After an hour of queries into Dikko Travathian and coming up with zero links to Byron and President Murphy, Jackie looked like she was about to fall flat on her face. Mitch Monroe had arrived and introductions had been made. The flippant former agent, who Beck didn’t particularly like, wore a solid black T-shirt with a saying on it that seemed slightly inappropriate, given the subject matter… Never mistake my silence for weakness. No one plans a murder out loud. He paced the floor like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

Makes two of us.

Teeg was packing up to head out, needing whatever high-tech equipment he had at Grey’s to dig for Travathian on the deep web. Beck gave Grey a hand signal indicating it was time for them to wrap things up as well, and Grey nodded, his gaze bouncing over to Jackie who had her head in her hands. The whole time, Beck had itched to pull her close and massage her temples and shoulders, but he’d kept his hands to himself.

As soon as Grey and Teeg bailed, though, all bets were off.

“There’s nothing else we can do tonight,” Grey said, standing and following Teeg to the front door. “Teeg will keep digging, and you two get some rest. I’ll be in touch as soon as we have something. Meanwhile, we still have a couple of unknown subjects floating around, any of which could be the killer, so watch your backsides.”

Goodbyes were said and Beck showed them out, Mitch heading around the house to do a perimeter check.

As soon as Beck turned back to Jackie, he saw she was watching him with those luscious dark eyes of hers. Studying, evaluating. Between the two of them, they spent half their time together trying to read each other.

“What?” he asked, setting the alarm.

“You didn’t have to chase them off. I’m fine.”

Right. She was dead on her feet. “You don’t have to be so tough all the time, Jackie. Besides, like Grey said, there was nothing else they could do here tonight. How’s the head?”

“Not bad, but my neck is stiff. Guess when the guy slammed me into the wall, it did more than give me a bump on the head.”

“You need some sleep.”

“I’m too jittery. This whole thing has me off my game.”

“I have just the cure.”

One brow arched and she grinned. “I bet you do.”

Typical Jackie, using a joke to defuse the suddenly more intimate situation.

She shifted slightly and the grin was replaced by a grimace. “Guess not. Okay then. As long as it’s not illegal drugs, I guess I’m game.”

The breath in his lungs froze. “You think I do drugs?”

Her hands rose in a defensive gesture. “I was joking, Beck. You’re too much of a health nut to mess with that stuff.”

His chest unclenched and he turned away. “Sorry. Touchy subject.”

“Oh?”

He went to the gas fireplace and flipped the switch. No way was he getting into the story of his childhood. Soft flames materialized and gave the room an instant warmth. He killed the overhead lights and switched on his salt lamp and the LED water fountain in the corner. Next came the music; he selected his favorite track featuring Tibetan singing bowls, and adjusted the volume through his sound system. “I’ll be right back.”

Although she didn’t appear to have a concussion, he wasn’t taking any chances by giving her alcohol. Digging through his pantry, he pulled out the ingredients to make homemade hot chocolate.

While the almond milk warmed and the organic chocolate melted in a pan, he found his rolled up Thai mat in the hall closet and his favorite massage oil under the bathroom sink. He took both into the living room.

“What’s that?” Jackie asked.

Shoving the coffee table out of the way, he set the oil on it and unrolled the padded mat. A couple pillows from the sofa joined the mat. Jackie was in yoga pants and a loose t-shirt, which would work just fine for what he had in mind. “You’ll see.”

The cocoa was ready when he got back to the kitchen and he doled out two cups’ worth, bringing them back to the living room and handing one to her.

She peered at it, wary. “Smells good. What is it?”

“You’ve never had hot cocoa before?”

“Of course, but knowing you, this doesn’t have a drop of Frangelico, Kahlua, or Bailey’s.”

“No alcohol for you for twenty-four hours until we’re sure you don’t have a concussion.” He held the cup closer to her nose. “Try a sip. You don’t need liquor to make it delicious.”

“How will chocolate help? It has caffeine in it.”

He sipped his and it was damn good. “I only used a small amount of my organic estate dark chocolate for richness, and I mixed in white chocolate to round out the flavor. White chocolate, which isn’t technically chocolate, has no caffeine. The sensuousness of the warm milk and the chocolate blend is guaranteed to calm your jitters.”

“Who are you, Martha Stewart?” Hesitantly, she took the cup and sipped. Took a second taste. Then a third. Her lids fluttered closed and she sighed. “Holy cow.”

“Good?”

“Mmm. So good.” She licked her lips and mini-Beck swelled.

He could literally see the tightness in her upper body fade. The creases around her mouth relaxed.

And he was only getting started.

