“No! He would say something to him and then if you were wrong I would feel so embarrassed that I wouldn’t be able to do my job. Besides, he would see me as just another one of his groupies and I want him to respect me.” I was already having flashbacks to college. One adventure in complete humiliation was more than enough, thanks.

“And what if I were right?”

“Then he could always ask me out, couldn’t he? It’s not like it would be hard to track me down. I see him practically every day. I wouldn’t hold my breath though. I think he’s pretty content randomly screwing Barbie dolls that he meets in bars and clubs.”

“Well, I definitely don’t think he would ask you out unless you let him know that you were interested too. Sometimes you act so stand-offish around him.”

“I do?”

“I know you well enough to realize that you’re just attracted to him, but he probably wouldn’t know that. Well, he might figure it out after today. You seemed pretty flustered when he came over to talk to you and you did ask him to comfort you.” She laughed to herself as she started taking notes on a file.

“Oh God,” I moaned. “I’m such an asshole.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. He always looks at you like he wants to toss you in the jury box and have his wicked way with you. He also keeps moving closer to talk to you. I thought he was going to sit on your lap today and you obviously liked it.”

“Yeah, well, he smells good,” I said and paused to think about that for a second. “I need to get out more. I'm sniffing the prosecutors.”

Commonwealth v. O’Neal

The next day arrived, just as Jess had threatened, and once again I found myself up against Mr. Pierce in court, wishing that he had me up against the courtroom wall. He was becoming increasingly distracting, especially now that she had filled my head with all of her theories that he wanted me too. She was such an enabler sometimes.

“Okay Ms. Ginsberg,” Judge Channing said at the conclusion of the preliminary hearing. “Time for argument. Will we be attempting to amend the Constitution today?”

“No, Your Honor. I wouldn't want to become predictable,” I replied with a smile. Judge Channing wasn’t exactly a fan of mine, by the way. “It's the defense position that the Commonwealth has not made out the charge of attempted homicide. Mr. O'Neal allegedly shot Mr. Anthony in the leg at close range. Clearly if he had intended to kill him he would have aimed higher.”

“He would have aimed higher. I see. Mr. Pierce, your response?”

“Your Honor, Mr. O'Neal shot Mr. Anthony using a nine millimeter handgun on a crowded street in front of at least thirty witnesses. The Commonwealth has presented sufficient evidence to bind all charges, including attempted homicide, over for trial.”

“I'm sorry, Ms. Ginsberg, I'm going to have to go with Mr. Pierce on this one. The fact that your client is a lousy shot doesn't provide a defense. All charges are held. Schedule it for trial.” They led my client away and I headed back to the defense table to gather my things. Mr. Pierce came over to hand me the copy of the order. That was different. Prosecutors weren’t usually that polite. Instead of walking away he stayed there – so close I had to look up to talk to him. Wow, he was tall.

“He would have aimed higher?” he asked with amusement.

“Look, when you represent a guy who shoots somebody in front of sixty witnesses let's hear what you have to say, okay?” I turned around and leaned over to put the order in the file and when I turned back I caught him totally checking out my ass.

“Thirty witnesses,” he said, and quickly looked up at a group of cops coming in the door. I couldn’t help myself, I totally checked out his beautiful body and when he looked back, of course he caught me doing it. I yanked my eyes away from him and cleared my throat.

“Thirty, sixty. What difference does it make? Were they nuns too, by the way?” When I glanced back I saw him trying to stifle a laugh.

“I must admit that I admire your creativity.” I wondered if he meant it or if he was just teasing me as usual. I looked at him directly again and I saw his eyes drop to the bottom lip I was gnawing on nervously. I couldn’t handle the way he was looking at my mouth like that so I turned to gather the papers on the defense table. I was always freaking gathering something when he was around! I really needed to have sex again soon, and God, I hoped that I wasn’t thinking out loud again.

