finding what she’d left in her office, either. Thankfully, the cleaning crew had left before she had last night. So she didn’t think anyone had been inside since...
“I’ll hurry,” she promised as she slid the key into the lock. Just as she began to slowly turn the knob, someone called out for Wilson.
“Mr. Tremont, you have a call,” his secretary told him. “The mayor...”
Wilson drew in a deep breath. “I hope he isn’t calling about Mueller’s case.”
“Why would he?” Hillary asked, her brow furrowing with confusion.
Wilson smiled, but it was a patronizing one. “I forget how naive you can be, Hillary. You don’t understand how politics work.”
And he was probably damn happy about that, because he didn’t think he had to worry about Hillary going after his job, like half the rest of the assistant district attorneys appeared to be doing. Hillary knew a lot more about politics than she was willing to admit. It was safer for her, though, if her boss didn’t know that.
“I’m sure Mueller contributed to the mayor’s campaign,” Wilson explained. “Hell, I’ll be lucky if the president doesn’t call to give me heat over daring to prosecute the great Byron Mueller.”
Hillary reached out and squeezed his arm, but she regretted her impulsive gesture when he glanced down at her hand on his coat sleeve. But even as she pulled back, she assured him, “Don’t worry. Michaelsen is not going to get him off.”
He stared at her, his dark eyes narrowed. “You’re awfully confident, Hillary. I’d like to know why.”
She gestured at his secretary. “You surely don’t want to keep the mayor waiting, though.” She didn’t have to know how politics worked to know that that wouldn’t be prudent. “And I don’t want to be late for court.”
Despite last night, she could face Stone again, because she knew she could and would beat him this time. Just as she could taste him yet on her lips, she could taste the sweetness of the victory that was sure to come.
“I can’t piss off Judge Harrison,” she reminded her boss.
He nodded. “Get moving, then.”
He moved off down the hall toward his office and his on-hold call from the mayor, so Hillary pushed open her office door. And she was glad she’d waited until her boss had left before she’d opened it.
Stone’s scent hung yet in the air—mixed with her own. Just smelling that brought memories and sensations rushing back, and she experienced the heat and excitement of that passion all over again.
The kiss...
The...
And she lifted her hand to her cheek again. This time the slap wasn’t quite as gentle. She needed to snap out of it. She had to face him—just minutes away—in the courtroom. And she had to pretend like nothing had happened.
But first she had to make sure that she’d left nothing behind to prove that it had. The space was small, so it was easy and quick to search.
But she couldn’t find it.
What the hell had happened to it?
An alarm pealed out from the phone in her purse; it was her last-minute warning to get to the courtroom. She had no more time to search. Maybe the cleaning crew hadn’t already been gone last night like she’d thought. Maybe they had cleaned her office after she’d left.
She closed and locked the door again before rushing off down the hall. She was still rushing when she walked into the courtroom, so she didn’t even spare Stone a glance as she took her seat behind the prosecutor’s table. She wouldn’t have looked across the space between their tables at all if she hadn’t felt him staring at her.
She didn’t want to look at him. She dreaded to see his amusement or his smugness over what had happened between them. Over what never should have happened between them.
When he’d kissed her, she should have slapped him—instead of kissing him back. But she’d been so shocked that she’d been beyond thought. At least beyond rational thought.
All she’d had in her head were those sick fantasies she had about him, about him kissing her just like he was.
So she’d kissed him back.
If only she had stopped at that.
Her face flushed from the heat of his gaze and from her embarrassment. Sure, she’d made a mistake. But she wasn’t going to let that—or him—affect her. Just as she used to fantasize that something would happen between them, she was going to fantasize now that it hadn’t.
She could only hope that he would do the same damn thing. But from the way she felt him looking at her, like he was touching her just as he had the night before, she knew that he wouldn’t.
Despite her efforts to resist, his gaze drew hers. But when she glanced at him, he glanced down into his open briefcase. As she followed his gaze with hers, a gasp of shock slipped through her lips. Now she knew why she hadn’t been able to find what she’d been looking for in her office.
She hadn’t lost it there.
Stone had taken it.
A nude lace bra peeked out from beneath a manila folder in his briefcase.
“Son of a bitch,” she whispered.
That was what he was. He’d used her—just as she’d worried he was using her. He’d gotten her off last night in the hopes of getting off his client.
Did he think she would forget all about the evidence that destroyed Byron Mueller’s alibi?
He thought wrong. His little seduction had not changed her mind about him at all. In fact, it had proved what she’d already thought about him: Stone Michaelsen was a bad man.
But he didn’t scare her.
Hillary was going to take him down and take him down hard—just like he’d taken her the night before.
WHEN STONE HAD flashed Hillary a peek of what he’d hidden in his briefcase, she’d looked so surprised. But why? She’d said in her opening argument that he was a bad man. And after last night, she could have no doubt about just how bad Stone could be. He’d even surprised himself.
But when she’d kissed him back, something had happened to Stone that had never happened before. As she’d run her fingers up the nape of his neck and tunneled them through his hair, clasping his head to hers, her lips had moved so hungrily over his. She’d kissed him deeply—with her lips, with her tongue. And passion had overwhelmed him. He’d felt such a jolt of sexual awareness and energy. But he hadn’t been the only one feeling it.
Because she’d moved her hands from his hair to the buttons of his shirt. She hadn’t just undone them; she’d torn them open. Then she ran her hands over his chest, making his heart beat so fast and hard that he’d thought it would bust right out of him like his cock had tried busting right out of his fly.
“Hillary...” Her name had escaped his lips on a groan. She’d been torturing him with her touch, with her kiss.
And she’d broken his will to resist.
Not that he’d wanted to resist. He hadn’t even intended to kiss her, though, when he’d come to her office. He’d only wanted to talk, to find out what the hell the evidence was that she’d bragged about having in court. But then he’d wanted to taste that chocolate on her mouth. He still hadn’t intended to do anything other than kiss her then, though.
Until she’d kissed him back.
Then he’d reached for her clothes, like she’d reached for his. He pulled that camisole