Attractive Nuisance (Legally in Love Book 1) Page 12

  Zane nodded, then leaned over and rested his chin on her shoulder. His nearness comforted her in a way nothing had for a long time. She pressed her cheek against his, and it felt right. So right.

  “Your parents are only Falcon’s age, I take it. They haven’t even started to grow old.” She realized he couldn’t know how it felt to see them decline, the fright it caused, the worry. The desperation to find someone else to cling to through it. It was why she’d been so overt in pushing her college boyfriends toward marriage—and scared off more than a few guys. That, and her utter determination to not wait to start a family until later in life. She refused to do to her own children what her parents had chosen for her. She wanted nothing more than to give them herself in her youth and vitality. And to be there to see them grow and become adults and parents and enjoy all that along the way.

  But she’d only come across as desperate.

  And possibly crazy.

  And when she realized it after the final total confidence smackdown, when Burns Pilsington refused to let her lead him toward a proposal, maybe she gave up. Shut down. Pulled back entirely. She was only twenty-two at the time, but in her dysfunctional view of her life’s timeline, she was past her sell-by date and would never have kids young enough now. She’d have to settle for removing bad people from society if she couldn’t be the means of adding good people through being a nurturing mother.

  But she’d never tell Zane about any of that. She couldn’t tell anyone. Ever. At least not ever again. It’d pushed away too many great potential husbands in the past. She may have been a great fly fisher back at that time, but she’d been horrible at luring one enough to reel in the big one, the one catch she really needed.

  “Not yet. Although I’m afraid some of the stuff I did in life gave them gray hairs.” He gave a little shrug. “They’re glad I’ve finally calmed down, I’ll bet.”

  “The military?”

  “That helped. I had to fill my time with productive stuff to keep myself together. Volunteering for the Boy Scouts helped. Getting this job helped.”

  “But I thought you had a big career in Flagstaff.” As the Jury Whisperer, she didn’t say aloud. “Weren’t you headhunted for this job?”

  He gave one of those hollow laughs. “Are you kidding? No. You heard me out there. I begged Falcon for this job. I even got my dad on board. I guess I shouldn’t admit that. It’s going to sound like some kind of desperation move.”

  “Desperate? How so?” Nothing, nothing about Zane Holyoake smacked of desperation. He was the cool of the other side of the pillow in every way. “The economy in Flagstaff take a hit on your practice?”

  “No. No, I mean—” Zane turned his body toward hers, and adjusted her to face him. “I just had to meet you. I’d seen you, tried to get Falcon to set you up with me—and you turned him down flat. Then what choice did I have? Changing jobs just to meet a girl—that’s totally desperate. I know. But can you blame me?”

  All his face spelled vulnerability, and a thread of gold from her soul spun out toward him. She could imagine it encircling him, drawing him nearer, both in spirit and body. She leaned her face toward him and gave him a tender kiss just to the left of his lips.

  In a whisper he said, “Can you blame me? I mean, look at you. Everything about you, Camilla. It’s exactly what I needed to pull me away from everything I’d known and give me hope for something else. A different life. A different me.”

  Then he kissed her with gusto, like he’d been holding it all inside him, all this emotion for months and years. He pressed his mouth to hers, then kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her neck, oh how he worshiped her neck. She fingered the ripples of his biceps and the musculature of his upper back. His strength of body lent her a strength she hadn’t felt in ages, maybe ever.

  More than that—he’d been desperate—for her. For Camilla. It sent her soul aloft. He’d wanted to be near her so much he left his life behind and came to her.

  From day one, he’d watched her. Okay, he’d initially discombobulated her. Completely threw her off her game. He was a total attractive nuisance. Not in the legal sense of the people who live in a neighborhood of small children and refuse to put a fence around their swimming pool despite repeated requests from nearby parents and then get sued when some kid gets hurt. No. But instead, he was just plain attractive. And it’d become an instant nuisance, throwing her off in every way. Distracting her from her bigger calling of keeping the bad guys off the street. She’d had to bat down all his invitations for lunch. She’d pushed him away as much as she could. He’d been persistent.