“Thank you, Mr. Pierce. I try. I'll be doing a second show later this afternoon. Just wait until you meet Tiny,” I said, starting to pack up my files. He couldn't hold back anymore. The laughter escaped but he politely covered it with a cough. I glanced up and caught sight of his beautiful mouth and my eyes lingered there. I wanted that mouth on so many parts of my body.

“Did you say something?” My gaze flew back up to his eyes. Shit!

“Month. It’s been a busy month,” I mumbled and bit down on my bottom lip to prevent myself from saying anything else out loud. His eyes dropped to my mouth again and they actually seemed to get a little darker. I was starting to sweat and feel a great deal of tension in the room that had nothing to do with Mr. O’Neal’s poor aim. I had to get the hell out of there. I went to grab lunch before I grabbed Mr. Pierce and found out if he tasted as good as he smelled. Jesus! I felt like I needed a cold shower.

Commonwealth v. Kaminsky

At one o'clock we were back in front of the judge. “Okay, Ms. Ginsberg. Can't wait to hear what you're going to come up with this time,” Judge Channing said. Nothing like a vote of confidence from the judiciary.

“Your Honor, we all know that retail establishments sometimes discard unwanted or defective merchandise. It was perfectly reasonable for Mr. Kaminsky to have mistakenly believed that the merchandise in question here had been abandoned.”

“Uh huh. Mr. Pierce, what do you have to say?” the judge asked.

“Your Honor, nobody discards twenty-seven HD flat screen TVs.”

“You know, Mr. Pierce, I'm inclined to agree. All charges held for trial.” Judge Channing banged his gavel and Tiny was escorted away by two rather wary-looking deputies. I was fairly sure Tiny wasn't anybody's bitch in the jail. I headed back to the defense table again.

“You were right. That was pretty good,” Mr. Pierce said, handing me the order again. His hand brushed against mine this time and I jumped like I had just stuck my finger in a socket. He looked at me like I might be really be dangerous after all. Nice, Gabrielle – very subtle.

“I predict that I'll be breaking out the 'right to a trial defense’ again,” I said, trying to not act any weirder than I already was.

“You don't think he'll be willing to plead guilty?”

“Probably not. He firmly believes that claiming to be a complete idiot will get him off.”

“You're very funny,” he said, leaning against the defense table right next to me again.

“Mr. Pierce, in my line of work, one either laughs or cries and I would rather laugh.” Oh Jesus H. Christ! I sounded like a country western song.

“You can call me Braden.” He was looking at me kind of intently like he was curious to see how I would react. I felt my cheeks getting warmer and my heart started pounding like a drummer on speed. I was starting to wonder if I had high blood pressure or something. This couldn't be normal.

“You can call me Gabrielle then,” I said, staring directly into those incredible blue eyes and hoping that my face didn't look as pink as it felt. We were only inches away from each other and I could feel the heat from his body. I was looking up at him and he was looking down at me and I felt that tension there again, but just then the judge called out.

“Mr. Pierce, I hate to break up your conversation with Ms. Ginsberg but we need a prosecutor to be involved in this prosecution.” I looked over at the bench and saw that there was already another case waiting.

“Goodbye, Gabrielle,” he said with a smile. Why did my name sound so damned sexy when he said it? I placed my wheeling briefcase full of files on the floor. My toned muscles didn't just come from walking everywhere. I could probably bench-press a Buick.

“Goodbye, Braden,” I muttered and made my escape.

* * *

It was Friday and I wouldn't get to see him again for at least two days. I headed back to my office, probably the only one of the two hundred plus attorneys who worked there who wasn't thrilled that the weekend had finally arrived. I contemplated my plans for the next day. I could rearrange the kitchen cupboards, maybe catch a matinee, slit my wrists. The possibilities were endless. Jess was already at her desk when I got back and I unpacked my files as I thought more about my little exchange with Mr. Pierce — Braden.

“Mr. Pierce told me to call him by his first name and he also told me that I was funny.”

“Oh really?” she asked, spinning around in her chair and sounding diabolically intrigued like some evil genius in a James Bond movie. “So admit it, maybe I was right.” She had the “I told you so” look written all over her face.

