Lawyers In Love: In His Own Defense (7 page)

Tony punched in the phone number he’d memorized that day at Kristine’s house and waited for her to answer. When he heard the mechanical announcement on her voice mail instead, he left a message.

“Kristine, this is Tony Landry. Your dolphin looks good here on my desk. Thanks. I just noticed the Bar Association’s summer cocktail dance at the yacht club is coming up on Saturday. Go with me. I’ll pick you up at five. Your house. Call if there’s a problem. 247-8823. ‘Bye.”

Chapter Six

She shouldn’t go to the party. Not with Tony. Probably she shouldn’t go at all, since he was going to be there. Kristine hit the replay button on her voice-mail program and replayed the message.

Tony’s deep, resonant voice sent shivers down her spine, heated her cheeks, conjured up a mental picture of his sexy smile, his changeable eyes. His lean, hard body.

A predator’s body and eyes. Kristine trembled. Tony could eat her alive, and not just in the courtroom.

But she owed him, much more than she’d been able to repay with a thank-you note and a crystal paperweight. Kristine imagined how insignificant the little dolphin must look on his desk.

Less significant than his pen set, for certain. She pictured an obscenely expensive desk in a huge, opulent corner office at Winston Roe, the desktop empty except for her dolphin and that pen set. Probably gold-plated, and mounted on a stand of polished marble or crystal. Of course he’d want to keep a pen handy, so his clients could conveniently make out large checks.

She brushed away her uncharitable thoughts. If Tony wanted her to go with him to this party, she probably should. He’d saved her life. For one evening, she could try to ignore the fact that he reportedly made an indecent amount of money, defending the very people she wanted to see imprisoned, and that he did it far more successfully than most.

Never mind that the idea of going out with him scared her as much as it turned her on—and that was a lot. She told herself she could ignore the butterflies that buzzed around in her stomach whenever he smiled her way. When she thought about the reporters he seemed to draw like flies, though, she shuddered.

“Kristine?”

Damn. She’d almost forgotten Andi had ridden home with her. “Coming,” she yelled.

Tossing her purse on top of her briefcase, she hurried to the living room, met Andi’s curious gaze. “I’m sorry. I’ll go in the kitchen and see if I can find that sheet cake pan.”

Andi followed, her spike heels clicking on the polished hardwood floor. “I can’t believe my kid is going to be six years old next week,” she said, sitting down and giving Kristine’s kitchen a quick once-over. “Nice place.”

“Thanks. Here’s the pan.” Why Kristine hadn’t tossed it out, she didn’t know. She certainly had no use for a cake pan this big, but then she doubted her late great-aunt had either. “Keep it. You’ll be making cakes all the time for your little boy.”

Andi made a face, as if the thought of constant baking was more than she could stand. “Someday I’ll make enough money so I can afford to buy Brett’s cakes at the bakery. It’s been tight this year, since I bought the house.”

“I imagine.” Just keeping up with the maintenance and paying utility bills and taxes on this house stretched Kristine’s budget. And she owned her house free and clear, thanks to Great-aunt Clara.

Kristine couldn’t imagine adding a hefty mortgage payment to her monthly expenses and still having enough money left over to eat, but she assumed Andi’s salary was significantly higher than her own.

“You won’t know until you have another person to support. Don’t mind me. I just found out how much my new water heater’s going to cost.” Andi laughed, but the grimace on her face put a damper on the humor she’d attempted.

Andi must have been Tony’s age, maybe a few years older. Criminal. That’s what it was. Why should Andi have to juggle her budget to buy a water heater while Tony had money to burn on fast cars and custom-made suits?

“Have you ever thought of going into private practice?” Kristine asked, her thoughts lingering on Tony and his toys.

“Sure. In my dreams. I’ve imagined all the big firms lining up, outbidding each other to get my services. Seriously, there aren’t that many criminal defense lawyers who make it to the top. I’m good, but I don’t kid myself. I’m safer staying in the state attorney’s office. No way am I in the same league with guys like Tony Landry and—”

“Tony Landry?” His deep, sexy voice was still ringing in Kristine’s ears.

