ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal
Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part
of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without
express written permission from the author / publisher.

Mendelssohn Levy Publishing

Philadelphia

http://mendlevy.com/

First Mendelssohn Levy eBook Edition November 2015

First Mendelssohn Levy trade paperback edition, November 2015

NOTICE: This is an adult contemporary romance novel and contains explicit descriptions of
sexual acts and mature language. It is intended for readers over the age of eighteen.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the

author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Silber, N.M.
Power of Attorney / N.M. Silber – 1st edition
ISBN 978-0-9906708-0-3 Print edition

Praise for The Law of Attraction

"Between the characters’ banter, the preposterous “fixes” that Gabrielle manages to coax her best friend Jess into, and the underlying
theme of a blossoming romance that I was completely and utterly pulling for, my verdict is that there is clear and convincing evidence

that “The Law of Attraction” is THE stand-out romantic comedy of 2013! I cannot wait for the sequel."

Cindy Meyer of The Book

Enthusiast

"This book is laugh out loud funny. Fans of Janet Evanovich will get a kick out of this book. There is sweetness and steam and a

whole lot of I Love Lucy moments. I cannot wait for the conclusion in The Home Court Advantage." ~Donna Antonio of In My Humble
Opinion

"The banter in and out of the court room was hilarious and the sexual tension was just there. They only part that I didn't like was "it

ended". I wanted MORE." ~Mayas of Reading by the Book

"The Law of Attraction' has it all - romance, hot sexxx, humor, a sex ring scandal, and great friends! A great read and a must add to

your to read list. We can't wait to read Part II. N.M. Silber has definitely been added to our Must Read Authors List! Absolutely loved
the book!” ~556 Book Chicks

"The characters were loveable and you just want to see them get what they want. Once I started reading I could not stop and ended

up reading it in one sitting.” ~Joy Whiteside of Book 2 Book

“If you like to read a book that has a fun love story with lots of humor (who doesn't?) then you NEED to read this book!” ~Angela's

Smexy Book Reviews

"The Law of Attraction has more to it than just humor and sex, it also has some mystery to it as well. Even now thinking back while

typing this has me snorting at parts of the book.” ~My Secret Romance Book Reviews

"I am pretty impressed by what I have seen so far and I can’t wait until the second book is available. The Law of Attraction has

some great lol moments and stars a very sweet and fun couple.” ~Fiction Vixen

"I LOVED this book. Hardcore, super duper, would recommend it to anyone, marking it as a favorite kind of love. It's cute, adorable,

lovely, sexy, panty-melting, heart-warming, laugh-out-loud goodness." ~Angie Lynch of Smut Book Club

"Gabrielle is the type of heroine I like to read; she’s funny, sweet, devoted to her friends and her crazy family. Braden is charming,

hot and boy when they tear up the sheets I needed a fan to cool me off. They were H-O-T!!" ~Rachel from We Love Kink

"This book was laugh-out-loud funny, sexy, and there was even some mystery and suspense. With

a book with all of these qualities, you know it’s going to be good!” ~

Rotten Apple Reads

"This book seriously made me OMG and LOL from page 1. I could not stop laughing. I love it." ~Two Brain Book Reviewers

Praise for The Home Court Advantage

“This is a MUST read.” ~Mayas Sanders, Reading by the Book

“They're sexy as hell and the crazy antics are laugh out loud funny.” ~Lori Lockie, 50 Shades of Gabriel’s Crossfire Unscripted

Destiny Book Club

“It was one of those books that I couldn’t read in public because I never knew if I would be biting my lip from the sexy scenes or

rolling around on the ground laughing.” ~ Tricia Santos, Romance Addict

“Make some popcorn, grab your favorite beverage, and settle in for an entertaining read that will leave you wiping away tears of

laughter (and even a little tenderness) to the very end.” ~Cindy Meyer, The Book Enthusiast

“Author N.M. Silber knocked it out of the park again! This book is not only hot but hilarious with a side of drama.” ~ i love lady porn
“Much like the first book, The Law of Attraction, The Home Court Advantage has funny stories of Gabrielle and Braden going head-

to-head in the courtroom, which really make for some good sexual tension build-up.” ~Angie Lynch, Smut Book Club

“Braden and Gabby are quite the dynamic duo in and out of the court room and their friends make them even better. I can't wait for

the next installment in this series!” ~Michele, Dirty Hoe’s Book Blog

“I loved this book. I loved everything about it. I love the characters. It is an amazingly fantastic book. There is nothing about this book

I didn't like. You have to add this to your

"TBR" list.” ~Purpinkroses Book Corner
“The book moved along at an amazing pace, you cannot help but fall in love with the characters and had a very entertaining story that

will keep you interested from the very beginning till you get to the last word on the last page.” ~Joy Whiteside, Book2Book

“Make some popcorn, grab your favorite beverage, and settle in for an entertaining read that will leave you wiping away tears of

laughter (and even a little tenderness) to the very end.” ~Cindy Meyer, The Book Enthusiast

“The sweet side of their relationship and love life continued to mix with the hot and heavy, and that created just the right environment

to keep my attention and the pace progressing.” ~Jenny, Book Sojourner

Praise for Legal Briefs

"Legal Briefs is equal parts sexy and funny. N.M. Silber is becoming my go to author when I want to laugh and swoon at the same time."
Sawyer Bennett, USA Today bestselling author

"NM Silber brings it again! Edgy banter, outrageous plot, humorous dialogue, sexy liaisons, charming camaraderie and masterful

storytelling. Legal Briefs fires on all cylinders. The Book Enthusiast

"Legal Briefs is one part comedy, one part caper and a full on sexy love story. This book was the perfect blend of everything I love in

a book. It is a permanent fixture on my virtual bookshelf—I will read it again and again." The SubClub Books

"It's sexy. It's hilarious. It's hot." Romance Addict Book Blog
"HOLY SEXY BATMAN! Yes. Just...I was expecting the funny that we got, but I was not expecting how steamy this book

was...and it was amazing." Must Read Books or Die

"N.M. Silber does it again! She has kept this series fresh, funny, sexy, and adventurous." Ramblings of a Book Lunatic
"The bathtub scene. Call me when you get there." Angie Lynch, Smut Book Club
"Hilarious, hot and steamy sexy!" Hopelessly Hooked on Books
"The chemistry between these two is off-the-charts. But whether they are steaming up the sheets or bantering like a boss, there's no

doubt that these two are madly in love with each other." Book Sojourner

"It's funny, hot, sexy and exciting, the perfect combination." Purpinkroses Book Corner

“The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”

Oscar Wilde

This book is dedicated to everyone who supported me

through tough times.

Chapter One

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Fishbine, but mooning Councilman Jackson is not Free Speech," I shouted in the
direction of her good ear. "Here, let me help you down over the curb with that walker." I reached out
to help my geriatric client and got my hand slapped as thanks.

She glared up at me with a face like a dried apple and I flinched as the image of how the other end

must look popped unbidden into my head. Councilman Jackson would never be able to unsee that. I
shook my head and tried to think of golden sunsets and fluffy kittens. One thing I did not need was
nightmares about Agnes’ bare tuchus.

Mind you, this wasn’t the first time I had sprung Agnes Fishbine. I regularly represented a group

of senior citizen political activists and Agnes was the wildest, a real loose cannon, especially on
days her bursitis was acting up. They called themselves the Silver Cougars. I knew it was a
reference to the Black Panthers and I didn’t have the heart to tell them what “cougar” meant in today’s
slang, especially not Mr. Borelli. I suspected that he wouldn’t take it well and he had a pacemaker.
Another thing I didn’t need was blood on my hands. And we couldn’t afford to lose a client.

Councilman Jackson exited the building, and seeing Agnes, understandably gave us a wide berth.

She grumbled something that might have been “duck” and thinking quickly, I reached out again and
took another slap for the team before she could extend a gesture that demonstrated that she hadn’t been
referencing waterfowl. Ignoring the amused looks of fellow attorneys who had been in the courtroom
enjoying the Agnes Fishbine show, I helped Agnes into a cab and released a sigh of relief as it pulled
away from the curb. It was a gorgeous sunny day, warm for November, and I decided to walk back to
the office to clear my head.

Breathing in a lungful of the crisp autumn air, I started off through the streets of Center City,

Philadelphia. As I was cutting through Rittenhouse Square, enjoying the vivid shades of the leaves, a
nearby bush suddenly started hissing at me. That may not be something one encounters every day, but
after a morning with Agnes, I decided that I really didn’t want to know why. When I didn’t slow my
stride, the bush actually called out my name. I must admit that made me pause. Stopping and turning
back, I saw a short slight form dressed in black extricate itself from the brush.

“Abby! Hey, stop!” The sharp angles, scruffy goatee and thick round glasses of a familiar face

came into view. Oh great. More fun clients.

“I don’t want to tell you how to go about your business, Trog,” I said as he approached, “but as an

attorney, I’ll note that hiding in the bushes could lead to legal misunderstandings.” Trog brushed the
remnants of his hiding place off his “I See Dead Servers” sweatshirt, looking from right to left
rapidly. He seemed extra jumpy today and he reminded me of a ferret on Red Bull.

Kevin “Troglodyte” Collins, or “Trog” for short, was one my law partner, Dana’s regular clients,

a paranoid hacker with a trust fund who kept her on retainer even though his identity as a wanted
criminal was pretty much all in his head. Trog was a wacky guy but wasn’t a bad guy. He wanted to
be hacktivist, making the world a better place, even if it occasionally meant breaking some minor
laws. He saw himself as kind of like a computer age Robin Hood. The problem was, he wasn’t very
good at it.

So far, his proudest “outlaw” moment to date had been when he hacked into the computer system

for the Southeastern Pennsylvania Transit Authority and screwed up all the regional rail times. He
had wanted to make a point about how a system supported by public funding should serve the public
more reliably. Unfortunately, SEPTA itself screws up the rail times on a daily basis, and thus, nobody
noticed. Nevertheless, he was completely convinced that the FBI was following him for a month

afterward and he scheduled many billable client conferences, despite Dana’s assurance that he was
probably safe.

“I’ve been trying to contact Dana all morning but she doesn’t answer,” he said, sounding even

more nervous than usual. And this was a guy who I was sure owned more than one tinfoil hat.

“She’s in a Continuing Legal Education class all day. Hey, how did you know I would be walking

through here now?” I squinted at him suspiciously. Trog was a wackado and a geek, but he had never
been a creepy stalker, to my knowledge at least.

“I didn’t. I was supposed to meet someone else here but they never showed,” he answered

distractedly, eyes still darting around. Knowing Trog, I assumed he was probably looking for
government agents who wanted to interrogate him, space aliens who wanted to probe him, or possibly
government agents who wanted to interrogate him and then probe him.

“In the bushes?” I raised an eyebrow. This was weird even for Trog, who was shifting his weight

from foot to foot and rifling his fingers through his stringy dishwater colored hair. Forget Red Bull;
he was like a ferret on Meth today.

“In the Square but I didn’t want anyone to notice me.”
“And you thought that lurking in the bushes would make you blend in.”
“Look, I have to talk to Dana. It’s urgent. I might be in trouble.”
“Maybe you should hide out with Julian Assange instead of squirrels.”
“Enough with the bushes already! This is serious shit.” He finally looked directly at me and I was

surprised to see a gleam of what might have been real fear in his bloodshot eyes. Even though it was
probably just his usual paranoia, obviously Trog believed there was something significant going
down. Well, maybe there was. Trog could certainly afford our legal fees and we could use the
business. Who was I to argue?

“Okay, well she’ll be in tomorrow. If you call the office, Rosalie can probably figure out how to

schedule you. I think she’s mastered the appointment book by now.”

“Great, thanks. Make sure you tell Dana you saw me.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about that.” I smiled. He nodded gravely and then turned and began weaving

his way back and forth out the Square, likely taking evasive maneuvers. Because you know,
government agents can’t follow a circuitous path.

I rolled my eyes and started off again toward our office. I still smiled every time those words ...

“our office” ... came to mind and I thought back to the conversation three months ago that had led to
the creation of Solomon Merino & Roth.

***

I was with two close friends, Dana Solomon and Magdalena “Lena” Merino in the offices of Killian
Lockman, Attorneys at Law. We were surrounded by brass and glass in the cavernous conference
room where the air conditioning made August in Philadelphia feel like a trip to the Arctic Circle. It
was always freezing cold at KL. It even smelled cold in that place, such a “homey” feeling.

KL was one of the most prestigious law firms in the country, and there were recent law school

graduates, as well as experienced attorneys, who would probably kill to work there. Partners were
considered to be “power brokers” who were members of the most elite echelons of legal practice.
The problem was that to become a partner, you had to sell your soul to the firm and risk working
yourself into an early grave first. Work/life balance had no meaning at Killian Lockman and the cases
I was assigned there had no meaning to me. I was overworked and under-challenged.

Not that there weren’t plenty of lawyers who weren’t still thrilled to be working there. Some

people just didn’t care. The prestige, money and power that came with partnership were all that they
lived for. But that didn’t describe us. All three of us were miserably unhappy, especially now that we
were all over thirty and partnership was still nowhere in sight. We weren’t willing to do it anymore.
It was time. We had been killing ourselves for too long, working eighty hours per week and handling
tasks that were mind numbingly boring in a 200-lawyer firm where nobody knew our names. We
needed to get out of that place, even if it meant that we had to tunnel out.

“We would be like the Legion of Justice,” Dana said, her green eyes shining.
“We would be like a law firm, Magneto,” Lena shot back in her heavy Philadelphia accent,

tucking her wavy dark hair behind one ear.

“Magneto is a character in the X-Men series,” Dana pointed out patiently. “Furthermore, he’s a

villain. Although admittedly, he does have a fascinating history ...”

“Roswell,” Lena said firmly and Dana stopped talking.
Dana’s Asperger Syndrome didn’t hold her back as an attorney but it did make her a bit ... quirky.

Lecturing was one of her quirks. Lena and I liked her exactly as she was, but sometimes her
eccentricity made things hard for her. So, we had come with the code word “Roswell” to tactfully let
her know when she was being especially quirky.

“As I was saying, instead of every single day being the same drudge work, we could handle cases

that were meaningful to us,” I went on.

“At first we would have to take what we could get,” Dana pointed out, refocusing.
“My family might be able to send some clients our way to get us started,” Lena offered. “My

brother Vinnie and his friend Tony need legal representation related to a business matter.”

“Are they going to make us an offer we can’t refuse?” I asked her with an inquisitive smile. I often

teased Lena, who loved being an Italian American Princess.

“Hey, no stereotypes!” she shot back wagging a finger at me. “They want to open an Olive

Garden. They’re entrepreneurs.”

“Wait, I’m not sure ...” Dana began looking a bit confused.
“She was humorously implying that they were in the mob,” Lena explained. “I’m gonna let it go,

though, because I know that she’s not really an asshole.”

“You mean not an asshole for real, or not much of an asshole?” Dana asked furrowing her brow.

Before Lena could answer, Dana started laughing. “I knew she was kidding! I was just going to point
out that none of us has any experience with franchise work.”

“Well, I don’t know!” Lena laughed back. “You understand Quantum Physics, but subtle humor,

not so much.”

“We could figure out the franchise stuff,” I said. “We’re very intelligent women. Lena’s a whiz

with numbers, and hell, Dana you could probably build us a computer from scratch to look up the
legal requirements.”

“Speaking of computers,” Dana spoke up, “I know a lot of hackers. Mere probability would

suggest that eventually some of them would require the services of an attorney.” She paused and
added, “Unfortunately.”

“My mom visits this senior center where there are a bunch of elderly folks who decided to

become political activists,” I offered. “They keep getting trouble and she’s been trying to get my
brother to take them on as clients, but it’s not really what the nonprofit he works for does. Maybe we
could give them a group discount.”

“So, we’ve got some business law, criminal defense, civil rights ...” Dana said, getting up and

starting to pace. I knew that when Dana was pacing, Dana was thinking.

