Legal Passion
Lisa Childs
Verdict: guilty……of corrupting Ms. Prim and Proper!Hotshot lawyer Stone Michaelsen never loses a case, but rival Hillary Bellows is determined to beat him in court. When they’re alone together, the gloves—and clothes—come off. Uptight in court yet naughty in private, they can’t keep their hands off each other, and their jobs are on the line. Real feelings emerge, raising the stakes and turning sexy sparks into a roaring fire!
Verdict: guilty...
...of corrupting Miss Prim and Proper!
Hotshot lawyer Stone Michaelsen never loses a case—but rival Hillary Bellows is determined to beat him in court. When they’re alone together the gloves—and the clothes—come off. Uptight in court, yet naughty in private, they can’t keep their hands off each other and their jobs are on the line. Real feelings emerge, raising the stakes and turning sexy sparks into a roaring fire!
“DARE is Harlequin’s hottest line yet. Every book should come with a free fan. I dare you to try them!”
—Tiffany Reisz, international bestselling author
Ever since LISA CHILDS read her first romance novel at age eleven—a Mills & Boon story, of course—all she wanted was to be a romance writer. With over forty novels published with Mills & Boon, Lisa is living her dream. She is an award-winning, bestselling romance author. Lisa loves to hear from readers, who can contact her on Facebook, through her website, lisachilds.com (http://www.lisachilds.com), or at her snail-mail address, PO Box 139, Marne, MI 49435, USA.
If you liked Legal Passion look for the other books in Lisa Childs’ Legal Lovers miniseries
Legal SeductionLegal AttractionLegal Passion
Or why not try
My Royal Hook-Up by Riley Pine Sins of the Flesh by J. Margot Critch Hard Deal by Stefanie London
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Legal Passion
Lisa Childs
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07139-0
LEGAL PASSION
© 2018 Lisa Childs
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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For Andrew forever
Contents
Cover (#ub4f5fc8d-f6e4-5490-bfee-84ae1f9cb484)
Back Cover Text (#uab71a460-779c-512d-b633-c4726b9f1a12)
About the Author (#u489da785-262c-5fa6-8d4b-4159cba0cf35)
Booklist (#uafbc55bd-37d5-5e2a-bb5a-8f925a821989)
Title Page (#ua8ff6728-96db-5856-87d7-9d52d63e38c8)
Copyright (#u122100b3-8c44-54e6-9b7e-2bf3e80093b2)
Dedication (#u4e28216d-d1f3-5b8e-b893-70f31ceb606e)
CHAPTER ONE (#u34298a45-d4d1-5d0d-9029-448f467a584b)
CHAPTER TWO (#u9e3d686d-d164-57de-b8a2-46527ff23099)
CHAPTER THREE (#u7561453a-7d86-5928-8631-12eb6e15e81b)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u27e19a7b-8a1b-5939-bd47-a97a3141ef09)
CHAPTER FIVE (#uff7822a8-6fd9-5fb5-a81c-96a31c83e59c)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ue5b1fda1-e0ea-5274-96ba-39bd8925296e)
“I AM GOING to prove to you that this man is a bad man,” the assistant district attorney said as she pointed at the defense table.
Stone Michaelsen had the uneasy feeling that she was pointing at him rather than his client. But it wasn’t as if he could object. He was a bad man—sometimes.
And right now, watching Hillary Bellows work the jury, he wanted to be very bad to her. She was so damn sexy in her sky-blue suit that perfectly matched her sky-blue eyes. The skirt fit tightly over her rounded ass, and the jacket didn’t quite close over her full breasts, showing off her flesh-colored camisole. She had the rapt attention of every male juror and, since she was so earnest, most of the women as well. When she turned back toward the jury, her blond bob skimmed across her jaw. Her hair looked so silky that his fingers twitched to touch it, to touch her.
But as always, when he faced her in court, he had to resist the urge to act on this crazy attraction he had for her. Hillary Bellows was strictly off-limits. But even if she wasn’t, she had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t think much of him. He would really have to turn on the charm if he wanted to change her mind about him.
And, unlike his law partners, Stone was not a natural charmer. He was too blunt and outspoken to be ingratiating and flattering. So was Hillary.
