One Hot Weekend

Each breath he took brushed across her face. He smelled of peppermint gum. The first time they’d kissed he’d been chewing peppermint. The taste had infused her mouth.

She recognized the signs of arousal in him. His pupils were dilated, his nostrils flared with his exhalation. While she appreciated the fact the awareness wasn’t all one-sided, they still had to try a case against each other. She had to be on her toes and functioning like the cool, calm Assistant D.A. she was. Not some hormone-driven woman.

When she’d been twenty-two and in the throes of her love affair with him she’d indulged her sensual side with no thought of the consequences. Now that she was in her thirties, she thought she’d banked those fires but everything about Mitch, from his dark hair to his cold gray eyes was stirring up the embers.

Shivering a little she stepped away. Mitch made her want to do something unpredictable like caress his face and kiss his full lips. Would he still taste the same? Taste him and find out, her traitorous body cried out.

But her mind had finally wakened and bellowed for her to get out of there. She’d been on her way to the bathroom for her pretrial ritual pep talk.

Focus on the job. Mitch was just like any other defense attorney, except he smelled better.

“Thanks for catching me,” she said, and walked toward the ladies’ bathroom. It was only twenty paces to the washroom. Counting the steps was part of her ritual.

She’d taken five of them when he moved. Her senses were still attuned to him. He was following her. Her first instinct was to walk faster and get away from him.

But she’d never been a coward. So instead she slowed her steps, letting her hips sway with each one. She knew he was watching her.

“Sophia?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. He’d noticed. His gaze was on her backside. She hid her smile. The girl still had it, she thought. She was glad to know she wasn’t alone in this ill-timed attraction. “Yes.”

“This isn’t finished.”

Immediately her internal victory turned to defeat. This was a new Mitch, a stranger with a familiar face. She wasn’t sure how to deal with him. “Is that a threat, Mitch?”

He closed the gap between them. He slid one hand down her back, cupping her butt and said, “Hell, no. That’s a promise, baby. And you know I always keep my promises.”

He turned toward the courtroom. She should let him go but she didn’t like him having the last word or touching her in that blatantly masculine way. She pivoted quickly, taking his hand and pulling him down the hall into a little alcove between the courtrooms.

He raised one eyebrow at her and she scowled at him. In her mind she fixed an image of herself as a sophisticated winning attorney. But it evaporated, leaving instead a picture of herself with an open bottle of Corona.

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“That doesn’t sound like you. You always know what you want.”

“I learned not to share my desires with just anyone, baby.”

His words hurt. They were justified but still she hadn’t expected them to. “Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

She couldn’t answer him. She wanted to say yes. But she knew she wouldn’t be the woman she was today if she’d acted differently ten years ago. She regretted hurting him. But at the time she hadn’t seen any other way. Mitch had always made her feel things too intensely.

The false trail she’d sent him on had been designed to give her the upper hand and it had. Because Mitch had spent time researching her lead—giving her the real advantage in the tough race they’d both been running.

She did know that other than that one time she’d never lied to him. And she hadn’t lied since. Not even social white lies. She been burned by that incident, and moving on had left her a different woman. “I’m not sure.”

In his eyes she thought she saw a bit of the compassionate young man he’d once been. The man who’d always understood her drive to succeed and be the best. “I know.”

“Can we come to some kind of truce?” she said at last.

“No,” he replied, quickly.

She nodded. “I’m not asking you to give up your feelings of resentment toward me. I’m just asking for a temporary hold.”

“I’m listening.”

“I don’t have it all worked out yet. Can we talk about this in my office after we’re done in court?”

“Okay. We can share the beer I sent you.”

“Oh, did you send me something?” she asked, patting his ass and walking away from him.

“You know I did, baby,” he growled as he walked past her into the courtroom.

She watched him go, wondering what it was going to take to satisfy Mitch and the rekindled desire burning in the center of her body. She tried to tell herself he was just another attorney as she stepped into the courtroom but those words rang hollow. No other attorney had ever made her pulse race the way Mitch did.

MITCH LOOSENED HIS TIE and stepped out into the Orlando summer day. It was still hot as hell. He’d talked to the press on the steps of the courthouse. Jason’s movie career was hanging in the balance, and he and Marcus both agreed the less their client said the better.

Mitch rolled his shoulders and took his sunglasses from his pocket. Sophia had developed into a hell of a sophisticated woman since he’d last seen her. He wouldn’t have expected the girl who’d worn poet shirts and jeans to ever be comfortable in a designer suit.

He got in the Porsche and drove to the D.A.’s office. He knew he wanted his pound of flesh from the moment he’d stepped on the plane in L.A. His cold-blooded plan for revenge was going to take some careful handling. He’d conveniently forgotten a few important details about her.

The softer things. Despite the fact that she’d sent him on a false trail so she could get the only remaining internship with an important law firm, Sophia had always been very soft.

And when he’d held her in his arms earlier, he’d realized she still was. That softness didn’t matter. She was a grown woman and she’d started a very dangerous game with him a lifetime ago.

His phone rang. “Hollaran.”

“Mitch, buddy, I got a problem.”

Devlin Chase. He closed his eyes and groaned. Devlin was one of his oldest friends. They’d grown up together in the same middle-class Growing Pains-style family. Only Dev’s parents had gotten a divorce and Dev had never stopped rebelling.

“I’m in Florida. Can this be done over the phone?”

There was a loud sigh. “No.”

He heard sounds he hoped weren’t familiar. “Are you in jail?”

“Uh…yes.”

“What’s the charge?”

“Drug possession.”

Devlin had checked himself into detox about nine months ago when he’d met a pretty horse trainer who had a zero-tolerance policy for drug users. And Mitch had watched his friend struggle every day but they’d met for drinks a few weeks ago and Devlin had seemed okay. Better than okay, actually more like he finally had gotten his life on track. “I thought you’d cleaned up.”