“This is actually happening!” Lena said slapping her hand down on the polished wood conference

table. “Abby Roth, you are a genius.”

“Well, technically, to qualify as a genius,” Dana began, and turning to look at us, immediately

hesitated. “Roswell?” Lena and I just smiled. Dana was getting really good at reading body language.

And that was how it began. Solomon Merino & Roth was born.

Chapter Two

A few hours after springing Agnes, I found myself on my back, panting and covered in sweat. I
grabbed my ankles and peered through my trembling legs at the muscular blonde Adonis gazing down,
silently praising me with his eyes, a thin sheen of moisture glistening on his tanned brow.

“Do you feel that Abby?”
“Yes!” I gasped. “Oh God! It’s so hard!”
“You can handle it!”
“So close.” I groaned as I felt myself get nearer to where I needed to be.
“Almost there,” he coaxed.
“Yes!” I cried. Then without warning, the blonde Adonis, or “Barry” as we called him, suddenly

stood up.

“Okay ladies! Our hour is up. Don’t forget that you need to practice these stretches every day if

you want your muscles to stay flexible.” He crossed his arms and cast a stern look about the room,
which was promptly ignored by all.

“If this will make me flexible, why do I feel like I can’t move?” I groaned.
“You know Abby, if you work on it you’ll have it, but it takes investment.” With an expression

that telegraphed his (accurate) belief that I would not be practicing the 3000 hours of stretches he
demanded, he left me lying there on the floor like a sweaty human pretzel.

There were grunting and shuffling sounds all around me as I winced and eased my legs back down

to the floor. Yeah, I would have it all right. And “it” would be a body cast. While I lay there trying to
work up the energy to move, I saw Lena approaching out of the corner of my eye. She was crawling
toward me on all fours. When she arrived she collapsed into a heap beside me.

“Remind me again why we do this to ourselves.” She groaned.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m here because I finally have time to pay attention to my health

again, and I’ve heard that being shamed by a sadistic gay man is healthy.”

“You think Barry is gay?” she asked, turning her attention to the front of the room where he now

stood, hands on hips, legs splayed apart at a jaunty angle, feet planted firmly on the floor. He looked
like he should be wearing tights and a cape.

“First of all, he spends his days staring deeply into the vaginas of some very attractive and

scantily clad women and I have never seen it make even a dent in his neon Spandex shorts. And
secondly ... neon Spandex shorts.”

“Straight guys wear neon.”
“Neon pink?”
“Bad taste happens. I don’t think he’s gay. Why don’t you ask him out? He’s very attractive for a

passive-aggressive fashion victim.”

“He’s openly aggressive, and I could never date a guy who’s prettier than me.”
“Oh come on.” She laughed. “When’s the last time you went on a date? Your long dark hair and

big brown eyes would compliment all his goldeness.”

“You’re not exactly ‘Queen of the Dating Scene’ either and you have long dark hair too. Why

don’t you see what team he plays for?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, though, I’m kind of worried that he would be silently critiquing the sex.

‘Lena if you just practiced your stretches eighty five hours per week like you’re supposed to, your
doggie style pose would be much better developed.’

“Stop making me laugh!” I guffawed, holding my stomach. “My abdominal muscles are begging

for mercy.”

“Okay, we have been lying here much too long,” she noted sounding amused. “I’m worried

somebody will call an ambulance.”

“The next class is coming in now anyway,” I added. “If we don’t achieve verticality soon we run

the risk of having someone toss a yoga mat on top of us.” With a deep breath I pulled myself to my
knees and then stumbled to my feet as Lena did the same beside me, and then the two of us limped off
to change.

Twenty minutes and a blissfully hot shower later, as I stood by my gym locker getting dressed, I

noticed that the message light on my cell phone was blinking. Picking it up and staring at the screen, I
knit my brows. For a second, I thought I must have seen the number wrong.

“Call from Rosalie,” I muttered in confusion.
“Not our secretary Rosalie?” she asked dubiously. “When did she discover voicemail?” It was a

reasonable question. Sadly.

“Right after she mastered the hold button ... a week ago, ” I replied. Rosalie wasn’t what I would

call a very “secretarial” secretary, but she had cannily created such a chaotic record keeping system
that she was now the only person who could locate anything in under a day. Thus, her long-term job
security was forever assured. You had to admire that kind of ingenuity.

Besides, she was a distant relative on my mother’s side with a rich ex-husband and too much time

on her hands, which meant that she worked for free. I also figured that if I employed her and
represented the elderly anarchists cheaply, maybe my mom would stop reminding me that I’m thirty-
one and unmarried. You do what you have to do.

I punched the callback button and almost dropped the phone when she picked up on the first ring.

This was becoming like an episode of the Twilight Zone.

“Who are you and what have you done with Rosalie Kravitz?” I asked suspiciously as I grabbed

my gym bag and headed for the door following Lena.

“There are FBI agents here. Should I destroy any files?” she more hissed than whispered in her

heavy New Jersey accent.

“No thanks, G. Gordon Liddy. Did they happen to say what they wanted?”
“No, but I just assumed that ...”
“Don’t assume anything,” I broke in impatiently. “This could be totally innocent. For all you

know they could be looking for a donation or something.”

“A donation? What is this, the Salvation Army? Their cards said “FBI” not “Will investigate for

food.” I took a deep breath and mentally counted to ten.

“Just please let them know I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I clicked off and took a deep cleansing

breath as I contemplated the possibilities. Unfortunately, though, I couldn’t think of a place to hide
Rosalie’s body.

***

Lena was due to argue a motion in court, so it was up to me to face the G alone. I strode through the
door of our office a few minutes later and immediately encountered Rosalie, who was obviously
preparing for a career on the stage. A hand clutched to her heart, a look of unbearable pain on her
face, she appeared to be doing the death scene from Camille. Our student intern, Jaya stood by
looking confused and slightly alarmed. I would have to talk to her later. Jaya had only moved here
from Mumbai two years ago. She was still learning about American culture, and she may not have

fully grasped certain subtleties, like the fact that the FBI likely wasn’t there to abduct us, and the fact
that Rosalie is a nut.

“Rosalie, pull yourself together,” I ordered through gritted teeth.
“They’re in the conference room,” she said in a low conspiratorial tone. “I told them they would

not get near our files without a subpoena,” she added, sounding like she had fought of an army of
Bezerkers for me.

“Did they actually ask to see our files?”
“They might have,” she replied defensively, “but I said they would only get to search over my

dead body.”

“And they didn’t like that offer, huh?” I asked dryly. “Okay,” I said squaring my shoulders and

heading down the hall.

As soon as I entered, two very FBI-looking guys in nondescript navy blue suits with gray striped

ties stood up. I had always suspected that they all shopped in one place. The guy on left reached out a
hand to shake mine. The suit may have been nondescript but he wasn’t. He was of Asian descent, with
thick black hair and an air of confidence that he wore well. The other guy matched his suit.

“Ms. Roth, I’m special agent, Jack Wong and this my partner special agent Tim Wright. We

would like to ask you a few questions if you have the time.”

“Wait a minute, you’re law enforcement officers and your names are Wright and ...” I said with a

chuckle that died in my throat as the agents stared back at me with a look that said they had heard the
joke before. “Agent Wright, Agent Wong, it’s nice to meet you. Please have a seat,” I went on, giving
them a more serious look.

I grabbed the chair at the end of the table to put myself in a position of authority and place some

distance between us. I knew that people said just as much with their bodies as with their words, if
not more. That was something I had learned in law school.

“These questions are of an informal nature, Ms. Roth,” Agent Wong said not really answering my

question. He made steady eye contact. Cops were trained to do that. They could say anything while
looking you in the eye. That one, I learned from watching Law and Order. Hey, that show is very
accurate.

“So what can I do for you then?” I prompted.
“Recently there was an online break-in at a company called DocuKeep.”
“Oh?” I asked noncommittally, and the agents glanced quickly at each other.
“You weren’t aware of this?”
“Why would I be aware of that? Was it on the news or something?”
“It’s not public knowledge, but we wondered if maybe one of your clients had heard something.”

Agent Wong gave me a warm smile that was probably meant to make me like him. It kind of worked.

“Why do you think one our clients would have heard about it?” I asked suspiciously. I somehow

doubted that they were making this offer at random law firms throughout Philadelphia.

“You represent several individuals charged with computer crimes,” Agent Wright spoke for the

first time, making me jump a little. I had almost forgotten he was there. “The perpetrator in this case
might have drawn attention in that community.”

“There are probably plenty of hackers who ...” I replied, thinking that these days even the least

talented people who Dana represented ... And then I remembered my travels through the bush that
morning. Oh boy.

“Is something wrong Ms. Roth?” Agent Wong asked snapping me out of it. I quickly put my game

face back on. Or tried to anyway.

“No, I was just trying to go over my partner’s client list mentally. Dana Solomon is the attorney

who handles our cases involving computer crimes. She’s at a training today though.”

I had answered quickly, maybe a little too quickly, because I noticed the agents share a look that

seemed like a silent communication. Damn. I wasn’t a good liar. I wasn’t nearly as bad as Dana
though, who got so twitchy that she sometimes looked like she was having a spasm. It was Lena who
was our resident “creative truth teller”. She could tell you anything with a straight face. It was kind of
scary actually.

“I’m just going be totally upfront with you, Ms. Roth,” Agent Wong said giving me his best

sincere look. “We’re interested in someone named Kevin Collins. He goes by the nickname
Troglodyte or Trog for short?” Oh boy.

“Is Kevin Collins on your client list?” Agent Wright asked casually. Great, the FBI was in our

conference room looking for Trog, who in turn, was probably hiding in the foliage somewhere. I was
not prepared for this, especially after a bare-assed Agnes morning and the Marquis de Barry that
afternoon. I needed a minute to regroup and think.

“How rude of us,” I said standing up and shooting them my best airhostess smile. “You’ve been

waiting here for a while and nobody has offered you anything to drink.”

“That’s not necessary...” Agent Wong began.
“Well, I’m parched! I just got a real workout.” I caught myself. “Uh, in court.” I didn’t need them

to know that I had spent my afternoon twisting and sweating on the floor for Barry and his pink Neon
shorts.

“Must have been up against Sachs,” Agent Wright muttered and the two men shared a chuckle. I

almost tripped getting out of my chair. It was the name he had mentioned; I knew to whom he was
referring, and I felt a little flutter in my tummy. Assistant U.S. Attorney Jacob Sachs was someone I
wouldn’t mind having up against me. And now, on top of everything else, I was distracted by that
image.

I went over to call out for Rosalie, who hadn’t managed to master the intercom system yet. As it

turned out, I didn’t have to look far. She came stumbling into the room as soon as soon as I opened the
door. What a coincidence.

“Hey, watch it!” she griped and I felt my blood start to boil.
“Are you lost?” I hissed quietly.
“I was just passing by,” she said defensively, brushing herself off.
“I could use some water.” I smiled brightly.
“It’s down the hall in that little kitchen thingy,” she answered.
“I’m kind of busy here; could you get me some?” My smile took on an edge.
“I didn’t hear the magic word.” She smiled back. My jaw clenched.
“Could you please get me some,” I growled, feeling my blood pressure start to rise. There were

plenty of wooded areas north of the city. How heavy could she be?

“Fine.” She grumbled and went over to the door. “Hey, Jaya!” she called out. “Grab a bottle of

water, will ya?” I started to seethe.

Jaya was there in seconds with my water and a big smile. I thanked her warmly and herded

Rosalie out of the room with a quiet admonishment to go guard the door from the mailman. When I
turned around I saw that the two agents had been taking all of this in with amusement. We should
charge admission in this place. I took a big sip of water, gave them an “mmm, refreshing” look and
resumed my place at the table.

“Now, you were saying ...” I felt better having bought myself a moment. When not contemplating

the image a certain sexy prosecutor giving me a workout and various ways to kill Rosalie and hide
her body, I had decided that I would confirm nothing until I had discussed this with Dana.

“We heard a rumor that an individual named Kevin Collins might possibly know something about

this break-in,” Agent Wong said, sounding almost apologetic. “We went to his apartment to interview
him but err, someone, informed us that nobody was home.”

“And then ‘Nobody’ slid a business card with the name of your firm on it under the door,” Agent

Wright added. Smooth, Trog. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

“Where did you hear that he might know something?” I asked politely.
“Through the grapevine,” Agent Wong answered.
“I see. Well, the name is familiar, but I would have to check with Dana.”
“You couldn’t just check your files?” Agent Wong urged gently, trying out that smile again. This

time it didn’t work as well. I didn’t like the way they were trying to get information out of me without
offering me anything in return.

“You met Rosalie. She does the filing.” I smiled back. The agents shared a look that said that they

knew that they weren’t going to get anywhere and, resigning themselves, they stood up to go.

“Perhaps after you speak with your colleague you could give us a call,” Agent Wong said,

handing me his business card. Something about the look he gave me was kind of sexy. Lena was right;
it really had been far too long since I had gone on a date.

“If we have something for you, we surely will. Thanks very much gentlemen. We’ll keep our ears

open.” I went over to the door to show them out. As I watched them leave our offices, I leaned back
against the conference room door and let out a breath. What had that wackado gotten himself into
now?

Chapter Three

Later that evening, we three attorneys sat in Dana’s office and had a discussion about everything that
had happened. Neither one of them had any better idea what was going on than I did though. To
complicate matters even further, Trog had apparently gone to ground. He was incommunicado.

“He isn’t answering calls, texts, emails or even Tweets,” Dana said putting down her phone and

furrowing her brow at her computer screen.

“Maybe we should ask ‘Nobody’ where he is,” I said dryly.
“You said he seemed nervous?” Dana asked, chewing on her thumbnail. “I’m kind of worried.”

Dana really did look worried. Whoever said people with Asperger’s lack empathy, obviously lacked
intelligence.

“Yeah, but he always seems nervous. I’ve never seen someone actually vibrate before. He must

have serious coffee issues.”

“You would be nervous too if the Men in Black were after you,” Lena quipped.
Dana looked up, her eyes flashing with excitement. “You kid about that, but believe it or not, there

many well-documented accounts of strange ...” she began.

“Roswell, Agent Mulder,” I interrupted. “And no more jokes either. Let’s just figure out what

Trog might be into so we can get out of here. I have a life again and I don’t want to spend it in an
office.”

“And what are you doing tonight, Ms. Roth?” Lena asked in a delighted tone and with a very

inquisitive-looking raised eyebrow.

“Going home and watching Ally McBeal.” The eyebrow lowered and she snorted.
“Hey, I didn’t say I had a great life.” I jiggled my foot impatiently.

“We should probably start by figuring out what DocuKeep is,” Dana said, her fingers flying over

the computer keys. A moment later she paused and Lena and I waited while she absorbed the
information on her screen. “It looks like DocuKeep is a repository for academic papers, scientific
journals, stuff like that.”

“Maybe there’s some classified research there?” Lena suggested.
“Searching their files,” Dana said distractedly, her fingers moving again.
“Wait! You’re hacking them?” I sat forward and grabbed the edge of her desk in a panic. “Don’t

do anything illegal. We do not need to be on the Wong side of the law.”

“Oh that was bad.” Lena said, and even without looking, I knew she was wincing.
“Couldn’t resist.” I glanced at her and then redirected my attention to Kevin Mitnick over there,

“Dana, stop!”

“This is public information,” she said reassuringly and I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Sort of,”

she added more quietly, and I sucked in more air. She paused a moment later. “This all looks like
straight-forward material that has been published already. DocuKeep is just a place that stores
academic articles.”

“So essentially, someone hacked into a library. Yeah that sounds like Trog,” I said rolling my

eyes and sitting back in disgust. A third-rate hacker broke into a library, and here I was, working late
to crack the case. Good use of your time, Nancy Drew.

“Not really a library,” Dana said looking up. “Libraries are free. You have to pay a fee to

download articles that DocuKeep holds.”

