He raised a brow. “I’m not his lawyer anymore.”
“Still not going to discuss my case with you.”
He waited a beat before continuing, “Even if it might involve the incident at your house?”
She paused, then swallowed. She hadn’t wanted that connection to be real, had in fact, been pushing that very theory out of her mind for the last two days. “It was random vandalism. Teenagers.” Those words fell from her mouth even as they rang untrue to her ears.
“What teenagers do you know own tear gas?” he asked pointedly.
“Gang initiation,” was her quick retort.
“Then why didn’t they come inside? Gang initiations usually involve some type of robbery or a murder. They need proof of action in order to be rewarded. Your broken window could’ve been caused by anyone.” He sighed. “I mean, thank goodness nothing was stolen and there was no further harm to your person. But something did occur and I’m not willing to let it slip through the cracks because somebody’s afraid to put two and two together. How about you?”
Now he looked like a defense attorney. He’d leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at her as if he wanted to say more. And she, instinctively, felt like saying he was badgering the witness. Instead, she sighed.
“I thought about that, but I dismissed it,” she said because there was no sense in continuing to deny his logic. She wasn’t that oblivious. “If Vega wanted to hurt me, he would have. He doesn’t do warnings. You should know that.”
There was a moment of silence and she wondered what was going through his mind. He sat back, rubbed a finger over his neatly trimmed goatee. It was a simple motion, one that would imply he was considering her comments or his next words. But she saw more. Her gaze lingered on his fingers, wondering how they would feel moving along her skin. She examined his contemplative gaze, the deep brown color of his eyes. The line of his jaw, the thick waves in his neatly cropped hair.
“He’s changing the game,” he said, matter-of-factly. His voice broke the ridiculous trance she’d been in and she cleared her throat. “And that’s all I’m going to say about this here in your office. We can go right across the street and grab some lunch and talk more, without probing ears.”
“This is my office, the place where I work. So if we’re going to discuss my case?—”
“We’re not discussing your case,perse. We’re discussing a possible connection. And I’d think you, of all people, would know about the reported leaks in this office.”
Victoria remained silent. In the last couple of months, there had been talk about confidential information from the DA’s office leaking to the press. Hell, the Vega mistrial and new trial date had been on the local news before she’d even entered her appearance in the case. So while she wasn’t thrilled about having lunch with Ben, she recognized the importance of finding out all she could about the attack on her house. Especially if it involved Vega. And who better to know the man, than the lawyer who’d gotten him off a capital murder case.
“Fine. One hour,” she told him, then stood to pull open her lower left desk drawer and retrieve her purse.
“You won’t regret it,” he said and went to open her office door.
She’d given him a half smile in return as she passed him, while her mind screamed that it was already regretting this decision.
Chapter 10
Ben
Lottie’swas a quaint little diner about a block away from the Justice Center. Most of the courthouse staff came here for lunch as well as police officers and some of the construction crew that were working on the building two more blocks down. So it was crowded when he walked in with Victoria.
The way she stiffened when the hostess and a few colleagues—he presumed—spoke to her made him think she was probably rethinking their agreement. And the fact that they’d all been men wasn’t lost on him either. A punch of protectiveness and ownership landed in his gut and he tried to push it back.
Victoria wasn’t his woman, no matter how much he wanted her to be. Yes, even after all these years, all the times she’d rejected him, he still wanted this woman. Everything about her appealed to him, hell it called to him. In the hours when they weren’t near and the moments like this, when she was just an arm’s length away, he felt drawn to her. And after their kiss the other night, this thing between them wasn’t just undeniable, it was, just as he’d told her, inevitable.
They were led to a booth snuggled tightly between a long row of booths and the chatter of at least thirty people in theimmediate area surrounding them. After ordering their drinks they were finally left alone with the menus and the silence that drifted between them.
“I usually have the hot pastrami on rye. How about you?” he asked by way of getting her to relax again.
This wasn’t the first time she’d seemed uncomfortable around him. And call it arrogant or conceited, he thought that was because of their mutual attraction. Victoria had decided from the start that she wasn’t going to like him, although she’d never actually told him why. Past relationship drama? Something against men with money? Or some other issue that probably didn’t relate directly to him, because he was certain he’d never personally done anything to offend her. He’d never given a damn whether someone liked him in the past. Where women were concerned, either they clicked, or they didn’t. He wasn’t one to chase or press the issue because he firmly believed that what was meant for him, would be his. But with Victoria, he’d always wanted to know “why”. Why had she seemed to despise him so vehemently? Why couldn’t he figure her out? Why hadn’t they slept together after all this time, when it was so apparent—at least to him—that the attraction was palpable?
Well, the latter had been partially addressed the other night when she’d very succinctly acknowledged her attraction to him seconds before emphatically stating that she had no plans of ever sleeping with him. That declaration was still volleying in his mind bruising his ego and perplexing him simultaneously.
Still, even with all that history between them, he told himself when he decided to stop by her office and take her to lunch, that he wasn’t going to play in that direction. He had some serious concerns about her case and her safety, that had to come before anything personal.
“I don’t like to eat a lot at lunch. Especially if I’m in trial,” she told him.
She kept looking at the menu. He figured she knew basically what was on there, because he did, and he didn’t work right up the street from the place. Again, this was a part of getting her to relax. His comments about the event at her house had made her nervous, rightfully so. He didn’t want her walking the streets scared to the point of distraction. If she was, then she wouldn’t be alert and whatever Vega was trying to pull would more than likely be successful if Victoria were off her game in any way.
“You’re not in trial right now,” he said. “The trial doesn’t start until next week. So you can splurge. How about having pastrami with me?”
