* * *
I didn’t dress up in anything special for Andrew’s trial. It was just the standard cloying black wiggle dress with three-quarter sleeves, and a tantalizing little froth of crimson silk at the bust in a sweetheart cut. It made my tits pop like a red-breasted robin’s. I pinned my hair up into the classic top knot bun, speared with black chopsticks, and delicately slid a pair of black cat glasses up my nose. I put on a touch of makeup. The usual: a quick flick with the mascara wand, a dust of foundation and some highlighter cream on my cheeks, and matte crimson lipstick to match the dress. Black pumps.
Totally standard.
As I walked across the courthouse parking lot, I took deep breaths and reminded myself that this was just another quick trial, just another client.
I strode into the courthouse with my pumps echoing behind me and my ass swishing from side to side, and Chet’s attorney spilled his pitcher of water across the plaintiff’s table. Andrew stood up like the national anthem was playing.
He wore a slate gray suit that barely contained his body, and my first non-sexual thought about him was concern that his jacket or his pants might rip if he didn’t move very carefully. He’d shaved, too. I didn’t know he owned a razor.
I placed my folder down on our table and didn’t look directly at him. He was just as likely to sear himself into my eyes as the sun was.
“Michelle,” his voice grated behind me.
An involuntary shudder raced down my spine and I didn’t turn. I kept my head down and kept rifling through our file, just like I had done on the day he walked into my office five or six weeks ago.
I swallowed. “Yes?” I asked in a bright, fake voice. “Everything all right?”
“You shouldn’t be dressed like that today,” he replied.
I twisted to glance at him and saw that the bulge of his cock was clearly outlined in those tight dress pants. A part of me ached to reach out and stroke him right here—he was as big and rigid as ever for me, and in a matter of how many seconds?—but I pressed my lips together and burrowed back into my file.
“Take some deep breaths and think about baseball statistics,” I recommended.
“I hate baseball.”
“Then think about Lola,” I said. I knew it was a low blow and that this wasn’t the place, but the comeback was out of my mouth before I could stop it. When I glanced over my shoulder again, his erection was deflating. “Problem solved.”
I settled into my seat and crossed my legs, waiting patiently for the arrival of the judge to hear our case.
“How have you been?” Andrew wondered, settling next to me.
“Well. And yourself?”
“A mess.”
My eyes met his and held for a few beats. The room shrunk and we were the only people in it now. I could hear my heart in my ears. Those electrifying green-and-gray eyes were so soulfully pained, and I looked away again.
“I’m not going to do this here,” I said in a rushed whisper. I clutched my pen like I was trying to break it.
“Then where can we do it?”
“Michelle, Ace,” Chet’s voice broke into our conversation. “Good to see you two could put all that old bullshit behind you and focus on the trial.”
“You know me,” I agreed sweetly, though I did not look up to meet his gaze. Andrew stewed beside me as if he was telepathically slamming into Chet with a wave of animosity. “How about your team? Are you excited?”
“Ecstatic,” Chet agreed. He swung a hand out to shake mine, and then took Andrew’s. “I haven’t seen you outside too often lately, darling.”
Andrew’s head whipped to glower at Chet, but I ignored him. “It’s July in Texas, Chet,” I explained. “That’s about it.”
“Well, all right, but I’m starting to miss you, that’s all,” Chet said. Andrew’s glower intensified. “Have you been able to find any rhyme or reason to those break-ins yet?”
“Not—”
“Break-ins?” Andrew interrupted, sitting up straighter and joining the conversation. “There have been more?”
“Boy, you’re behind.” Chet grinned with pride and winked down at me, completely ignoring Andrew. “I tell you what, Michelle. If you win, I’m going to do something special for you in congratulations.”
“Before or after your suspension without pay?” Andrew wondered innocently.
“Not too worried about it,” Chet whispered with a wink. “Sheriff Langhorn knows there’s no such thing as unnecessary force with some people. Now, g
ood luck out there,” he said, pointing to me as he trod to his side of the courtroom.
