by Lisa Childs
Unfortunately, Stone had begun to have a few doubts—not about Ronan, but about his case. Maybe it was because he knew Hillary was good—so good that she wouldn’t have brought up the evidence, even in her opening argument, if she hadn’t confirmed its validity first. She wouldn’t have been that careless and she certainly wouldn’t have been that trusting, especially of anything she’d thought he’d sent her.
She didn’t trust him at all. So why had she...?
Stone said, “I hope like hell that it isn’t true.”
And he wasn’t talking about just the evidence but about last night. What the hell had he been thinking to kiss the attorney prosecuting his client?
But that wasn’t the worst part of the night before. The worst part had been when she’d kissed him back.
Because then he’d lost all control.
* * *
How the hell had Hillary lost control like that? Her face was hot just thinking about the night before. She lifted one hand to her cheek and slapped it lightly. Snap out of it.
She had already spent too much time thinking about it. Too much time thinking about Stone Michaelsen, even before last night.
“Is that your pre-court ritual?” a male voice asked.
She whirled around to find her boss standing behind her in the hallway outside her office. He startled her so much that she nearly dropped the key she held near the lock.
She must have looked stunned because he added an explanation. “Slapping yourself in the face? Is that the way you get fired up?”
“Uh...” She couldn’t think at all right now.
He chuckled. “Or maybe you use it to wake up.”
She didn’t need to wake up since she hadn’t even slept. “I’m awake,” she assured her boss.
The guy was short, nearly as short as she was, and he had the little man–Napoleon complex thing going on where he had to be in control at all times. More a dictator than a leader.
“Good,” he said. “You need to be wide awake to take on Stone Michaelsen.” He cursed. “To take on any of those slick bastards from Street Legal.”
He’d taken on Stone before and had lost just as she had. But his biggest loss was when Ronan Hall had represented his ex-wife in his recent divorce. Hillary kind of thought he’d deserved to lose that one, though. He was a bit of a lech.
Even the way he was looking at her now made her want to button up her jacket to her neck. But the button across her breasts was already straining. She needed to lay off the candy bars for dinner. Salads from now on.
From the way he was watching her, Wilson Tremont didn’t seem to mind that she was carrying a few extra pounds, though. He had to be nearly twenty years older than her thirty years. Maybe he had even more years than that on her.
It was hard to tell with how he dyed his hair black and sprayed on a tan. He could have even been forty years older than she was.
“We need to win this case,” he reiterated.
We? He wasn’t sitting in on it with her—probably because he didn’t want another loss on his record, especially with an election coming up. But she wasn’t going to lose.
“And that damn alibi,” he continued, “is going to make it tough for you. It was hard to even get the grand jury to indict with that.” He had been surprised, and maybe also disappointed, that they had. He’d probably lost a potential supporter for his upcoming campaign.
But Hillary had had the murder weapon, which belonged to the defendant, and CSI had found only his prints on it. Hell, he’d had it locked up in a case to which he was the only one with a key. And the house staff and friends of Bethany’s who’d testified that she had a lover had provided Byron’s motive for killing his young bride. So Hillary had had enough for the indictment. And now she had more than enough to win.
But she didn’t want to say that to her boss, or Wilson Tremont would take the case from her and try it himself. A win against Stone Michaelsen would look good for him.
But Hillary wanted that win for herself.
Despite last night...
No. She couldn’t think about last night right now. Or at all.
“What are you doing here?” Wilson asked as he glanced down at his watch. “Aren’t you due in court soon?”
She nodded, and her mouth went dry at the thought of facing Stone so soon again. But she was a professional. She could do it—if only they had kept everything professional between them the night before.
But that was all his fault. He’d kissed her first.
...and she’d kissed him back.
But she hadn’t been able to help herself. He’d tasted so damn good, better than any candy bar she’d ever eaten.
“I—I needed to get something that I left here last night,” she said.
Wilson nodded. “Notes.”
“Yes.” But she hesitated before unlocking the door. She didn’t want to open it with him standing there. She wasn’t sure exactly how she’d left it. Or where she’d left it.
“You better hurry up and get them, then,” Wilson said with another glance at his watch. “You don’t want to be late and piss off Judge Harrison.”
No. She didn’t. But she didn’t want to risk anyone finding what she’d left in her office, either. Thankfully, the cleaning crew had left before she had last night. So she didn’t think anyone had been inside since...
“I’ll hurry,” she promised as she slid the key into the lock. Just as she began to slowly turn the knob, someone called out for Wilson.
“Mr. Tremont, you have a call,” his secretary told him. “The mayor...”
Wilson drew in a deep breath. “I hope he isn’t calling about Mueller’s case.”
“Why would he?” Hillary asked, her brow furrowing with confusion.
Wilson smiled, but it was a patronizing one. “I forget how naive you can be, Hillary. You don’t understand how politics work.”
And he was probably damn happy about that, because he didn’t think he had to worry about Hillary going after his job, like half the rest of the assistant district attorneys appeared to be doing. Hillary knew a lot more about politics than she was willing to admit. It was safer for her, though, if her boss didn’t know that.
