer headache and a killer client. He’d had too much to drink the night before. Muriel and Bette had joined him and the guys at the bar. They’d felt sorry for him, not because of his loss in court but because of his loss in love. So they’d bought him a few rounds of shots.
Usually Stone could handle his liquor. But he hadn’t had anything to eat that day or probably the day before. He was too sick over the trial, but mostly over Hillary.
It wasn’t love, though. He’d scoffed at the idea of that, but everyone around him—even Trev—had exchanged knowing looks, like they’d all thought he was kidding himself.
Sure, Hillary excited him more than any other woman ever had. She made him better in court and in bed. She challenged him as no one ever had. She matched him.
If only she could love him.
But she didn’t respect him. And they couldn’t build a relationship if they didn’t have mutual respect. He respected her. According to Trev, who had answered his phone the night before, she’d admitted she was wrong—about Byron.
What about him?
He stared across the desk at her, and he couldn’t help but think of the things that they’d done on that desk.
The things he wanted to do to her even now. Suddenly his tie felt too tight and so did his pants. How could she get to him so effortlessly?
Maybe Kenneth Mueller shouldn’t have asked for him to represent him. He’d failed his father because of Hillary—because she’d distracted him so much that he hadn’t been able to exonerate an innocent man.
Until now...
But Kenneth had done that when he’d gone to Hillary with his confession the night before. Since Stone hadn’t been available, the kid had waived his right to have a lawyer and had written down his statement anyway.
But Stone could get that tossed out—if he wanted to. Since Kenneth had let his dad spend months in jail already for his crime, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to represent the kid at all, though.
“Do you need some coffee, Mr. Michaelsen?” she asked. “You probably need some caffeine to wake up after your late night at the bar.”
All he needed was her. The thought stunned him. But it was true. He needed her. He’d never been as happy as he had been these past couple of weeks. While the trial had been nearly debilitating in its intensity, the passion and humor with her had balanced out all that—had made him feel things he’d never felt before.
Love.
Damn it, Bette and Muriel had been right. He was in love with the opposing counsel.
“Are you okay, man?” Kenneth whispered at him.
Stone nodded. “Yes.” He focused on the young man; it was safer than looking at Hillary.
Even with dark circles beneath her blue eyes, she was so damn beautiful. Kenneth’s eyes were red and puffy as if he’d spent the entire night crying.
Hillary obviously hadn’t. But then, like dopey Dwight had said, she wasn’t the girlie kind, so it wasn’t like she’d spent the night eating ice cream and weeping over a lost love. Well, first she would have had to love him to do that. And she wouldn’t have pushed him away like she had if she’d had any deep feelings for him.
He forced himself to turn back toward her and ask, “What are you offering?” He wanted her heart, but he knew she wasn’t going to offer him that. Hell, she wasn’t going to offer him anything.
Only his new client.
“Voluntary manslaughter, first degree, minimum sentence at a minimum-security prison.”
He let a gasp slip out.
“What?” Kenneth asked. “Is that bad?”
Stone shook his head. “It’s fair.” Hell, it was more than fair.
“You’re—you’re not going to negotiate?” Kenneth asked.
He shook his head. “The faster you agree and allocute, the faster your father will get out. And it is a good deal.” He swallowed his pride and admitted, “A very good deal.”
Kenneth nodded and turned back toward her. “Thank you, Ms. Bellows. Thank you!”
She offered him a smile, even though she’d denied Stone one. “We’ll get your father out as soon as we can.”
“Thank you!” Kenneth said again. He looked like an excited puppy about to piss all over himself he was so eager to please her.
Stone knew the feeling. He wanted to please Hillary, too. He wanted to drive her out of her mind with pleasure, like she’d always driven him.
But even more important than that, he just wanted to be with her—to tease her and laugh with her. And hold her...
God, he was the girlie one.
He rose from his chair when Kenneth stood. The judge had agreed to release him on bond as long as he wore a tether. It was strapped to his ankle. The kid glanced down at it. “Can I just leave?” he asked.
“You have to go straight home,” Stone reminded him.
“Can I go see my father first?”
Hillary nodded. “I’ll make a call and let the monitoring company know.”
Kenneth showered his gratitude on her again before leaving her office. She’d already picked up the phone to call the monitoring company when Stone started to head out. She obviously didn’t want to talk to him.
But then she called out, “Wait.”
And he tensed. Was she talking to him, though, or to whomever she’d called?
He turned back.
And she added, “Please.”
He knew how proud she was and how much that must have cost her. Was it possible that she cared about him, too? That she loved him?
* * *
Hillary held her breath, waiting to see if Stone stopped or just walked out the door. He’d been right, and she’d refused to listen. She, who always talked about fairness, had not been fair.
Someone spoke in her ear, and she remembered that she was on the phone. She updated them on Kenneth Mueller’s status, then hung up the phone. And when she did, she found Stone sitting in front of her desk again.
He had stayed.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?” she asked.
“For the offer.”
“It was the right thing to do,” she said. “You might even be able to get the sentence reduced. She was urging him to kill his father.”
Stone flinched. “What a bitch.”
“Yeah.” Sometimes the victim wasn’t always very sympathetic, like the case of the late Mrs. Rapier. Maybe justice wasn’t always as black-and-white as Hillary had thought it was. “I was, too,” she said.
“What?”
“I was a bitch,” she said.
“You were just doing your job,” Stone said.
She smiled. “You’re defending me to me,” she said. “You can’t help yourself, huh?” Maybe it wasn’t just what he did, but who he was.
“But even my partners admitted that Byron looked guilty as hell,” Stone said. “I was the only one convinced he was innocent. And I shouldn’t have gotten mad that you couldn’t see what I saw.”