  Now, maybe she knew why. It made her smile, and the smile required her to stop the kiss and pull away.

  “You have to know, I’m not some pillar of perfection, Zane. Don’t try to put me up there. You’ve seen my messy apartment.”

  His ribcage rose and fell with heavy, cinnamony breath. The lantern swung above them. “I’ll admit, I didn’t even see a mess. I was just so stoked to be in your house, that you’d invited me in—finally.”

  “Uh, I’m not sure I did invite you in.”

  “Okay, you didn’t. But let me live my fantasy here for a second.” His eyes got the wicked crinkle on the side. “Now I’m here with you, just a year later on this date, and it’s going so much better than I even dared expect.” He gave her another kiss that made her sigh in relief and, maybe, love. “We’ve had some good dates up to now, but this is the best.”

  Dates? “Isn’t this our first date?” Lunches didn’t count. Dinners didn’t count. That time he made Italian…well, that should count. He’d been so thoughtful. And going to his friend Wyatt’s? That was a working dinner.

  “If you want to be the kind of girl who lets a guy kiss her on the first date, it is.”

  A pang shot through her. That wasn’t who she was. In fact, for a long time she’d considered herself a third-date-kiss kind of a girl. The kind of girl who kissed (or more) on the first date was the kind of girl a guy didn’t take seriously enough to consider a “possibility.” If Camilla let a guy spend this much time on her lips, like Zane just had, on the first date, she was in serious danger of being thrown in his not-too-serious or not-a-possibility pile. And she’d been there too many times in the past, even though she’d made the guy wait three dates for his kiss.

  “Aha. See?” Zane’s wicked twinkle flashed at her. “I knew we’d come to an understanding.”

  “Oh, okay. You win. So, what date is this? Our third?”

  “Um, hello. No. This is about our fiftieth date. We’ve been dating ever since I started working at the office months ago, whether you knew it or not. Whether you admitted it or not—I should say, because I know in your heart you knew it. Everybody in the office knew it. Falcon, even. So for not being one to kiss on the first or second date, since then, you’ve made me really, really work for my reward.” He ran his hand up and down her arm. “And that’s why I’m being so assertive about accepting it.” Another bout of kissing followed, this time with a sincere, wholehearted return on her part. This could be it. Zane could be the one. Even if it’s too late to start a family, I could have a very nice life with him. I like how he keeps me company. I like how when I’m with him, I suddenly don’t feel alone anymore.

  A thousand speech bubbles floated through her head with similar phrases, rising then popping, then being replaced with new ideas about Zane, about the two of them, about the future with him.

  “You know,” he murmured. “We could make beautiful children together.”

  Camilla sprang back. “Uh, not tonight, though, of course.” It wasn’t like she was going from a first date kisser to a first date sleep-arounder in a single moment just because this incredible man with irresistible lips and charm admitted his longstanding interest in her. Sure, she knew him, but certainly not well enough for something like that. And definitely not before marriage. No way.

  “No, of course not. Just…sometime. Maybe. If you decide it’s
right. I mean, you are such a gorgeous brunette. Your eyes, their depth and the way they change color when you wear blue or green or gray to match your sweater—we’d have pretty little daughters, tough little sons. I’d take them out in the hills, hiking, and the girls, you can teach them to fish. We’d have so many great memories with them. And they’d feel loved. Really loved. Just like your parents loved you.” With another thousand words he spun beautiful pictures of their future together, and for a moment, Camilla believed it could all be real, be hers.

  But then reality hit.

  She’d aged. She wasn’t starting her family at nineteen like she originally planned. Or even at twenty-two like she’d considered the final possible moment. The cutoff had long since come and gone. Her heart bled a little when she thought of what she’d lost—by not meeting Zane until it was so late in life, by not letting him into her world even one year earlier. Not that it would have made a difference. Even a year ago, she’d have been too old. She wouldn’t be a mom who left her children and grandchildren motherless, grandmother-less that way.