She continued her opening statement. “I am going to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant murdered his young wife in a jealous rage. The defendant’s attorney, Stone Michaelsen, from the notorious Street Legal law practice, is going to try to trick you into exonerating his client—because he and his partners will do anything to win.”
Stone resisted the urge to flinch—barely. She was hitting low, even for Hillary, using the recent problems his firm had been having against him. And the problems weren’t their fault; they had a mole in the office, someone trying to throw their cases and make them look bad. If she’d had access to their case files, he might have thought Hillary was the one responsible for the leaks.
She seemed to be carrying a grudge against him from all the times he’d beaten her before—because her opening argument felt more like a personal attack against him than a summary of the case she was going to present.
“And like his partners,” Hillary continued, “Stone Michaelsen will use the media and other tricks to make his case, because he has no evidence.”
He suppressed a flinch at her direct hit. He had a meeting later with Allison McCann of McCann Public Relations. They were going to discuss his next press release. The publicist had already issued statements from his office about the prosecution disregarding the fact that his client had an ironclad alibi for the time of the murder. Charges never should have been brought against Byron Mueller. And the grand jury should have damn well never indicted. But because of that alibi, this would be an easy win for Stone, and another loss for Hillary.
Maybe that was why she sounded so bitter in this opening statement. She knew she was going to lose, just as she had every other time she had gone up against him in court. What if she were literally up against him? All her lush curves pressed against his body?
Now he had to suppress a smile. He couldn’t have the jury thinking he looked smug, even though he felt smug at the moment.
But Hillary looked pretty damn smug herself. She glanced at him again—instead of his client—and there was a glimmer of amusement in her blue eyes. What the hell did she find so funny?
It wouldn’t be the fact that she was going to lose. She wouldn’t find that funny at all, not with as ambitious as she was.
Then she turned away from him and focused on the jury again. She lowered her voice, as if confiding a big secret to them, and said, “Even the alibi his client claims to have for the time of the murder has been discredited with evidence from Mr. Michaelsen’s own case files.”
What the hell was she talking about? Stone jumped out of his chair and protested, “Your Honor, I object. The assistant DA is making an inculpatory statement—”
“That I can prove,” Hillary interrupted him.
The gavel slammed down. “This is Ms. Bellows’s opening argument, Mr. Michaelsen. You will have the chance to defend your client during the trial.”
“Sounds like I’m the one who needs defending,” he grumbled as he reluctantly settled back into his seat.
“Mr. Michaelsen...” the judge said, his voice sharp with a warning. Harrison had ruled the bench for a long time, probably too long. What wispy hair he had left was white, and his face was heavily lined with age and disapproval.
It was never good for Stone when he drew Harrison as a judge. But still, he had to appeal to the guy.
“Please remind Ms. Bellows that my law firm is not on trial here,” he said. “Only my client.”
The judge didn’t give Hillary a verbal warning, just a pointed glare that Hillary then passed on to Stone, her blue eyes narrowing. But a slight smile curved her lips. She was obviously enjoying needling him.
He found his pulse racing as well, and not just over the thrill of a high-profile trial, but over the thrill of facing her again. He’d beaten her before, but it hadn’t been easy. As a lawyer, she’d proved to be his greatest challenge.
As a woman...
No. Because she was a lawyer, specifically his opposing counsel on this case, he couldn’t think of her as a woman. But that was damn hard.
He wouldn’t mind Hillary going below his belt, as long as she was not hitting him. Hell, he’d really love her going below his belt and zipper and boxers.
Stone’s client nudged his arm. “This isn’t looking good,” he murmured with genuine concern. “What’s she talking about, your case files discrediting my alibi?”
“I don’t know,” Stone whispered back. But he was damn well going to find out.
“Mr. Michaelsen, Ms. Bellows has the floor. You and your client need to save your discussion for after court.”
Stone flinched. Great. He’d already pissed off the judge. Of course, Judge Harrison usually seemed pissed off, even before the trial started.
Stone squeezed his client’s arm, trying to reassure him, but Byron Mueller suddenly looked every one of his sixty-some years. The billionaire was known for being all brash, bluster and bravado, but then, he hadn’t ever gotten into any trouble before that he hadn’t been able to buy his way out of. By hiring Stone and Street Legal, he must have thought he would buy his way out of this, too. But the murder charge was serious.