“You know that always bothered me,” Lena said wrinkling her nose. “I know lots of companies

do it, and don’t get me wrong, I’m all about capitalism and everything, but just as an ethical matter,
shouldn’t academic research be free? I mean, what if someone could cure cancer with it, but they
can’t afford the fee?”

“You’re really paying for convenience,” Dana responded. “You could always go dig up the

journal in a library at a university.”

“In a slum in some Third World nation?” Lena shot back, warming to the subject.
“You do have a point. Why should some random company make tons of money just for storing and

distributing digital files?” I agreed. “It’s not like the fee goes to help fund the advancement of science
or anything.”

“Yeah! It would be different if the money went to the scientists who did the research,” Lena said

gesturing wildly. She gave “talk to the hand” a whole new meaning, especially when she was feeling
truly passionate about something, which was a lot. Lena was what some might call “Italian.”

“Even if a hacker broke in, copied the files and distributed them for free, it probably wouldn’t

impact much on their business. The same people who could pay for convenience, would still pay for
it,” Dana, as usual the voice of cool reason, pointed out.

“So why is the FBI so concerned?” I mused. It just didn’t make any sense.

***

With nothing more we could do about it at the moment, we went on with our lives. That night I put on
some comfy sweats and settled down in front of my Smart TV with some warmed up takeout and Ally
McBeal.

I had been too young to really appreciate Ally when she had originally aired, but now, I must

admit that I loved her. I wasn’t a woman who normally liked that kind of thing. I hated angsty books
that made that made people cry. I fell asleep watching The Notebook. But something about Ally spoke
to me. She was a smart and talented attorney, but she wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable and human. Sure,
she was successful, but she still managed to really live her life on her own terms. I guess that after
spending most of my twenties focused like a laser on my legal career, I wanted to take a step back and
focus on other things for a while. I wanted to enjoy myself a little instead of being so ... goal oriented
all the time.

I wanted to travel. See the world! True, so far since leaving KL, I had only gone to my brother’s

wedding in Vegas and a family reunion in the Poconos, but now I could travel. When I had some
money again, or could at least find a really great Groupon. I also wanted to develop some hobbies.
So far I hadn’t really developed any, but I did have a growing collection of empty wine bottles. That
could be a hobby. And I had bookmarked several articles on making your own soap. In case soap
wasn’t, you know, readily available. Yoga was kind of hobbyish.

There was something else on my bucket list as well. I had managed to fit in my share of

boyfriends through the years, but they had always taken a backseat to my career goals. I figured that
there was no sense getting too serious until I had established myself in a successful legal practice. I
saw now that I had never taken my eyes off the prize long enough to experience a truly deep, intimate
connection, and intimacy was part of what made us human. I didn’t just want to be a lawyer. I wanted
to be a human too!

Don’t misunderstand; I didn’t need a wedding ring and 2.5 kids. I didn’t even need to have a date

every Saturday night. I had nothing against those things; I just didn’t need them. What I was searching

for was different.

I wanted to be distracted by thinking about someone when I should be thinking about something

else. I wanted to wonder what someone else was doing at that moment, and if he ever wondered what
I was doing. If he ever thought about me when he woke up or before he went to sleep, the way I
thought about him. I wanted to share inside jokes that only we understood, and I wanted him to want
me enough to make being with me a high priority, even if he had lots of high priorities. I wanted that.

But in the meanwhile, until I actually met someone with that, I knew that I really should take

Lena’s advice and at least find someone with whom I could experience some fun and passion. For a
moment, I considered giving Agent Wong a call, but truth be told, when I contemplated the idea of fun
and passion, lately it was always the name that he had mentioned that came to mind.

My thoughts drifted to a certain very sexy federal prosecutor and I got up went over to sit down at

my computer. I had never met him, so I didn’t know if I would ever get the chance to find out how
passionate he could be, but there was always fantasy, and fantasy could be fun. In fact, it was
becoming a frequent source of fun at my place.

There were plenty of pictures of Jacob Sachs online and I had bookmarked one. Okay, a couple.

No more than twenty ... or thirty, at most. I clicked through them idly. There was one of my favorites;
he was in a tuxedo at a Federal Bar Association function. He looked like he was completely
comfortable. Not all men could wear a tux with such ease. And that tux certainly fit him well.

He was very easy on the eyes. He looked tall and fit, but not bulked up. His hair was dark and

short but thick. I could imagine burying my fingers in it. At the moment, though, I would have to settle
for burying them beneath the waistband of my panties.

I couldn’t really see what color his eyes were, but I didn’t think they were brown. Hazel maybe?

Or green? They were framed beautifully, though, with dark lashes and brows. I imagined them
traveling over my body as lie in bed watching him strip out of that tux. He would look just as
confident and I would start to tingle with anticipation.

That image became more vivid, and my breathing became more rapid. As my fingers continued to

explore, I noted that with nothing more than a picture, he was lubricating more than my imagination. It
was time to move on to even better visual stimuli though. I got up and went back over to the TV.

Reporters had interviewed him on the eleven o’clock news. I’ll admit that I had recorded some,

okay all, of his interviews too. But just for the record, I’m not a creepy stalker myself! There really
was a reason that I had saved all of these interviews and bookmarked various articles. Another
reason.

He had been the lead prosecutor in the Moretti case, the biggest mob trial Philly had seen in

decades. And coincidentally, my own family had been involved with it. My sister-in-law Lily, a
woman whom my brother Adam had loved since they were four, had dated Sachs back in law school.
She had some evidence in that case. It turned out the prosecution wanted that evidence badly, and they
wanted it even if it meant Lily could be in danger. Let’s just say that my brother wasn’t one of Sachs’
biggest fans. And from what I understand, the feeling was mutual.

Unfortunately, it seemed that my libido wasn’t deterred by the fact that he had feuded with my

brother, bedded my sister-in-law, or put his career before her safety. Something about him just
seemed to rev my engine anyway. Who cared, though? After all, it wasn’t like fantasizing about him
would eventually lead to awkward family dinners. This was just a guilty indulgence. Admittedly, was
starting to become a nightly indulgence as well, but so what? It was still nothing more than having
some harmless fun and working off some tension with a secret fantasy image to accompany my
purchases from Adam & Eve.

This was the part of evening I hadn’t mentioned to Lena, the part that was even better than Ally

McBeal and her quirkiness and dancing babies. I would cue up some of those recordings. Then I
would fill my tub with warm water, pour myself a glass of good wine and light a candle that smelled
like jasmine. After a nice relaxing bath, I would turn down the volume on the TV, put on some sexy
music, watch some news clips and use up a few batteries. True, it was nowhere near as good as the
real thing would be, but it was a hell of a lot better than proofreading contracts in a freezing cold
office or trying to solve the Riddle of the Wacky Hacker.

Chapter Four

The next day, we all had cases at the federal courthouse and so we decided to meet up for lunch. I
rounded a corner, headed for the lobby when I encountered a mass of people. Seeing Dana and Lena
in the crowd, I made my way over to them, noticing that everyone seemed to be gathered around a
podium with a microphone.

“What’s going on here?” I asked, noting that the seal of the United States Attorney’s Office was

hanging on the podium and that the press was amply represented.

“Press Conference,” Dana replied. “Word has it that the U.S. Attorney herself has something

profound to impart to us.”

“Wow, Lynn Davis doesn’t descend from her sacred mount for just anything,” I noted with

exaggerated awe, checking out the size of the crowd.

“She had better hurry up and do it,” Lena said with a growl, echoed by her stomach. “I get cranky

when I’m hungry and I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

“Well, technically that would ...” Dana began but Lena’s glare stopped her short. “... Be

diminished capacity,” she concluded quickly.

“Any word from Trog?” I asked Dana with a laugh.
“Nothing yet,” she answered and started to say something else, but she was interrupted as a hush

fell over the crowd. The press aid from the U.S. Attorney’s office took the podium and made a few
brief comments in a very solemn and serious sounding voice. I guess this wasn’t about the annual
Court Holiday Party. He then went on to introduce his boss, who I noted, was not standing there with
him. It figured that Lynn Davis would want to make an entrance.

“They forgot to play the theme from Rocky,” I joked and I watched the crowd separate like Moses

parting the Red Sea as Lynn Davis came striding in looking as abundantly confident as usual.

She was young to be in the Top Job, probably only early-forties. She was very attractive in an

“executioner” kind of way, with well-defined leg muscles that screamed “gym membership” and
coal-colored hair cut into a sharp bob with pointy tips. She often wore black suits and Lena had
ungenerously nicknamed her Bat Girl.

Rumor had it that her personality was as warm and fuzzy as her look, and that she was ruthlessly

ambitious and obsessed with power, but that would describe plenty of people in positions of
authority. There had also been other rumors though, the kind only repeated in hushed tones over too
many gin and tonics at bar association events.

Some had apparently hinted that Davis had gotten her position by “questionable means,” whatever

that meant, but I had never heard any details. Frankly, I suspected that those rumors only floated
around because she was a woman, and a fairly young and good-looking woman at that. Obviously,
she couldn’t just be, you know, intelligent, skilled or worthy of holding a man’s job.

My eyes did not linger on Bat Girl for long, though, because walking directly behind her, and with

every bit as much confidence was another familiar prosecutorial figure. And if my tummy had
fluttered at the mere mention of his name, you can imagine what it was doing at that moment. It felt
there were elves doing a polka in there.

“Check it out,” Lena whispered. “Bat Girl and Boy Wonder in the same room.” Lena had come up

with “Boy Wonder” because Sachs, at thirty-two, was the youngest superstar federal prosecutor in the
U.S. Attorney’s office. I understood the nickname; I had to say though, that while Lynn Davis’ hair did
make her look a little bat-like, he did not look like a boy. And by that, I also don’t mean that he
looked like a girl. As impossible as it seemed, he was so much hotter in person.

The well-tailored navy suit that he was wearing fit him perfectly and hinted at the fact that he

probably hit the gym too. And his eyes... hazel, they were hazel, and what you couldn’t see on TV,
was that that they gleamed with intelligence. I’m serious. There was a gleam.

There had always been something more than just his physical features that had kept me transfixed

though. It was how he carried himself. He exuded confidence but he didn’t wear it like bravado.
Instead, he had an air of quiet power and control. You could see the impact that he had on the people
around him. Their body language betrayed how much he seemed to impress them and I couldn’t help
but notice that they looked a little like groupies. It dawned on me then that I didn’t want to look like
that, and I stood up straighter and squared my shoulders, trying valiantly not to ogle.

There were some rumors about Sachs too by the way. His courtroom skills were becoming

legendary, and reportedly, so was his ego. I had heard that he had once been a ladies’ man, but that
these days his career was all that he thought about. He was certainly on his way to something big. The
U.S. Attorney’s office was a prestigious gig, and often the launching pad for a federal judgeship, a
governorship or a senatorial seat.

Surely, he must do something to relax though, right? He couldn’t work all the time, could he?

Okay, he could work all the time; I used to, but maybe he didn’t. He had a stressful job. Maybe he
took breaks to work off the stress. Yeah, of course he did. And I could help him. I took yoga. That
fluttering in my tummy was moving a little lower.

Make no mistake, though, just because I thought about him a lot that did not mean that this was

that. This was just a little lust, maybe a crush at most, nothing more, and I would get over this. I was
nothing if not pragmatic. I reminded myself that not only did I not even know the man, but he was also
reportedly an egocentric workaholic, who my brother disliked, and my sister-in-law had slept with.
That didn’t bode well for a future together.

But now, thanks to constant conditioning, I would probably get sexually aroused every time I saw

him, like some horny Pavlovian dog. The fact that I was starting to sweat in a drafty courthouse lobby
in November me made very annoyed. I could not let anyone know about my little post-McBeal
hobby. Oh God. Why Abby, why would you picture that now? Please don’t let me drool.

I glanced over at Lena to see if she had noticed me eyeing Sachs up in a way that could get me

arrested in some states, but her attention was fixed on the podium. My lusty, panicky thoughts were
interrupted at that moment as the U.S. Attorney began to speak.

“Hello everyone, and thank you for joining me,” Lynn Davis said.
“You’re blocking the only exit,” I mumbled distractedly and Lena bit her lip.
“It is with deep concern that I wish to report that a member of my staff, federal prosecutor

Randall Greene, has gone missing.” A murmur passed through the crowd.

“Missing?” I mouthed to Dana and Lena.
“I got locked in a restroom once,” Dana whispered helpfully. “I wonder if they checked there.” I

think she was serious. I could see Dana getting locked in a restroom.

“He was last seen leaving this building seventy-two hours ago,” Bat Girl went on.
“Probably not in the restroom,” I murmured.
“If anyone has any information on Assistant U.S. Attorney Greene’s whereabouts, I ask that you

share it with my office immediately. Anything you tell us will be held in the strictest confidence.”

“So it’s perfectly safe to confess it if you killed him. Just tell us where the body is hidden and

we’ll let bygones be bygones,” I whispered and Lena elbowed me. I couldn’t help it; my whole
family was like that. Stress just made us more sarcastic.

“In the interim,” Davis continued, Assistant U.S. Attorney, Jacob Sachs, will be taking Randall’s

place leading up the Computer Crimes Unit.” At her announcement, some of the groupies in the crowd
looked like they might start to cheer. Looking around, I saw that a middle-aged court reporter whom I
recognized actually seemed to get a little misty-eyed. Good grief. Yes, he’s a hot guy and a talented
lawyer, but he didn’t ride into this lobby from Valhalla, folks.

Before she stepped away, she turned and gave Boy Wonder’s arm a friendly rub, very friendly. I

suspected that it was more for the crowd’s benefit than his. It said, “Look at how warm and
supportive I am of my prosecutors, especially the really sex male ones. And if Randall Greene ends
up floating in the Delaware River, I’ll rub this handsome man beside me here even more.”

Sachs seemed to completely disregard her gesture though, and taking her place at the podium, he

leaned forward and gave the crowd a solemn, but determined look. I wanted to just appear casual,
maybe even a little impatient, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from fixing my gaze on him and
practically holding my breath along with everyone else in the room as I waited to hear what he would
say.

“I just want to add that my thoughts are with Randall’s family at this difficult time and I myself

will do everything in my power to help find him,” he began.

“He’s probably checked the restrooms already himself,” I whispered, but my heart wasn’t in my

snark for a change. I was actually rather distracted by wondering if he was really as sincere as he
sounded. It didn’t fit with the image of a guy who would put a conviction ahead of his ex-girlfriend’s
safety.

Allow me to note for the record, by the way, that his voice was deep and would likely have

carried even without a microphone. He looked powerful and he sounded powerful too. On TV he
was attractive, but in person he seemed to hit me like gale force winds in a hurricane. It had to be
pheromones or something. He should bottle that.

“The FBI and local police are working together and following up several leads,” he went on with

what seemed to be a note of real concern in his tone.

“He’s probably in Cabo with some chick,” Lena murmured cynically.
“You’re such a romantic,” I murmured back.
“We’re optimistic that Assistant U.S. Attorney Greene will be back with us soon.”
“Hopefully not in several packages,” Dana said somewhat quietly, but not quite quietly enough.

That was a Dana quirk too. She didn’t have great volume control.

I saw Boy Wonder’s eyes travel over to where we were standing. They quickly passed Dana and

then lingered on me. Hey! It wasn’t me that time! Figures I would get busted not for my own smart
mouth, but for someone else’s. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking but I suspected that it wasn’t
“Wow, not only are you gorgeous but you’re witty too!” To my chagrin, I felt heat spread across my
chest and up my neck into my cheeks.

“In the meanwhile, I assure you that I will do my best to keep everything running smoothly and

cases will progress as scheduled.” His eyes moved on, and as they did, I felt myself start breathing
again. I wanted to go lock myself in the restroom.