“Surely you remember him. The tall, dark, sexy hunk who tore you to shreds in court a few weeks ago and then nearly ran you over on the street.” Andi’s brown eyes twinkled, or Kristine wouldn’t have been certain she was joking.

“It would be impossible to forget him.” Even if he hadn’t just left a message on her voice mail. “He asked me to go with him to the Bar Association party on Saturday,” she added, watching Andi for a reaction.

“You’re going, aren’t you?”

Kristine shrugged. “If I do, the reporters will have a field day. Remember all the fuss, the night after that disaster with me and his car?”

“Hey, kid, the guy may have almost knocked you down, but almost only counts in horseshoes—and hand grenades.” Andi set down the pan and rested her hands on her hips. “Besides, Landry can’t be all bad. He did take you to get patched up, and he made sure you got home okay.”

“But Andi, the man defends criminals.”

As if she thought Kristine was crazy, Andi shook her head. “The guy wants to take you on a date, for God’s sake. He hasn’t proposed marriage. Play your cards right, though, and he might. If you snag him, you’ll never have to worry about a hot water heater or anything else money can buy.”

“That’s mercenary. Besides, I don’t think he’s interested in me that way. He probably feels bad—”

“Because he almost tattooed you with the fancy tires on that black Italian sports car? Trust me on this, because I can read men like a book. Tony Landry’s not the kind to nurse guilt. If guilt had been all he had on his mind, he’d have had his secretary send you some Godiva goodies and a couple of dozen roses. No, my naive little friend, if Tony’s asking you out, he’s seen something he likes.”

“You think so?”

Andi opened her purse and started to dig. “I know so. I know men—even if my own track record with them is less than sterling. And I know that gorgeous man could put his size twelves under my bed any time he took a notion. Go with him, and forget everything but having a good time.”

She smiled and tossed Kristine a small square package wrapped in foil. “Put that in your purse. Better not to be without one when you’re with the gorgeous Mr. Landry.”

The gold foil sparkled, almost as if its contents were winking at her. Embarrassed, Kristine closed her fist around the condom. “Thanks. I think.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Andi quipped, but Kristine noticed a wistful look in her eyes as she stood and gathered up her purse and the cake pan. “I’d better head home. Brett’s sitter likes to get home before seven.”

Kristine watched her boss’s back as she hurried down the walk. Was Andi right? Could Tony be interested in her as a woman?

Did she dare explore the unfamiliar emotions he unleashed every time she saw him? Heard his voice? She wanted…she wasn’t certain what it was that she longed for. Anyhow, thinking about him made her heart beat faster.

When he had been here, the house hadn’t seemed empty. For that short while Kristine hadn’t felt isolated, anchored to humanity only by her own finite goal to exact revenge for her sister. Her dad. She’d felt…alive.

She couldn’t let herself care too much for Tony Landry or anyone else. If she did, it would hurt too much when he left. And he would leave. Everybody she had ever loved had left her alone and adrift.

Agitated, Kristine paced the length of her house, pausing in the doorway to the living room. She’d never look at that couch, never pick up the remote control to the TV, and not remember Tony and how he’d taken care of her that day. Or how the press had made a circus of her falling and him nearly running over her.

She headed for her bedroom, her mind made up. She’d go with Tony. Follow her heart and not her head. For one night she’d set aside all the reasons he spelled disaster to her peace of mind. She’d shush the demons in her head that whispered he was the enemy and urged her to fight him and everyone like him.

For one night they wouldn’t be two lawyers on opposing sides. They’d be a man and a woman exploring a mutual attraction—nothing more, nothing less. Friends? She hoped so. Lovers?

Eyes closed, Kristine imagined his gentle touch, the heat of his gaze. As if he had left here moments, not weeks, ago, she felt his presence. Suddenly her doubts fell away, and she could hardly wait for Saturday.

Turning on the light in her closet, she stood back and surveyed its contents. Nothing, not one dress special enough for a date with a dream lover. She’d go shopping tomorrow, find the sort of sexy, seductive dress she imagined Tony would like. Briefly she wondered if that dress would cost her more or less than Andi’s new hot water heater.

