She sat down her food and brushed her hands together. “Let’s see, where should I start? How about the way they twist the facts to win. After all, winning is everything, right?”
“It’s about justice, not winning,” he said but felt a pang of guilt with his words that made him add. “When a client is innocent you certainly want to win their case.”
She shoved her plate away. “You expect me to believe you only take cases where the client is innocent?”
“Why do you think I win so often? I fight for victims.” This time he meant his words.
“For victims?” she asked her voice disbelieving. “How is that when your clients are the accused?”
“The system protects us. No one is guilty until proven so. Besides, if an innocent person is convicted then the guilty person is still free.” He paused. “Think of it that way.”
She snorted. “Sounds like you’re trying to make your own case. You defend the rich and famous. You won’t convince me you think they’re all innocent.”
“The cases you see in the headlines are the high-profile ones. I take plenty of others.”
Their eyes locked in a silent challenge between them that turned to a simmering heat. “I like you, Zoe,” he finally said, his voice low with the rush of desire taking hold. “I believe you like me, too. You don’t want to, but you do.”
“I don’t know you well enough to say I like you.”
“And you don’t know me well enough to judge me either.” She took several seconds to answer. “I guess that’s true.”
“Then get to know me,” he said, his voice low as passion rose and swirled in the air between them. “Have dinner with me Friday night.”
“I…don’t know,” she whispered, but her eyes said she wanted to say yes. “We were supposed to be a one-night stand.”
“Just say yes.”
She looked away, letting her tongue dart out across her full bottom lip. Tempting and teasing. Making him want to kiss her. “Because we’re good in bed together doesn’t mean we are good in life together.”
“I didn’t say it does.” “Then why even try?” “Just say yes.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m so going to regret this.”
“Is that a yes?” he asked, trying to hold back a smile.
“Yes,” she said, giving him a sideways look. “Now eat your pizza.”
He grinned and did as ordered. Why he felt such a sense of satisfaction he didn’t know. But he did. Zoe was a challenge. Her desire to believe the worst of him made him want her all the more. Logically, it made no sense, and he knew this. Nevertheless, it was a fact. Making small talk, he avoided tough subjects and asked about Zoe’s job. He found out she really loved the arts as well as the theater and hoped to write a book someday. The softness of her voice as he listened to her world coming to life seduced him and pulled him further under her spell.
One day he wanted her to see that each case he took felt as important to him as her dreams did to her.
When they finished eating, Declan helped Zoe gather the trash and followed her to the kitchen. Her place was decorated with high-end art that didn’t come cheap. Even the Oriental rug that ran from the living room to the kitchen was top dollar. He wanted to ask for more details about her life, but he was afraid to push and spook her. Friday night he’d find out more.
As he stood in the doorway of the kitchen, he fought the urge to grab Zoe and kiss her. To do just as she’d accused him—and rightfully so—of trying to repeat the night before. No. If he was going to get anywhere with Zoe, he needed to stay hands-off. At least for tonight. As she bent to stick the pizza box in the fridge, he received a nice view of her shapely ass. He could just imagine pulling down her shorts and sliding inside her. With his cock stirring to life, his will to stay hands-off started to slip away.
He had to leave. “I guess I should head home. Tomorrow starts early for me.”
She turned toward him, her hand going to the counter, surprise registering in her beautiful blue eyes. Eyes the color of a perfect sea. Eyes he loved. “Oh. Of course. It was hmm, well…”
His brow inched upward in question. “Interesting,” he supplied for her.
“Exactly.” She laughed.
Since the kitchen was by the front door it made sense to simply leave. Still, he hesitated. It was Tuesday. Friday seemed a long ways away. Lord help him if he was as distracted the rest of the week as he had been today. “Goodnight.”
He turned and walked the short distance to the door. Zoe followed. When he stood outside her apartment, she faced him. “Goodnight.”
The phone rang. He saw the urgency in her eyes. He also saw a safe opening to kiss her. “I have to—”
Declan grabbed her hand and kissed her. Quick, hard, and full on the lips. “Get the phone,” he finished for her and touched her cheek. “I know.”
And he turned and left.
Chapter Four
Morning light brought no news.
Zoe woke up frustrated with knots in her stomach. By the time she finished two cups of coffee, she was revved up for action. Setting her empty cup in the sink, she glanced at the clock over the stove. Seven o’clock. She’d get to her father’s by seven-thirty and get answers before he slid into his corporate world and out of reach.
She didn’t bother with a cab. Despite wearing high-heeled sandals, Zoe could walk miles of Manhattan sidewalk and never feel pain. It was part of being a New Yorker. And with the turbulence of her thoughts, she barely remembered entering the subway and riding across town.
At the front door to her father’s high-rise, luxury apartment, Zoe waved to the doorman. Elderly, with gray hair and a glowing smile, he’d been around for years. “Hello there, Ms. Zoe,” he said. “Come to protect your pops from your fellow reporters?”
“That bad?” Zoe asked, pausing beside the desk to study him.
His brow inched upward. “It’s been a madhouse. Reporters everywhere. If I didn’t know you, I’d think the whole lot of them were bloodsuckers with no care for anything but the story.”
Zoe let out a breath. “I’m sorry you have to deal with all of this.”
He winked. “I’ll live. You just go see that daddy of yours and work through all this mess.”
With a nod and an attempt at a smile, Zoe headed for the elevator. The ride up to the twentieth floor felt like an eternity. Her stomach twisted into a tighter knot with every ding of a passing level. Her father might not be the most thoughtful person, but he was quick to defend his honor. The fact that she hadn’t heard from him or her brothers gave her a bad feeling.
When the door opened to reveal her oldest brother Mike, Zoe wasn’t surprised. Tall, with blond hair and blue eyes, at thirty-six he was single and handsome. No. Not true. Mike was happily married to his job. Just like her father. How her mother had lived with his ways Zoe would never know. A second later, Rick appeared. Five years younger than Mike, the similarities between the two brothers were remarkable, except for one thing. Somehow, Rick had dark black hair like his father. The only one of the siblings who’d inherited that trait.