Jayne sat in the corner of a coffee shop, waiting for Detective Chief Superintendent Mike Wilson. She twiddled with her necklace and glanced at her watch. Mike was late. It wasn’t unusual, but that day his tardiness irritated her. And she knew exactly why.

Jayne didn’t get involved with clients. She kept a professional distance, courteous but businesslike. The minute she asked Mike for a favour in relation to Rupe’s case, he’d see right through her, and then the questions would start—questions that Jayne didn’t have an answer to.

Rupert Fox-Whittingham had done the impossible: he’d snuck beneath Jayne’s carefully constructed outer shell. And the worst thing was that he hadn’t even had to try very hard. So much for her swearing off men—except she and Rupe were a nonstarter. Relationships between clients and their lawyers weren’t forbidden, but they weren’t seen as entirely ethical either.

Despite all that, there was something about him, something special and unique that called to a part of Jayne she had buried deep inside. But she couldn’t allow him to plough those depths. Rupe was a danger to every promise she’d made to herself. She’d given her heart and soul away to someone who should have cherished her. Instead, Kyle had taken that gift and destroyed it.

And in the process, her self-esteem and self-worth had taken a hell of a battering.

“Jayne, hi.” Mike waved from the doorway of the coffee shop and indicated he was going to get a drink. A few minutes later, he made his way over to her, balancing a latte on a saucer while trying to negotiate the tightly packed-in tables.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he placed the drink on the table and managed to spill a good portion of the contents. “Dammit.” He looked around and spotted the condiment station. He returned with a wad of napkins and mopped up the spillage.

“Sorry,” he said again. “Awful morning. Jenna was sick all over me, so I had to get changed. Babies.” He rolled his eyes.

Jayne laughed. “How old is she now? Eight, nine months?”

“Eleven months. Can’t believe it’s gone so quickly.”

“Wow, eleven. Time flies.”

Mike nodded. “It’s been a hell of a ride. You should try it.” And then he clapped a hand over his mouth. “Shit. Sorry, Jayne. I’m such a dick. My mind is all over the place.”

“It’s fine. Old news now.”

“Hardly. Nine months is no time at all. How’s the divorce going, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Jayne grimaced. “It’s proving a little tricky.”

“Kyle being a knob?”

Jayne laughed. “You could say that.”

“Never liked him much,” Mike said. “Shifty eyes.”

Jayne laughed again, despite being surprised. In all the time she’d known Mike, he’d never once mentioned disliking her husband. “You’ve been a copper too long, Mike.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He swept a hand over his tired face. “Only a mere ten years to go until I can draw my pension.”

“Counting down already? That’s not good.”

“Don’t get me wrong—I love my job, but now we’ve got Jenna.” He shrugged. “Kind of reorganises your priorities.”

“I’m sure it does,” Jayne murmured as a wave of regret washed over her. Although she’d never thought about kids—too busy building a career—the fact that she might never have them caused an agonising surge to swell within her. She’d once read some psychobabble about not wanting something until the choice was taken away from you—and then the thing you thought you didn’t want became the one most prevalent in your mind.

Mike must have noticed her sad face because he closed a hand over hers. “You’ll meet someone else, Jayne. Kyle wasn’t the one for you, but the right man is out there somewhere.”

Jayne slowly removed her hand from beneath Mike’s—although not so fast as to cause offence. His wry smile didn’t escape her notice.

“I didn’t mean me. Ten years is a long time, Jayne. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m happily married now.”

A flush swept up Jayne’s neck and crept over her cheeks. “I know. I’m sorry, Mike. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He leaned back in his chair, the movement clearly meant to give her space. “So what can I do for you?”

Jayne removed a file from her bag. She didn’t need the reminder. The contents were firmly fixed in her mind, but referring to the file would show a modicum of professionalism, which might be her saving grace and a way to avoid a grilling.

She opened the file. “I’ve got a client who’s up on a murder charge. Woman in her twenties died of a heroin overdose. My client was the last to see her alive, so naturally, he’s the number-one suspect.”

“What are you doing covering a criminal case?”

Jayne grimaced. “It’s a long story. I did Darren a favour, and now the client doesn’t want to switch lawyers. I am capable of providing good counsel.”

“I know you are. You’re more than capable of turning your hand to anything you choose.”

“Thanks,” she said with a small smile. “Although I’d appreciate your support on this one. The police reckon they’ve got a witness who swears he sold my client a half kilo of heroin the night before the woman died.”

Mike tapped his fingers against his mouth. “Sounds flaky to me.” He held his hand out for the file. Jayne pushed it across the table to him, and Mike began to read—his finger tracing each sentence as he carefully absorbed each word. When he’d finished, he handed the file back to her. “I’m not surprised the judge gave him bail. It’s all very circumstantial. I’m intrigued as to why the CPS agreed to take it to court.”

“That’s what I thought, except the detective in charge seems determined to push it.”

“Who’s the senior investigative officer?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ve been dealing with a Detective Fisher. He’s the one who performed the initial questioning and subsequently charged my client.”

“Fisher.” Mike scratched his cheek. “He’s not one of mine.”

“No. The case is being dealt with by Kennington nick. The death occurred on their patch. But I’m hoping you can help me out regardless. I’m after whatever information you can find on the husband.”

Mike nodded. “They aren’t showing an interest in him?”

“So far, no. They’ve questioned him, but he has an alibi—whereas my client was in bed with the deceased when she passed. I’m convinced he didn’t do it, and I will not let an innocent man be dragged through the courts because some overzealous detective wants to peddle a grudge against rich people.”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “Something you want to tell me, Jayne?”

Jayne kept her expression nonchalant. “What do you mean?”

Mike’s fingers drummed on the table, his gaze firmly fixed on hers. “How long have we known each other?”

She frowned. “Twelve years.”

“Correct. And in all that time, I’ve never known you get so passionate, so defensive, over a case.”

“He’s innocent.”

“He may well be.” Mike’s gaze skimmed over her face. “Don’t get involved, Jayne.”

Jayne picked up the file and slotted it into her bag. She got to her feet. “Thanks for coming, Mike. I know how busy you are.”

“Jayne.” He wrapped a hand around her wrist as she drew level with him. “Be careful.”

Jayne stiffened her spine. “Anything you can find out to help me on this case will be gratefully received, Mike. Poking your nose into my personal life will not be.”

She tugged her wrist from his grip and swept past him into the street. As luck would have it, a cab was passing, and Jayne flagged it down. As it drove away, she spotted Mike standing outside the coffee shop, wearing a puzzled look. She groaned. She knew Mike too well. That wouldn’t be the end of his prying, despite her sharp reprimand.