Burn for Me

by Lea Coll

  Copyright © 2019 by Lea Meyer

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  ALSO BY LEA COLL

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  ALSO BY LEA COLL

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  EXCERPT TRUST IN ME

  All I Want Series

  Choose Me

  Be with Me

  Burn for Me

  Trust in Me

  Stay with Me

  Take a Chance on Me

  Annapolis Harbor Series

  Only with You

  Boudreaux Universe Novel

  Easy Moves

  Download a free novella, Swept Away, when you sign up for her newsletter.

  To learn more about her books, please visit her website.

  To my kids. While I’m writing, my youngest sits next to me with his toy laptop asking me if I have the same buttons on my computer. My middle child asks me to separate legos and my oldest wants to know if I finished the book yet.

  And in memory of my sister-in-law, Amy, who would have been my biggest supporter in this endeavor. We miss you every day.

  MOST WOMEN ARE DRAWN TO charming men. But the sweeter the words, the deeper the dimples, the less I trusted them.

  And Logan Gray had charm in spades.

  As a public defender, I liked to arrive at court early so I could speak to the state’s attorney before anyone else arrived. This morning, Logan was the state’s attorney and we were alone. I took in his perfectly pressed navy suit and his sparkling blue eyes. His long hair was perfectly styled back from his face and my fingers itched to run through the strands to feel how soft it was. My eyes dropped to his lips, which tipped into a smile.

  “Morning, gorgeous,” Logan said. I ignored the fluttery feeling that shot through my body and lowered the stack of files I carried so I could read the note I’d attached to the top with the list of clients, charges, and criminal records—everything I’d need to hash out plea offers with Logan. It was the state’s attorney who made recommendations for sentencing to the judge. We argued the reasonableness of those offers before court, and then I discussed them with my clients so they could decide whether to accept the plea offer or try their case. I could advise my clients, but the decision was solely theirs.

  “Morning,” I said a little sharper than I intended.

  “What do you have for me this morning?”

  We quickly ran through cases, discussing plea offers without any issues. It wasn’t uncommon for us to argue about a case while attorneys lined up behind me.

  When we came to the last name on my list, I finally lowered my files to my side, Logan’s head bent over his file as he said, “He’s charged with escape. You know my hands are tied.”

  I nodded. I hated to admit when Logan was right, but he was. There wasn’t much I could do for clients who attempted to escape from jail. Judges took a hard line. “What are you asking for?”

  “Five years. Judges like to set an example.”

  Luke Hudson, newly sworn in as sheriff and also my friend Emma’s boyfriend, braced his hands on the railing behind Logan. “You two getting along this morning?”

  I laughed. “It’s early, Luke. Give us time.” I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed sparring with Logan, and I knew it was a source of amusement for our tight-knit group of friends. Logan tested my trial skills, my legal knowledge, and every encounter left me wound up—in more ways than one.

  “You have a case with me this morning?” Logan asked Luke.

  “Just observing my officers testify in court. The benefits of being sheriff,” Luke said.

  Logan gestured at me. “The idea is that Ms. Defense Attorney accepts my plea offers and no one needs to testify.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “My job is to keep them out of jail, Logan, not cave at the first offer.” I never showed my cards with Logan, even if his offers were fair and reasonable, which they usually were. I enjoyed the challenge he presented because there was no underhandedness or shading the truth like I’d experienced with other attorneys, even though we were on opposite sides of the courtroom each day. He was fair and honest and won his cases with good law and ethical trial tactics. So when I won, it made it that much sweeter.

  When I’d finished advising my clients, I returned to find court had begun. Logan was the sole state’s attorney in the courtroom, so he would be occupied for the rest of the morning, calling the cases, placing plea deals on the record, and trying any cases that couldn’t be settled. I sat in the first row, normally reserved for officers and attorneys, to wait for a chance to pass him a note with my clients’ answers to the plea offers.

  While my friend and fellow public defender Emma advised her client of his rights at the end of the plea deal, Logan turned to me and held out his hand for my note. Reading it quickly, he scribbled something on the back of it. When I went to take it from his offered hand, he held onto it until my eyes met his. Smiling, he whispered, “Glad you came to your senses.”

&n
bsp; I huffed, ready to offer a comeback when the judge interrupted, “Mr. Gray, are you going to call your next case?”