  But it wasn’t a balloon she dared pop. Not for Zane. Not now. He had those desires. And she wanted him. She wanted him a lot. More with every passing minute of the time they spent together. Not just in the passionate way. She wanted him, his soul, to be part and parcel with hers. It wasn’t really fair to hook him and reel him in if she knew she couldn’t give him that future picture he’d painted.

  She’d have to think of some other way out.

  And then it presented itself—in a much more painfully effective way than she would have imagined. Or liked.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Summary Judgment

  Camilla rested her head on Zane’s shoulder and spoke. Ignoring the castles he’d built in the air—at least with her change of subject—she sighed. “I only have one regret.”

  “Lucky you.” He gave a chuckle like his regrets piled higher than the charges laid against the Beemer Bandit. “So what’s your one regret, Camilla Sweeten?” She liked the way he said her name, like it was a brook over rocks. How would Camilla Holyoake sound? Ooh, even nicer. Too bad it could never be.

  “Just that we have to be pitted against each other for the promotion. You know, for deputy county attorney.”

  “Oh, that.” Zane leaned back and lay down on the sleeping bag, his hands laced behind his head. His biceps pressed against the fabric of his shirt, and Camilla didn’t stop herself from staring. “It’s not really fair, is it?”

  “No. I mean, I know Falcon was pushing to set us up. But then to force us to compete—it’s not fair.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Not exactly.”

  Camilla frowned. “Then what do you mean?”

  “I guess I mean that it’s not fair that you’re going to work so hard to come up with a prosecution against old Veldon Twiss, stealer of dreams of sick children, and I’m still going to get the job.” He closed his eyes. “I really do want to nail that jerk to the wall.”

  “What do you mean, you’re still going to get the job?” The air started crackling, and something felt wrong about it. “Is it that you’re just so cocky about your skills with the jury?” Those skills were formidable. But that didn’t come into play. Not yet. The deal was that whoever came up with the best prosecution argument got the job. Not the one who won the case or swayed the jury. Falcon was going on logical reasoning and strength of argument alone. Wasn’t he?

  Wasn’t he?

  “I’ve never been ‘cocky,’ as you put it, about that. Well, not very. Okay, maybe a little. But it’s my one skill in the legal arena. I gotta make the most of it.”

  Have got to. Oh, dear. No, it was better as have to. And worse, she’d taken to correcting his grammar again. Not a good sign.

  “It’s like when we were in Iraq. Wyatt was the gunner. Garrett drove the Hummer over rough terrain like he was on the world’s smoothest racetrack. Probably from years of driving Miss Baby.” He frowned, as if remembering a thousand unpleasant things, then it blew over, like a cloud in the spring. “Me, I could spot an IED from twenty yards. Kept Garrett from ever hitting one in our HumVee.”

  Hearing a smattering of his war stories softened her again, and she relaxed down onto him, her eyes watching the swaying of the lantern above him, her head against his bicep. It made the best pillow she’d ever rested against, even if it was firm. He pulled her up to his side, and she curled against him. Wow. This was a fit like she’d been carved from a puzzle piece just for him.

  “No, I guess I might as well tell you.”

  “What?” She breathed him in. Their breathing rhythm synchronized. Whatever he had to say, it couldn’t deplete or do a thing to counteract the power of this feeling right now, of oneness, of singularity. She almost didn’t listen.

  “Oh, just that it’s not really fair because I don’t even plan on trying.”

  “Trying what?” She asked it dreamily. It didn’t matter what he tried. Yes, he’d win. She’d almost consider letting him.

  “Uh, trying to win the case.”

  “Oh, that.” A vapor of smoke. That’s all her thoughts were now. It’d been a long day. She had no intention of sleeping the whole night at his side. Her soft bed in the cab of Baby awaited. But would it hurt to just let herself drift off for a moment?

  “The right thing to do would be to tell Falcon to base it on merit, on content. And if he did that, I’m pretty sure you’ll get the promotion, hands down. We all know my style with the jury isn’t content-heavy. It’s more on swaying them to my side.”

  She was easily swayed to his side. More like glued.