And so was Hillary Bellows, as she continued her opening statement about all the reasons why the jury should find his client guilty. Of course, her biggest reason seemed to be Stone—like Byron Mueller wouldn’t have hired him if he wasn’t guilty.
The problem was: he wasn’t. No matter what Hillary thought she had learned from Stone’s case files—that alibi was real. Byron was innocent, and Stone intended to prove it. But if Hillary managed to throw out the alibi, that was going to be damn hard...almost as hard as Stone got just watching the beautiful assistant district attorney work.
* * *
Hillary Bellows didn’t care how late it was. She was not at all tired, not with all the excitement coursing through her. She couldn’t stop smiling. She was going to win this time. Stone Michaelsen was not going to get his client off—like he had so many others.
She leaned back in her desk chair and thought of the stunned expression on his ridiculously handsome face during her opening argument. She’d taken him by surprise, which unsettled her a bit. How had she gotten that information if it hadn’t come from his office?
It didn’t matter, though.
She was going to win. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to celebrate the way she’d have liked—with Stone getting her off. He was so damn good-looking with his thick black hair and those deep gray eyes of his. And his body...
With his broad shoulders, big chest and arms, and heavy thighs, his body was as ridiculously perfect as his handsome face.
How could he be in such good shape? He was always trying a case, so he had to work almost as hard as she did. And she never found time to get to the gym. So how did he?
He had to lift weights a lot. A lot of weights...
Or maybe he lifted a lot of women. She wanted him to lift her—to carry her effortlessly in those big strong arms of his. To carry her off to his bedroom...
She snorted at her fantasy. That was all it was ever going to be: just a fantasy. Unfortunately, she had a lot of them about Stone Michaelsen.
She uttered a wistful sigh and reached for the candy bar that was her dinner. Or maybe dessert now, since the dinner hour had passed a while ago. She closed her eyes as the smooth dark chocolate dissolved on her tongue, teasing her taste buds with the paradox of sweet and bitterness. A little moan of pleasure slipped through her lips.
A groan echoed it.
Startled, she jumped and nearly fell out of her chair as she opened her eyes to find Stone Michaelsen leaning against the doorjamb of her office. She hadn’t left that open; she never did, but especially not after hours. But then, maybe the cleaning crew had when one of them had taken her trash earlier. She’d said they could come back and finish cleaning a little later, but she suspected they’d already left for the night since that had been a while ago.
“How the hell did you get in here?” she asked.
How had she not heard the door open? How had she not felt him watching her? Had she been that preoccupied...thinking about him?
He lifted one of his broad shoulders in a half shrug. “I’m not such a bad man that I can’t make it past security,” he said with a grin, “especially when I represented the guard’s grandson for a drug charge.”
She glared at him. “Of course you did.” And she suspected that he’d either gotten the charges reduced or tossed out.
He had no chance of getting the charges in his current case tossed out. Or reduced.
But she had no doubt that was why he was here. She leaned back in her chair and studied him. “So, let me guess... You want to talk plea deal?”
“I have a plea for you,” he said as he stepped inside her office and closed the door.
The room was already small, but now it seemed to shrink even more as he filled it. He was so damn big—over six feet of height and breadth. His thick black hair looked a little mussed now, as if he’d run his hands through it. Or maybe some woman just had. And his gray eyes, they were so intense and focused...on her.
Her pulse quickened as he approached her desk. He braced his palms on top of the files on it and leaned over, so that his face was nearly level with hers. Now her pulse raced. Was his plea for a kiss?
She was tempted to close the distance between them and press her lips to his. But she knew that wasn’t what he wanted. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—want her.
He and his law partners dated lingerie models, fashion designers, actresses and heiresses—not poorly paid, overworked assistant district attorneys like she was. But this was the career and the life she had chosen. And she was good with that, and even better that she could have him only in her fantasies. That was a hell of a lot safer than the reality of Stone Michaelsen.
Because she did not want the real Stone Michaelsen. He was arrogant, ruthless and amoral. No. She just wanted the fantasy one who didn’t speak, who only kissed and caressed her.
“Don’t you want to know my plea?” he asked.
She drew in a deep breath to bring herself to her senses. But she only breathed in his scent, which was soap, musk and something that was him alone. “For mercy?” she teased. “You have never showed me any.”