She tilted her head back against the couch and peered at him through slitted eyes. “You made this, then? From scratch?”

“I’m a man of many talents.”

“So I’m learning.”

There it was again—that flash of heat they’d shared on the stairs. The sizzle and pop that had caught them in its clutches back in college and then again at her office earlier. All she ever had to do was look at him as she was now, and he wanted to get down on his knees and show her all the ways he could make her come.

All he had to do back then was touch her—that favorite spot he discovered on the back of her neck, right under her hairline—and she would melt.

Looked like some of that sexual chemistry was still there. Hell it all was.

They continued to play with their drinks, neither wanting to stop what might be happening, yet both knowing that acting on sexual attraction was a very bad decision. Client-attorney hanky-panky was a no-no in everyone’s book.

Beck had made it his life's mission to kick bad decisions to the curb the moment they showed up. He’d seen all the bad choices his parents, siblings, and the dozens of perps he’d arrested over the years had made, and no sir. That was not for him. He liked life simple and straightforward.

But right now, he was facing prison if the woman in front of him—looking like she was ready to dribble her cocoa all over him and lick him clean—didn’t clear his name of murder.

Sometimes, it didn’t pay to be the good guy.

She drank the rest of her cocoa and set the cup on the table, stood, and put her hands on her hips. Her toe kicked at the mat. “Whatever you’re planning, let’s get on with it.”

He smiled to himself, mentally reviewing all the things he wanted to do that would make her toes curl. Setting his cup aside, he grabbed the massage oil.

Good decisions only, he reminded himself. Wise choices.

Yeah, right. Nothing about bringing Jackie here, where she was so close and a little bit vulnerable, was smart on his part, yet how could he not? She needed someone to take care of her.

She’d been through a lot since she’d taken on his case and banging her senseless wasn’t the polite thing to do since she was about to save his ass from prison. Didn’t stop him from wanting to though. “A little massage, a little Reiki,” he assured her—or maybe himself. He couldn’t quite tell. “You’re going to love it.”

“Whatever.” She flapped a hand in the air. “I trust you.”

“Since when?” he teased, genuinely surprised.

She cocked a thumb over her shoulder at the table. “Since the cocoa. It’s a miracle drug. I feel better than I have in days.”

“Wait ‘til you see what I can do with my hands.”

Her gaze snapped to his. “I remember all too well what you can do with them.”

He knelt on the edge of the mat and rearranged the pillows. Patted the soft cotton. “Lie down and close your eyes.”

Sighing, she acquiesced.

Boy, oh boy, that sigh. Beck wanted to hear that again.

Once he had her comfortable, he started at her feet. Rubbing oil into the palms of his hands, he took a couple deep breaths to center himself and keep from exploding just from the sight of Jackie at his mercy. Her dark hair was spread out over the pillow, the yoga pants outlining her sexy legs, and the loose T-shirt did nothing to hide her big, beautiful breasts.

Taking her feet in his hands, he pressed the tips of his thumbs gently into her arches and made the Cho Ku Rei sign in his mind. When he felt the muscles there release, he let go and shook out her legs. Her lower body loosened and he worked his palms up her shins and down her calves, kneading the tight muscles into submission.

“Oh my God,” she murmured. He started on the front of her hips, pressing on the hip bones. “My legs feel so much lighter.”

Her femoral pulses were strong and equal. He hovered over her, keeping the pressure light but firm. “Your qi was blocked above the knees on both sides. Probably due to those horrendous shoes you wear. We’re getting the energy flowing again along your meridians. Once I clear your aura, I’ll balance your chakras.”

One eye peeled open slowly. “Once again, I have no idea what you’re saying, but if it feels this good, I don’t care. What is that root chakra thingie you were talking about earlier?”

He eased off her hips and sat back on his heels. The position was entirely sexual when he had Jackie underneath him, and mini-Beck sprang to life once more.

“You have seven in-body chakras, going from the base of the spine up to the top of your head.” Lightly, he tapped her pelvic area. “The root chakra is your base, your foundation, and it governs survival, so when someone threatens your life, violates your home, or steals your possessions, it can knock the energy off balance there, like an earthquake weakens an entire structure.”

“Sounds like a bunch of woo-woo stuff.”

Americans usually didn’t trust anything outside of traditional Western medicine. While that had its place, Beck believed Eastern medicines had a lot of proven benefits too. “You took a double whammy when that guy attacked you — he broke into your home, stole your notes, and banged you into the wall, causing a bump to your head and physical pain.” He touched the swollen lump near her temple. “This area is governed by your third eye chakra. Your physical eyes had trouble focusing earlier, right? You felt dizzy? Well, the third eye chakra, located inside the center of your head, was knocked out of balance as well. A little massage, some Reiki, and a good night’s sleep, and we’ll have your energy stabilized and you’ll feel like kicking ass again.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Hovering over her, he stared for a moment at her lips, considered tasting them. I bet they taste like chocolate.