There were several questions from members of the press, which Davis and Sachs fielded

expertly. The Dynamic Duo in action. I could almost imagine little bubbles around them that said
“POW!” and “ZAP!” After a few minutes they moved on and the crowd finally dispersed. We were
just about to head out when Dana’s phone rang. She looked at the screen and mouthed “Trog.” At least
our own missing person was back. Maybe he had been locked in a restroom.

Chapter Five

“Calm down, Trog,” Dana said for what felt like the twentieth time. We were sitting in our
conference room trying to get a coherent explanation out of our flaky client.

“Okay! Okay! I’m calm. I’m calm. It was her. She suggested it. She said that we would make a

statement but that nobody would care.”

“If nobody would care, why would you make the statement?” Lena asked.
“I don’t mean that way! I mean people would care!”
“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?” Lena asked Dana. With a look of concentration,

Dana gave it another shot.

“Are you saying that someone suggested that you somehow make a political statement and assured

you that law enforcement officials would not pursue you for it?” She obviously spoke Trog.

“Yes!” he cried like porn star. I went over and subtly closed the window, which I noticed was

open a crack. Pedestrians on the sidewalk might wonder.

“Who is this woman?” Dana asked next.
“Her online name is Deon Flux, like the sci-fi character AEon Flux, but Deon.”
“Clever,” I said dryly. How nice, a girl Trog.
“And what did Ms. Flux tell you do exactly?” Dana went on.
“She’s a student, and living on, like, Ramen noodles, you know? And she has to write a paper, but

not all the information is in the library. You can get it online, but you have to pay. She was saying
how unfair that is.”

“Hey there, Lena,” I said cheerfully, “You and Deon Flux could totally hang.” Lena gave me a

look that said that maybe that wasn’t top of her own bucket list.

“And her solution was to break into their system and just take the document?” Dana asked. “Theft

isn’t much of a political statement, Trog. She played you.”

“No! Not just download her shit!” he replied indignantly. “You think I’m that naïve? She

suggested that I download as many files as possible and just make them free. Like hundreds, you
know? And make a big statement about it online afterward.”

“And did you do that?” Lena asked.
“Did the Rebel Alliance just go charging straight at the Death Star with no plan?” he shot back

with a scathing look. Guess he told her.

“Um, I’m thinking no?” she replied with a smile.
“I had to get in first and take a look around, get the lay of the land, you know?”
“And that’s all you did was go in and look around?” Dana asked skeptically.
“Yeah! I swear! I didn’t download anything. Well, I mean other than Deon’s article. She never

asked me to do that though. It was my idea. Shit, man! I’ll give them the twenty bucks!”

“Why would the FBI be so interested in the theft of one document worth twenty dollars?” Dana

asked more to herself than anyone. She sat down in a chair and I could almost see her brain working.

“I don’t even know how they found out!” Trog exclaimed. “I was totally careful. They shouldn’t

have been able to trace it to me.”

“Is Deon who you were meeting the bushes yesterday?” I asked pleasantly.
“Yeah. I sent her a message after the feds came to my door. I told her that I needed to talk to her

but she never showed and she hasn’t answered my messages.”

“Well, just stay calm. We’ll find out what the FBI wants with you,” Lena advised. She sat back,

crossed her legs and gave him her best “We got this” look.

“We won’t admit to anything yet,” I added. “They may not have any evidence. This could all be a

big fishing expedition on their part.”

“We’ll touch base soon. In the meanwhile, if you hear from either the FBI or your friend Deon, let

us know,” Dana said, standing up. Trog took the hint and left looking like he was at least a little less
on the verge of a nervous breakdown, although it’s kind of hard to tell with Trog.

***

It turned out that I didn’t have much time to contemplate Trog’s dilemma, as one of my clients had a
dilemma of his own. Mr. Salvatore Borelli, Sr. was protesting what he considered an excessive fine
for inadequately disposing of his poodle, Millie’s, gift to the sidewalks of Philadelphia. The eighty-
four year old Mr. Borelli had decided that the best way to express his disagreement with this
perceived injustice was to chain himself to a tree in front of Independence Hall dressed as “Exhibit
A.”

Apparently, seeing Yoda chained to a tree dressed like dog poop was at least as interesting as the

historical building behind him, because people were starting to gather and take pictures. This annoyed
the tourist bureau. As far as they were concerned, he was making a mockery of a national landmark.
They wanted him removed, and if necessary arrested, basically for having annoyed them. I was in
court seeking an injunction to protect his Constitutional right to be a pain in the ass.

When I entered the courtroom, I immediately approached the Assistant U.S. Attorney who was

prosecuting the case. He was a tired-looking lawyer in his late forties or early fifties, who did not
seem at all pleased by the fact that I was challenging the Government’s right to scoop up Mr. Borelli.

“He’s in a public forum, staging a legitimate political protest,” I started in as soon as the federal

prosecutor and I were face-to-face.

“He’s blocking foot traffic at a national landmark,” he countered, sounding bored.
“Oh come on. He’s not closing down Independence Hall.”
“He’s drawing a crowd and they’re blocking the sidewalk. Somebody could get hurt. Besides,

some of our tour guides are having a hard time getting through.”

“So reroute around him. It’s one old guy chained to one tree. Not the whole AARP chained to a

national forest.”

“We don’t have the burden of rerouting,” he replied in a cranky tone. “He’s blocking access. It’s

up to him to leave willingly or with our assistance.”

“You want my client to not exercise his constitutional rights to Freedom of Speech and Assembly

because it’s inconveniencing your tour guides. Well, we’ll see what the Court has to say,” I shot back
and turned on me heel, stalking off to have a seat and wait for my case to be called. As I glared back
at my opponent, I saw him sigh and roll his eyes heavenward. Well, too bad. Mr. Borelli had a right
to make an ass out of himself and I was prepared to defend that right.

Finally, forty minutes later, we got in front of the judge. The Honorable Marsha Baker was

sitting. I had a lot of respect for Judge Baker. She had done a lot to encourage other African American
women to pursue law as a profession. At least maybe she would agree that the First Amendment still
had some importance, especially in front of Independence Freaking Hall.

“Tell me again why he’s dressed like dog droppings,” Judge Baker said squinting.
“He believes he was fined excessively for uh, an excrement incident,” I explained.
“Uh Huh,” she replied, not looking deeply moved my Mr. Borelli’s protest.
“Your Honor, it’s long established that the First Amendment does not protect speech that impedes

public progress creating a safety issue,” the prosecution argued.

“There’s no real safety issue here,” I countered. “It seems that my client’s legitimate protest is

somehow interfering with their tours, but even if that were somehow a safety issue, it would be very
easy to reroute around him.”

“Counselor, are you saying that the government has the burden of changing their system to

accommodate your client’s protest?” Judge Baker asked.

“What I’m saying Your Honor, is that nobody has been hurt and the tourist bureau’s inconvenience

does not trump Mr. Borelli’s constitutional rights.”

“Your Honor, the law does not require that someone actually be injured before blocking the

sidewalk can be considered a safety issue.”

“While technically, the law may not require it,” I countered, “public policy does.”
“And how is that Ms. Roth?” Judge Baker asked.
“Your Honor, my client may look foolish to some people. Okay, most people. I mean let’s face it,

an elderly man dressed like dog ... droppings and chained to a tree in front of Independence Hall is
hardly the image of one of the brave patriots who fought for nation. But he’s the reason that they
fought.” My voice became stronger as I realized that I really believed in what I was saying. “They
dreamed of a country where citizens could stand up and be heard and they didn’t intend that Freedom
of Speech should be denied when it became inconvenient to the Government.” I was truly pouring my
heart into my words as I delivered my powerful closing line. “Our Founding Fathers gathered on that
very spot over two hundred years ago to guarantee our rights and my client will remain on that very
spot exercising those rights until he believes that he has been heard.”

With that I ended. I knew that I was on the side of justice and I could see that the judge was

sympathetic to my argument. She was about to comment when a bailiff approached, whispering
quietly in her ear.

Despite the interruption, it was still a great moment. I could almost hear the opening strains of

God Bless America. Idly, I turned to face the crowd, wanting to see if anyone had been moved by my
impassioned speech. A different kind of passion immediately overcame me. I felt my stomach flip
over and a jolt of electricity travel down my spine. Sitting at the prosecution table, staring at me with
a look that was part amusement and part something indefinable was Boy Wonder himself.

I froze and the two of us locked gazes silently for several seconds. Incidentally, several seconds

can feel like a very long time. Especially when you’re making eye contact with a hot prosecutor while
picturing having your way with him in open court. The judge’s voice broke the spell, making me
jump. I spun around again, heart pounding like a drum. My mouth felt dry and my panties felt damp.
Damned pheromones. Damned Pavlov. Maybe Dana could teach me some kind of Vulcan mind trick
to get over this.

“Well, Ms. Roth,” Judge Baker began, “I will commend you for your zealous advocacy on your

client’s behalf, but it turns out you are a little more dedicated to his cause than he is. I have been
informed that Mr. Borelli was observed exciting the grounds of Independence Hall, proceeding to a
newsstand across the street, purchasing a copy of Jugs and then entering the subway. It seems that he
feels he’s been heard for today.” I felt heat slowly infusing my cheeks.

“Thank you for that update You Honor,” I croaked. God Bless America.
“How about if you have a little talk with your client and see if maybe you can convince him to

write a letter to the city next time, Counselor,” she went on. “Motion for Injunction dismissed.” She
banged her gavel and I collected what I could of my dignity and went over to collect my briefcase as
well.

The Court was taking a five-minute recess and so there was movement and murmuring all around

me when I heard someone call my name. Looking up, I saw that now standing next to Boy Wonder,
was the prosecutor who had handled Agnes’s case the other day. He motioned to Sachs to give him a
moment and then addressed me again.

“Ms. Roth, it seems that your client Mrs. Fishbine is at again.” Oh God. Not now. Not with him

standing right there. This time she tried to moon the Mayor, but fortunately, her walker got in the
way. I think it might be time for Mrs. Fishbine to have a psychiatric evaluation.” I swallowed and
stood up a little straighter.

“Agnes used to write letters to government officials,” I explained calmly. “Nobody listened to

her. In her view, now people at least pay attention. That seems pretty sane to me.” Okay, sort of
sane. Ish.

“Well, I guess it’s all relative,” he replied. “Nevertheless, she needs to understand that she can’t

keep baring her octogenarian backside in public.”

“I’m sure that you’re not implying that it would be just fine if she were a hot cheerleader in her

twenties, Counselor. Thus, I’m not sure what her age has to do with it. I’ll have a word with her
though. I’m certain she can find some other way to be heard.”

“I understand there’s a free tree in front of Independence Hall,” he shot back with a smirk. I felt a

prick of annoyance and suddenly I didn’t care who was standing next to him. I was about to unloose a
snarky retort when Sachs intervened.

“I don’t have all day Branson,” he said addressing his colleague, “If you want me to consider

filing on that case, brief the issue for me.”

“I was just going to explain ...” The judge returned from her chambers and Sachs grabbed some

papers and walked toward the bench.

“A brief will do,” he shot back over shoulder dismissively and the other prosecutor grumbled and

sighed.

Thus, I gained a moment of satisfaction without even having to unsheathe my razor sharp tongue. A

small smile played at my lips and as I got ready to go. I glanced up and felt warm wave crash over me
when I saw Sachs look my way. I couldn’t help but notice that he had the hint of a smile on his lips
too. And mighty fine lips they were.

Chapter Six

The next morning when I got into the office, prepared to face the day armed only with a rapidly
cooling extra grande half-caff, I encountered Rosalie waiting two inches inside the door. She was
suddenly right there as soon as I turned around.

“You won’t believe this!”
“Oh my God!” I cried, jumping back and putting a hand over my now racing heart. “You scared

the hell out of me! Why are you lurking?”

“I’m not lurking. I’m alerting. Guess where Dana is!”
“The Emergency Room recovering from a coronary?” I asked, catching my breath and throwing a

baleful look Rosalie’s way.

“She was summoned to come speak to that hotshot prosecutor in the U.S. Attorney’s office. You

know, the one from the news who your brother’s wife slept with.”

“They dated back in law school! Long before Adam and Lily got together.”
“Whatever! He’s a big deal down there now and he wanted to talk to Dana about that Troglodyte

person who the feds were after.”

“Oh really?” I wished that I knew what was really going on with Trog. It was obviously bigger

than Agnes’s ass. Okay, that didn’t come out right.

“What did he do, anyway?” Rosalie asked, eyes shining like a terrier with a juicy ankle in sight.

“OH! Was he behind that Ashley Madison thing?”

“No! And don’t you worry about it.”
“Too bad,” Rosalie said, sounding deeply disappointed. “Anyway, Lena knows. She’s in her

office.” With that, she shuffled petulantly back to her station to do whatever it is that Rosalie actually
does.

I popped my head into Lena’s office as I passed by. “Hey, I guess you heard?”
“Yeah, Rosalie leaped out at me first thing this morning. I almost peed my pants. What is wrong

with her?”

“Too much to list, but she ...”
“Works for free. Yeah, I know,” Lena finished for me, shaking her head.
“So, I guess when Dana gets back we’ll finally find out what our little Trog has gotten himself

into.” It turned out that I had been a bit optimistic though.

Dana returned an hour later and asked Lena and I to join her in the conference room. We invited

Jaya in to join us as well. She was a very big help to us, and she also seemed to get a real kick out of
everything we did. Jaya smiled more than any human being I had ever encountered. I had the feeling
that perhaps Mumbai had been kind of boring for her. At least she was entertained, if not paid.

We took seats around the conference table and waited expectantly. I wondered if there was any

way to subtly ask Dana to describe what Sachs had been wearing, but I had a feeling it wasn’t the
right moment. Dana had a look on her face that was exceedingly rare for her, confusion.

“They know that Trog hacked DocuKeep,” she began, “but they don’t buy that it was just a

political statement. They think he’s also into something bigger.”

“Bigger? Like what? World conquest?” Lena asked dubiously.
“That’s just it. I don’t think they know. But they want to find out and they’re willing to pressure

him by using this stupid twenty dollar document theft if necessary.”

“How did they know it was him? Do they actually have any evidence with which to indict him of

a crime?” I asked suspiciously.

“Sachs wouldn’t tell me,” Dana replied, looking genuinely perplexed.
“Wait, he wouldn’t tell you? That’s ridiculous,” Lena said sitting up quickly. The hands were

beginning to move. “If he actually indicts that goofball for theft, he’ll have to tell us. Hello? Rule 16?
Brady v. Maryland?”

“Ah! This is the obligation of the prosecution to turn over material evidence!” Jaya spoke up

excitedly. She looked so proud.

“Yes,” Dana replied with a smile, patting Jaya’s arm. She looked proud too. They shared a

moment. “And I did, of course, point that out to him.”

“And you explained Trog to him right?” I asked a little uncertainly.
“Yes, I did,” Dana assured me. “And I even carefully considered how to explain Trog to him. At

that press conference Mr. Sachs struck me as someone who is cool-headed, analytical and logical.
Thus, I stuck to the facts. Trog is a lousy hacker. I thought Sachs would understand how illogical it is
that Trog could successfully lead a major criminal enterprise.” She looked genuinely flummoxed.

“I don’t know,” Lena chimed in. “To me, at that conference he seemed like he was really worried

about his buddy Randall. I think it’s a better strategy to appeal to his human side and explain that Trog
is a basically just a kid, with no criminal record, and that he’s harmless. We should just sit down with
Sachs and talk to him man to man. Let me have a go at him.”

“But you are not a man,” Jaya pointed out helpfully. She was on a roll.
“No, but I’m a woman who grew up with eight brothers. You leave him to me,” Lena said with a

self-assured nod. “Guys feel comfortable talking to me. We’ll have a nice chat and before you know it
we’ll be gumbahs.”

“What if he doesn’t want to be your gumbah?” I asked, not convinced.
“Gumbah?” Jaya asked, looking uncertain.
“It’s a common Italian-American colloquialism referring to a friend, companion, or trusted

associate,” Dana explained.