“I’m sure Mueller contributed to the mayor’s campaign,” Wilson explained. “Hell, I’ll be lucky if the president doesn’t call to give me heat over daring to prosecute the great Byron Mueller.”
Hillary reached out and squeezed his arm, but she regretted her impulsive gesture when he glanced down at her hand on his coat sleeve. But even as she pulled back, she assured him, “Don’t worry. Michaelsen is not going to get him off.”
He stared at her, his dark eyes narrowed. “You’re awfully confident, Hillary. I’d like to know why.”
She gestured at his secretary. “You surely don’t want to keep the mayor waiting, though.” She didn’t have to know how politics worked to know that that wouldn’t be prudent. “And I don’t want to be late for court.”
Despite last night, she could face Stone again, because she knew she could and would beat him this time. Just as she could taste him yet on her lips, she could taste the sweetness of the victory that was sure to come.
“I can’t piss off Judge Harrison,” she reminded her boss.
He nodded. “Get moving, then.”
He moved off down the hall toward his office and his on-hold call from the mayor, so Hillary pushed open her office door. And she was glad she’d waited until her boss had left before she’d opened it.
Stone’s scent hung yet in the air—mixed with her own. Just smelling that brought memories and sensations rushing back, and she experienced the heat and excitement of that passion all over again.
The kiss...
The...
And she lifted her hand to her cheek again. This time the slap wasn’t quite as gentle. She needed to snap out
of it. She had to face him—just minutes away—in the courtroom. And she had to pretend like nothing had happened.
But first she had to make sure that she’d left nothing behind to prove that it had. The space was small, so it was easy and quick to search.
But she couldn’t find it.
What the hell had happened to it?
An alarm pealed out from the phone in her purse; it was her last-minute warning to get to the courtroom. She had no more time to search. Maybe the cleaning crew hadn’t already been gone last night like she’d thought. Maybe they had cleaned her office after she’d left.
She closed and locked the door again before rushing off down the hall. She was still rushing when she walked into the courtroom, so she didn’t even spare Stone a glance as she took her seat behind the prosecutor’s table. She wouldn’t have looked across the space between their tables at all if she hadn’t felt him staring at her.
She didn’t want to look at him. She dreaded to see his amusement or his smugness over what had happened between them. Over what never should have happened between them.
When he’d kissed her, she should have slapped him—instead of kissing him back. But she’d been so shocked that she’d been beyond thought. At least beyond rational thought.
All she’d had in her head were those sick fantasies she had about him, about him kissing her just like he was.
So she’d kissed him back.
If only she had stopped at that.
Her face flushed from the heat of his gaze and from her embarrassment. Sure, she’d made a mistake. But she wasn’t going to let that—or him—affect her. Just as she used to fantasize that something would happen between them, she was going to fantasize now that it hadn’t.
She could only hope that he would do the same damn thing. But from the way she felt him looking at her, like he was touching her just as he had the night before, she knew that he wouldn’t.
Despite her efforts to resist, his gaze drew hers. But when she glanced at him, he glanced down into his open briefcase. As she followed his gaze with hers, a gasp of shock slipped through her lips. Now she knew why she hadn’t been able to find what she’d been looking for in her office.
She hadn’t lost it there.
Stone had taken it.
A nude lace bra peeked out from beneath a manila folder in his briefcase.
“Son of a bitch,” she whispered.
That was what he was. He’d used her—just as she’d worried he was using her. He’d gotten her off last night in the hopes of getting off his client.
Did he think she would forget all about the evidence that destroyed Byron Mueller’s alibi?
He thought wrong. His little seduction had not changed her mind about him at all. In fact, it had proved what she’d already thought about him: Stone Michaelsen was a bad man.
But he didn’t scare her.
Hillary was going to take him down and take him down hard—just like he’d taken her the night before.
CHAPTER FOUR
WHEN STONE HAD flashed Hillary a peek of what he’d hidden in his briefcase, she’d looked so surprised. But why? She’d said in her opening argument that he was a bad man. And after last night, she could have no doubt about just how bad Stone could be. He’d even surprised himself.
But when she’d kissed him back, something had happened to Stone that had never happened before. As she’d run her fingers up the nape of his neck and tunneled them through his hair, clasping his head to hers, her lips had moved so hungrily over his. She’d kissed him deeply—with her lips, with her tongue. And passion had overwhelmed him. He’d felt such a jolt of sexual awareness and energy. But he hadn’t been the only one feeling it.
Because she’d moved her hands from his hair to the buttons of his shirt. She hadn’t just undone them; she’d torn them open. Then she ran her hands over his chest, making his heart beat so fast and hard that he’d thought it would bust right out of him like his cock had tried busting right out of his fly.
“Hillary...” Her name had escaped his lips on a groan. She’d been torturing him with her touch, with her kiss.
And she’d broken his will to resist.