As if she read his mind, she lifted a hand and slid her fingers up his arm and over his shoulder. Her nails tickled along his jawline. “Thank you for taking my mind off...you know.”

The intruder. Yeah, he knew. “It’s really too bad you have ethics because I’d love to kiss the shit out of you right now.”

She chuckled, her gaze going to his lips. “Ditto.”

Leaning down, he dropped a kiss on her jaw, brushed another across her cheek. “You make me crazy, DelRay.”

“My plan all along.” She didn’t push him away, didn’t balk about him being her client or ethics. Her fingers wound in his hair and kept him from pulling away. Her voice was soft, provocative. The woman could make a million dollars running an 800-sexy-voice hotline. “I still think about that night. In Ft. Lauderdale – ”

He didn’t let her finish, giving in for one sweet, heavenly moment as he took her mouth with his. Her already parted lips gave him full access and his tongue dove in.

Yep, chocolate.

And Jackie. That sexy, mystical taste that drove him flippin’ nuts every time.

She tugged at him, but he kept his body suspended over hers, not giving in all the way, because there was definitely no turning back then.

Damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t, but one thing was for sure, he wasn’t about to seduce her and have her regret it in the morning.

After he’d kissed her senseless, he broke away and moved off her. Which was the stupidest thing he’d ever done, but also the smartest. Shifting to the side, he scrubbed his face and listened to her complain.

“Right,” she said. “We should stop.”

“Massage. Let’s stick with that.”

When she started to rise, he gently kept her prone and shushed her further grievances. They didn’t last long, her common sense kicking in.

“How’d you get the scar on your chin?” he asked her.

“Ha! Not my most shining moment. I was twelve and challenged my brother to a bike race. I was sure I could beat him.”

“What happened?”

“We were in full speed and I didn’t see the chunk of broken road. My front tire hit it and down I went.” She touched the scar. “Six stitches and I lost the damned race. Cal never lets me forget that.”

After a minute, she relaxed, closing her eyes. He worked on her arms, then her shoulders and neck. She oohed and ahhed and he moved to kneel at the top of her head, laying his hands at her temples, then hovering over her forehead and eyes while he channeled energy.

“Do I want to know how you learned all this about chakras and qi?” Jackie asked. “Are your parents hippies or Buddhists or something?”

Not quite. “I had a couple of injuries in college. Banged me up good and I ended up needing several surgeries. When the physical therapy and pain killers weren’t enough, I looked for some alternatives—non-drug alternatives. Holistic medicine saved my bacon. A few years ago, I took training to deepen my understanding of how energy healing works.”

“I figured it was just so you could pick up women, ’cuz let me tell you, this is some trick.”

“That, too.” He chuckled. Her eyes were closed but she was smiling, and he could just enjoy her beauty for once without it feeling like a sparring match. He was definitely going to need a cold shower after this. “Guess you know my secrets now.”

“Not all of them, but I will eventually.” Her eyes opened and she stared up at him. One of her hands grabbed his and tugged it downward. “I think my root chakra needs more work.”

“Damn it, Jackie. You get me started again and I won’t be able to stop this time.”

Their eyes met and he could see the war going on behind hers. She wanted him, she didn’t want him. Another reason she made him nuts.

He tried to pull his hand away but she didn’t let go. “You will regret this come morning.”

He had to shift quickly as she dragged his hand to her hip, then lower. “I know. It just feels...good.”

Yeah, it did.

Like he’d told her at the office, he was only a man. He didn’t pull away and instead, slid his hand between her legs.

He kneaded the sensitive spot there and she moaned, arching under his hand. “You sure about this?” he asked. “Cause I mean it when I say that once I get started, your root chakra may never be the same.”

“God, I hope so.”

He kissed her, she kissed him back, and yep, all bets were off.

“Are you two fucking nuts?”

Beck and Jackie jumped apart, Beck instantly coming to his feet in a defensive posture, ready to take on the intruder.

But it wasn’t any old intruder.

Although Beck wasn’t entirely sure he still wasn’t going to kill the man.

Mitch Monroe stood near the kitchen, leaning against the doorjamb and eating a half-peeled banana. “What is all this, Pearson? You seducing your lawyer?”

Beck straightened, crossed the space to Mitch, and got in his face. “What the hell are you doing in here? You’re supposed to be standing guard outside.”

“I had to take a leak, and I was hungry.”