“Ah, yes, gumbah,” Jaya replied with a smile, typing into her iPad Mini.
“If he doesn’t want to play nice, I’ll let him know that I’m ready to rumble. In my neighborhood

we learn how to brawl before we learn how to ride a bike.” She stood up, pushed up her sleeves and
strode out of the room.

“Rumble?” Jaya asked and Dana explained. She was learning so much here.
An hour later Lena was back, as Rosalie notified us with her Banshee-like shriek. I came out to

the entry lobby with everyone else as Lena came storming in grumbling under her breath. One sleeve
was still pushed up, but the other was back down. She had papers sticking out of her briefcase and a
glare on her face that said it all.

“So, how are things with your gumbah?” I asked cheerfully. Her answer was brief, and I’ll note,

anatomically impossible.

“What did that word mean?” Jaya asked.
“You shouldn’t learn that one,” Dana said solemnly.
“Okay folks, here’s what I think,” I said as my colleagues turned to face me. “Just because this

guy is a big deal federal prosecutor, it doesn’t mean we need some secret strategy for approaching
him. He’s just another lawyer, not Mr. Spock or Don Corlioni.”

“So, what do you suggest?” Lena asked, still looking miffed.
“He can’t ignore due process. We know that and he knows that. He’ll have to deal with us

eventually. We should just wait and see what he does next,” I concluded confidently. It turned out that
we didn’t have to wait very long.

“Jacob Sachs on line one for you,” Rosalie announced. I don’t know what stunned me more, the

fact that Boy Wonder wanted to talk to me, or that Rosalie knew that there was more than one line.

***

I’ll admit that my confidence wavered for a moment, but just for a moment. I pulled myself together
quickly, turned and went directly to my office. There I shut the door, sat down and took a deep breath.
I reminded myself sternly that this was business and I was an experienced attorney, not some high
school girl with a crush. Punching the speakerphone button, so that I could take notes if necessary, I
answered in my best no-nonsense professional tone.

“This is Abby Roth.”
“I wanted to know when you planned to come by,” that familiar deep voice responded, and for a

moment I just sat there silently and let the sound soak through me. It did, and eventually puddled
somewhere beneath the waistband of my stylish pencil skirt. It was my own fault. The image of this
man being directly related to orgasm was forever burned into my psyche. B.F. Skinner would be so
pleased.

“I beg your pardon?” I shook my head to clear it. “Did we have an appointment?” I grabbed my

scheduling book frantically as images of Rosalie tied to spit with an apple in her mouth popped into
my mind.

“No, but it’s your turn.” And suddenly, I thought that I detected just a hint of teasing in his tone and

my heart started beating even faster. Steady, Abby. Professional.

“My turn?” I asked, trying not to swallow too loudly.
“First Ms. Solomon came to reason with me. Then Ms. Merino came to socialize with me. I must

confess that I can’t wait to find out what you want to do with me.”

Okay, he was totally teasing me. Sexy teasing. I felt the warm sensation in my lower quarters

become even warmer, and I’ll confess, there was some tingling. I crossed my legs and tried to quietly
take a deep breath. Thankfully, I had a pair of emergency panties in my desk drawer. Call me an
optimist.

It occurred to me that this had to be more than operant conditioning. Nobody had ever affected me

this much and there had been plenty of “special” private moments with yearbook photos of other hot
guys over the years. Was it just because I hadn’t dated in a while? Do pheromones work over the
phone? Did this have something to do with yoga?

“I’m not sure I want to do anything with you, Mr. Sex, uh Sachs!” I said distractedly, and then

quickly correcting myself. I rolled my eyes and cursed silently, fighting the urge to toss my phone out
the window and head out to the closest bar.

“Oh no? And why is that, Ms. Roth?” I could hear the barely contained amusement in his voice

and it triggered my inner snark. Just what I needed.

“It doesn’t sound like you’re much of a giver. Why should I waste my time if I’m just going to

leave frustrated?” Nice Abby. Sarcasm and sexual innuendo will help your client a lot. I clearly had
no self-control. I should probably keep that in mind when interacting with this man in the future,
especially in court. That could get awkward.

“What is it you want me to give you, Ms. Roth?” he asked with a husky note that very nearly

turned all of me into a puddle beneath my desk. I so wanted to tell him. Instead, however, by sheer
force of will, I made myself imagine Trog becoming the romantic partner of an inmate named Bubba
over twenty bucks.

“Information,” I said clearly, relieved to be back on safe ground.
“I see.” Was it my imagination, or did he sound slightly disappointed? “Well, then you had better

be prepared to give me what I want in return,” he replied, likely having no idea how much I would be
willing to give him. “Looks like I’m open this afternoon. You know where my office is.”

“Yes, two of my colleagues have already made fruitless journeys there. I think you should come

here this time.” Maybe I could lock him in my office with me.

“My secretary will expect you at three,” he responded, ignoring me.
“Wait! How do you know that I’m even available then?” I asked indignantly. Even while

weakened by my apparently boundless lust, I was still unwilling to be pushed around. I was nobody’s
doormat, not even sexy guys whom I would happily lie down for. And welcome.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, the teasing note back. With that, I heard a click. That bastard

had hung up. Well, the rumors about his ego were apparently true.

I got up and walked over to swing open my door. As, I suspected, Dana, Lena, Rosalie and Jaya

smiled back at me.

“It sounds like he wants to be your gumbah,” Jaya said enthusiastically. “Perhaps you will

rumble.”

Chapter Seven

I sat in a waiting area at the U.S. Attorney’s office later that day, trying to quash the irritation I felt at
having him call all the shots. There wasn’t time for that; I had to organize my thoughts and prepare for
a very real legal discussion.

As much as I would have liked to engage in more sexy banter with Boy Wonder, there couldn’t be

any more teasing like on the phone. This wasn’t a game. Federal charges were serious. There were
mandatory sentencing guidelines that meant that someone could do significant time for even a minor
conviction. Trog may have been a somewhat goofy person, but he wasn’t a bad person and he didn’t
deserve to lose his freedom over a stolen scientific article.

Some prosecutors might have made me wait just to demonstrate their power, but Sachs didn’t

seem like the type who needed to rely on such pettiness. He confirmed that impression when his
secretary announced at 3:00 on the dot that I could go in. I stood up, grabbed my briefcase, smoothed
my skirt and prepared myself to battle vexation, attraction, distraction and whatever else I might be
facing on the other side of the door.

When I entered, Sachs was seated at his desk. He was on the phone at that moment but he glanced

my way and signaled that he would only be a minute. So I had a seat in a burgundy colored leather
chair across from him and took the opportunity to check out my surroundings.

The first thing that I noticed was how good his office looked. Okay, the first thing I noticed was

how good he looked in his office. He was dressed in shirtsleeves, his dark hair a little rumpled.
Rumpled hair. Like he had just woken up. After a night of passion. Focus, Abby or you’ll wind up
being Trog’s Maid of Honor.

The place really was tastefully done. I reminded myself that he spent all his time here. He’s a

workaholic, Abby. He doesn’t have time for nights of passion. I guess if you were going to spend all
of your time in your office, you might as well make it your own. This space definitely said something
about its occupant.

The desk behind which he sat was made of a rich dark wood that had some intricate carving and

appeared to be an antique. It was solidly built and looked like it could probably last another century.
Mr. Sachs liked things that were beautiful but strong.

The wall to my left housed shelves filled with books, including some old leather-bound editions.

Besides the usual volumes one typically saw in an attorney’s collection, I also noticed some more
esoteric works. John Rawls’ A Theory of Justice jumped out at me; very impressive. It appeared Mr.
Sachs was an intellectual, or at least liked people to think he was.

There was a Persian rug covering the industrial gray carpet, and a banker’s lamp replaced

overhead florescent lighting. To a certain extent, this place looked more like a gentleman’s study than
a government-issue public servant’s office. It was masculine, but still warm and classic. Mr. Sachs
had very good taste.

Finally, my eyes drifted to the wall behind him. There were diplomas from Princeton and the

University of Pennsylvania Law School, along with various awards and commendations. There were
framed photos as well, one with a younger Boy Wonder in cap and gown with an attractive older
couple, undoubtedly his parents. I didn’t see any siblings. He seemed like the only child type. There
were a few with notable figures, others with guys who looked like close friends.

There were also a couple of photos of him with very attractive women. From the poses, I

suspected they were girlfriends, but since Sachs looked younger in those pictures too, they were
probably exes. I noted that there weren’t any pictures of my sister-in-law, which I’m sure would

make my brother happy. But then, I believe that they only dated for a short time. Hmm. Very
interesting indeed. My perusal was cut short as he hung up the phone and turned to look at me.

He studied me silently for a few moments. We seemed to do that a lot, just contemplate each

other. Personally, I was contemplating doing illicit things, but I couldn’t tell what he was
contemplating. He was hard to read. It was interesting that neither one of us seemed uncomfortable or
compelled to fill the void with idle chatter.

Even though he still made my heart beat faster, I had my lawyer hat on. I had a client to think

about and I am a professional, as I had reminded myself ad nauseam on the way over there. So, I
didn’t look away. I didn’t flinch and I certainly didn’t swoon. Again, I’ll admit that there was a
tingle, but I kept it under control. Mostly.

“My sources tell me that you’re a lot like your brother.”
“I taught him everything he knows,” I answered with a smile.
“He and I don’t get along very well.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“I think that you and I might get along better though.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“What reads as cockiness in him seems more like confidence in you. Cockiness gets on my

nerves, but confidence I like, especially when it’s deserved.”

“Gee, thanks. I guess I probably shouldn’t tell you what my sources say about your ego then,” I

replied and to my pleasant surprise he actually laughed. “You’re amused? So, I guess it’s not his
sarcastic humor you have a problem with?”

“Oh, I have a problem with that too.”
“But not with mine?”
“You understand appropriate context.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“The courtroom is place of tradition and honor. From what I’ve seen, you maintain your dignity in

court, even in difficult circumstances. He, in contrast, cracks jokes there. It’s not sarcasm I have a
problem with; it’s respect for context.”

“Loudly making a sarcastic comment about your missing colleague at your press conference

wasn’t inappropriate?” Not that I wanted to remind him, but I was genuinely curious about why he
couldn’t stand Adam’s smart mouth but mine was fine.

“You didn’t say it. Ms. Solomon did.” Good thing that I had good volume control.
“Why did you look at me then?” I asked, confused.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” he said, not answering my question. “You want information and so do I.

Ladies first, tell me what you want to know.” He was smart. He wasn’t going to offer anything more
than I demanded. I had to admit that I really did enjoy the challenge of facing a good lawyer.

“Why don’t we start with who, and what, brought our client, Mr. Collins, to your attention,” I

responded, keeping both my voice and my eye contact steady.

“You know about Randall Greene.” He picked up a pen and idly started twirling it between his

fingers.

“I take it that he hasn’t reappeared yet.”
“No. And in addition to filling in for him, as I said at the press conference, I’m also trying to do

everything I can help find him.”

“That’s very professional and very nice of you. Are you two good friends?”
“Randall’s a colleague. It’s the right thing to do,” he said simply.

“And what does Mr. Greene’s disappearance have to do with my client?”
“I’ve been going through his notes and files trying to figure out what he was working on when he

disappeared. I even turned his computer over to the FBI lab to see if he had deleted anything recently
that might be relevant. The lab guys found something odd. It seemed that a bunch of data had been
wiped from his computer via an untraceable remote access the day he disappeared.”

“Do you have any idea what kind of data it was?”
“Yes, I do actually. The lab guys were able to recreate it. It contained references to an online

break-in at a company called DocuKeep, details about the date and time. He had tagged it as ‘urgent
and classified.’ There was also the name, Deon Flux.”

“Go on,” I urged.
“We started researching Deon Flux and found that someone with that name had been commenting

in an online chat group frequented by techies ... about a break-in at a company called DocuKeep.”

“And what exactly did she say?” I asked.
“How do you know that Deon is a she?” he asked and I realized that he had caught me. His eyes

were gleaming again. I was angry with myself, but madly turned on by his sharp mind. What a
shocker.

“I don’t. I just don’t make assumptions.” I smiled. “You were going to tell me what Deon said I

believe.”

“My turn first. Your colleagues both claim that if Mr. Collins were involved in any way with this

break-in, it would only have been because he wanted to make a political statement about knowledge
being free.”

“That’s correct. He would, hypothetically of course, have downloaded a great quantity of say,

scientific research, and made it freely available to those who needed it but couldn’t afford it.” Sachs
got a dismissive look on his face and tossed down the pen he had been twirling.

“If that was the point, then why did he only download one article about DNA sequencing? He had

to have another purpose.”

“He was just checking things out, figuring out the system ... hypothetically! If he actually did it,

although I’m not saying that he did.”

“Ms. Roth, what you must understand is that even if he had downloaded hundreds of files, printed

them up and passed them out on the corner of 15

and Market with a cup of lemonade and a free

kitten, it still would not merit the attention of the Computer Crimes Division of U.S. Attorney’s
Office.”

“You’re asking me why your colleague was interested in a simple politically motivated online

break-in? Well, I’m afraid that I have no idea. But I do know this. Just because he was interested, that
does not mean that there was any more to it than that.”

“There has to be more to it. Not only was Greene interested, but someone hacked into his system

to try to hide that interest and now he’s missing.”

“Maybe he just needed a break and took a short trip or something.”
“Without telling anyone?”
“I don’t know. People melt down.”
“Not him. His job is his life.”
“Are you sure? Maybe he just realized one day that he life was passing him by and he wanted to

travel, and have hobbies ... and feel passionate!” I paused, realizing that I wasn’t talking about
Greene anymore and that Sachs was giving me a funny look. “I’m just saying that lots of people get to
that point,” I concluded, sounding suspiciously defensive, even to my own ears.

“Okay,” he replied after a moment’s hesitance, “but not this guy. How do I say this? He’s the kind

of guy who goes to Star Trek conventions, in costume. He color codes his pens and schedules his
bowel movements.”

“So maybe he didn’t run away to have a mad fling, but that still doesn’t mean that his

disappearance has anything whatsoever to do with this break-in,” I argued.

“Those notes he made in the files that got wiped hinted that he was onto to something big.”
“Hinted? If he was onto to something big why didn’t he just explain what it was? Is this the U.S.

Attorney’s office or the Orient Express?”

“I don’t know why! Randall was ... is pretty eccentric.”
“Oh great. So, your crazy co-worker hints that maybe my crazy client is planning to take over the

world, one scientific article at a time, and you’re willing to threaten him with incarceration based on
that?”

“I said eccentric, not crazy. He kept ... keeps to himself a lot, plays his cards close to the vest

while preparing a case. He’s not unstable though. If he thought there was something big connected to
this, then there very likely was.”

“Okay, well Trog, uh, Mr. Collins, is like that too, eccentric I mean, but harmless. If there really

is something bigger connected to this, then he was just a pawn in it. You have to believe me, while he
would make a great patsy, a criminal mastermind, not so much.”

Sachs seemed to contemplate what I had said carefully. He got thoughtful look on his face, leaned

back in his chair and rocked for a bit as making up his mind.

“You wanted to know about the comments in the chat room. First of all, it was an online group

associated with the TechNation website. Deon Flux was a new member there and hasn’t been back. ”

He had apparently decided that he was going to give me the information he had withheld from

Dana and Lena. I guess that third time was a charm. Or else maybe he knew that I had the least
experience with this type of case. He did say “his sources” had filled him in, so he had been learning
more about us. Dana was the computer crime expert but Lena had handled white-collar criminal cases
in general. I was mostly the civil rights lawyer of our practice. Was I the weakest link?

“Did Deon name him specifically in connection the break-in?”
“Yes. Does your client know this person?”
Did I admit that Trog had a connection to his little Ramen Noodle eating friend? I weighed my

options carefully, and decided that if Sachs were going to show me good faith, then I would do the
same. My gut told me that he wasn’t really after Trog anyway.