  I took the note, turning it over to read: “Good luck today. You’ll need it.” It irritated me that he insinuated I needed luck, but he loved to get under my skin.

  We both had interviews this afternoon at Gunner, Thompson & Anderson. I’d worked at the public defender’s office for three years and it was time to move on. I was grateful for the trial experience, but I didn’t want to get stuck practicing criminal law. Private practice would expose me to civil law and the significant increase in salary wouldn’t hurt. I wanted to pay off my student loans sooner rather than later.

  I was irritated that Logan was vying for the same job. He didn’t need this job. He could work for his dad’s firm.

  Logan called my first case and we efficiently ran through each case, placing the plea agreement on the record, arguing over sentencing, and advising my client of his post-trial rights. As much as we argued outside of court, we saved personal barbs for our passed notes and the hallway.

  When we’d finished with my last case, I asked the judge to be dismissed and turned on my heel to leave, only making it a few feet before Logan stopped me short with a hand at my elbow. My breath caught as I felt his mouth at the shell of my ear. It wasn’t uncommon for attorneys to have whispered conversations during and after a case to discuss details, but this felt more intimate. When he got close to me, all I could think about was him getting closer, touching me, kissing me. I’d never felt a stronger pull to someone

  “May the best man win this afternoon.” My head shot up at his emphasis on the word man, in time to see him wink at me.

  Pulling my arm from his grip, I said, “Oh, she will. Don’t you worry.” I could feel his eyes on my hips as I put an extra sway into my step, walking out. As much as he antagonized me, I swore I saw desire in his eyes.

  I was shaking from the feel of Logan’s hand on my elbow and his whispered words, stabbing the elevator button in frustration.

  “What happened in court?” Emma came to stand next to me. “Was it Logan?”

  “Isn’t it always?” I stepped into the elevator, pushing the button for the third floor. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. No matter how many times I told myself not to let him get to me, it never worked. He affected me like no one else ever had.

  “You ready for the interview?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” The door opened onto the third floor, which held the public defender’s office. I accepted my stack of messages from the receptionist as I continued toward my office. Emma was one thing I’d miss if I got the job at Gunner. She’d moved here over a year ago and had quickly become a good friend.

  “You want to tell me what Logan said that has you so upset?” Emma asked from my doorway.

  I turned my head to see her brows raised as she waited for my response. “He said ‘May the best man win.’”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in surprise as she plopped into the guest chair across from me. “What? What a jerk. It’s one thing for older attorneys to perpetuate that stereotype, but more women go to law school than men now.”

  “I know. I wanted to smack the smirk off his face.” He hadn’t smirked, but Emma didn’t need to know that. “And he winked at me.”

  “What? He winked when he said it?”

  “Yup,” I said as I finally sat in my cushioned chair, which felt amazing after walking in heels all morning and sitting on the hard wooden pews in court. I didn’t mention that Logan’s words only made me want that job more.

  “Interesting.” She studied my face carefully with a slightly amused look on her face.

  “He’s an ass, Emma.” I stacked my morning files on my desk to input the results into the computer after our conversation. I knew Emma and the rest of our group thought there was something more going on between Logan and me, but there wasn’t. I thought there was a spark the first time I met him, but then I realized he was charming with everyone. He had this natural ability to draw people in—make a woman feel like she was the only one in the room. “I hardly see why you find anything he says interesting.”

  “Well, he certainly got to you.” She smiled wider. “And maybe that was his intention?”

  I shot her a look. She wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t already thought myself, but I resisted my friends’ urging that Logan wanted more—that he was attracted to me. He’d never acted on it. “He’s trying to intimidate me and it’s not going to work.”

  “Okay,” she said, drawing out the word. “Gunner would be stupid not to hire you. I don’t get the impression that Logan’s a hard worker.”

  “I know. He relies on his charm with the judges, juries, and attorneys,” I said, ticking the list off on my fingers, “courtroom personnel, police officers, bailiffs.” It was very effective during jury trials and cross-examining witnesses. He came across as the witness’s best friend, making them more willing to talk, whereas, I’d been described as a pit bull during cross. Judges tended to like his approach more than mine. “And why doesn’t he work for his dad’s firm? I’m all for nepotism in this case.”