“You saw the truth,” she said. “In Byron and in me.”
He tensed. “I was wrong to say you only cared about winning.”
She smiled again. “Sometimes I do.” But her smile slid away as she laid her heart bare for him. “But what I was talking about was when you said that I can’t trust anyone to stick around.”
“Oh, Hill...” His handsome face contorted with sympathy. “I was way over the line when I said that. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“You were right,” she said. “I don’t let myself get attached, because I don’t expect anyone to stick around.”
He rose from the chair then. And for a split second panic gripped her heart that he was leaving her—just like everyone else had. But he only came around the desk and pulled her from her chair into his arms.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he told her.
“Why?” she asked. “Why would you—of all people—stick around?”
He skimmed his fingers along her jaw and tipped her face up toward his. “Because I—of all people—love you.”
She gasped. Was she fantasizing like she had so many times before about him? But those had been sexual fantasies, not this. She hadn’t ever dared fantasize about anyone professing his love.
But then, she’d never wanted anyone’s love until now.
“You love me?” she asked, tilting her head to study his face as if he was a witness she was about to cross-examine.
He sighed almost regretfully before admitting, “Yes, I do. I love every damn thing about you.”
“You don’t sound too happy about it,” she mused.
“I might,” he said, “if I thought you loved me back.”
“I do,” she assured him.
He narrowed his eyes and studied her like a witness on the stand. “Even though I’m a sleazy defense attorney?”
“Everyone’s entitled to a fair trial,” she said. “And everyone makes mistakes and might need a little help recovering from them.”
He didn’t say anything, just stared at her as if he was dumbfounded.
“I made a mistake,” she said. “I misjudged you.”
“No, you judged me,” Stone said, “because of what I do.”
“Guess I shouldn’t be a judge.”
“You’ll make an awesome judge,” he said. “Because you’re fair. And you admit when you’re wrong.”
“Will you help me?” she asked.
“Help you?”
“Recover from my mistake,” she said. “Can we recover?”
He leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. “It never takes me long to want you again,” he reminded her, wriggling his eyebrows with his innuendo.
“Do you want me again?” she asked.
“I never didn’t want you,” he said. “And I don’t think I will ever not want you. I love you.”
“I love you.” It felt good to finally let herself say those words to someone. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders and from her heart. It swelled and warmed, overflowing with the love she felt for him.
She wound her arms around his neck and clung to him. He lifted her from her chair onto the surface of her desk. Like the first time, folders fell to the floor. And like before, she didn’t care.
She didn’t even care that not everyone had probably left the office yet. Her blinds were drawn. And...
“Did you lock the door?” she asked him.
He snorted. “Of course. You and I alone in a room together...?”
“You knew what was going to happen?”
“I hoped,” he said. But he drew back and stared down into her face. “But I didn’t know that you could ever get over what I do for a living. And if you don’t respect me...”
“I respect you more than anyone,” she said. “You survived the streets, and instead of being cynical and jaded, you’ve become this superhero who still fights for the common man.”
He snorted again. “Billionaires?”
“The guard’s grandson,” she said. And that morning, she’d pulled some of those juvenile cases where the kids had been sent to Miguel’s after-school program. Stone had represented a lot of those kids. The cases she’d handled hadn’t needed representation because she’d worked out the deal with their public defender. Miguel must have gotten Stone involved when she’d moved up from juvenile cases. “And so many of those kids Miguel helps...”
His face flushed slightly with embarrassment. Then, as she reached for the buttons on his shirt, it turned to passion. They had so much of it between them and for what they did.
“But even as enormously as I respect you,” she said. “I love you more.”
“And I love you...”
He showed her as he pushed her jacket from her shoulders and unbuttoned her blouse. He gasped as he saw that she’d bought more of Bette’s lingerie. This ensemble was red with a bow between the cups of the bra and another at the top of her ass for the panties.
“Figured I had to compete with those lingerie models,” she murmured, and her happiness dimmed as she remembered he’d been at the Meet Market the night before.
“That lingerie model dates Ronan,” he said. “The designer, Simon.”
“But I heard a woman with you last night,” she said, “at the bar.”
“Muriel,” he replied.
And she felt a pang in her heart like someone was stabbing it.
“The lingerie model dating Ronan,” he said. “She was teasing me over getting my heart broken.”
“That wasn’t very nice,” she said. But she felt a smile curve her lips.
He touched his forehead. “And then she got me drunk.”
“Sounds like a good friend,” she mused. She didn’t have ones like that.
“You’ll love her,” he said, “and Bette. She’s great, too. And the guys...”
He hadn’t just opened up his heart to her. He’d opened up his life. He was willing to share with her the people who meant the most to him.
Tears stung her eyes. But she blinked furiously to clear them away.
He’d seen them, though, because he cupped her chin again. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gruff with concern. “What did I do?”
“Everything,” she said. “You’ve done everything right.” And she sought to reward him for that when she reached for his zipper and lowered it. But before she could drop to her knees to take care of him, he pulled her away.
He sheathed himself before pushing up her skirt and easing inside her. “You are perfect,” he said with a groan of pleasure. “So damn perfect.”
“No,” she said as she matched his frantic rhythm. She arched her hips and met his thrusts until they came—together. Then, between pants for breath, she said, “We’re perfect for each other.”
She had never been as challenged or as happy as Stone made her. And she could tell that he felt the same. They would have their arguments, sure. They were both lawyers, after all, and passionate as hell. But because they were passionate as hell, she knew they would always make up like this. And be even closer than they’d been before.
* * * * *
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