“Yes. According to Trog, she’s a college student here in Philadelphia somewhere.”
“He’s met her in person?”
“No, I don’t think so. So, I guess he really doesn’t know for sure, but that’s what she told him.

She put him up to making this particular political statement. That DNA article he downloaded was a
gift for her for some paper she has to write.”

“That agrees with what she said online, that Kevin Collins hacked DocuKeep to protest

companies ‘holding knowledge captive,’ or some rhetoric like that.”

“Well, so then it confirms that there was nothing more to it,” I pointed out.
“But doesn’t it seem a little odd to you?” he asked pointedly.
“It does seem kind of weird,” I admitted, considering it more. “Why did she brag about the break-

in before he managed to download the files?”

“And she used his real name. Not to mention that this TechNation, a major mainstream group for

IT specialists and computer geeks, not some top secret hacker cabal on the Dark Web,” he added.

“She was making sure that it was common knowledge that he was responsible.”
“She was setting him up,” Sachs agreed. “You were right. He’s a patsy.”
“But why?” I asked, shaking my head with confusion.
“Because I was right too. There’s something bigger going on.”
“Okay, then she’s the one who you want, not Trog.”
“So it would appear,” he answered, loosening his tie. Incidentally, let me note that he looked very

good undressing. I wanted to undress too.

“So you’re not going press charges against him?” I asked, trying to stay completely focused on the

goal of protecting my wacky client.

“Not if he cooperates.”
“What do you mean cooperates?”
“I mean that I want him to help me track his friend Deon.”
“Don’t you think that the chances are pretty good that she’s just told him a pack of lies about

herself? That’s provided that she is even really a ‘she’ at all. I mean, for all we know Deon Flux
might look like Deion Sanders.”

“Still, he’s the only one with a connection to her. If he works with me, this can all go away for

him. Even if he can’t help that much, it’s the effort that counts.”

“And so you’re going threaten a man with jail to get him to help you, even if he can’t do very

much for you, and even though you know that his offense was minor?”

“Look, Ms. Roth, a federal prosecutor is missing and my instincts tell me that this Flux person

knows something about it. Your client may not be Public Enemy #1 but he still broke the law. I’m
doing him a favor so that he’ll do me one. That’s all.” We had another one of those silent staring
moments. I was starting to appreciate idle chatter.

“Fine, where do we start?” I asked finally. If he was going to use my client to further his

investigation, then I was going to be a part of it too. And it had nothing to do with wanting to work
closely with him. Okay, it had something to do with that, but it was mostly about Trog’s rights.

“We?” he asked, not sounding like he was completely onboard with that plan.
“Yes, we. You want Trog’s help, my help is part of the package.”
“I can’t have you getting hurt.” He was shaking his head dismissively and was undoubtedly about

to change the subject but I stopped him cold.

“You wanted Lily to testify in a mafia trial. She could have gotten killed. ”
The words were out of mouth before I could stop them. Well, it had been weighing on my mind a

bit. He looked distinctly unhappy about that observation incidentally. In fact, “cold” was a very
appropriate term at that moment because the look he was giving me would have made the KL
conference room seem like the Tropics.

“And I offered to put her witness protection,” he replied icily. “She didn’t want to leave your

brother. I take it that no one ever mentioned that part to you.”

“Actually, they don’t really discuss it much to be honest ... ” I back-pedaled. I didn’t like the cold

Boy Wonder. I wanted to go back to flirty Boy Wonder.

“You think that I didn’t care if the mob bumped off my ex-girlfriend, or any witness for that

matter?”

“Okay, you look really offended. What do I know? I’m just some defense lawyer who represents

old people who bare their asses and dress like dog droppings.” Hey, why was I putting myself
down? WTF?

“And who obviously cares about her clients. But you think I’m a person who only cares about my

career. Don’t you? People’s lives mean nothing me. Right?”

“Well, not that you didn’t care at all, I just thought that maybe you cared about the conviction

more. And why do you care so much what I think anyway?”

“If we have to work to together, we should treat each other with respect. How are you going to do

that when that’s what you think of me?”

“I don’t even know you! I’m sure you’re a very nice guy.” I was nodding like a crazed bobble

head doll. How had he managed to get me this disconcerted?

“I don’t want to have to deal with the same crap I got from your brother. He had no respect for me

whatsoever.”

“Adam has no respect for anyone. He probably mocked the other babies in the nursery the day he

was born.” And now I was throwing my brother under the bus. What was wrong with me? “But from
what I understand, though, you’re no fan of his either.”

“Because he doesn’t respect me! And he didn’t respect how important the Moretti trial was. It

wasn’t about my career. It was about justice.”

“Well, I get it. Mobsters are really bad guys.” Profound, Abby. “I can understand why you would

want to put him away.”

“I didn’t want to see Lily get hurt anymore than he did. I cared. I would have protected her.” Oh

Great! I associated him with orgasm and he would now associate me with feeling emasculated. This
was going well. And why did the way he said, “I cared” bother me a little? Wasn’t that your
freaking concern, Abby?

“While my brother and I may be a lot alike, I am not Adam.” For one thing, Adam doesn’t want

to see you naked. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed anything,” I said consolingly.

“I wouldn’t have asked her testify without offering her protection,” he said sounding calmer but

still looking like his feathers were ruffled. “I happen to value people’s safety, which is why I don’t
think you should get involved in this.”

“Thank you for thinking of my safety, but I’m just going to be a helping you to handle Trog and

making sure that someone is there as his advocate. I promise not to do anything potentially dangerous
on your watch.” I gave him my best “trust me” smile and we sat there for yet another full moment of
silence.

“I suppose that I can’t deny your client his right to counsel,” he said and then added, “but if we’re

going to work together, there must be mutual respect.”

“Of course,” I said quickly.
“And there also must be no question that I am in charge.” Ah HUH. Alrighty then.
“Fine, you’re in charge,” I agreed, fixing a smile on my lips, and silently vowing to myself that I

would at least try to follow that dictum. “I’ll let Trog know that if he helps you to find Deon Flux, you
will not file federal criminal charges against him for the DocuKeep thing. That is the deal, right?”

“Right,” he agreed, still sounding a little reluctant. I wondered vaguely if his reluctance was more

about not wanting to deal with a potential pain in the ass than about said pita’s health and safety. But
I told myself that I was not going to judge or be a cynic or assume anything. Anymore.

“Looks like we’re on the same side this time then. Looking forward to working with you,” I said,

hoping that my smile looked calm and professional even though underneath it I was turning cartwheels
in my head like a cheerleader on crack. As I got up to leave, a thought crossed my mind. I just wanted
to ask ...

“What?” he asked, reading my expression.
“I was just wondering why you didn’t just work with Dana. She’s the computer expert. Or even

Lena, she has more criminal defense experience than I do.”

“Please confer with your client, Ms. Roth,” he replied, not answering my question. “My secretary

will set up a meeting.” He paused a beat and then added, “At a time that’s convenient for you.”

That was obviously a dismissal, as he immediately picked up his phone again and spun around in

his chair. Something that I had seen flash for just a second in those beautiful eyes made me suspect
that, whatever his reason was, it hadn’t been because he had considered me the weakest link.

I smiled and felt that familiar flutter in my tummy as I turned to leave. What I was feeling still

wasn’t that mind you, but this was, admittedly, going to be a hell of a lot more fun than circling
numbers and fighting off frostbite at KL.

Chapter Eight

My meeting with Sachs had taken place on a Friday afternoon and Trog and I would not be seeing him
together until Monday. That left the weekend for me to get myself organized.

I spent Saturday in the office with Dana and Lena, who had graciously agreed to take over several

of my cases while I became Trog’s consigliore. We also reviewed everything we could find out
online about both DocuKeep and Randall Greene, which wasn’t very much unfortunately. I got the
distinct impression that neither one was all that fascinating a subject or the source of any titillating
tidbits.

Trog stopped by for a while and we carefully briefed him. When he found out that Deon had

betrayed him, he got a look on his face like a lost puppy. Rather than being angry, he wanted to get her
side of the story. Apparently, she still had not responded to his messages. How shocking. He was
continuing to try to reach her through various channels and he did recall that she had once mentioned
Temple University. So it looked like that would probably be our starting point on Monday.

Lena had plans that evening with her family, but Dana and I went out to dinner and a movie later.

Dana didn’t discuss her love life, and I didn’t want to pry, but I must admit that I was a bit curious.
She was almost always available to hang out on a Saturday night, but I still had a feeling there might
be something going on that she kept to herself. There were occasionally afternoons when she
disappeared for a couple of hours and reappeared looking mysteriously happy, and dare I say,
glowing? I had also seen her texting with someone who made her smile in a rather telling way. Maybe
that was another mystery for me to solve eventually, The Riddle of the Raunchy Rendezvous.

Sunday rolled around and I found myself at the Metro Grill in Center City nibbling on a French fry

and watching my brother, Adam, annihilate a club sandwich. My siblings and I had always tried to get
together for Sunday brunch when possible, but my eldest sister, Hannah had a new baby to take care
of, and my middle sister, Sarah, had accepted a teaching position at a university in New York City.

That left Adam and me, which was fine. He and I were only 18 months apart in age, and of all of

the Roths, we were the most alike. We had always been very close, and he would forever be my
adored little brother, even though the two of us teased each other mercilessly at times and fought like,
well, brothers and sisters.

I still felt a twinge of guilt for not defending him more to Sachs. His opinion of Boy Wonder

seemed to be a bit harsh too, though. I had a feeling that they were just two smart, handsome guys
from similar backgrounds, in a similar profession and they wanted to outdo each other. There was
likely nothing more to it than that. I thought that I should try to find out more though, since Sachs and I
would be working together, I mean.

“So, Jacob Sachs,” I began.
“Vodemort!” he interrupted, spitting crumbs at me.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Like in Harry Potter. Don’t say his name.”
“I was unaware that he wanted to destroy humanity as we know it.”
“Not destroy it. Just rule it.”
“Well if I cant same his name, what should I call him?”
“Dickhead works,” he said with a smile.
“I know too many people by that name. I might get confused.”
“Okay, then ‘He Who Shall Not Be Named’ will have to do.”
“What is exactly that you dislike about him so much?”

“Hey, don’t make me out to be the bad guy. For your information, he doesn’t like me very much

either. He thinks I’m cocky.”

“You are cocky.”
“Okay, that’s true, but he thinks that’s bad. Cocky isn’t bad. Cocky is just confidence with a little

swagger tossed in. I’ll tell you something,” he said, gesturing with French fry of his own, “I would
rather be cocky than arrogant.”

“So you think he’s arrogant.”
“Yes, I do. And I think that he takes himself too seriously. He seems to think that sarcasm is

juvenile and obnoxious, which is something that you should keep in mind considering that sarcasm is
in the Roth DNA.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t like sarcasm in court,” I answered.
“Where else would you see him?” Adam asked suspiciously.
“And this animosity on your part isn’t just about the fact that he dated Lily?” I asked, deflecting

my brother’s curiosity by using Sachs’ own technique of just ignoring any question one doesn’t like.
Luckily, it worked.

“He and I didn’t like each other long before I ever even knew that he briefly dated Lily. We just

push each other’s buttons, you know? But it didn’t help that he dated her either, especially since I got
the feeling that he would have been up for an encore.”

“You mean you think he’s still attracted to her?” I asked, suddenly feeling a lump develop in my

throat. Why did that bother me so much?

“I could tell that was still wanted her when he saw her again last year. It didn’t matter though,

because she wanted me.” I must have had a funny look on my face because then he added, “Don’t feel
too sorry for him; he consoled himself by banging a different chick every weekend there for a while.”

“What, he doesn’t do that anymore?” I asked trying to sound like I didn’t care. I pushed my fries

aside. I seemed to have lost my appetite.

“I don’t know. I don’t keep up with his social life, but I’ve heard that he’s all about his job now

and he doesn’t care about anything else. I can believe that.”

“Yeah, actually I think that I’ve heard that too.”
“Lily said that he always had this dream of being on the Supreme Court someday. I guess he

figured that he should probably focus on that and reconsider his lifestyle if he didn’t want to screw up
his chances.”

“He might actually have a shot, the way his career seems to be going.”
“If he makes it he’ll be in his glory. He’s the kind of guy who thinks that when a judge ascends the

bench, he’s three steps closer to God.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be so terrible to have someone who has a great deal of respect for the legal

system sitting on the High Court.” Apparently, I had no problem at all defending him.

“Why do you care about Sachs anyway? You have a case against him?” I noticed that Adam was

now watching me carefully. He knew me too well.

“Not against him. We’re working together on something.”
“Working together? He’s a prosecutor and you’re a defense lawyer. How exactly does that

work?”

“A client of mine is helping out the prosecution, and I’m helping out my client.”
“I see. Does he know you’re my sister?”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t seem to hold it against me.” I smiled. “So far we seem to be getting along

okay,” I added casually.

“How okay? He’s not hitting on you is he?” Adam asked, narrowing his gaze.
“No.” Unfortunately. “But if he were, what business would that be of yours?”
“It’s my responsibility to protect the women of our family.”
“Protect the women?” I laughed. “From who, Vikings?”
“Assholes. It’s my job as the only man in the family.”
“The only man in the family? What about Dad?”
“Once you join AARP, you pass on the torch to the younger generation.”
“Okay, well how what Seth? You know, our brother-in-law?”
“Okay, I’ll give him Hannah. That still leaves you and Sarah for me to look out for, and Lily of

course. That goes without saying.”

“You can look out for Lily, but Sarah and I can look out for ourselves. We’re your big sisters;

remember? Let’s not forget that I’m the one who beat up Stan Horowitz when he stole your new
baseball glove.”

“I was six. You were eight. Let it go already.”
“The point is that you don’t have to worry about me. I’m a big girl and I can handle myself just

fine.”

“I’m just ...”
“Like I said,” I interrupted, “we’re just working on a case together and he’s not hitting on me. So

chill, Tarzan.”

“Fine. If he gives you any trouble, though, you let me know.”
I had to admit that I was sort of touched that my little brother wanted to defend me. “This case is

simple and very minor. There’s nothing serious about it,” I reassured him. You know the phrase
“Famous Last Words?” Well, that.

Chapter Nine

That night, I had planned my usual routine, but I never even got to finish the Ally McBeal portion of
my evening because I got a call at about half past nine from Dana.

“Abby,” she said urgently. “I just got a call from Trog. He was a nervous wreck. More than

usual, I mean.”

“What did he want?” I asked, muting an emoting Ally mid-angst.
“It was hard to tell, because he sounded like Beaker from The Muppet Show, but
from what I could make out, he wants us to meet him at Deon Flux’s apartment.”
“Well, I guess that he finally heard from her. Did you manage to get an address?’
“Yeah, here give me a second ...” I heard fumbling and I took the opportunity to go over to my

desk and grab a pen and some paper. She came back on the line and read an address off to me as I
wrote it down. As I looked at the information she had provided, something struck me as off. “Wait a
minute. Isn’t that in Society Hill?”

“You’re right. It is,” Dana agreed, sounding surprised. “I don’t think that a college student could

afford that neighborhood, unless she’s an heiress or something.”

“If she were an heiress, she wouldn’t need Trog to steal a twenty dollar scientific journal article

for her. Call Lena too. I’m sure she’ll want in on this.”

Twenty minutes later, I parked my car near the address Dana had given me. It was dark, but the

streets were as well lit as streets tended to be in affluent neighborhoods. People around here knew
that they were worth mugging, and clearly they were not taking any chances. I had passed two
Philadelphia police cruisers patrolling in the five-block radius surrounding my present location. You
probably couldn’t get two cruisers to show up for a stabbing in North Philly, at least not very quickly.

After walking a block, I turned a corner and saw three figures standing up ahead. One started

waving at me, and I saw Dana’s blonde hair shimmer under a streetlight. They were standing in front
of a condominium complex that looked expensive. Ramen Noodles, my ass.