Not in court. And not in those damn press releases he had that PR firm issue for him. Curiously, there had not been one printed today. And she would have thought it would have been more important today—than any other day—for him to discredit her case.
But then, he knew he couldn’t discredit the evidence that had been sent from his own office. Why had he done that, though? It wasn’t like Stone Michaelsen to play by the rules, or even to play fair.
“You’re not my client,” he told her. “I only plead for my clients.”
He usually didn’t plea them out, though. He came up with some ridiculous defense instead. And no matter how ridiculous it was, he conned the jury into buying it.
What the hell was he going to come up with this time? She could hardly wait to find out.
She shook her head. “I’m not giving your client any mercy. No plea deals for him.” Stone had wasted his time coming to see her.
“I wouldn’t accept a plea deal for him,” Stone said. “Byron Mueller is innocent.”
She snorted. Who was living in a fantasy world now? “If you repeat the lie enough times, do you start to believe it?”
His gray eyes narrowed in a glare. Obviously, he didn’t like being called a liar. But it was what he was, what he did. And Hillary always called it like she saw it.
“No. Really. I’m curious,” she continued. “I don’t understand how defense lawyers do it.” How could they represent someone they knew was guilty?
But that apparently was not what Stone thought she was talking about, because now his gray eyes glittered with amusement. Wriggling his brows suggestively, he lowered his voice to a sexy whisper and murmured, “I could show you.”
Her heart stopped beating entirely for a moment. Was he flirting with her?
Stone Michaelsen didn’t flirt. He was too focused on winning trials—on always being the best. Was he that way in the bedroom, too?
Did he have to be the best?
It wasn’t as if she would ever find out, though. He wasn’t suggesting what she’d thought he was. No. She must have been fantasizing yet. He wasn’t even here, let alone uttering innuendos. She reached under her desk and pinched the top of her thigh. Then she tried not to flinch at the pain.
She wasn’t fantasizing. This was real. Stone Michaelsen was in her office, and he was...
Flirting.
With.
Her.
CHAPTER TWO (#ue5b1fda1-e0ea-5274-96ba-39bd8925296e)
WHAT THE HELL was he doing?
Stone hadn’t come to the district attorney’s office to flirt with Hillary Bellows. He’d come to get answers from her, to find out what the hell she’d been talking about in court about documents from his office. But now he just wanted to make her come.
And he really, really wanted to come himself.
Being alone with her had been a very bad idea. But he’d been so angry about her opening argument that he hadn’t thought his attraction to her would be an issue. Then he’d found her leaning back in her desk chair, moaning...
And all he could think about was making her moan again—with his kiss, with his touch...
Her face flushed a bright pink as she stared at him, her blue eyes widened with shock, the same shock he felt that he’d said what he had. Then she stammered, “I—I don’t want to know how defense lawyers do it.”
“Why not?” Stone asked. “Because you find us all beneath you?”
Then he groaned at the image that flashed into his mind—of being beneath her as she rode him in a frenzy, trying to reach the release from the tension that had already begun to build inside him.
As if this damn trial wasn’t making him tense enough.
Now he’d lost his grip on this attraction he felt for her. That he had always felt for her.
Did she feel nothing in return?
She shivered and murmured, “I don’t know how you do it.”
“And 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.”
She might have gotten a drink with another lawyer or had lunch with him. But not Stone. She’d refused every time he’d asked her out after a case.
She’d suspected then that he’d only wanted to gloat about his victory. And she’d been too furious over the loss...of justice.
His eyes flared again, going dark and sparkly with desire. Or was she only imagining that. “I love the way you say my name,” he murmured, his voice gruff.
She shivered now. Of course, she was wearing only a thin camisole since she’d taken off her jacket. His gaze moved down, to where her nipples were pressing through her lace bra and pushing against the silk of her camisole.
“Sto—Mr. Michaelsen,” she said, putting the same warning in her tone that Judge Harrison had used with him that afternoon.
He grinned. “Oh, Hillary... I think we could have some fun being personal.”
Now the heat flashed back through her, heating her face and her entire body. Her patience, as well as her control, wearing thin, she asked, “Why are you here?”
He didn’t reply. He just kept staring at her with that glint of naughtiness in his eyes.
“If you’re not going to tell me,” she said, “I’m going to leave.”
But that would mean walking around him to get to the door, and she didn’t want to get any closer to him. Not right now...
