Legal Passion. Lisa Childs
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I offered to show you,” he said, and he was just as surprised as he’d been the first time the innuendo had slipped out. Was he flirting?
The guys would have laughed if they’d heard him. They always razzed him about being incapable of smooth-talking; they claimed that he just went up to women and grunted at them.
“Mr. Michaelsen!” she exclaimed.
And he chuckled. “Look at you, Ms. Bellows. All outraged self-righteousness. I understand now why you work so hard. You obviously have your sights set on the bench someday.”
“What?” she asked, her brow puckering with confusion.
“You want to be a judge,” he said. “You’re certainly all judgy right now.” Which should have turned him off. But he could picture her wearing only one of those black robes with nothing beneath it...
But his hands.
He was losing his fucking mind. And it was all her fault. She’d unsettled him even more today than she usually did, and it wasn’t just because of her beauty.
Damn, she was beautiful, though. So beautiful.
Her eyes were so clear and blue and full of intelligence with thick black lashes fringing them. Her face was round with wide cheekbones and a pointed little chin that he saw so often tilted with pride and the self-righteousness of which he’d accused her. And her lips, which were usually pulled into a pucker of disapproval, were full and red and temptingly kissable. Especially now...with chocolate smeared at the corner of her mouth.
He wanted to kiss it away. He wanted to kiss her—so badly that his stomach muscles were tightened and his cock was hard and pulsating with desire.
But before he could close the distance between his mouth and hers, she jumped up from her chair—as if she knew what he’d intended. “I want justice,” she said, “for poor Bethany Mueller and all the other victims of your clients.”
He could understand that, but in this case, Byron was truly innocent. And Stone had thought he’d had the alibi to prove it. “If you actually want justice for Bethany, you should drop these charges against Byron. He didn’t kill his wife.”
She snorted. “I knew that’s why you came here,” she said. “Just to get the charges tossed out or reduced.” Despite her assertion, disappointment flickered through her eyes.
Had she wanted him here for another reason? Did she want him like he wanted her?
His body tensed even more than it had been, his cock throbbing behind his fly. Good thing he was still wearing his suit jacket, or she might have seen how much she affected him. And he had no doubt she would use that attraction against him in court.
Unless she felt it, too.
A thrill raced through him. But he didn’t know if it was excitement or fear. If she was attracted to him, too, he had no hope of resisting her.
It had been hard enough to fight it when he’d thought the attraction was just one-sided. But now...
He shook his head, but he couldn’t shake off the desire he felt for her. “I’m not here to get the charges thrown out or reduced,” he said, repeating what he’d already told her. Although, it would have made his case a hell of a lot easier if she would just take his word for Byron Mueller’s innocence.
“Then why are you here?” she asked. “You said you had a plea for me.”
He’d had one when he’d walked in. Now all he could think about was kissing that chocolate off her mouth. She was so damn sexy.
“What’s your plea?” she prodded him.
And he wanted to plea for that kiss...
* * *
Was he staring at her mouth? Hillary couldn’t be certain but it felt as if his gaze was focused there, on her lips. Did he want to kiss her as badly as she wanted him to? If she hadn’t stood up when she had, she might have leaned forward and brushed her mouth across his.
She’d been so damn tempted.
Earlier she’d been cold in her office. Now heat rushed through her—so much heat that it burned in her core—for him. Afraid she might start sweating if she didn’t get cooler, she stripped off her jacket and tossed it over the back of her chair.
His eyes turned dark, the pupils swallowing the silvery gray, and a muscle twitched in his cheek just above his rigidly clenched jaw. A shadow of a beard already darkened his skin, even though he’d been cleanly shaven in court that morning. He looked tense and edgy, like he was barely holding on to his control.
Her heart beat faster and erratically.
He looked as if he might dive across her desk and grab her and take her. At least in her mind, that was how he looked. But that was probably just because of all the fantasies she’d had about him.
Why did he have to be so damn good-looking?
It wasn’t fair that the opposing counsel was so irresistibly sexy.
Hillary was all about fairness. That was why she’d become a lawyer. She doubted Stone had had the same altruistic reasons for going to law school and passing the bar. She guessed that money, more than justice, had motivated him and his partners to become lawyers. Street Legal was the highest-priced law firm in New York City.
And that was saying something.
That was why only billionaires like Byron Mueller could afford to have Stone Michaelsen represent them. The guard’s grandson must have had a richer relative who had paid Stone’s fee to get that drug charge reduced. Because Stone didn’t care about justice. She wasn’t even sure how much he really cared about the money. She suspected he cared most about winning. And that he would do whatever necessary to triumph.
So she didn’t doubt that he might try to seduce her to get the upper hand for his client. Maybe he thought she’d go easy on Mueller if he romanced her. That possibility sobered her up; she was no longer drunk on desire for him. Since he’d never flirted with her before, it was more a probability than a possibility that he was up to something.
Her heart rate slowed and weariness weighed on her, reminding her that it had been one damn long day.
“What do you want, Stone?” she asked him and then yawned. “It’s late, and I need to get home.”
“Someone waiting for you?” he asked.
Did he sound jealous? Of her?
Now she was losing it entirely. He wasn’t really interested in her; he was just playing her to get his client off. He wasn’t going to get her off...like she wanted, like she needed.
Maybe she should call someone to meet her at her apartment. Dwight? Since meeting in law school, they’d been casually seeing each other: getting together for drinks to discuss cases and blow off steam. But wasn’t he seriously seeing someone now?
No. She couldn’t call him. A public defender had asked for her number a couple of weeks ago, but she hadn’t given it to him. He’d given her his, though, hadn’t he? If she could find his number, maybe she could call him. But she couldn’t remember what he looked like now.
She couldn’t think of anyone but Stone Michaelsen. That was just because he was there—filling her small office with his presence and his scent and his sexy-as-sin body.
“That’s a long pause,” he said. “I can’t believe you don’t have anyone waiting for you. Husband? Fiancé? Boyfriend?”
“I didn’t say I don’t have anyone waiting,” she pointed out.
“No,” he agreed. “You didn’t say anything at all.” And he trailed off, as if waiting for her to say something.
Her lips curved into a slight smile at his persistence. “That’s a personal question,” she said. “And we don’t do personal, Stone.”