by Virna DePaul
Two jurors, appearing entranced by Mays’s argument, shook their heads.
“Let’s talk about an issue Ms. Donovon brought up, something having to do with outward appearances. Are we asking you to acquit Kyle because of his looks? Absolutely not. But a person’s looks, their demeanor, their ability to look you in the eye, is the very thing you’re here to judge. How else are you going to determine whether you believe Kyle or not? Is he credible? I believe he is. The evidence, on the other hand, simply is not.
“First, let’s address the question of flight. My client admits he ran away from Detective Romero. Well, look at him.” Daniel gestured to the beefy detective in the first row. “He’s a pretty intimidating guy. I’m a grown man, and I’d run if Mr. Romero approached me.”
The jurors chuckled at this as if agreeing that they too would hate to be approached by the mountain of a detective with tree trunk-sized arms.
Mays continued, “When you look at Kyle, does he look like someone who would jeopardize his future for a quarter cut of an $800 take? Now, I’m not saying you can look at Kyle and see the truth, but you can certainly take into account everything you’ve observed about him in the last few days. Has he struck you as someone who would hang out with three high school delinquents with nothing better to do than smoke pot and look for their next score? No. Kyle has testified that he had nothing to do with the burglary of Mr. Sherman’s store, and the prosecution has given you nothing to concretely counter that. They’ve given you circumstances and suspicions, that’s all.
“Now, Ms. Donovon is just about the prettiest lawyer I’ve ever met. She’s also one of the most talented. But she’s right, appearances aren’t enough to acquit a man, and they are certainly not enough to convict one.”
At first Bryn thought she had misheard him. Had he actually referred to her looks during his closing argument? Apparently so, since every eye in the courtroom, including Judge Lancaster’s, had turned toward her.
Bryn blushed, but before she could object to Mays’s personal aside, he said with a smile, “Now, I can tell by looking at Ms. Donovon’s face that we’re going to be having a little ‘come to Jesus’ meeting for my chauvinistic comment, but I do have a point, so please be patient with me. You see,” he said, “the law defines reasonable doubt as an abiding conviction in the truth of something. I can look at Ms. Donovon and have an abiding conviction in her beauty. I can see that for myself. All of us can. I can work with her and have an abiding conviction in her intelligence and passion. I can hear that in every word she says. So can you. But despite these outward appearances, I can’t have an abiding conviction in her conclusions, because those conclusions, just like everything else in this trial, have to be based on the evidence, and the evidence here just isn’t enough to convict Kyle.” Mays went on to criticize the credibility of the prosecution’s main witness, the burglar who had sold Winsor out, but Bryn barely heard him.
She couldn’t believe the idiot had used her name during argument the way he had. When he was finished, she was so angry she could barely pull herself together long enough to give a concise rebuttal argument. But she did. By the time the jury had been escorted to its deliberation room and it was just Vance and the two of them in court, Bryn was ready to attack.
“Are you insane?” she snapped, striding up to him and poking him in the chest. “How dare you pull a stunt like that?”
Daniel held up his hands as if to ward her off. “Come on, now, Bryn, I was just making a point. A valid one.”
Bryn could barely respond. She actually sputtered for a few seconds, resulting in Daniel having to suppress a smile.
Bryn narrowed her eyes and leaned toward him. Without thinking, she reached out and stabbed the middle of his collarbone with her index finger. She ran her finger down his burgundy tie and felt his chest, then his abdomen muscles, tighten. She stopped her finger at the band of his trousers a split second before he grabbed her wrist. With sugared hostility, she dug her nail into his hard abdomen and said, “The next time you decide to make a point by referring to my looks, counselor, I will put you and your homespun Southern mannerisms through the shredder. Do I make my point clear?”
Ending her tirade with a final glare, Bryn wrenched her hand out of his, spun around, and marched to the door of the courtroom. But she wasn’t able to get out the door before Vance’s laughter and comment leaped out at her. “Hey, man, do you want a glass of water with those nuts?”
CHAPTER THREE
It was close to seven o’clock by the time Bryn hung up the phone with her last preliminary hearing witness. The officer had been recounting his high-speed pursuit of the defendant when he suddenly mentioned the defendant throwing a gun out his car window. A gun the officer said he’d later recovered but was never mentioned in any of the police reports in her file. Apparently, the officer had written a supplemental report, but she’d never received it.
Bryn tried to rub away the ache that hovered near her temples. She could already hear the public defender’s melodramatic cries of incompetence, or even worse, conspiracy. What a perfect ending to a disastrous day.
She’d started out the morning losing it in court and actually threatening Daniel Mays. She could still recall the warmth of his body as she’d leaned toward him and—yes, she actually had done it—poked him just above the groin while she’d threatened to shred him. Although she’d been livid, she’d still sensed his perverse satisfaction at making her lose control. She’d also seen his eyes darken and his jaw clench when she’d touched him, and had felt an answering jolt in her own stomach.
Jeez, she thought. What had she been thinking, touching him like that? And just because he’d called her “pretty” during his closing argument?