  “And? So?” None of this was new. And the dream world was starting to rise in precedence to the conversation world here. Her stomach growled. She could eat KFC in the morning. Sleep…

  “So, I guess I should mention, that was part of the deal for me coming here to work for Falcon. He said I had to prove myself, but that he’d make sure I got everything I wanted. Haw.”

  Camilla’s eyes snapped open. Had she just dreamed that last part? She coughed herself awake. “Did you just say Falcon promised you the deputy county attorney position already? Does that mean I’m just working myself to death for nothing on this case? I don’t actually have a shot at the promotion?” The deception!

  “Well,” Zane shook his head. “It’s not really as black and white as all that.”

  “The law never is.” She hated that about it. She wanted things to be right and wrong, black and white, true and false. Being a lawyer forced her to confront the grays of life every day, but she rejected them every chance she got. Justice existed. And black must be washed white. Punishment was the only way to exonerate the crime. “This looks cut and dried to me. It’s deceit.”

  “Don’t look at it that way, Cami.”

  “Don’t call me Cami.” She brushed off her sweater. She tugged it back into place and surged to her feet. “I’m not impressed with you right now. And I don’t like being treated like some pawn in some chess match you and Falcon have set up. Why would you do this? Do you think of criminal prosecution as some kind of game? There is personal property at stake. There are lives of kids at stake. There is justice on the line.”

  And truthfully, an innocent man might be taking the rap for something he did not do, if the shoe print had anything to do with it.

  “Let me tell you something, Zane. Up until a second ago, I was as mesmerized as one of your jurors.” Stupid tears. Their heat and salt stung her cheeks as they fell. Her nose even started to run. Dang it. And she prided herself on being the one woman alive who could keep her emotions in check during an argument. “Never again.” With a searing shriek, the tent’s zipper whipped open at her tug, and she stumbled out into the night.

  Without a flashlight, she made a bumbling mess of a journey across the camp. First she careened into the tailgate on Baby, which was still down. Then she tripped on not one, not two, but three fallen pine branches. Her knee might never be the same. No skirts for
her for at least two weeks until the bruises healed. With the hardest stomps her legs could make, she stumbled toward the final embers of the earlier campfire.

  “Sheldon?” she called into the night. She had no idea which of the tents was his and Lydia’s, but she had no other choice. She had to find him, and there wasn’t another way. “Sheldon?”

  A couple of tents made rustling sounds, and one or two zipped open. A head popped out of one just fifteen feet away from the pavilion. Sheldon’s voice came groggy. “Camilla? Is that you waking up all the bears from here to kingdom come?”

  Bears. Ugh. In the force and security of Zane’s kisses, she’d forgotten about the threat of bears. Geez. Even more reason she had to get out of here—now.

  “Can you and Lydia forgive me? I need to go home.”

  He stuck his head back inside, and then there was some rustling and a jingle of keys. The night air had snapped cold, and Camilla shivered. Being next to Zane she’d not noticed any temperature but utter warmth. Now, a chill took hold of her chest and stomach, and the center of her body started a shaking that wouldn’t let go, no matter how she tensed her abdomen to quell it.

  In no time, out lurched Sheldon, followed by his wife Lydia. They each had a flashlight, and Lydia brought a cozy blanket and handed it to Camilla.

  “I’m so sorry, Sheldon, Lydia.”

  Lydia hugged her. “Oh, hon. We thought you’d never ask. I’m pretty sure our family, for one, has had enough. Here. You look cold.” She arranged the blanket around Camilla, warming her.

  “What?”

  “I was refusing to roll out my bedroll, begging Shel here to take me down the mountain. And Destry won’t stop texting and being mad when they won’t go through.” She handed Camilla her bedding and bent to help Sheldon un-pop the pop-up tent. “All I can say is thank you. If I had to spend another meal up here, I was going to insist Sheldon start job shopping. I hate this thing every year.”

  “You, too?”

  “Oh, hon. Every spouse does. It’s torture. And that awful campfire Falcon makes everyone sit through—it borders on inhumane.” She let her hand fly to her mouth. Sound carried on the night air. Camilla glanced around. No one else seemed to be up. It was all right. Their tent was down in a snap and thrown into the back of the pickup.