One Hot Weekend. Katherine Garbera

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listening.”

      “I don’t have it all worked out yet. Can we talk about this in my office after we’re done in court?”

      “Okay. We can share the beer I sent you.”

      “Oh, did you send me something?” she asked, patting his ass and walking away from him.

      “You know I did, baby,” he growled as he walked past her into the courtroom.

      She watched him go, wondering what it was going to take to satisfy Mitch and the rekindled desire burning in the center of her body. She tried to tell herself he was just another attorney as she stepped into the courtroom but those words rang hollow. No other attorney had ever made her pulse race the way Mitch did.

      MITCH LOOSENED HIS TIE and stepped out into the Orlando summer day. It was still hot as hell. He’d talked to the press on the steps of the courthouse. Jason’s movie career was hanging in the balance, and he and Marcus both agreed the less their client said the better.

      Mitch rolled his shoulders and took his sunglasses from his pocket. Sophia had developed into a hell of a sophisticated woman since he’d last seen her. He wouldn’t have expected the girl who’d worn poet shirts and jeans to ever be comfortable in a designer suit.

      He got in the Porsche and drove to the D.A.’s office. He knew he wanted his pound of flesh from the moment he’d stepped on the plane in L.A. His cold-blooded plan for revenge was going to take some careful handling. He’d conveniently forgotten a few important details about her.

      The softer things. Despite the fact that she’d sent him on a false trail so she could get the only remaining internship with an important law firm, Sophia had always been very soft.

      And when he’d held her in his arms earlier, he’d realized she still was. That softness didn’t matter. She was a grown woman and she’d started a very dangerous game with him a lifetime ago.

      His phone rang. “Hollaran.”

      “Mitch, buddy, I got a problem.”

      Devlin Chase. He closed his eyes and groaned. Devlin was one of his oldest friends. They’d grown up together in the same middle-class Growing Pains-style family. Only Dev’s parents had gotten a divorce and Dev had never stopped rebelling.

      “I’m in Florida. Can this be done over the phone?”

      There was a loud sigh. “No.”

      He heard sounds he hoped weren’t familiar. “Are you in jail?”

      “Uh…yes.”

      “What’s the charge?”

      “Drug possession.”

      Devlin had checked himself into detox about nine months ago when he’d met a pretty horse trainer who had a zero-tolerance policy for drug users. And Mitch had watched his friend struggle every day but they’d met for drinks a few weeks ago and Devlin had seemed okay. Better than okay, actually more like he finally had gotten his life on track. “I thought you’d cleaned up.”

      “Shit happens, man.”

      “Shit only happens to those who let it happen.”

      “We can’t all be the golden boy.” Dev was angry. But he had been for the last fifteen years.

      “Is that what this is all about?” Mitch asked.

      “Hell, no. It’s never been about you.”

      “Hold on. I’m driving.”

      Mitch pulled onto the shoulder. Dev’s timing as usual sucked. He wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on manipulating Sophia while worrying about his friend.

      Revenge would have to wait. Taking care of his friend was more important. But maybe that was the problem. Mitch was always bailing Dev out. Maybe it was time for some tough love. But Mitch didn’t know if he could leave Dev in a cell. Even if that were the best thing for him.

      “Give me the details. I’ll handle what I can from here. I’m going to have to get someone from my office over there.”

      He turned off the car and rolled down his window. It was a hot day, reminding Mitch of the summer before junior high school when he and Dev had ruled the neighborhood. They’d been an unstoppable team that year. College had changed them. Mitch had learned that looks and charm weren’t enough to make it in the world, but Dev had never made that adjustment.

      Taking a notepad he started asking questions. Dev answered them all with the same honesty he’d always had toward his addiction. “I don’t think detox is going to work this time.”

      “You broke your probation.”

      “Am I going to jail this time?”

      “Let me see what I can do. I’ll have to call the judge and get bail set. Do you have anyone who can post it?”

      “No.”

      “What about Julie?” Dev was a professional horse breeder and had been working for the last six months with Julie Cavanaugh. And spending most of his nights at her home.

      “Don’t send Julie.”

      “Why not?” Mitch wished he were in L.A. so he could check out Dev himself. He didn’t know Julie, other than through Dev’s stories. But if the woman was half as crazy about Dev as Dev was about her, then she’d want to know.

      “She doesn’t know I’m an addict.”

      “Why the hell not?”

      “She’s kind of classy.”

      “So?”

      “She thinks I’m one of the good guys, man. I don’t want her to know I’m not.”

      Mitch sighed. He, more than anyone else, understood how a woman could mess with a guy’s head. “I’ll do my best.”

      He glanced at his watch. He couldn’t drive and make the kind of calls he needed to make to take care of Dev’s problems.

      He called Sophia’s office. Her secretary answered on the third ring and put him through.

      “Deltonio.” Sophia’s voice had been hard and very confident in the courtroom. In her office though she sounded like the woman he remembered—sweet, tender and very ladylike. He warned himself not to get drawn into the same trap he had before.

      “Hey, babe, its Mitch.”

      “Mitch, it’s the twenty-first century. Most women don’t like to be called babe.”

      “That’s not what they tell me,” he said.

      She sighed and he heard her office chair creak. What was her office like? His corner office in L.A. overlooked the city, and on a smog-free day you could see all the way to the mountains. Did she still have that Monet print of Argenteuil?

      “Where

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