"I can't believe you spent all day with the naked guy."
For once Alisha Hart was thankful for the barroom buzz
drowning out the cute and somewhat cocky Joe Alvarado's
comment. Unfortunately her current law clerk had a
definite lack of decorum at times. But he worked cheap,
and with her fledgling law practice, cheap was all she
could afford.
Moving her glass of champagne aside, Alisha folded her
hands before her on the scuffed wooden table and
frowned. "Do you think perhaps we could call him Mr.
Massey — his appropriate name — instead of 'the naked
guy'?"
Joe loosened his tie, reclined in the high-backed chair
and chugged another drink of beer. "I just call 'em like I
see 'em. And let's face it, plenty of San Antonio's good
citizens have seen him. All of him."
"Not all of him."
He forked a fast hand through his dark hair and gave her
his usual impatient scowl. "Okay. Most of him."
Alisha couldn't argue that point, but she would soon have
to argue the now infamous case of the "San Antonio
Streaker." Without an official public defender's office in
the county, she'd qualified to be added to the list of
practicing attorneys willing to represent those who
couldn't afford private counsel. Just her luck of the draw
that she'd been assigned as Les Massey's public defender.
True, the man had posed almost in the buff at several
notable tourist attractions, but he'd been clever enough
to keep certain parts of his anatomy covered. As far as
Alisha was concerned, he might be a misguided man on a
mission, but he was within his rights to express himself,
even if he freely expressed himself practically naked.
"Regardless of what he's done," she told Joe, "he's still
a client and deserves my attention."
"More or less a nonpaying client."
Alisha recognized that Les Massey would soon receive the
benefit of her services without handing over a dime of his
own money — as if he had any — courtesy of the state of
Texas.
"That's what the system is all about, Joe. Solid legal
representation for the indigent. The 'little guy," so to
speak."
He let go a strident laugh. "From what I hear, Les
wouldn't be considered a 'little guy." Rumor has it that
was one long coonskin tail he had covering his goods
during his little show at the Alamo. Have you seen any
evidence of that?"
"Oh, dear God, Joe. I'm not even going to go there."
Granted, Alisha had been mildly curious, but she suspected
that the legend of Les's "goods" had been blown totally
out of proportion. And even though he would be considered
a fine specimen, with his buff body and surfer-blond hair,
she wasn't interested in his "goods" or any other aspect
of his person. Besides, he was seven years her junior,
rarely utilized all three of his brain cells at once and
was a little too smarmy for her selective taste in
men. "Can we change the subject now?"
"Sure. Let's play Twenty Questions. Guess who just walked
in?"
"Your wife?"
"Nope. Not yet." He leaned forward. "I'll give you a hint.
He's practically a legend in legal circles."
Couldn't be Les, unless he'd escaped from jail. "I give
up."
"Would you believe the big man himself?"
"Isn't it a little late for Santa?"
"Try Daniel Fortune."
Great. Just what she needed — the man who delighted in
pushing all her hot buttons whenever the opportunity
presented itself. The man who ruled the criminal courts
like a king. The man she wanted to cling to like cheap
plastic wrap every time he came near her — a fact that
would remain a secret to everyone, especially the senior
assistant district attorney.
"Well, I should've known the iceman cometh," Alisha said,
trying to keep her tone nonchalant. "The temperature just
dropped a few degrees in here." In reality, her body
temperature had risen to rainforest proportions.
"He's brilliant," Joe said. "One of the best prosecutors
in the state."
One of the best-looking prosecutors in the country. "Yes,
he's got a good record." And a great butt.
"Don't look now, but he's heading this way."
Alisha battled the urge to look and she won out for the
time being. Maybe Mr. Fortune would keep walking right on
past her. Maybe then she could sneak another peek at his
derriere.
Joe slapped his palms on the edge of the table, startling
Alisha. "I'm going to go to the boys' room, then give
Julie a call. If she doesn't get here quick, she's going
to miss the festivities."
