style="font-size:15px;"> Startled, Luke followed his gaze and realized that not only had Jason noticed his predicament, he had attributed it to the defendant, Amber, seated at the nearby table, her enormous chest thrust forward, her cherry-red lips pouting. Amber repeatedly flashed provocative glances at the jury, zeroing in on the three younger males in particular.
“I think she likes us,” the other Jason chimed in with a snort and a chortle.
Which drew the attention of the judge. “No talking in the jury box!” he snapped.
The Jasons lapsed into sullen silence, but Luke was grateful for the reprieve.
With a sidelong gaze, Luke resumed his covert study of Brenna. Her skin, glowing and natural, her delicate features, put Amber’s heavily made-up mask in the shade. As for figures…
The two Jasons might be slavering over Amber’s ample assets, but Luke found himself thoroughly fascinated by the sudden visible movements of Brenna’s pregnant belly. Beneath her knit shirt, the outline of the baby’s head—or its rump?—was discernible as it rolled over within her.
Brenna laid her hand over her belly, as if to soothe the restless baby. And Luke, unable to stop himself, did the same thing. He felt the warmth of her belly and the movements of the unborn child beneath his fingers.
And then his hand touched Brenna’s.
It was as if an electric current had passed between them.
Brenna’s head jerked up, and she drew in a sharp, shocked breath. Her eyes met Luke’s, and he instantly lifted his hand, unable to come up with an excuse—or at least one he considered acceptable. Not to mention believable.
“Uh, sorry,” he muttered. “Irresistible impulse.”
He’d tossed around that phrase in his books, not really believing such a thing existed. It was merely an easy motive to attribute to a character’s behavior, almost a cliché.
Now he knew that irresistible impulses were real indeed, because he had been seized by one himself when he’d put his hand on Brenna. But how could he ever expect her to understand that, when he didn’t understand it himself?
Luke watched Brenna draw back, trying to move as far from him as possible within the confines of her chair. He couldn’t blame her. After all, he had invaded her personal space and touched her like some sort of out-of-control psycho.
He wrote about those—he wasn’t supposed to act like one!
Luke closed his eyes and massaged his temples with his fingertips. What was happening to him? And why?
The morning session was adjourned for a one-hour lunch break. The two Jasons were the first to go, barreling past the other jurors and the attorneys and casting smirks at Amber as they passed her.
The eight senior members of the jury decided to go together to Peglady’s, a restaurant near the courthouse. They were halfway to the door when Sarge, the foreman, turned around to look at Brenna and Luke, still standing side-by-side in the box.
“Hey, you two want to come with us?” called Sarge.
“No, thanks,” Luke answered for both himself and Brenna. “Uh, you didn’t want to go with them, did you?” he tacked on as the eight jurors departed with surprising speed.
“Too bad for me if I did,” said Brenna. “I’d have to run to catch up with them, and I’m not in running condition these days.”
“Yeah, they are hotfooting it out of here,” observed Luke, unrepentant. “I guess they’re hungry. Well, Peglady’s serves big portions so there’s plenty to eat, plus extra to take home. Too bad the food is inedible.”
“How can that be? I heard one of the women, Wanda, I think, tell the others that Peglady’s is an institution here in Ebensburg.”
“Yeah, it’s an institution, all right. Like prisons, schools, state hospitals. Name one of those renowned for its great cuisine.”
“Point taken.” Brenna made her way out of the box.
Luke followed. He wasn’t following her per se, he assured himself. To get out of the courtroom, he had no choice but to trail her, unless he wanted to be rude and push past her. And he did not want to be rude.
“So where are you going for lunch?” Luke didn’t like trailing behind, so he caught up to her, easily matching his long strides to her waddling ones.
It was true, she did waddle like a duck, an observation noted by his writer’s eye for detail. Being so very pregnant, he knew she couldn’t help it. How did she walk when she wasn’t pregnant? Sexily, with her hips swaying seductively from side to side? Gracefully, like a dancer? Or—
“Maybe I’ll brave Peglady’s, despite the inedible food.” Her voice intruded on his ruminations. “At least it’s close. I don’t want to walk too far in the cold. What about you?”
“I think I’ll go home. I live about twenty minutes outside of town, up the mountain.”
“Twenty minutes up and twenty minutes back. That won’t give you much time to eat,” Brenna pointed out.
“Approximately twenty minutes. It’s sweet of you to care.”
Brenna looked up at him. His grin and the glint in his eyes matched his teasing tone.
“Don’t waste your boyish-delight act on me,” she said tartly. “It’ll probably go over well with Amber, though. She couldn’t take her eyes off you and the Jasons, but I think she’d choose you, given any encouragement at all.”
“Boyish delight?” Luke arched his brows. “Ouch. As for Amber… Since we jurors are forbidden to discuss anything about this case among ourselves, I suppose I can’t accuse you of having a jealous fit of pique because Amber was looking me over. It could be grounds for a mistrial.”
They walked into the jurors’ lounge where the coatroom was located and found their coats. She had her big pale-brown parka, he had a navy-blue winter jacket that deepened the color of his eyes. Both carried their coats instead of putting them on.
Luke held the elevator doors open with his arm until she was safely inside the car. And then a group of people appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and pushed inside, shoving Brenna hard against Luke.
“Hey, people, quit rushing like a herd of stampeding buffalo,” Luke ordered sharply. “This woman is practically nine-months pregnant, and she was almost knocked down. Every one of you owes her an apology, and if she doesn’t get one, I’m getting your names. And this is a courthouse, so just use your imagination as to what I’ll do next.”
“Luke!” whispered Brenna, dismayed.
Everybody in the crowded elevator began offering her abject apologies, making sure that Luke saw and heard them. She stood pressed against him, her back molded to his chest and the cradle of his thighs. His hands rested on her shoulders. They felt heavy and warm, just like his body felt against hers. She had to fight to keep from relaxing against him and melting into him. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do.
Heat permeated through her,