“How did you get past the security system?”

“Obviously, Grey forgot to inform you I have mad skills.” Mitch glanced around Beck at Jackie, then dragged him deeper into the kitchen and started opening and closing cabinets until he found the mugs. He snagged one and poured the last of the cocoa on the stove into it. “I’m disappointed you didn’t offer me some hot chocolate.”

From the corner of his eye, Beck saw Jackie climbing the stairs to the second floor. Damn it. “In case it didn’t dawn on you, Mitch, you’re interrupting something here.”

Mitch lowered his voice and shot a glance toward the stairs where Jackie had disappeared. “Good thing I did too. What’s the matter with you, trying to boff your lawyer? Don’t you know better? If the press gets wind you two are screwing, it could ruin her, not to mention any sympathy you might get from a jury if this thing goes to trial, because believe me, everyone will know about it. Sexual misconduct with a client will land her ass in front of the state ethics committee before you can say, ‘root chakra’.”

How long had he been standing there? Beck leaned against the counter and rubbed his head. Fuck. “I’m so screwed.”

Mitch raised the mug and walked past him on his way to the back door. “Welcome to the club. Now go numb your nuts in a cold shower and keep your hands off the woman who’s going to keep you out of prison, you idjit.”

The back door slammed and Beck made a mental note to change his security code first thing in the morning.

---

Driving rain pelted the roof as Jackie made her way into the kitchen where the glorious aroma of cooking meat poked her senses awake. Barely seven-thirty and Beck was organized enough to start breakfast.

Of course the man could cook. This was Beck with the magic hands.

She stepped into the kitchen, found him standing at the stove, freshly showered and wearing jeans and a polo shirt that fit his body in all the ways they should. Which meant perfection. Something the female part of her couldn’t deny.

The other, the smart part, nagged about Jackie being his lawyer. One who’d been bad last night. Really bad.

Thankfully, Mitch Monroe had broken up the massage before Jackie had completely lost her mind and let lust rule the evening.

It would have been easy to just let go. To experience Beck again and maybe recapture some of the intense connection they’d shared twelve years earlier. So much had happened since then and they weren’t horny college students anymore.

Different time. Different place. And now they had to face each other after they’d almost bumped privates the night before. How to handle it, she hadn’t decided. Pretending it never happened could be an option.

So not her style, but her priority needed to be winning Beck’s case. If she did that, he’d be free. And maybe, just maybe, after that they’d…

No. She wouldn’t go there. Thinking about a future with Beck meant distractions and she owed him being at the top of her game.

One step at a time.

She’d have to remember that.

“Good morning.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. “Smells great in here.”

Beck swiveled away from the stove, pausing for a few seconds as he took in her body language. “Morning.” He waved the spatula in his hand. “I…uh…figured you could use a good meal.”

Only five feet separated them, but a weird tension crowded the small space. Beck’s kitchen wasn’t big enough for them and all their baggage. No kitchen would be.

What am I doing? Smart Jackie again.

Lonely Jackie blew out a breath.

“Sounds good,” she said. “Can I help?”

His gaze moved down her body, over her blouse and slacks that comprised her work uniform. The only thing missing was her blazer. She’d draped that over the back of the couch after coming downstairs.

Beck gestured with the spatula. “You can do toast. Bread is in the drawer.”

Thankful for something to do, she went to work at the toaster.

“Jackie, we should—”

Refusing to face him, she held up her hand. “I know. Just…not yet. Please. We’ll talk about it later.”

Someone tapped lightly on the back door and Jackie said a silent thank you for the timely interruption. Beck peered out the window over the sink.

“Great,” he said.

“Who is it?”

“Monroe.” He moved to the door, popped the lock and went back to the stove.

Monroe pushed through, bringing that crazy zinging energy with him. She’d only met the man once, but he tended to electrify a room, and not necessarily in a good way.

“Hi, Mitch,” she said. “You’re still here.”

“Yeah.” He pointed at Beck. “You got problems.”

He’d just figured that out?

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Mitch waggled his thumb. “I am. Company out front. Reporters. A lot of ‘em.”

“Shit.”

Dammit. She’d anticipated press inquiries via the phone, but a camp-out? So soon? She punched the cancel button on the toaster and headed for the front window. The blinds were still closed and rather than alert them of her presence—how the hell would she explain that when they hadn’t seen her walk in?—she peeped through them.

News vans lined both sides of the street while vehicles dodged reporters sheltered under umbrellas and cameramen jockeying for any opening that would best their competitor. Bodies and various equipment crammed the sidewalk from two doors down in either direction. Someone was interviewing a woman on a porch across the street.