Alisha wanted to ask him to please stay, which was totally
absurd. Chances were the esteemed A.D.A. wouldn't even
bother to say hello. And even if he did, her obligation
only required she be polite and toss out a few insults if
necessary. "Fine. I'll be here when you get back."
Trying to appear relaxed, she turned her attention to the
wide-screen TV across the room and pretended to watch the
Times Square globe beginning its descent, signaling the
arrival of the new year on the East Coast. Pretended not
to be at all concerned that the preeminent attorney was
somewhere on the premises. Pretended she didn't care where
he was or what he was doing, even if she did. She'd just
sit there and blend into the surroundings — not at all
that difficult considering she had blending in down to a
fine art in crowded bars.
"Hey, Hart, did you really get the guy with the big
schlong?" Following a spattering of laughter, Alisha's
gaze snapped to the man posing the query seated two tables
over — the lard-bellied lawyer, Billy Wade Carlisle, not
board certified in anything since "bottom feeder" had yet
to be designated as a specialty. Right now she would like
to take his ratty toupee and stuff it in an orifice where
no toupee belonged.
So much for remaining anonymous. Of course, the place was
rather loud and a bit rowdy tonight. With any luck, Mr.
Fortune hadn't heard Billy Wade's brilliant query.
"Looks like you could use a drink."
The sound of his voice coming from behind her, deep and
downright deadly, drewAlisha's complete attention. So did
the very masculine hand that slid a glass of champagne
before her. She visually tracked his navy coat sleeve up
to his wide shoulder and, against better judgment,
continued on to his eyes. Tonight those eyes looked dark
even though she knew they were green — not crystalline
green but a deep green that at times looked almost brown,
other times green-gold, depending on the lighting. Intense
eyes that shouted power. Considering the definite cast of
amusement in his gaze, no doubt he was about to contribute
to her status as current courthouse laughingstock.
"Don't even start, Counselor," Alisha muttered.
He had the nerve to look innocent — and stunning, with his
brown hair combed back in neat layers and his jaw
surrounded by a spattering of evening whiskers. "Start
what?"
"Your commentary on my recent appointment to represent Mr.
Massey."
He moved beside the table, giving her the full effect of
his striking face. "No commentary involved. I just wanted
to buy you a drink."
She tried to look pleasant and calm despite her frenzied
pulse. "Thank you, but I still have one."
"Save it to toast the new year."
The drink would probably be warm by then, and that
definitely complemented her current state at the
moment. "I appreciate it."
He surveyed her face from forehead to chin before
centering his gaze on her eyes. "I take it you're getting
your share of digs about the streaker."
Alisha rimmed her glass with a fingertip, purposefully
avoiding his gaze. "He doesn't streak, he poses."
"Poses until he evades the authorities, then he streaks."
"I'm not going to give you any details about my defense,
if that's what you're after."
"I'm only wondering how you're handling all the exposure."
Cute. Real cute. She risked a quick look at him to find
him sporting a half smile. "I assure you, I'm handling it
fine." As fine as she could with an extreme exhibitionist
who enjoyed strutting like the cock of the walk, something
she'd discovered during the first encounter with Les
Massey at his arraignment.
Daniel propped his hand on the back of her chair and
leaned closer. "Just another quick question."
He was nothing if not persistent. And darned if he didn't
smell good, too. "I said I'm not going to —"
"Are you alone?"
That she wasn't expecting — a query posed in a provocative
tone that sounded as if he was quite capable, and willing,
to end her solitude.
Fortunately Joe picked that moment to return to the table,
prompting Alisha to spout out, "I'm with him," followed by
a wave of her hand in the clerk's direction. After all,
Daniel Fortune didn't have to know that her companion was
blissfully married. She certainly didn't want him to think
that she was so pathetic she'd been forced to spend New
Year's Eve without a date, even if she had been dateless
for some time now.
In the blink of an eye, the A.D.A. straightened and
restored himself to consummate professional. The iceman
returneth. "Good to see you again, Mr. Alvarado."
