at last the endless convoy began to inch forward, no one seemed inclined to allow her to ease into the flow of traffic. Desperate measures were called for, and minutes later she made it amidst a cacophony of irate car horns accompanied by a few graphic hand gestures and mouthed blasphemy.
Why would the city council choose peak-hour traffic to conduct road repairs? Although, to be fair, this particular stretch bore heavy traffic all through the day and into the night.
She extracted her cellphone, activated the loudspeaker function and called work, notified her superior she’d be late, then continued the crawl-like pace into the central city.
Arriving late involved some serious catch-up time, and she examined the day’s agenda, liaised with the police prosecutor, went through case notes, consulted with her client prior to his appearance in court—and, despite her cleverly structured questioning of the witness, the magistrate deemed in conclusion that there was sufficient evidence for the case to be heard in a higher court before a judge and jury at a future date.
It wasn’t the result her client had hoped for, but, given his prior conviction and the strength of the witness’s testimony, she could only reiterate fact and arrange a debriefing consultation.
Lunch was a chicken and salad sandwich followed by fresh fruit eaten at her desk, after which she made several phone calls and outlined pertinent points on her case notes prior to a late-afternoon consultation with a solicitor and his client, involving documented injuries incurred in an accident, which should conclude in a reasonable financial settlement for the client.
It was after five when Lisane saved all data to disk, closed down her laptop and pushed paperwork into her briefcase.
Home sounded good. She’d shower, don comfortable clothes, eat, then put in a few hours reviewing documentation in regard to a consultation scheduled for the following day.
An hour later she checked the contents of her refrigerator, decided she wasn’t in the mood for food just yet and crossed to the small second bedroom which housed a desk, bookshelves filled with law books, her sewing machine and a dressmaker’s dummy bedecked in a partly finished gown.
She could already ‘see’ the completed garment, the total picture with stiletto heels and evening bag, and her fingers began to itch as she viewed the soft drape of silk chiffon.
It wouldn’t take much…
Within minutes she was attaching the requisite tacking, and she soon became lost to everything but the artistry of creation as she fed the chiffon carefully through the machine.
The thin spaghetti straps required a steady hand, and she measured the length, then fitted both.
There was immense satisfaction in the knowledge that only the fine hand-stitching remained, and she switched off the machine then stretched her arms high to ease the slight kink in her shoulders.
Food seemed a sensible option, and she fixed a tuna salad, filched bottled water from the refrigerator and ate while scanning the day’s newspaper headlines.
It was after nine when she opened her briefcase and began reading documentation.
At some stage the burr of her cellphone intruded, and she picked up to discover Zac on the line.
‘Hi.’
His soft chuckle curled round her nerve-ends and tugged a little. ‘You sound distracted. Bad day?’
‘It could have been better.’
There was a slight pause. ‘Want to talk about it?’
What was the point? ‘Not really.’
She could almost see the way his deep brown eyes darkened, the hard acceptance beneath a degree of cynicism. Criminal law dealt on occasion with the underbelly of society, people who possessed few if any scruples and some who committed unspeakable acts.
‘All we can do is our best.’
Lisane gave a slight grimace. ‘And when the best isn’t good enough?’
‘For whom? The client whose prior record makes him a threat to the community?’
It wasn’t about winning, but representing the law within the parameters of a legal system designed to seek justice for all.
Her lips curved into a faint smile. ‘OK, now you’ve made me feel better…how was your day?’
‘I could come tell you in person.’
She was tempted. Seriously tempted. Terrific sex, and afterwards strong, warm arms to cradle her close. For a moment the image was overwhelming, and she queried lightly, ‘Are you waiting for an invitation?’
‘No.’
A bubble of laughter escaped her throat at the faint mockery in his voice, and she voiced teasingly, ‘See you in fifteen.’
Fourteen, Lisane determined as headlights threw a sweeping beam across the front of her cottage, followed seconds later by the faint snick of a car door closing.
Lisane met him on the front porch, her eyes wide and faintly luminous in the dimmed light as he framed her face.
His mouth brushed hers, felt her lips part in welcome, and he angled his head and went in deep, savouring the taste and the scent of her. Wanting, needing her warmth, her touch.
Dammit, all of her.
He was aware of her arms reaching to encircle his neck, and felt her fingers weave into the thickness of his hair, sensed their soothing movement against his scalp and he feathered a light path down the length of her spine to cup her bottom, bringing her against the thick hardness of his desire.
He could take her now, dispense with her clothes, his own…the effect she had on him was a sorcery both sweet and carnal.
For a moment he’d neglected to remember where they were, clearly visible in the dim porch light to anyone who chanced a look.
Zac eased back a little, and reluctantly relinquished her mouth as he leant his forehead against her own.
She was incapable of saying a word as he shaped her shoulders, then he let his hands slide down her arms to thread his fingers through her own.
‘Let’s take this indoors, hmm?’
The cottage design was simple. A wide hallway separated the lounge on one side from the main bedroom opposite. From there the hallway opened into a large living area, with two small bedrooms to the left. The kitchen, bathroom and utility room stretched across the rear of the cottage.
Silently she turned at his direction and together they entered the hallway and closed the door behind them.
Zac lifted a hand and trailed fingers down her cheek. ‘Are you done with work for the night?’
It would be easy to say yes, only for honesty to win out. ‘Not quite.’
His thumb pressed against the centre of her lower lip, and his smile held a tinge of amusement as he released her. ‘I’ll go make coffee.’
Lisane