Not with the way he was looking at her.
He closed his eyes, breaking that connection between them. When he opened them again, he shook his head and rubbed one hand around the nape of his neck, as if he was stressed.
After her opening argument, he should be stressed.
She had him this time. And he had to know it as well as she did.
“I came here to find out what the hell you were talking about in your opening statement when you claimed to have evidence from my case files,” he said.
She relaxed and smiled. “It’s the truth. I have evidence—”
“I want to know how the hell you got anything from my case files!” he said, his voice rising with irritation.
He obviously had no idea. A laugh slipped through her lips. Yes, she had him. He was not winning this time.
“You’re talking about the evidence that proves your client’s alibi is fake,” she said.
He shook his head again, but this time vehemently. “It’s not fake.”
“The bank records you sent me prove that Mr. Mueller bought and paid for that alibi,” she reminded him. How could Stone have not realized that? But then, it didn’t sound as if he’d actually meant to share those records with her.
Which he confirmed when he said, through gritted teeth, “I did not send you anything.”
“Someone from your office did,” she said. And she still could not believe her good fortune. She hadn’t expected to get any help from the defense for the prosecution, let alone this much.
Now he chuckled. “I wouldn’t be so cocky, Hillary. You got played by our office mole.”
“What?” She narrowed her eyes and studied him with suspicion. What game was he playing with her now? “What the hell are you talking about? What would an office mole have to do with me?”
The humor left his face as his jaw went rigid with anger. “We have a little issue. Someone has been trying to cause problems for the practice. Until now, only my partners have been affected.”
She could believe that Street Legal had made some enemies—because for every case they won, someone else lost. But she wasn’t really buying his story. It sounded too much like one of the press releases that PR firm put out for them for damage control.
Why hadn’t he issued one today?
“The last time someone received something supposedly from our case files,” he continued, “the documents had been forged.” The grin curved his lips up again. “So I wouldn’t be so confident about your evidence.”
She narrowed her eyes and studied his handsome face. “You’re bluffing,” she said. And she hoped like hell that he was.
He had to be or he would have had McCann issue a statement that the evidence was forged. If he could prove that it was... He was the one with no proof.
His grin only widened. “You’ll see that I’m telling the truth when my client is acquitted.”
She hated his smugness. She hated a lot of things about Stone Michaelsen. That was why she would only ever fantasize about him and would never actually act on her attraction to him. But because they were alone and she was more aware of him than she’d ever been, she needed to get away from him before she forgot how much she hated about him.
She snagged her jacket from the back of her chair and grabbed her briefcase from the desk. “I’m leaving,” she said. “We have an early morning in court.” She probably shouldn’t have reminded him of that. Let him be late. Judge Harrison would love that.
“So nobody’s waiting for you at home,” he said.
She sighed and shook her head as she moved to step around him. But before she could maneuver past him, he wrapped his arms around her and jerked her up against his long, hard body. Then he lowered his mouth to hers.
First, his lips just brushed across hers. Then his tongue flicked out and licked the corner of her mouth. “Sweet...” he said.
And heat flushed her face as she realized she’d had chocolate on her face the entire time they’d been talking. But they weren’t talking now. He moved his mouth over hers again, and she gasped for breath as panic and attraction squeezed her lungs.
He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue inside her mouth. She tasted the chocolate. Dark and rich, and just a touch bitter. Then she tasted him. And he tasted the same.
There was nothing really sweet about the chocolate or his flavor. But it was intoxicating.
And addictive...
She trembled with the force of the desire rushing through her, and the jacket and briefcase handle slipped through her shaking hands. When they were free, she reached for him. Sliding her fingers into his thick black hair, she held his head down as she kissed him back.
CHAPTER THREE (#ue5b1fda1-e0ea-5274-96ba-39bd8925296e)
WHAT THE HELL had he done? Kissing Hillary Bellows had been a huge mistake. But it was a mistake that Stone wanted to repeat over and over again.
Fingers snapped in front of his face. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Stone?” Ronan Hall grumbled at him. “You called this damn emergency meeting, and you haven’t said a word yet.”
He shook his head and murmured, “Sorry.”
“Allison McCann said you stood her up for your meeting yesterday afternoon, too,” Simon Kramer remarked from the head of the conference table in his office. He was the managing partner of Street Legal, just as the young con artist had been the managing partner when they’d all been living on the streets as teen runaways.