The closer, I got the more expensive looking it got, and the more traumatized looking Trog got. At

that moment, yet another police cruiser turned onto the street and Trog suddenly crouched into a fetal
position. Yeah, that wouldn’t catch their attention. I paused and held my breath for a moment.
Luckily, it actually didn’t catch their attention. The cops didn’t seem the least bit curious about the
gang of people hanging out on the street corner or the guy who had hit the sidewalk and rolled into a
little ball. They drove right on by without even slowing. Well, that made me feel really safe. I rolled
my eyes.

“Wait until you hear this,” Lena said as I approached. She sounded tense. Uh oh. I knew already

that this wasn’t going to be good. Lena could be passionate and hotheaded about a lot of things, but
she usually kept her cool under pressure.

“Blood!” The little ball of Trog wailed.
“Hush!” Dana warned sternly, hauling him to his feet again.
“What you mean blood?” I hissed, grabbing Trog’s elbow and pulling him into the shadows. I

looked around quickly but there didn’t seem to be anyone in the immediate area. There were no more
cruisers either at the moment, which oddly enough, was a relief even though one would think that
police might be a welcome presence where there was blood.

“Blood. There was blood,” Trog blubbered. Just in case I had forgotten.
“He said that he got a message from Deon asking him to meet her at this address,” Dana explained

calmly. Her tone would have been reassuring; except for he fact that Dana was usually pretty calm

and so that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

“He assumed that it must have been her apartment even though this place doesn’t fit with the stuff

she’s told him,” Lena went on, gesturing expansively at the condos ahead of us, which looked more
like somewhere that successful professionals lived rather than college students.

“She gave him the door code to get in,” Dana picked up the story. “When he got to the right

apartment he knocked but nobody answered.”

“Did he ask nobody where she was?” I couldn’t resist.
“Don’t be funny now!” Lena scolded.
“He tried the knob and the door opened,” Dana went on. “The lights were off and he called her

name and walked in, thinking maybe she fell asleep or something.”

“He found a light switch and flipped it on and when he did ...” Lena continued.
“Blood! Blood! Blood!” Trog wailed again sounding like some disturbing car alarm. He then let

loose a pitiful whimper and started bouncing up and down like he had to pee. He reminded me of the
inhabitants of the monkey house at the zoo.

“There was apparently blood on the floor,” Dana concluded.
“Like ‘I cut my finger, blood,’ or ‘I slaughtered a herd of cattle blood’?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” Lena replied, sounding exasperated. “I think that we need to go take a look.”

Trog tried to roll up in a ball again but Dana stopped him.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said, puffing with the exertion of keeping Trog vertical.

“Maybe we should just call the police.”

“I agree with Lena,” I said. “Before we alert Philadelphia’s finest, I would like to make sure that

Deon, didn’t just spill a bottle of red nail polish on her floor. The last thing we want is to look like
some ‘prissy female lawyer.’ You know how Philly cops can be and word gets around.”

“Okay, but just a quick peek,” Dana agreed reluctantly. “And we must make sure that our presence

here does not encourage anyone else to alert the police before we do. That would be worse.”

“I don’t wanna go back!” Trog whimpered.
“Fine. Then stand out here in the dark,” Lena said unsympathetically.
“Okay, I’ll go back, but you go first,” Trog sulked. Such a hero.
He directed us toward a beautifully landscaped courtyard surrounded by several multistory

buildings done in a Spanish style with individual wrought iron balconies. It occurred to me that I
might want to look into getting a place here myself. Well, depending on how the blood thing turned
out.

As we headed toward one of buildings, a couple emerged from the building next to it. They

looked like young affluent professionals and they were laughing and chatting until they glanced up at
us and paused. We all immediately froze like a bunch of department store mannequins. Realizing how
suspicious that looked, I started trying to compensate. Remember how I said that I wasn’t a good liar
but that Dana was even worse? Yeah, that.

“So, I hope Vivian is home!” I said in an unnaturally loud voice.
“Who?” Dana asked sounding confused. Luckily, Lena the good liar, jumped in.
“Vivian! Who we’re going to visit? Have you forgotten already why we’re here?” She snort

laughed and slapped Dana on the back good-naturedly.

“Right, Vivian! Maybe these people know her,” Dana added. She was clearly trying to help out

but she was so bad at this type of thing. She had managed to somehow sound both shrill and monotone
at the same time. Even worse, she had now guaranteed that these two potential witnesses would
remember us. I winced.

“You’re looking for someone?” the male half of the couple asked politely.
“Old friend from college,” I answered with a smile.
“We were all in the same sorority!” Dana volunteered. The couples’ eyes traveled in unison to the

obviously male Trog. “It was a while ago,” she added.

“What’s Vivian’s last name?” the woman asked hesitantly.
“Smith,” I said quickly.
“Jones,” Lena said at the exact same moment.
“Smith-Jones.” I smiled, probably manically at that point.
“She’s British,” Dana said, her arms starting to flail in a very unnatural looking way. One of them

accidentally caught Trog in the gut and he whimpered and doubled over in actual pain this time.

“Ah, I don’t think we know her,” the guy said, taking the woman’s arm and quickly guiding her as

far away from us as possible. Now we would really have to hurry, as the chances were good they
would be flagging down the next cruiser that passed.

When they were out of earshot Lena turned to me. “Vivian?”
“You know, Vivian Smith-Jones ... from our sorority.” I kept walking toward the building Trog

had directed us to. When we all got there, he punched in the code Deon had given him and we entered
into a lobby tastefully decorated in warm earth tones and Southwestern art. This really was a nice
place. If you were going to bleed to death somewhere, might as well be somewhere stylish. Trog
headed immediately for an elevator and we followed close behind.

“It’s on the fourth floor,” he said nervously and pushed the button. And then he pushed it again,

and again, until Dana slapped his hand. As we waited, the front door opened once more and an
elderly gentleman, walking a poodle with a rhinestone collar strolled our way. Perhaps “pranced”
our way would be more apt. He was dressed like Cruella De Vil, the guy, not the poodle, and his
toupee alone would have made Barry look butch. The poodle bared its teeth and growled at us.

“Now now, Marcello,” Liberace scolded. Then he turned his attention to us and bared his own

teeth in a rather insincere looking smile. He incisors were a little pointy. He had been hanging out
with Marcello too long. They were starting to look alike. “Hello? I don’t believe we’ve met. Perhaps
that’s because you aren’t residents here. So why are you in the building?” Where in the hell was the
elevator?

“We’re visiting,” Lena, the good liar among us, said with a smile of her own.
“Oh? Visiting whomm?” he asked emphasizing the “m” pretentiously. Finally, the damned

elevator appeared. As soon as the doors opened, I shoved Trog onboard and leapt inside with Dana
and Lena hot on my heels. I slammed my finger down on the button and the doors, thankfully, closed
immediately.

“A friendddd,” I called to the very offended looking poodle guy as he disappeared from sight. “I

pushed the buttons for 3, 5, 6, 7 and 8. What floor we were visiting was none of his business and
Marcello could keep him company while he waited.

When we got to the fourth floor, I poked my head out the door and checked in both directions. The

coast was clear. I signaled the others to follow. We found the apartment a moment later and I tried
knocking again. There was still no response, so I took a deep breath, reached down and turned the
knob. The door swung open easily. Too late, something occurred to me ... Shit. Okay, think. I opened
my coat, grabbed the edge of my shirt and began polishing the brass knob.

“You’re cleaning now?” Trog whined.
“No, I’m not cleaning, you goofball! I’m getting rid of fingerprints. Some master criminal you

would make.”

“Well, hurry up! That’s not exactly normal behavior.” Like Trog would know normal behavior.

He was really getting on my nerves.

“I don’t mean to worry you, but it might actually be criminal behavior, Abby,” Dana pointed out

apologetically. “Ours might not be the only prints on there. Further, Trog was an invited guest, so
we’re technically not breaking any laws. I’m just saying that action could be misinterpreted. Carry
on, though, if you wish. ”

“Nah, I’m done tampering with evidence for now,” I said giving myself a mental kick in the ass. I

had to stop watching so much Law and Order. I tucked my shirt back in looked inside the darkened
apartment.

“Why did you turn the lights off again?” Lena asked Trog.
“Because. That was how I found it. It seemed polite.”
“Deon, are you here?” Dana called out. “We’re friends of Trog’s. He’s here with us.” She

entered the apartment and Lena and I followed closely behind while Trog hovered in the doorway.

“The lights are over the wall to the left, about ten feet in,” he offered.
“I got it,” Dana replied. I heard fumbling around and a moment later bright lights filled the room. I

squinted and took a second to let my eyes adjust.

“Get in here and close that door before that poodle guy tracks us down,” Lena ordered and Trog

scooted inside and shut the door behind him. Now, Lena would make a great master criminal, but I
would never tell her that. Italian Americans could sometimes be a little sensitive about the
implication that would make good criminals.

I looked around. The apartment was nice, but it did have a computer geek feel to it. Not only was

there thousands of dollars worth of technological equipment but there were also framed Star Trek
movie posters, an Iron Man Mask and various superhero action figures.

“Whoa! Look at that!” Dana said suddenly, walking over to display case where what appeared to

be a comic book took pride of place.

“I saw that!” Trog said excitedly. “1977 Marvel STAR WARS ‘A New Hope’.”
“1st printing, 30 Cent Newsstand Edition with UPC,” Dana added. “We know that if there was a

crime committed here, burglary wasn’t the motive.”

“Well, it looks like there was a crime committed here,” Lena spoke up, “So enough contemplating

the décor.” She was staring at something and I followed her gaze. There was a puddle on the floor
that looked to be about three feet in diameter. It was dark and seemed to have a viscous quality.
Maybe nobody had bled to death in here, but that was no paper cut either.

“Yep. That looks like blood,” Dana said matter-of-factly.
“I told you! She must be hurt! We need to do something.” Trog sounded like he might cry at any

moment. I half expected Lena to slap him in the face and tell him to “Snap out of it” but instead, she
just came up with a good suggestion.

“We should check the other rooms, in case, you know,” she said.
“Right,” I agreed putting my hands on my hips and looking around. We were standing in the living

room. The puddle was just to the right of a small kitchen that framed one end of the space. There was
a short hallway to the left and there two doors that opened out to it, probably the bedroom and the
bathroom. “So, who wants to do that?” I asked. Nobody moved.

“What if someone is hiding in there?” Trog asked plaintively.
“Let’s check it together,” Dana suggested.
“Okay,” I agreed walking over to join her. Lena came over at the same time. We looked up at

Trog, who hadn’t budged. He made a sad face but slunk over to join the effort. We all pulled in

together as tightly as a Roman Legion and moved en masse to the first door.

“Okay, I got this one,” Lena said bravely.
She broke ranks just enough to lean forward and grab the doorknob. “On three, One ... Two ...

Three!” She thrust open the door and a light immediately turned on startling all of us. We made
various surprised noises and hit the ground. After a moment of silence, I looked up. All I saw was
white tile, porcelain and linoleum.

“Okay, clear!” I called, standing up. “It looks like the bathroom, and it also looks like nobody is

presently using it.” I looked around and saw nothing but a bathroom. The shower curtain on the tub
was open and there were shelves rather than a closet. Unless a murderer could fit into a three-foot
whicker clothes hamper, we were probably safe in this room at least. Which was actually a good
thing, because that last shock had presented a close call. After we each took a turn using the facilities,
we reformed our legion and proceeded to door number two.

“Okay, this one’s mine,” I said stepping forward. I didn’t waste time with a countdown. I just

pushed it open. There were no automatic lights in this room, however, so I had to lean inside and feel
around on the wall for a switch. I quickly found it and as light flooded the room, I saw nothing more
than an innocuous looking bed, dresser ... and light saber hanging on the wall. Okay ...

Lena swept in quickly, took a quick look under the bed and checked the closet. I had a feeling that

Lena was the one always picked first in gym class. I knew that I always wanted her on my team.
While she was doing that, Dana and Trog wandered around admiring the various objects d’arte that
went with a light saber. I was still standing in the doorway, letting my eyes travel around the room.
Something seemed wrong. Yes, Deon was a computer geek, so that fit. Then I looked over at a chair
in the corner of the room. There was a man’s tie slung over it and a pair of men’s loafers beneath it.

“This is a guy’s apartment!” I said suddenly.
“Yes, it is,” a familiar voice behind me said. “Would you like to tell me what you’re doing in it?”

My stomach dropped to the floor. I spun around to face the living room. There was Sachs, frankly
looking more annoyed than inquisitive. That probably wasn’t a good sign. I noted that Agent Wright
was taking a sample of the blood, and Agent Wong was on the phone with someone. Great. The
gang’s all here. Too bad Agnes missed it. She could have mooned him.

Chapter Ten

“I don’t suppose that you would believe that we’re visiting a former sorority sister?” I asked, hoping
diffuse the tension with humor. Hopefully, Sachs would think that this was a good “context” for
humor.

“Not unless she lives in Randall Greene’s apartment,” he answered with a slightly dangerous note

in his voice. Nope, not a good context for humor.

“Randall Greene’s apartment?” I asked, feeling stunned and confused.
“You didn’t know that this was Randall’s apartment,” Sachs asked in a clearly skeptical tone of

voice. “So you randomly decided to go out on a Sunday night burglary run and it was just a happy
coincidence that you picked the apartment of a missing federal prosecutor?” Apparently, it was a
good context for sarcasm though.

“Hey, watch who you’re calling a burglar,” Lena said, looking miffed. “Just what ‘happy

coincidence’ brings you here tonight?’

“What brings me here is an anonymous call to the FBI reporting a possible break in at this

address. Imagine my surprise when I realized it was Randall’s condo.”

“I’ll bet it was the poodle guy,” I said crinkling my nose with disgust.
“There wasn’t enough time,” Dana pointed out. “Besides, how would he have known which

apartment we entered? I didn’t hear the elevator come back up and Trog closed the door behind him.”

“So it couldn’t have been the couple in the courtyard either,” I noted.
“They probably just thought we were drunk,” Lena replied. “What time did this call come in?”

she asked suspiciously.

“About fifteen minutes ago,” Sachs answered.
“And who calls the freaking FBI about a possible break in?” she asked heatedly. The hands were

moving now. He really shouldn’t have implied that she was a criminal.

“Let’s work on that one later, shall we?” Sachs replied. “Perhaps you would first please explain

to me what all of you were doing touring Randall Greene’s apartment at ...” he checked his watch
“10:30 at night?”

“Trog has been trying to get in touch with his friend Deon,” Dana explained. “She finally

contacted him tonight and told him to meet her at this address. You’ll see that there was no forced
entry. She gave him the building code.”

“And did you fail to notice the pool of blood on the floor when you got here?” Sachs asked. Yeah,

he didn’t seem to have a problem with sarcasm.

“No, we didn’t fail to notice it,” I shot back. “We came in because it was here.”
“Oh! You came in because it was here. Now, I understand.” He smiled.
He did? “You do?” I asked uncertainly.
“Are you insane?” He wasn’t smiling anymore. “You learn somehow that there’s blood here and

so you decide that you want to come investigate? What are you, a CSI team? Why didn’t you just call
the police?”

“Because we weren’t convinced that Trog hadn’t made a mistake. We wanted to be sure before

we started getting police down here. Perhaps you would understand if anyone had ever implied that
you were being a hysterical female,” I answered tartly.

“So Mr. Collins was initially here alone,” Agent Wright spoke up. Whoops.
“Only for a second!” Trog squealed, “Like Dana said, Deon sent me a message. Look!” He took

out his smartphone and started frantically pushing buttons. A moment later he stopped and just stared

at it, first with a look of confusion, and then of horror as all of the color drained out of his face. “It’s
gone. Her message is gone. I’ve been hacked. Me. I’ve been hacked. Oh, the irony.” His voice
sounded vacant. He might have been in shock.

