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,
