The Law of Attraction (11 page)

“You're welcome to go look.”

The conversation suspended as they stood there, staring at each other as if they weren't sure what to do next. Daniel knew what he wanted to do—toss her over his shoulder and carry her to his bed, and not so she could take a peek beneath it.
Slow down
kept playing over and over in his head. He could do slow for now, and he knew just the thing to help that along.

“Do you know what I want to do right now?” he said.

“I could probably guess.”

“I want to take you fishing.”

She didn't even try to hide her surprise. “Fishing? It looks like it might rain.”

“We'll fish off the dock since my boat's in winter storage. If it rains, we can make a run for it.”

“I don't care to fish, but I don't mind watching you do it.”

“It's more fun if you participate.”

“That depends on the activity.”

One potential activity tried to shove caution clean out of his brain. “True. We can stay inside if you'd like.”

She picked up her jacket from the sofa and pulled it on. “No. If you want to go fishing, then fishing it is.”

 

For twenty minutes Alisha sat on a weathered dock and watched Daniel cast his line into the murky green water of Lake Mondo. He wore an open red flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves over a plain white T-shirt and faded, loose-fitting jeans covering a pair of clunky hiking boots. She liked the image he presented, thoroughly macho male with tousled hair and a spattering of whiskers over his jaw. And those incredible hands…

Just thinking about the interlude in her office threatened to send her up in flames. To distract herself, she pulled a cloth band from her pocket and twisted her hair into a makeshift bun on top of her head. No need to frighten the fish, since her hair had begun to do its usual frizz frenzy in the high humidity.

After a few more minutes she told him, “Maybe you should try a top-water jig instead of the purple worm.”

Midcast, he stared down on her. “I thought you said you didn't fish.”

“I said I didn't care to fish. I've done more than my share in my lifetime.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “Almost every Sunday in the spring and summer, my mom, dad and I would go down to the creek for a picnic. We'd bring bait and my dad's famous fried chicken.”

“Your dad made fried chicken?”

“Yes. He's a great cook. After he retired from the steel mill because of a bad back, he took over all the kitchen duty. And that was a good thing because my mother doesn't believe food is done unless it's completely dead and dried out. I didn't know the true color of cooked bacon until I was in junior high. I thought it was black.”

He had an odd, almost stoic expression. “Sounds like an unusual arrangement.”

“Why? Not manly enough for you?”

“Like I told you, I have no problem cooking. I'm more
of a barbecue kind of guy, though. Steaks and burgers, that sort of thing.”

She wasn't surprised. He looked like a grade-A beef kind of guy. A grade-A beefcake. “Is that what we're having for dinner?”

“I haven't decided yet, but probably.”

“Did your mother teach you how to cook?”

He shook his head. “I'm self-taught out of necessity. I had to learn to fend for myself.”

“So your mother worked outside the home?”

“No. She just wasn't always available.”

Alisha found the troubled look on his face disturbing. Obviously there was some kind of a story there, one she might not ever know. Daniel Fortune had secrets, and she'd leave him to them for now.

She crossed her legs before her and leaned forward to watch him bring in the line. “No luck yet?”

“Nope.” He lifted his rod and reel and removed the purple worm, tossed it into his tackle box before setting the rod aside and sitting beside her. “I give up. Doesn't look like anything's going to bite.”

Alisha had the sudden urge to take his earlobe between her teeth. She studied the darkening skies to distract her. “Probably the weird weather, although when it starts to rain, they may start biting.”

“
If
it rains. They're only saying a thirty percent chance.”

Alisha looked out over the deserted lake, only a few small houses dotting the panorama. “This is nice. Very peaceful.”

“It was until the Christopher Jamison murder.”

“That's right. They found his body here.”

“Yeah, not too far from here, as a matter of fact.”

Alisha shuddered. “You could've gone all day without saying that. It's creepy.”

“Sorry, but I think about it a lot these days. I just wish to hell they'd catch his sorry brother.”

“Then he's still on the run.”

Daniel sighed. “Yeah, but my guess is not for long. I can't wait for the day when I see him put away for good.”

Alisha admired the conviction in his tone, but his uneasy expression seemed to put a damper on the outing. “We just can't let go of our jobs for any length of time, can we?”

“Guess it's just the nature of the business.” He sent her a sincere look. “But I'll try not to think about work if you won't.”

“That's a deal, as soon as I ask you a question.”

“As long as it's not about the Massey case.”

“No, but it is about another case. Do you remember anything about an accident when a boy was rendered paraplegic after being hit by a car near a park? It happened last year.”

He continued to stare out over the lake. “Nancy Kenneally was driving the car. Yeah, I remember.” His bitter tone indicated the memory wasn't a good one.

“I was just wondering if you recall any details,” she said.

“I remember them too well. Our lone witness decided to get amnesia and recanted her initial statement. Without her the grand jury wouldn't indict. But I know Mrs. Kenneally hit that kid because she'd been drinking.”

“Any proof of that?”

“Unfortunately, no. They took her to the hospital due to minor injuries and her lawyer met her there. He managed to stonewall the police, and by the time a blood-alcohol level was ordered, it didn't show anything over the legal limit. But she has a history and a lot of connections. A lethal combination.”

“Yes, it is.”

He glanced her way. “Why do you want to know?”

“I'm going to represent the family in a wrongful-death suit.”

“Good. When you win, then maybe that will give them some peace.”

“
If
I win. I'm going up against my former firm. I could be totally outmanned on this one. Unless you want to help me.”

He patted her thigh. “Wish I could. I'd like to see that
woman get what's coming to her. Feel free to ask for advice. That much I can do.”

“I definitely will.”