Not that he’d wanted to resist. He hadn’t even intended to kiss her, though, when he’d come to her office. He’d only wanted to talk, to find out what the hell the evidence was that she’d bragged about having in court. But then he’d wanted to taste that chocolate on her mouth. He still hadn’t intended to do anything other than kiss her then, though.
Until she’d kissed him back.
Then he’d reached for her clothes, like she’d reached for his. He pulled that camisole up and over her head. Beneath it she’d worn the lace bra that was now in his briefcase. Nude, so it wouldn’t show through her clothes, it was practical and conservative, but the lace had made it sexy. And her breasts nearly spilling over the cups of the bra had made it even sexier. Like her...
She was sexy as hell.
Impossibly attracted to her, he’d unclasped her bra and feasted on her breasts. They were so full, the skin so silky, the nipples so taut and tempting. He nipped at one with his teeth, and she cried out his name.
Needing to know if he’d made her come, he slid his hand under her skirt, and he found her hot and wet and ready for him. So he lifted her onto her desk, knocking aside some folders that had already looked ready to topple. She hadn’t uttered a protest at the mess he was making or over him touching her. Instead, she fumbled with his zipper and freed his erection. Her fingers slid around his cock and then up and down the length of it.
And he’d nearly come, too.
But he wanted more than a quick hand job. He wanted her. So he’d pulled back. And he fumbled a condom out of his wallet. Before he could tear it open, she’d taken it from his hand and torn it with her teeth.
And he’d groaned again, his cock throbbing with the tension gripping him. It had been so intense that it was almost painful. He’d needed a release more than he could ever remember needing one before.
He wanted her so badly that he nearly came when she rolled the condom over him. “Hillary...” He’d growled her name between gritted teeth.
And she’d giggled.
Stone didn’t like to be laughed at, so he’d punished her. Instead of plunging inside her, he dropped to his knees. After pushing up her skirt, he tore her panties off. Then he teased her with his tongue, lapping at her until she arched off her desk and screamed his name.
She tasted sweeter than the chocolate he’d kissed off her mouth. So damn sweet. And she was so wet and hot for him that he’d thrust inside her then. Over and over again, he thrusted as she locked her legs around his waist. They’d moved together in a frenzy, desperate for release.
Her inner muscles had convulsed and clutched him as she came again. Then Stone’s body had tensed and he’d shouted her name as he came—longer and more powerfully than he could remember having come in a long time.
Maybe it was just that it had been a long time since he’d been with someone. He’d been so busy getting ready for this case.
“Mr. Michaelsen!” Judge Harrison shouted his name. “Did you come to court this morning just to disrespect me?”
Stone blinked away the memories of the night before and glanced uneasily around. Everyone else in the courtroom was standing, including the judge. Stone was the only one sitting yet—in front of his briefcase with the bra sticking out from beneath a folder.
He jumped to his feet, hoping like hell that his suit coat hid the erection straining against his fly.
“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” he said. He’d brought the bra to court to rattle Hillary. But it had had the reverse effect.
Last night she’d been the one rattled, so rattled that she’d pulled on her camisole and jacket and forgotten her bra as she’d struggled to collect all the files Stone had knocked onto the f
loor.
So Stone had picked up her bra, but before he could give it to her, she’d shouted at him to get out of her office. “Get out! Get out! Oh, my God, I can’t believe we did that! That was a mistake!”
Stone couldn’t have agreed more. And he hated making mistakes. But that one...with her...he hadn’t minded one damn bit. In fact, he’d enjoyed the hell out of it and out of her.
She’d felt so damn good—so hot and tight.
“Mr. Michaelsen?” the judge asked from his seat on the bench. “Do you have something to say?”
And now Stone was the only one standing as everyone else had followed the judge’s example and taken their seats. Heat rushed to his face, and he shook his head. As he sat down, his client looked quizzically at him, his brow furrowed.
“Are you okay?” Byron whispered.
Stone nodded. “Yeah, yeah...” He was trying to convince himself as much as his client. What the hell was wrong with him? How had he let her get to him like she had?
“Is this some weird strategy of yours?” Byron asked.
Had the man seen the bra?
Stone hadn’t intended for anyone but Hillary to see it—to know that he had it, that he had had her. But now he wondered who had had whom.
He snapped his briefcase closed. “Everything’s under control,” he assured his client.
Now.
Last night Stone had never been more out of control than he’d been with Hillary Bellows. He didn’t dare glance over at her. He could imagine how much she was enjoying this. As much as she’d enjoyed last night?
* * *
Hillary barely held in the giggle tickling her nose and throat. But she knew if she let the laugh slip out, she would be reprimanded next. And if the judge asked her why she was laughing...
She couldn’t tell him the truth without uptight Judge Harrison tossing her off the case. But she wouldn’t be able to lie, either. Not in court.
Damn it.
Damn Stone Michaelsen.
Why the hell had he kissed her the night before? And why hadn’t she been able to resist him?
She’d known—even as she was tearing off his clothes—that it was a mistake. But she’d had to see that magnificent body of his naked. And he hadn’t stopped her.