Mortified by her behavior, her only defense had been a quick retreat. She spent the next forty minutes in the court’s deserted law library before Judge Lancaster’s clerk paged her. For the next twenty minutes, she sat in court while the jurors read their “not guilty” verdicts, putting an end to her perfect conviction record. As soon as the jury was released, she walked out of court, her nose in the air, while Mays finished up with his client. Thankfully, she’d managed to make it through the afternoon’s pretrial conferences without incident before returning to her office to make some phone calls.
Unfortunately, she still had plenty to do before she could fall into her huge down-covered bed and lose herself in sleep.
Work. Sleep. That pretty much summed up her life. Most of the time, the pattern didn’t bother her. She liked her job. Liked helping others. Liked the fact that people, both lay and legal, respected her. But every once in a while, when she wanted to share details about her day or forget about them while going for a long nature hike, she’d realize there was no one there to listen or accompany her.
So it was no wonder that Daniel’s attention had thrown her off balance, she told herself. The man was way too full of himself, and she hated the fact that she, like every other woman with a pulse, was drawn to him.
Last year, he’d dated Natalie Chan, a court reporter. Bryn witnessed them greet each other after court one day. Daniel strode up to Natalie, saying “Hey, there, pretty lady,” and swooped down for a kiss. Bryn thought the display of affection to be slightly inappropriate given that they were at work, but Natalie didn’t seem to mind. She wrapped her arms around Daniel and returned his kiss with gusto. Daniel caressed her back with broad, strong hands, and then moved his hands to her hair.
Bryn hadn’t been able to look away. She’d watched the pair with a feeling uncomfortably close to jealousy, and for a moment, desperately longed to take Natalie’s place. When Daniel had raised his head, he’d seen her looking at them and smiled.
Bryn had been mortified. She’d quickly walked away, calling herself a fool.
Since that day, she repeatedly told herself that she couldn’t possibly want Daniel Mays. A defense attorney. Someone who made his living trying to help others get away with crimes. Most of the time, her reasoning worked. Sh
e’d convinced herself that Mays might be eye candy, but he wasn’t for her.
When Daniel had called her “pretty” during his closing argument, Bryn had been unprepared for the intensity of her reaction. Yes, it had been inappropriate, but that wasn’t why she’d lost control. She’d been angry. Angry at him. And herself. Angry that her own bad choices had led her to this place, a place where even a simple compliment could send her into a tail spin of longing.
Bryn sighed. He hadn’t meant it anyway. She was sure he’d been trying to simultaneously charm the jury and throw her off balance. Which is exactly what had happened. He’d won the case hands down.
About thirty minutes later, she grabbed her box of files and headed out of the District Attorney’s secure area and into the public lobby. She stopped immediately when she saw Daniel Mays sprawled uncomfortably in one of the generic waiting room chairs. He slowly rose, giving her a slight smile and a simple, “Hey. How are you?”
“Great,” she said. “Considering I just lost my first case to a manipulative post-adolescent criminal with more looks than brains.”
“Oh, come on,” he said. “Kyle Winsor isn’t that bad.”
“I wasn’t talking about Kyle Winsor.”
Daniel winced. “Ouch,” he said, rubbing the area above his heart. “You’re 2 for 0, lady. How about giving me a break? I’ve still got marks left over from this morning.”
“Which you totally deserved,” she said briskly. “You crossed a line.”
“Yes, I did,” he conceded. “But I was only trying to make a point.” He held up his hands when she opened her mouth to argue with him. “About how pretty you are. And how passionate. It just happened to help my client at the same time.”
Bryn felt a definite flutter in her stomach and immediately chastised herself for her stupidity. A few honeyed words shouldn’t be enough to sway her. “Oh? Is that supposed to charm me? That you think I’m pretty? You manipulated me, just like you’ve been manipulating me ever since….”
Daniel finished Bryn’s sentence after a few seconds had passed. “Winsor’s attack? I haven’t been manipulating you.”
“What do you call what you’ve been doing for the past week? Stalking me in court. Staring at me. Coming up to me all the time.” Touching me. She remembered his large fingertip smoothing itself over her tattoo and almost shuddered in delight, then squelched the thought. No way was she going to bring that up.
“Well, gee, I don’t know,” he began with some vehemence. “If you have to ask, maybe I’m not doing it right.”
“Doing what right?”
“Courting you?”
She paused, nonplussed. “Is that a question?”
“No. It’s what I’m doing. You know, when a guy lets a girl know he’s interested in her?”
“Usually that’s done with flowers and dinner.”
“Too trite,” he said. “But heck, I’m willing to give it a try if it works for you. How about it?”
“How about what?” she asked in exasperation.
“Flowers, dinner, candlelight. I know a great Italian restaurant just a few blocks from here.”
Bryn laughed. “You’re amazing! I’m mad at you. Besides, you just helped Kyle Winsor get away with burglary! What makes you think I’d go on a date with you?”
Daniel looked at her chidingly. “Deny it all you want, but there’s something between us.”
“Oh, there’s something alright,” she snapped. “My complete and utter distaste for what you do for a living.”
“What? Uphold the Constitution?”
“Is that what you call it when a jury gets to decide an attempted burglary case without information that the defendant has a history of theft?”