  “I have no idea. Don’t worry. There will be other positions if you don’t get this one.”

  I smiled, but I wasn’t sure she was right. Chestertown was a small isolated town and private attorney positions didn’t open up often. I could stay at the public defender’s office until something came up, but the lower pay made it difficult to put much of a dent into my considerable student loans. My parents didn’t have the money for college or law school and my scholarship had only covered a small portion.

  “Good luck.” She stood up to leave. “And don’t forget, tonight is ladies’ night at Annie’s.”

  My shoulders relaxed as I sifted through my stack of messages. “I’m ready for a night out.” I could use a break after this interview.

  “Great. Oh, and another thing. Please, for the love of God, don’t wear a suit.”

  “Why not?” I worked long hours and it was easier to go straight to The Pub after work. If I went home first, I’d probably lie down and go to sleep.

  “You know why—it makes you unapproachable.”

  Under my breath, I added, “That’s the idea.” My ex dumped me the day he failed the bar exam and I passed. He couldn’t handle having a more successful girlfriend. Now I liked to suss out the weak ones early.

  She shook her head. “I better not see you in a suit tonight.”

  Once she was gone, I focused on my interview, going over possible questions and answers in my head. I wanted this job more than anything. My mother gave up her career to stay home with my sister and I, but she’d always regretted her decision. My dad was bitter that he had to pay her student loans. It was a constant source of contention between them. My mom pushed me to study harder, to get a good job, one where I’d earn enough money to be independent, so I’d never rely on someone like she did. Over the years, I’d strived for her approval.

  Beyond the money, this job represented the success and respect I wanted.

  I STOOD IN FRONT OF the receptionist’s shiny dark wood desk, admiring the large letters hanging behind her chair, which read: Gunner, Thompson and Anderson. Floor-to-ceiling windows separated the waiting area from a large conference room, where Logan was seated in front of several attorneys conducting his interview. The windows behind the attorneys revealed the small historic homes and budding trees and gardens of their backyards. Everything seemed expensive, which was so different from the bare necessities the public defender’s office offered. I could almost picture the office I’d have here, with a large window, an L-shaped wooden antique desk, and my name on the door.

  “Ms. Cook, the partners are interviewing another candidate right now. They’ll be with you when they’re done.”

  I nodded at the receptionist, checked my classic black suit for lint, and took a few breaths to steady myself. This was it. All of my hard work brought me to th
is moment. I had one chance to get this right. I couldn’t choke. I’d been in hundreds of district court trials, in front of various judges, attorneys, and clients. I was professional and confident. I could do this.

  Steadier now, I walked around the room, stopping to admire the framed pictures of the firm’s attorneys standing next to various Ravens and Orioles players, a signed Ravens jersey, and pictures of the attorneys attending football and baseball games.

  I heard the glass door to the conference room open, and laughter spilled out. This was it. A rush of excitement shot through me as I turned to watch one of the attorneys slap Logan on the back and shake his hand. “Tell your dad we said hello.”

  I stiffened. It was a reminder that Logan grew up in this world. His dad owned his own firm, these attorneys were friends with his dad, so he knew them. I’d need to prove that I was the better candidate for the position, but I didn’t have the same connections.

  “Thank you so much for meeting with me,” Logan said, turning to find me watching him. I heard one of the attorneys tell the receptionist they’d be back in a few minutes.

  Logan smirked, saying quietly so only I could hear, “Are you sure you even want to interview? Seems like a waste of time.”

  I took a step closer to him, smiled like this was a friendly conversation, and lowered my voice so the curious receptionist wouldn’t overhear us. “If you get this job, it will be because of who you know, not your credentials.” Snarkiness wasn’t my style, and Logan was more than qualified for the position, but he’d gotten under my skin again. I took a step back, trying to calm down. I wouldn’t let him affect me before an important interview.

  When he turned to go, I asked, “Why don’t you work for your dad?” It was no secret that he was my main competition and I couldn’t understand why he didn’t take the easy route and work for the family firm. It’s what I would do.

  I felt a twinge of guilt when his smile dimmed and a muscle in his jaw ticked. I wanted to annoy him like he annoyed me, but this was more. I’d struck a nerve, one I didn’t know he had and I wanted to back-pedal. We challenged each other, but our words weren’t personal or hurtful.