To Catch a Husband. Laura Altom Marie
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“Duh. She was hot. A scorcher.”
Adam shrugged. “True. Bug hooked us up. But truthfully, while she’s easy on the eyes, and from what I read between the lines, a closet nympho, I thought by the end of it, my ears were gonna bleed. Blah, blah, blah…If I’d had to hear one more thing about her demon ex, I’d have gnawed my hand off to get it out of her whiny clutches. What I wouldn’t have given to just do lunch with Bug.”
“What’s up with you two?” Bear asked, holding open the door while Adam stepped through.
“Long story. Don’t ask.”
All through the afternoon session, Adam was forced to stare at Bug. His best friend. Who for some unknown reason since Sunday morning had pretty much refused to speak to him—except for setting up his lunch from hell. Which, come to think of it, she might’ve done it for spite.
He didn’t get it. One minute they’d just been palling around, and the next, Bug acted as though he had the plague—at the very least a nasty flu.
Once court was out, he waited around the office until most everyone had left but her.
Enough was enough.
One way or another, he was going to get to the bottom of what was bugging his Bug.
“Hey,” he said, holding out an unpopped bag of microwave popcorn. “Peace offering?”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
“What are you, then?” He sat on the edge of her desk, playing with her collection of wind-up bug toys. He wound a jumping cricket, then let it go.
“What’s that supposed to mean? And quit messing with my stuff before you—aggghh!”
Crash!
The already struggling ivy she’d kept alive for two years crashed to the floor. The terra-cotta pot was in twenty pieces, mixed in with dirt and crumpled leaves, and the still-jumping mechanical cricket topped the whole mess. Adam lay alongside it, having lunged to the floor to catch the pot, ultimately making things worse.
“Oops,” he said, rubbing his aching lower back.
“Are you all right?” she asked, instantly out of her chair and on her knees beside him.
“I’ve been better. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, “I’m just glad you’re not hurt. But you should be. I told you to quit messing with stuff.”
“Wish you’d have been more forceful about it.” Adam winced. “Well? Aren’t you going to offer to kiss my ouchie?”
“You sure you didn’t conk your head instead of your behind?”
The office’s perfect Robocop of a marshal strolled up with a smirk on his face. “Figures it was you two causing the commotion,” said the guy Adam secretly called Suck-up Sam.
“Move along,” Adam said. “Show’s over.”
“Need help?” Sam said to Bug, holding out his hand to assist her over the debris heaped at her feet.
“I’m good,” she said. “But thanks for asking.”
“You bet.” He winked at her. Winked!
Once Sam was out of earshot, Adam said, “God, that guy makes my teeth hurt. He’s such a tool.”
“I like him,” she said. “He’s always seemed nice.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “Come on, I’ll help clean up.”
“You’ll help?” Eyebrows raised, she said, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the cause of this mess? Sam!” she called. “I need you, after all!”
Like a bad smell, Pretty Boy silently appeared, holding out his hand for Bug to take—which she did!
After he’d helped her step over the dirt and debris, he said, “I was just heading out for a bite to eat. Care to join me?”
“No, thanks,” Adam said. “We’re busy.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bug said, gazing up at the guy with the smile she usually only used when downing Ziggy’s chocolate malts. “You broke it, you clean it.”
Sam said, “See ya, Adam.”
Bug didn’t say anything, just waved.
Fury didn’t begin to describe the emotion bubbling in Adam’s gut. Then again, maybe it was lingering aftereffects of too much Sunday-afternoon chili? Either way, watching Suck-up Sam mosey off with his best friend didn’t set well.
At all.
Now the only question was, what, if anything, was he going to do about it?
Chapter Three
A wolf whistle greeted Charity on her trek through the office Wednesday morning.
“Damn, Bug.” Bear abandoned his coffee to chase after her. “What’d you do to yourself?”
“Why? Do I look that bad?” she asked, self-consciously trying to shove up her thick glasses, which were no longer there due to new contacts. Maybe taking such drastic steps with her appearance hadn’t been such a hot idea? Easing into a new look might’ve been the best way to go.
“You look that good,” he said with a laugh. “Adam see you yet?”
“No? Why?” Just the mention of Adam’s name sent her pulse racing. What if he didn’t like her changes? The honey-blond, flirty flip cut that replaced her usual messy, mousy ponytail. The makeup her sister taught her to use that made her green eyes look huge. The emerald-green silk camisole and form-fitting black suit jacket and short skirt that would probably get her fired. Worst of all were the black heels she’d have to kick off should she have need to chase bad guys across the crowded courtroom.
Seeing Adam’s reaction to Sam asking her for a date had been all the impetus she’d needed to take this last step in attempting to take their relationship to a new level. Granted, she was no expert, but even she’d seen Adam hadn’t liked another man paying attention to her. Which had been her cue to once and for all make a play for him, or forever quit mooning and get on with her life.
Bear just chuckled, then went back to his coffee.
His reaction left Charity wishing for an earthquake—nothing major, just something big enough to open a hole large enough to swallow her.
“Looking good,” Adam’s brother, Beau, said on his way to the holding cell.
Adam’s brother, Caleb, winked on his way to see the boss. “Hot stuff.”
Oh, Charity felt hot all right! Hot enough to melt through the office floor without the help of a natural disaster!
“Stop,” Sam said.
“W-why?” She froze. “Is there an escapee aiming a stolen gun at me?”
He laughed. “I want you to stop so I can look at you. You’re stunning.”
“Um, thanks,” she said, cheeks blazing.
“You’ve always been pretty, but now…” He shook his head and grinned. “I’m blown away.”
“Knock it off. I don’t look that different.”
“Yeah, Bug. You do.” Adam stepped out of Caleb’s office, file folder in hand, his expression stormy and unreadable.
Charity’s breath caught in her throat. What did that face mean? Did he hate her new look? So what if he did? Why should she care? Every other guy in the office seemed to think she looked okay. Better than okay judging by Sam’s reaction.
According to her sister’s instructions,