Jackie let go of the blind, turned back and found Beck in the kitchen doorway.

“How bad is it?”

“I’ve seen worse.”

Then again, her perspective, given the sensational case she’d just won, might be skewed.

Beck huffed. “That bad, huh? Maybe we can sneak out the back? Have someone pick us up on the next block.”

Not a chance. “We’re not running. It sends the wrong message. I’d rather face it and maybe get ahead of the prosecution.” She pointed to the door and met his eye. “We’re going to walk out there and I’ll do the talking. Got it?”

Even if he didn’t understand it, too bad. At this point, nothing good could come of him making a statement. Something she hoped, given his law enforcement experience, he’d accept.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

Excellent. A smart man. But she’d known that about him from the first night she’d met him. It was, in fact, one of the traits that drew her to him. Her ultimate downfall when it came to Beck.

Back in the kitchen Mitch had helped himself to bacon and the toast she’d walked away from. “Mitch,” she said, “can you help us? When we open the front door, they’ll swarm. You can go out first and create a path for us to get to the car.”

Mitch shrugged. “Sure. I’m good at being the muscle.” He turned to Beck, offered a sarcastic grin. “Anything for you, buddy.”

“Fuck off, Monroe. But, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. This bacon is good. Maple?”

Beck sighed.

“Save the bacon,” Jackie said. “I want to get outside and deal with these reporters. Get our message out there before the other side does. Let me get myself together and we’ll do this.”

She left the kitchen and grabbed her blazer from the sofa on her way to the powder room where she’d check her hair and lipstick. More than that, she needed a few minutes of quiet to get her thoughts in order.

These moments didn’t happen often. The ones where a slight slip of the tongue could send a case shooting off in another direction. Or get her client a life sentence.

Focus.

“Stick to what you know,” she whispered to her reflection. “You’ve got this.”

She slid her shoulders back, Marianna DelRay style, and drew air through her nose. Taking a second to center herself, she visualized the front door opening, the rush of reporters, the bursting lights, all of it enough to trigger her nerves if she hadn’t been here before.

Shark Jackie.

“I’ve got this.”

After one last tug on her blazer sleeves, she turned, threw the door open and marched into the living room where Monroe and Beck waited. Beck held her briefcase in one hand and an umbrella in the other. He handed over her briefcase while Monroe moved to the door.

One hand on the knob, he paused and looked back. “You both ready?”

Beck nodded.

“Let’s go,” Jackie said.

Monroe swung the door open and a commotion erupted from outside. Shouting voices, the slap of feet on wet pavement, someone swearing, all of it creating chaos. Beck quickly popped the umbrella up and Jackie held it while he locked the door. Monroe led the charge, hustling to Beck’s car sitting in the driveway.

“Mr. Pearson,” Connie Butler from the NBC affiliate yelled, “what do you have to say about the blood found on your coat sleeve?”

Crap. The blood evidence. Damned cops already starting with leaks to the press.

Might as well deal with that bit of nastiness straight away.

Jackie halted in the middle of the front walk, apparently surprising Beck who kept moving. Fat, pounding drops of rain pelted her—there went her carefully primped hair—for a few seconds before Beck realized he’d left her behind. He retreated, once again sheltering her from the deluge. Still, her hair, the armor she’d sprayed in place, was trashed. Forget it. She’d do this looking ratty. The message would still be clear.

“Ms. Delray,” someone said, “have you been here all night?”

You’ve got this.

Shark Jackie faced one of the cameras, her practiced sly grin in place. “You folks aren’t nearly as inconspicuous as you’d like to think. I spotted you on my way over and slipped through the back door. And, Connie, to answer your question, Mr. Pearson has nothing to hide. The blood on his sleeve included. It’s public knowledge Mr. Pearson spent time with the victim the night she died due to a charity event. She cut her hand on broken glass and Mr. Pearson rendered basic first aid to stop the bleeding. That’s how the blood got there. Think about it. If Mr. Pearson committed this crime, he’d have blood all over that jacket. Not just a few drops on the sleeve. If the prosecution intends on trying my client for murder, they’d better present more than easily explainable evidence.”

Another round of shouts sounded, an absolute bombing of questions mixing with the slap of pounding rain, but Jackie was done. She’d given them their sound bite, managing to call out the opposition for leaking evidence. When she went to court, she’d rail about it, maybe get them a scolding from the judge to start things off right.

One thing was for sure. Based on the number of people currently on Beck’s front lawn, they had a heater of a case. Normally Jackie’s dream come true.

Not this time. This time, all eyes were on them. On her. Which meant being a whole lot more careful when it came to the personal nature of her relationship with the accused.