“I called her and canceled,” Stone said. At least he thought he had. He hadn’t talked to Allison directly but he’d left a message with her assistant.
He’d wanted to talk to Hillary before he issued any more press releases. If only all he had done was talk...
But being alone with her, and in such a small space, had tested his control in a way it had never been tested with her before. Hell, he didn’t think his control in general had ever been tested like that before. It was probably the first test he’d ever failed in his life.
“You look like hell,” Simon remarked.
“He’s got a tough trial,” Trevor Sinclair said in his defense. Trev handled the biggest cases in their firm—all the class-action stuff that made them millions. “He probably didn’t get any sleep.”
Stone hadn’t, and he wished that had been because of the trial. But that had all been because of the opposing counsel—his gorgeous, hot, passionate opposing counsel.
“I’ve never known Stone to lose much sleep over a trial,” Simon said, and his blue eyes narrowed as he studied Stone’s face.
He was careful to veil his expression, but Simon was good at reading people. As a con artist, he’d had to be in order to pick his marks. He hadn’t been a con artist for a long time, but he hadn’t lost any of his skills.
His skill was part of what had made Street Legal so successful. Their office encompassed the entire floor of a building in Midtown. It had hardwood floors, exposed brick and tall windows that looked out over the city.
Stone squinted at the sunshine streaming through the blinds of Simon’s windows. “It wasn’t the trial that cost me sleep,” he admitted.
But he didn’t own up to what had happened with Hillary Bellows. For one, his partners probably wouldn’t believe it. Hell, he wasn’t sure he believed it. Instead, he shared the news for which he’d called the early morning meeting. “That damn mole has struck again.”
His partners all cursed. Simon cursed the loudest; he was especially frustrated that he hadn’t caught the damn culprit yet. As managing partner, he’d assumed the responsibility for the leak and for stopping it.
“We need to put an end to this bullshit,” Simon said, his voice nearly hoarse with anger. “Now.”
Stone heartily agreed, and he regretted not getting involved in the search sooner. But he’d been preparing his case for trial. And...
Until now, he hadn’t been affected.
The mole had struck Trevor first with a leak of case files to opposing counsel. But Trevor had won the big class-action lawsuit despite it.
Stone wasn’t convinced he could handle the mole’s attack as well as Trevor had. Hell, he already hadn’t.
“What happened?” Ronan asked. He’d been the latest victim before Stone.
“Hillary Bellows received something from our office,” he explained. “Something she thought was in my case files. And it’s big.” He expelled a ragged breath. “It’s something that could destroy my entire defense if it’s true.” Because his entire defense was hinged on that alibi. Without it...
“You don’t know if it’s true?” Ronan asked. At least the stuff that had been leaked about him had been forged. And neither he nor any of his partners had had any doubts about that.
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 (#ue5b1fda1-e0ea-5274-96ba-39bd8925296e)
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 floor.
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.
She wished now that he would have, because she couldn’t unsee what she’d seen. She couldn’t unfeel what she’d felt. He was even more amazing than he’d been in her fantasies. His body was perfect—all taut skin and hard rippling muscles. And the way he’d touched her, kissed her, moved inside her...
Heat flushed her body as tension wound tightly inside her. She needed him moving inside her again.
“Ms. Bellows!” The judge bellowed her name. “Are you ready to call your first witness?”
Now heat flushed her face. She jumped to her feet and said, “Yes, Your Honor, I am.”
Not ready. She was not ready to think about anything but what had happened the night before. But she couldn’t think about that anymore.
She couldn’t think about Stone Michaelsen as anything but the opposition in court. And as the opposition, she had to crush him and now she had the evidence to do it. He was not going to help another guilty person get away with their crimes as he’d helped too many others.
She called her first witness to the stand. It was the maid who’d found the young Mrs. Mueller’s body in her husband’s den. She turned around to watch the woman enter the back of the courtroom. And as she turned, she saw Stone first and that damn briefcase where he’d stuffed her bra. And she remembered how he’d gotten her off the night before.
Twice.
In the bra she wore, her nipples tightened, and her core began to pulse with desire. How the hell could she want him yet? His bringing her bra to court proved that last night had meant nothing to him beyond getting something over her. A way to manipulate her.