The rain began to fall, small drops at first, until they came down in a deluge. “Let's get out of here.” Daniel stood and held out his hand to her, then grabbed up the tackle box with the other hand. They ran back to the cabin, arriving on the porch drenched and winded from the sprint.

Daniel set his tackle on the glider while Alisha took off her jacket and shook it out. When he removed the flannel shirt, well, she suddenly didn't care if she was soaked and chilled to the bone. The man had a chest that wouldn't quit, very apparent as the wet fabric clung to every inch of solid, supple muscle.

He tossed the shirt on the glider and slicked a hand through his wet hair. “So much for thirty percent.”

Alisha swiped the moisture from her face. “You know how forecasts are. Very unpredictable.”

“Kind of like you.”

Alisha let go a caustic laugh. “I'm not so unpredictable.”

“You're here with me, and I wouldn't have predicted that in a million years.”

“That's because you're predictably persuasive.”

He shifted his weight and hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. “Can I persuade you to come inside the house before you freeze to death?”

“Sure, but it's not that cold.”

“You're cold.”

“Why do you think that?”

His gaze traveled to her breasts encased in saturated knit. She didn't have to look down to know what he was seeing. “Okay, my pom-poms are a little perky, so I guess we should go in.”

Daniel laughed, a big, boisterous laugh that was as shocking as it was contagious. Alisha followed with a few laughs of her own before she said, “I didn't think it was that funny.”

“You're an amazing woman, Alisha Hart.”

“And you are a very bad host, Daniel Fortune.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why is that?”

“Well, you're blocking the door. And you haven't even offered me a towel so I can dry off and warm up.”

He reached out, caught her arms and pulled her against him. Before she could speak, he had his mouth firmly planted on hers, giving her a kiss that would curl her hair if it hadn't already been curly. When they parted, he kept his arms around her and grinned. “Isn't that better than a towel?”

“I'm still wet.”

“I can do something about that, too.”

And she was tempted to let him.

He opened the front door and said, “After you.”

Alisha brushed past him and entered the small living room.

When the door closed behind Daniel, she turned and faced him. “Where's my room?”

She noted the immediate disappointment in his eyes when he pointed to his left. “Right through there. Guest room's on the left, bathroom's in the middle, mine's on the right. You'll find fresh towels if you want to take a shower.”

“Thanks.” She picked up her lone bag and her briefcase. “I'm going to clean up, then do some studying, if that's okay with you.”

“That's what you're here for. Need any help?”

“That's not a good idea.”

“I mean help with your bag.”

“I can handle it just fine.” If only she could handle being so close to him.

“Do you want lunch first?”

She patted her briefcase. “Actually I brought some snacks. That will do until dinner.”

He slid his hands in his pockets. “The kitchen's behind me if you want anything to drink.”

“I brought some bottled water.”

“Guess I'll see you at dinner then.”

“Right. At dinner.”

She hesitated for a moment, wanting what she shouldn't be wanting. But with Daniel standing there looking so mussed and gorgeous, she couldn't help but want him. Want him or not, she did have work to do, and she'd best get on with it before she discarded her responsibility for a little afternoon delight.

Alisha turned and walked through the small entry, then headed to her left down the hall. She entered the bedroom that was as simple as the rest of the surroundings. A double bed covered in a plain blue chenille spread took up most of the room, leaving little space for anything more than a dresser and a nightstand.

After hoisting her bag on the bed, she unzipped it to retrieve a change of clothes. Her hand immediately went to the black lace nightgown folded neatly on top of her underclothes. She didn't dare show up at dinner wearing that. But after dinner, well, that was a distinct possibility. Might as well admit it—she had every intention of taking up where she'd left off with Daniel, otherwise she wouldn't have bothered to bring lingerie. To deny her overriding desire for him would be futile, and this little work session would only serve to delay the inevitable. She'd already planned her defense for the Massey case, and Daniel Fortune had her feeling totally defenseless.

 

He'd managed to keep from joining her in the shower earlier. He'd managed to keep from capturing her in the small kitchen during after-dinner cleanup. But he was having a hard time managing his hands at the moment.

As they sat on a braided rug in front of the hearth, Alisha's hair a near match to the fire, Daniel seriously wanted to touch her, beginning with the section of skin revealed right where the oversize shirt parted. He wanted to rake it with his tongue, but the promise to stay away from her neck kept coming back to bite him.

Unaware of his devious thoughts, Alisha swirled the wine
around before taking the last sip and setting the glass on the coffee table.

He gestured toward the open bottle resting beside the now-empty glass. “Do you want some more?”

“No thanks. I don't like to drink alone.”

The closest Daniel would get to having some wine would be to taste it on her tongue. The temptation to do just that was overwhelming, but he vowed to remain strong. If she wanted his affections, then she'd have to give him some sort of a sign. So far that wasn't happening, and now that it was nearing midnight, he doubted it would.

Alisha stretched out on her belly and rested her chin on her folded arms. “I'm surprised you haven't said anything.”

He'd been talking to her all evening, almost nonstop. “About what?”

“The real me. No makeup, wild hair, ratty clothes.”

She had no idea how great she looked at that moment. No idea that she didn't need all the embellishments to keep him totally on sexual high alert. She didn't understand her power, and he found that damn appealing—and unusual. “I didn't say anything because I didn't really notice until you pointed it out.”

She smiled a skeptic's smile. “Oh, sure.”

“It's true.” With the last fragment of his waning self-control, he resisted showing her exactly what he thought about her appearance. “You look great no matter what you're wearing. You don't need any makeup either.”

She touched her fingertip to her nose covered by a light shading of freckles. “I'd prefer these not show all the time. Makes me look like I'm twelve, not thirty-two.”

“No, they don't. I like them.”