The judge entered from his chambers but Andrew leaned over and hissed to me, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And what would you have done?” I wondered coolly, coming to a stand for the judge. Andrew stood beside me and the trial began. It was an easy case, considering the evidence we had at our disposal.
At one point, the judge asked me to define to him who Lola was. “The woman mentioned in the footage,” he noted. “Who is she?”
“Mr. Bogart’s significant other,” I explained smoothly. No one could have guessed that there was a little throb beneath my sweetheart neckline.
“Excuse me, your honor, but that’s incorrect,” Andrew said, standing. “Lola Haynes is my ex of five years, and no one of consequence in the discussion.”
“Mm,” the judge grumbled. “Your legal aid needs to get her facts straight, then.”
“I wish she would,” Andrew agreed. I scowled at him.
The judge decried that Andrew was not guilty, and he opted out of countersuit. It should have been a giddy moment, filled with victory and pride, but it wasn’t. It was just another victory for another client, like the others. I’d still go home to the same old house and follow my evening routine.
“They used to call me Honest Chet when I was a kid, but I guess it only applies to women,” Chet whispered, unsheathing a gleaming string of white pearls from a velvet slip. “Surprise.”
“Chet!” I gasped. As a child, I had been even more girly than I was now, and I loved pearls most of all. Maybe I’d been right when I said that he knew me. Maybe he did. “How did you know that I was going to win?”
“He didn’t,” Andrew seethed. “The pearls were yours either way.”
“I knew you were going to win,” Chet insisted, looping the cool necklace around my throat and fastening the little hook. “Because you’re brilliant, darling. Pearls to match.”
My eyes flashed to Andrew and I watched him seethe as Chet stepped away and marveled at the necklace dangling just above my breasts.
“Marvelous,” he purred. “You’re the most beautiful girl in Pelham, Michelle Harper.”
“You’re too kind,” I told Chet.
“How would you feel about celebrating your victory over me tonight?” he wondered. “The first of many, I’m sure.”
The mood dampened a little as I realized that the only honest answer I could give was no. I lightly unhooked the pearl necklace and let it dangle in the air, returning to him.
“I think this might be a conflict of interest,” I said, proud of myself for slipping the noose so gracefully. The pearls tinkled into a puddle in his palm. “Thank you, though.”
Chet accepted my rejection with a fallen face and left Andrew and I to gather our things. Andrew held every door for me as we exited the courthouse, spilling into bright afternoon sunlight and an elegant courtyard.
“How’s your car doing?” Andrew wondered.
My engine overheated last week and I still hadn’t taken it to anybody. I was determined not to crawl to Andrew for help. I’d taken an Uber to the courthouse and I was going to get around to fixing everything... eventually.
“It’s fine,” I answered. If he wanted to walk me all the way to my supposed car, I’d tell him I was trying to conserve my carbon footprint. “I don’t need you to drive me anywhere, Andrew, but thanks.”
He stopped and I glanced back at him, then turned and slowly sauntered closer. “What?”
“It’s just been a long time since I’ve heard you say my name.”
I smiled softly—saddened, in spite of everything—and said, “Then let me give you a few to hold you over.” I placed my hand gently against his chest and I could feel his heartbeat surging on the other side of his shirt. How incredible. I placed my lips close to his ear and breathed, “Andrew... Andrew... Andrew.”
I knew how sexy it sounded and I did it anyway. I felt reckless, standing this close to him, wearing my pumps and my little wiggle dress, him in that suit.
Andrew gripped my wrist hard in his hand and I gave a little gasp. “Get in my car,” he commanded.
“Um,” I said. “Okay.” My Uber driver would be able to survive being stood up this once.
I had to have known what was going to happen next, but I couldn’t say no. It was just like before when Chet told me all about Lola and Andrew and I fucked anyway, against my bookcase and on the floor of my office. I trembled a little as we drove back to Withers Community. I was like an addict who had broken the habit, and then, suddenly, found herself face-to-face with a little dust of her favorite drug. Would she be able to stop? Would she be able to say no?