“It’s called giving the accused a fair shake.”
“An unfair advantage, more like it. Fair shake? Well, to use a southern term you should appreciate, ‘Fare is what you pay to ride the bus.’ I call your fair shake a hole in the legal system.”
Daniel shook his head. “Pretty harsh. Don’t you think everyone deserves to be judged based on their true actions and not their past mistakes?”
“A person’s past can be a reflection of their true nature.” Hearing the words that flew out of her mouth numbed her. She thought of the way she’d left her sister alone in order to party with a boy whose name she couldn’t even remember. Thought of what that said about her true nature. If Daniel knew, what would he think of her? What would he think about her attempts to make up for it?
“But not a guarantee,” he said.
“No, not a guarantee. But neither is one’s past irrelevant. A person can turn his life around. But he has to be willing to learn from his past. Somehow I don’t think Kyle Winsor is going to do that.” Bryn shifted the box in her arms. “Look, this is heavy, and I’ve got to go.”
Daniel moved as if to take the box from her, but stopped when she frowned. “Dinner?” he asked hopefully.
“No,” she said. After a slight hesitation, she said, “But thank you.”
He smiled. “The offer is open any time.”
When she began to walk past him, he touched her arm. “Bryn?”
She looked up, masking the shiver she felt at his touch. “Yes?”
“I really am sorry for any embarrassment I caused you this morning. As for Winsor, you know as well as I do that the evidence just wasn’t there.”
“Well, apparently that’s what the jury thought,” she said, not willing to concede the point. “And don’t use my looks in a closing argument ever again,” she added warningly.
“Gotcha,” he said, his Southern drawl lengthening the word.
She resisted the temptation to bite the strong, angular line of his jaw. Barely.
She was almost out the door before his voice stopped her once more. “I’ll see you at arraignments tomorrow.”
With her back to him, she closed her eyes and took a breath. “Do you even have a client you’ll be representing then?”
“Nah,” he said. “But you never know who’ll show up needing a little help.”
She left without another word, grateful he couldn’t see the slight smile on her lips.
***
Daniel watched Bryn leave, watched as she packed her box into the trunk of her dark green Jetta before driving away. As they’d talked in the lobby, her slim frame had struggled a little under the weight of the box, and he’d had to restrain himself from taking it from her. He was sure she wouldn’t have appreciated the gesture. In fact, she probably would have taken his head off rather than thanked him. The lady sure liked her independence.
Everything about her was classy but understated. Her clothes were obviously good quality. Her shoes polished. The diamond studs in her ears were real. But her nails were bare of color. And she rarely smiled. It was if she needed to hold herself apart from everyone in order to be taken seriously. He wondered if she maintained her façade when she left work, or if she treated herself to the occasional massage or girl’s night out that most women seemed to enjoy.
He’d love to give her a massage.
Daniel imagined her naked and draped over a massage table. He knew that her skin was a creamy porcelain covering delicate curves. Her breasts were on the small side, but Daniel didn’t care. Sure, he loved big breasts as much as the next guy, but he was a firm believer in quality over quantity. And Bryn’s were gold standard. Big breasts would look ridiculous on her slim frame. Instead, hers were small globes, rounded and plump. His large hands would easily cover them. He imagined himself rubbing them with oil, trailing his hands down her ribcage, hips, and thighs, until her entire body glistened. She’d be slippery. As slippery on the outside as she was on the inside. He’d knead her tight muscles until they relaxed. Until her eyes were dazed with pleasure. Then he’d climb on top of her. His own naked skin and muscles would slide easily over her, into her. And she’d beg him to end it. To catapult her over the edge. Screaming with pleasure when she went.
Daniel shook his head to c
lear it. Fuck. He was fantasizing again. His hands had been working overtime the last week trying to tame his body into submission. Each time he sought release he was left with a deeper feeling of dissatisfaction, as if his body was telling his mind, “Hurry up, asshole! I need her. Now!”
Daniel had known he was crossing the line when he’d used her name in closing argument. He hadn’t needed to. He had good instincts about juries, and he knew there was no way that one would convict Kyle Winsor. But in that courtroom, after listening to Bryn snipe at him for the past few days, he’d been ready to make his move. He wasn’t going to let her pretend indifference to him a moment longer. He thought she was pretty. Hell, more than pretty. In an understated way, she was gorgeous. He knew it. And he wanted her to know it.
And his ploy had worked. She’d lost her control. So much so that she’d actually touched him. When she ran her finger down his chest and down towards his groin, his dick had damn near broke through his zipper. He’d grabbed her wrist, thinking she was going to try and rip off his balls. She’d looked pissed off enough to do it. Even as she’d threatened him, he’d noted the delicacy of her wrist, the fire in her eyes, and the softness of her lips. When she’d left, he’d exited right behind her, afraid that the entire courtroom would notice his raging erection.
As it was, Vance had given him shit about his hard-on all day.
When court had reconvened, he’d avoided looking at her. Not surprisingly, the jury had acquitted Kyle Winsor. He’d talked to Kyle afterward, but he’d already been planning on going after Bryn. And seeing her, talking with her, had merely confirmed that she was going to be his.