"Same here." Joe shook Daniel's offered hand with gusto
and grinned like a down-and-out miner who'd struck gold.
"The way you handled the Richardson case last year was
amazing. I still don't know how you managed to get a
conviction without the victim's body."
"I owe it to the San Antonio PD's spotless investigation."
Good answer, and good grief. When Alisha noticed Joe's
starstruck expression, she expected him to fall prostrate
at the A.D.A.'s feet and kiss the large shoes he walked
in. "Joe, I'm sure Mr. Fortune would just as soon forget
about work tonight."
"You're right, and I'm being rude." Joe gestured toward
the chair next to Alisha. "Why don't you join us? My wife
should be here in a minute."
So much for Alisha's pretense that Joe was her date.
Daniel sent her a quick glance, as if asking her
permission to join the party, which she didn't give, and
not because she wouldn't like to have him join them.
Because she would like for him to join them, and that
wasn't necessarily advisable. Considering her status as a
part-time public defender and his as full-time defender of
the public, for all intents and purposes they were
enemies. Especially now with the high-profile Massey case
hanging over her and his office in charge of convicting
him, not to mention her unwelcome attraction to the
prosecutor.
For what seemed liked infinity, he simply stared at her
and she stared back, until she heard, "Sorry I'm late."
Alisha released her gaze on Daniel to find Julie Alvarado
standing at the table, all five feet six inches of head-
turning brunette. The kind of woman you wanted to hate —
model-beautiful — but was simply too nice to despise. A
social worker who devoted her life to protecting children
and spoiling her husband. "Hi, Julie. We were starting to
worry you might not get here in time."
"I was beginning to wonder, too." Julie tossed her bag on
the table and leaned to give Joe a kiss. "Sorry, honey. I
had something I had to take care of tonight. An emergency
removal of three kids. What a way to end the year."
Joe stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, looking
very proud, and rightfully so. "Mr. Fortune, this is my
wife, Julie. Julie, this is Daniel Fortune."
"We've met," Julie said. "I testified during one of your
trials."
"The Henson trial," Daniel said. "That was a tough one."
Julie regarded Joe again. "The one where the boyfriend put
his girlfriend's five-year-old daughter into a coma
because she spilled her juice on his CD collection."
Alisha inwardly cringed when she recalled the details
she'd only read about. Thank God she'd still been working
at her former firm defending rich executives involved in
white-collar crimes, and that so far when appointed by the
court she'd only represented misdemeanor offenses and not
heinous felonies.
"Are you sure you don't want to join us?" Joe pointed to
the empty chair beside Alisha. "We can count down
together."
Alisha counted to ten before Daniel said, "Maybe some
other time. Enjoy the rest of the evening."
With another glance at Alisha, he strode away with blatant
confidence, his wide shoulders straight, his large hands
dangling at his sides, while heads turned as he passed. No
doubt about it, he was a natural attention-getter. He'd
certainly gotten hers on more than one occasion.
After Julie sat down beside Joe, Alisha pushed the glass
of champagne, compliments of the A.D.A., toward her. "Take
this. I still have some left."
Julie exchanged a veiled look with her husband. "I don't
care for any champagne, but I guess it will work for a
toast." She held the flute aloft. "To the new year. May it
not royally suck."
They all touched their glasses together with a
shared "Here, here." Joe and Alisha took sips of their
drinks while Julie merely pushed the untouched glass aside.
Joe narrowed his eyes and said to Alisha, "That Daniel
Fortune is something else. You should do him, Hart."
She nearly gasped. "Why would you even think such a thing?"
He looked at her as if she'd just plummeted several rungs
on the intelligence ladder. "Because he wants you."
What a colossal joke. "Oh, sure he does."
"Don't be obtuse, Alisha," Joe said. "I saw the way he was
looking at you. In fact, I've seen him look at you that
way before at the courthouse. He treats everyone else with
indifference, but he treats you like he'd like to get into
your drawers — and not the ones in your file cabinet."
She shrugged off the remark. "He razzes me because he
doesn't like defense attorneys."