He wanted to mess with her case. Maybe he intended to report her to the judge and get a mistrial for his client. She held her breath, waiting for his objection or for him to ask to speak to the judge in chambers.
But hell, he wouldn’t bother saving her any embarrassment. He would probably announce right in open court that he’d had sex with her in her office—on her desk.
She hadn’t even noticed the folders toppling over to the ground or the hard surface of the desk beneath her butt. She hadn’t been aware of anything but him and how hot and sexy he was. And when he’d touched her with his mouth, teased her with his tongue.
Her body throbbed with need. She wanted him again. But that wasn’t possible. The line they’d crossed could not be crossed again.
But the damage was already done.
He could tell the judge anytime what they’d done. He could ask that she be recused because he didn’t think she should be prosecuting his client after they’d had sex.
What would her boss say then?
She’d be lucky if all she lost was this case. She would probably lose her job, too.
But Stone didn’t say anything until it was his turn to cross-examine her witness.
And he never looked at her again.
What the hell was he up to?
CHAPTER FIVE (#ue5b1fda1-e0ea-5274-96ba-39bd8925296e)
JUST AS HIS client was being led off to jail again, the billionaire said something ominous to Stone. “You’re playing a dangerous game here.”
Stone automatically glanced over to the prosecution’s table. But Hillary was already gone. He turned toward the back of the court and caught just a glimpse of her bright blond hair as she slipped out into the hall. He wanted to chase after her, but members of the press, that Judge Harrison had banned from the proceedings, surrounded her now in the hall, shoving microphones in her beautiful face. And he wasn’t sure he could hide from the media how he felt about her now, how he wanted her.
Then the doors swung shut again, and he lost sight of her and the reporters. And he was able to focus on his client again. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
Byron Mueller tilted his head and reminded Stone, “You have a million reasons to do your best.”
“I am...” Maybe not today in court. But last night...
That had been his best. Well, it had felt the best. But he’d been quick and out of control. Had Hillary enjoyed it, too? She’d seemed to, but the minute it was over, she’d vowed it would never happen again. That it was a mistake.
And given how distracted it had made him today, she was right. It had been a mistake. One that they could not repeat. Not that she would want to repeat it. She was furious with him for bringing her bra to court.
Maybe Byron was right. Maybe he was playing a dangerous game. Stone would be lucky if she only went after him in court. And she had gone after him today. She hadn’t brought up the alibi yet, but she’d used other witnesses to paint Mueller’s short marriage as a contentious one.
Stone had seen the concern on his client’s face. No wonder Byron uttered that warning as the guards led him from the courtroom. He didn’t want to go to prison for a crime he had not committed.
But Stone was not going to allow that to happen. Hillary Bellows hadn’t beaten him in court yet, and she was damn well not going to beat him this time, either. And beating her again was more incentive than even the million-dollar bonus that Mueller had offered him if they won.
Hillary could not find out about that bonus. She would think that Mueller was just trying to buy his way out of trouble. She had already convinced the judge to deny bail, because she’d argued that Mueller would use his billions to elude justice if he was allowed out before the trial.
Despite Stone’s arguments to refute her claims, bail had been denied. But Stone didn’t count that as a win for Hillary. Judge Harrison rarely granted bail to anyone, so it was no surprise that he’d denied it to a billionaire. He wouldn’t have wanted to be accused of bias or being bribed.
But he was actually biased against Stone’s client, and he was probably biased against Stone as well. As the judge was leaving the courtroom, he’d sent Stone a warning, too. It had been silent—just a glare as he’d walked away.
The courtroom was almost empty now with the day over, but Stone hesitated before closing his briefcase and taking it from the defense table. Instead, he reached into the open case, pushed aside a folder and fingered the lace of Hillary’s nude bra. It was nothing like her skin, like her breasts.
He wanted to feel her again. But that wasn’t going to happen. He doubted he’d be seeing her again anytime soon outside of court. She would probably make certain of that.
But he had another woman he needed to see, one he’d already stood up in order to talk to Hillary the night before. He needed to meet with Allison McCann. The publicist was beautiful but she didn’t excite him like Hillary Bellows did. He’d never been attracted to her like he was to the curvy blond assistant district attorney. Of course, Allison McCann was all business.
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