CHAPTER SEVEN
“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