Smiling at her friend’s all-too-accurate reading of what she wanted from Tony, Kristine dropped Andi’s foil-wrapped condom into her purse. Then she skimmed her hands lightly down her body, teasing her nipples into hard nubs and imagining…Tony would rip open that package, sheath himself, and fill the hot, wet, empty spot Kristine hadn’t thought much about before he’d come on the scene.

* * * * *

When they walked into the yacht club ballroom a few days later, Kristine had on a killer dress by Donna Karan, but it was Tony who commanded everyone’s attention—men as well as women, young and old, high-rollers and pretenders. She sneaked a glance at the man beside her as he tightened his grip on her bare elbow. A rush of warmth enveloped her, chasing away the chill in a ballroom packed with Tampa’s movers and shakers.

She ought not to feel this way, but no one had ever made her hot and wet with just a smile. No other man had ever made her want to abandon her goals, ignore everything and everyone but him.

Tony Landry, new kid on the block, was on the fast track to the top of the most visible and newsworthy specialty in the law. Light reflected off his dark hair and illuminated his smiling face. That dimple in his cheek, incongruously imperfect, drew Kristine’s attention to his twinkling eyes and sensual lips.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing at the tables that ringed the dance floor where they stood, his hand resting possessively at the small of her back.

“My ankle’s fine.” She wanted to feel his lips on hers, but it wasn’t to be. At least not here or now. Tony drew his colleagues the way honey attracted Winnie the Pooh.

She smiled and murmured the right meaningless words to people who came to pay Tony homage. Sipping cheap champagne and nibbling cucumber canapés, she paused to greet yet another supplicant. She basked in Tony’s reflected glory and hoped her black silk dress attracted the right kind of attention. God help her if her lipstick had smeared, the way the cameras were popping in Tony’s and her direction. Kristine tried hard not to let reality intrude and ruin the dream.

A barrage of strobe lights nearly blinded her. The TV reporters apparently had arrived, and Tony seemed to be their primary target. Reminded again of the high-profile criminal defendants he represented, she tensed.

“Come on, honey. Let’s get some air.” Tony sounded more resigned than irritated by the attention he drew.

Conscience or no, she was ready for a break. For an hour or more she’d frozen her face in a vacuous smile, nodded and murmured when the moment demanded more. Now she inhaled the fresh salt air outside the yacht club and pretended this was more than a business date, more than a casual encounter.

A full moon lit their way as they walked out onto the pier where visitors tied up their boats. Its light cast a golden glow on the rugged planes of Tony’s face.

“I brought
Miss Trial
down here this afternoon. Feel like taking a ride?” he asked as he hopped on board a sparkling white cabin cruiser and held out his hand.

* * * * *

The rocking motion of gentle waves against the boat’s fiberglass hull helped Kristine relax in the cockpit on a cushioned captain’s chair. Now, with the sun slipping beyond the western horizon and a breeze blowing away the heat of the day, being outdoors was downright pleasant.

She smiled at Tony, then glanced past him at phosphorescent patterns of red, green and white reflected on the water from the big boat’s running lights. “It’s been years since I’ve been out on a boat.”

“Like it?”

“
Miss Trial
? She’s beautiful.” From the jutting bow to the padded engine box and seats in the stern, the thirty-eight-foot motor cruiser boasted every imaginable nautical amenity. “Have you had her long?”

He laughed. “About a year. Would you believe, she was my fee for defending a colleague accused of criminal fraud?”

“Just how much do you charge for your services?”
Miss Trial
, she guessed, was worth something in low six figures—at least.

“Five hundred an hour minimum. Five times that for actual time in court,” he replied. “This case was special, though. I earned every penny of what
Miss Trial
’s worth, and more.”

He named a south Florida attorney who had made headlines because of his alleged involvement in a real estate scam that had bilked several lending institutions of close to a billion dollars. “He had no cash, and not many assets that weren’t tied up by the courts—just this boat and a piece of property on Biscayne Bay. He signed the property over to the lawyers who handled his civil trials.”