“I don't want to hear it until I have some proof. Thanks to you planting your dubious theories in my head, I've gone from just lusting for him to pining for him too. I'm like Pepe Le Pew on Acid every time he gets near me now,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“We could go out to O'Malley's with the other public defenders later,” she suggested. “A lot of prosecutors go too on Fridays. Maybe he'll be there.”

“And what then? I can gaze at him from afar over a pitcher of beer?”

“You can flirt with him. Maybe you could get something going that way.”

“Because you know that picking up a guy in a bar is the best way to start a healthy romantic relationship. I’m not looking for a one-nighter Jess.”

“You don't have to go home with him. Just flirt with him and see what happens.”

“Just flirt with him and see what happens – those are famous last words if I ever heard them.”

CHAPTER THREE

O’Malley’s managed to seem upscale and still feel like the fun dive bar that every lawyer everywhere had hung out in when they were in law school. There was a large old-fashioned, central bar area, surrounded by tables lining the walls. When the place started filling up and the jukebox was playing, people tended to crowd into the open space between the bar and the tables to socialize and dance.

We had just walked in, and were navigating through the crowd, when we passed near a table surrounded by prosecutors laughing and drinking. We were en route to a table surrounded by public defenders laughing and drinking. After a week in the criminal justice system, laughing and drinking were necessary components for maintaining one's sanity. We had almost passed the prosecutors’ table when I heard Mr. Roth call out.

“Well if it isn't Ms. Albright and Ms. Ginsberg!” We paused and moved in closer to them. My stomach started contortions that would have made the U.S. Diving Team proud when I saw Braden sitting there, leaning back in his chair with his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, and his tie and collar loose. You could sell postcards of that sight, baby.

“Hello, Mr. Roth,” Jess called out above the noise. “Drowning your sorrows?”

“Celebrating my victories, Ms. Albright. Perhaps you don’t recall my impressive courtroom performance earlier?” Mr. Roth was also a very handsome guy but in a different way than Mr. Pierce. Braden was a golden boy but Adam had dark good looks – dark hair, brown eyes, and always just a touch of five o’clock shadow. He was one of those guys who always looked like he may have come directly to work from some woman’s bed. And in Adam’s case that was a definite possibility.

“Someone catch me. I'm going to swoon,” I shouted dryly. And one can actually shout dryly – trust me. Mr. Roth needed to occasionally have a woman fail to worship him and I was happy to oblige.

“Such a saucy mouth on this girl,” he said with a laugh, looking over at Braden. Their colleagues paused in their revelries to pay attention to this little exchange. Two attractive public defender women had ventured close to a table full of semi-drunk male prosecutors. That didn't happen every day. It was like one of those scenes from a wildlife documentary. You know, the ones where the baby gazelle decides to drink from the nice cool stream right next to the pride of hungry lions.

“You think I have a saucy mouth huh?” I decided that now was as good a time as any if I wanted to try my hand at some flirting. “What do you think of my mouth, Braden?” I asked, turning to him. By some small miracle I actually managed to sound calm and even a bit playful. The guardian angel of the socially awkward was obviously smiling down on me.

“I rather like it,” he answered with a flirtatious smile, as his eyes very obviously dropped to my lips, this time in a practiced way that probably had women dropping their panties for him left and right under other circumstances. I heard some suggestive laughter and there were a few comments from his friends that I didn't quite catch – probably for the best. Dusty Springfield was singing Son of a Preacher Man in the background and it helped to set the saucy mood.

“There you go, Mr. Roth,” I said, as I walked over to stand right in front of him, leaned down, and looked him directly in the eye, our faces inches apart. “Some men can obviously handle my mouth.” Jess let out a startled laugh behind me. I stood up, smiled and started to walk away. After a second of stunned silence, their table erupted into laughter. Wow, I really was kind of saucy wasn't I? I was several feet away when I heard Braden call out and my heart slammed into my chest wall.