“Perhaps you should come to our office to explain things to us in a little more detail,” Agent

Wong said, making it sound like a friendly invitation. I didn’t believe for a second that it would be
friendly though. Trog was screwed thanks to my big mouth. I knew that I had to do something.

I turned to Sachs. “Trog will voluntarily come in for an interview tomorrow, with counsel of

course, but I want to talk to you first.”

“Okay, we can talk while you give me a ride back to my office,” he said surprising me as much as

he had obviously surprised the two FBI agents. Wong’s mouth actually popped open for a second
before he caught himself and snapped it shut again.

It figured that Sachs wanted a ride to his office. Where else would he be going at 10:30 on a

Sunday night? I agreed and after a quick word with Dana and Lena, I left with Boy Wonder beside
me.

We stepped into the elevator together and both of reached out for the button at the same time.

When his fingers pressed against mine I nearly moaned. Yeah, that was normal. The doors slid
closed and we both stared up at the numbers above the steel doors. Why did people always do that?
Did we worry that the elevator might take an alternative route? Even though I wasn’t looking at him, I
was very much aware of him in the confined space. He seemed to take up an awful lot of it,
incidentally. Which might be why it felt like there was no air in there. What air was left, though,
smelled very nice thanks to whatever soap he used. Who smells that good on a Sunday night?

We reached the lobby and the doors slid open, revealing, you guessed it, Poodle guy. What, had

been waiting there for us to come back?

“Where are the rest of your friends?” he asked as if he had every right in the world to know

exactly what every visitor to his building did.

“They’re still at the orgy,” I said brightly and then I walked right past him, ignoring both his

apoplectic look and Marcello’s.

“At the orgy?” Sachs asked, sounding amused as he held the door for me.
“Let him wonder,” I answered and headed toward my car, pulling my jacket around me more

tightly. We exited the courtyard and Sachs walked beside me quietly for a moment, just a moment
though. As soon as we hit the pavement he started talking.

“Let’s discuss the fact that your client was alone in Greene’s condo with a puddle of blood for an

indeterminate amount of time.”

“Don’t you want to wait until we get back to your office to discuss this?” I asked, trying to buy

myself some time to collect my thoughts.

“If I did, I wouldn’t have started the conversation by saying “Let’s discuss the fact that your client

was alone in Greene’s condo with a puddle of blood for an indeterminate amount of time.”

“Well, I’m glad to see that you really don’t have a problem with sarcasm.”
“After we discuss that, maybe we can review the conversation we had the other day, in particular,

the part where you promised not to put yourself in any danger on my watch. You recall that, don’t
you?”

“I could be wrong here, but I’m sensing some tension.”
“Ya think?” he asked with a laugh.
“I got a call from Dana, who got a call from Trog. He got an email message ...”
“Oh, right! That would be the one that seems to have vanished.”

“Deon is a computer geek and she knows him, at least a bit. She hacked him to get rid of the

evidence.”

“Right, right. Abby, has it ever occurred to you that there may not be a Deon?” I stopped dead in

my tracks.

“What did you say?”
“I said has it ever occurred to you ...”
“You called me Abby,” I interrupted.
“That’s your name isn’t it? Do you go by Abigail or Gail or something?”
“No, Abby. You just never used my first name before.”
“We’ve only met once,” he reminded me. “I figured because we were sort of working together ...

but I’m sorry if that was presumptuous.”

“No! I like it. You can call me, Abby ... Jacob.”
“Um, okay.” He gave me an odd look. “Do mind if we keep walking? I still have a lot to get done

tonight.” Of course he did.

“Sure, that’s my car up ahead, the gray Mazda 3. Now wait, what were you saying about there not

being a Deon?” We started off again.

“I’m saying what proof do you have that this person even exists. How do you know that this isn’t

some kind of elaborate plan your client is involved in?”

“That includes announcing to the public that he hacked into a system and committed theft? Never

mind that, you think he’s involved in some brilliant criminal scheme that involves framing himself for
murder?”

“I’m just wondering if he’s really just this innocent dupe or if this all meant to be a distraction

from whatever his real agenda might be.”

“Trog’s only ‘agenda’ is to collect comic books and try to impress females who collect comic

books. We reached my car and I clicked the electronic locks and hopped in. I put the key in the
ignition as he slid in beside me.

“So, that’s what this meeting is about? What you wanted to tell me was ‘My client is innocent.’

Wow I’ve never heard that one before.”

“I wanted to tell you that ...” I turned to face him. If he took up a lot of elevator, you can just

imagine how much space he dominated in a Mazda 3. My eyes fell to his lips and I quickly pulled
them back up to his eyes, his beautiful hazel eyes. “Um, I wanted to say that ...” I swallowed. My train
of thought had left the station.

I was definitely going to have to Google “pheromones.” The reaction that this man seemed to

create in me was just not normal. I wanted to grab him by the coat lapels, climb into his lap and kiss
him stupid. That could have been a very awkward moment.

“Even though we’re supposedly working together, we’re on opposite sides in this matter,” he said

before I could ramble incoherently any more. “We have conflicting interests. Legal interests I mean.”
He turned to look out the windshield ahead of us.

“You’re going to file charges because of tonight?”
“I have to see what Forensics says. But maybe I’ll have to, and then we will officially be

adversaries.” I wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

“That happens a lot with prosecutors and defense lawyers,” I noted, furrowing my brow. “What’s

your point? Would you rather take a cab back to your office?”

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Okay, that was an interesting non sequitur.
“Yes,” I answered, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Is it my imagination, or does there seem to be some attraction between us? I mean, I know that I

find you attractive, and I sense that it’s mutual. Am I wrong about that?” He was still staring out the
windshield, which definitely helped. I think that if he had been looking right at me I might have passed
out. That’s why he had been staring at me at the press conference and in court that day. That’s why he
wanted to meet with me. Not because I was the weakest link. He wanted me. Well, hot damn.

“I think you know that it’s not your imagination,” I said trying not to gulp. There was nothing more

embarrassing than the loud swallow. Okay, there were some things that were more embarrassing, but
the loud swallow was definitely up there. He breathed out heavily and seemed to wrestle with
something for a moment.

“I do admire your obvious intelligence and your legal skills, but we don’t know each other very

well. So, realistically, this is probably mostly physical.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I’m not even sure that I have time to have a girlfriend to be truthful,” he went on, still explaining.

Maybe he hadn’t heard me. “I’m very focused on my career. I work around the clock. I haven’t been
involved with anyone in quite a while.”

“That would be a problem because I refuse to make my life about work.” I saw him flinch out of

the corner of my eye. Okay, maybe that had sounded a little judgy.

“It’s not that I just love working 24/7,” he said defensively. “I’ve wanted to be appointed to

federal bench since I was a kid. To the Supreme Court, to be exact.”

“I think you’ve got a real shot,” I said honestly and I saw him give me a warm glance. “And I’m

not questioning your choices. I’m just saying they don’t fit that well with mine. That’s all. I used to
work 24/7 too and I hated it. But then, I will admit that the work I was doing was hardly fulfilling. If
it had been, who knows?”

“I like that about you, and about us, the fact that we’re upfront with each other. So, back to this

attraction between us,” he went on.

“We’re both adults,” I answered. “If we’re attracted to each other physically, we should have a

physical relationship.”

“I like how you think, but a position with the federal judiciary is based on political appointment

and approval and that includes votes from Conservative senators. If it seemed that I were too casual
... ”

“I understand discretion,” I said. “Of course, if I met someone who I felt an actual romantic spark

with...” I added, keeping in mind that I did want to find that eventually.

“I would understand,” he said quickly. “Until this DocuKeep thing is resolved though, we should

probably play it safe and hold off on a physical relationship.”

“Until then we’re two lawyers working together” I replied.
“Just for the record, you’re really cool,” he said, making me smile. We sat silently for a moment,

both of us staring out the windshield, or rather at it, as it had now become completely fogged up.

“I really want to kiss you now,” he said.
“Yeah, I really want you to kiss me.”
“That’s all it could be though. Just one kiss.”
“Just one,” I agreed.
“Okay, so then, I’m going to do that.”
“Good.” I replied breathlessly and we both turned to face each other.
And then we leaned in and met each other half way. We brought our lips close together, but we

didn’t quite let them touch, not yet. I felt his warm breath against me, and ironically, it gave me

chills. He leaned in closer first, pressing his lips against mine gently for a second, and then firmer.
His hand went to the back of my head as he increased the pressure and I opened my lips to let him in.
Even though he started out slowly, he was not a shy or tentative kisser at all. His tongue swept into
my mouth and started exploring everywhere and rubbing up against mine. Mmm. He was yummy.

I started to feel all light and “floaty,” like a cloud, and I don’t really care how corny that sounds. I

had not had a make-out session this hot since ... Okay, I had not had a make-out session this hot. As I
let myself get more and more lost in this amazing kiss, I became vaguely aware of lights. Maybe I was
actually seeing stars. That made sense. Stars were in the sky where clouds were. Now the stars were
shining in the window. And then someone was tapping. Wait a minute. Jacob sat back suddenly and
swore.

“Let me handle this,” he ordered, rolling down the window and calling out to identify himself.

The police officer he was talking to asked to see his ID, which he handed out to him. I sighed. So far,
we weren’t doing a really great job with the discretion thing.

He convinced them that we were having a legal discussion. Or he at least he convinced them to

pretend that they believed that we were having a legal discussion. I will point out, however, that it’s
not against the law to make out in a parked car in Philadelphia. Apparently, they just wanted to make
sure weren’t doing anything “suspicious.” They didn’t notice a man curled up in ball on the sidewalk
but a couple steams up the windows and they are on it!

Chapter Eleven

The next day, I had a quick conversation with Dana and Lena. I told them that I had done my best to
convince Jacob that Trog was being set up. I did not mention the part where he had his tongue in my
mouth and I felt like a cloud. I didn’t mention the cops either. Even though we were friends, we didn’t
really discuss those things anyway. Who we kissed I mean, not run-ins with police.

That afternoon, I accompanied Trog to his scheduled meeting at the U.S. Attorney’s Office. First,

we sat in a conference room together waiting for a while. Finally, Jacob came in accompanied by
Wright and Wong.

“You’re in luck,” he said to Trog. “Thanks to the wonders of technology, your message has been

recovered.” He slid a printout our way. It was a copy of an email message instructing Trog to go the
address from the night before. It was signed Deon.

“This is great!” I said excitedly.
“It’s great that he has some proof that his friend told him to meet her there,” Wong chimed in.

“The fact that she’s trying to pin something on him, not so great.”

“Also not so great, that the blood belonged to Randall Greene,” Jacob said in a very serious tone.

Clearly, he was going to get to the bottom of this.

“Oh, um, was it enough ...” I wasn’t sure how to frame the question.
“No. It was just a pint,” Wright answered.
“So, now what do we do?” I asked.
“Now, we figure out what in the hell is going on,” Jacob replied. He stood up and went over to a

white board in the corner, pulling it over to face us. He wrote Deon, Randall and DocuKeep on the
board and we started brainstorming.

“Randall was interested in the DocuKeep break-in, why?” Jacob asked, after writing down

everything we knew so far.

“His notes don’t say anything about why he thought this was so important?” I asked. “Nothing at

all?”

“It had the date and time and other basic information and the name Deon Flux and it was marked

urgent and classified,” Jacob answered, sounding frustrated.

“Maybe we could start shadowing some DocuKeep employees,” Agent Wright said. “Sometimes

you follow somebody and they’ll lead you somewhere unexpected.”

“Wait a minute!” Trog exclaimed, suddenly perking up.
“Does that mean something to you?” Agent Wong asked.
“Does DocuKeep back up data for other companies?” Trog asked.
“I’m sure we could find out easily enough,” Wright answered. “Why?”
“Because maybe I wasn’t the only one hacking that night and maybe DocuKeep wasn’t the final

destination,” Trog said. Suddenly, a gurgling sound emitted from his abdominal region. “Hey, do you
guys mind if we take a break? I’m starved.”

“We’ve been going at it for a while now,” Jacob said. “Jack, how about if you find that

information for us and Mr. Collins can go hit Subway. We’ll meet back in here in half an hour. Abby,
there’s something I wanted to discuss if you have a moment.”

“Sure,” I said, getting up and following him toward his office. I didn’t have any idea what he

wanted. He closed his office door behind me and then took two steps forward, pinning my back up
against it. That’s what I had hoped that he wanted.

“I can’t get that kiss last night out of my mind,” he said thickly, leaning down and nipping at my

ear. I was thankful that the door was there to hold me up.

“It was a very good kiss,” I said breathing heavily and tilting my face up toward his. It was getting

really warm in there, especially beneath my skirt.

“It was a fucking amazing kiss,” he corrected, leaning down and gently biting my lower lip. I was

going to need to start packing emergency panties in my purse.

I reached up and buried my fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth down on mine and then I pushed

my tongue between his lips. It was my turn to explore. He reached around and grabbed my ass, pulling
my hips forward against him, so that I could feel his growing arousal. He broke the kiss and started
gently biting my neck while I writhed up against him. This was way better than being a cloud. I was
approaching the stratosphere.

“Weren’t we supposed to wait until this case was over to have sex?” I whispered in a voice

strained with intense desire.

“Are we having sex?” he whispered back.
“Well, technically no,” I replied as his hand cupped my breast and his thumb grazed my nipple. I

moaned and his mouth came down on mine again to quiet me.

“Come here,” he said, pulling back and taking my hand to lead me over to his desk. Before I even

realized what he was going to do, he pushed my skirt up around my hips, lifted me up and sat me on
the desk in front of him. Looking down at my thigh high stockings he smiled. Then he sat down in the
chair facing me and it sunk in what he was going to do. Oh my God.

He leaned his head in and ran his tongue up along the outside of my silk panties, tracing my lips

and circling my clit. I made a strangled sound as my tummy clenched and white-hot pleasure liquefied
me.

“Shhh,” he warned, and even through silk, the feeling of his breath against my hyper-sensitized

pussy made me dizzy. “Be quiet or I’ll stop.”

“I’ll be quiet. Don’t stop,” I begged and I felt him smile up against me.
He gently pushed my panties aside and starting lapping from my entrance to my clit with long hot

strokes, pausing every so often to gently suck on my tender skin. I lay back on the desk, parted my legs
wider and let myself get lost. I was breathing heavily and pushing my hips up against him greedily
when he took pity me and decided to bring me on home. His tongue began a series of fast flicks
against by clit as he sunk two fingers inside me and began rubbing my G Spot.

I bit my lip so that I wouldn’t cry out. I needed to come so badly and I knew I would go over the

edge any second. He increased his speed a fraction and that was all it took. I came hard, squeezing my
eyes shut tightly, arching my back and holding my breath. I felt the muscles of my pussy start to
contract, pumping a warm wave of pleasure through my lower belly, washing all the tension away.

“Well, that was um, a surprise,” I said happily when my breathing slowed down.
“Still think I’m not a giver?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye. Wow, a guy who both gleamed

and twinkled.

“I thought you wanted to wait to have a physical relationship in general.”
“I dreamed about you last night and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate without having

seen you come at least once. Excuse me a moment.” He stepped through a door into what was
obviously a private bathroom. I couldn’t believe that I had just let Boy Wonder go down on me on his
desk at the U.S. Attorney’s office in the middle of a workday. This was so much better that working
at KL.

***

I was rather impressed by how casual Jacob and I looked when we returned the conference room.
One would not even guess that his handsome face had been tucked between my legs so very recently.

“I think someone tricked me,” Trog explained when we were all assembled again. “Deon, or

whoever she ... or he is, got me to hack into DocuKeep and then hacked me. Deon followed me, like a
shadow. She got remote access to my system and used it to get into DocuKeep with me, without
leaving any footprint herself.”

“And why would Deon do that?” Jacob asked, eyes burning with interest.
“So that she could use that system to gain entry to the systems it interfaces with, in and out without

a trace,” Trog explained.

“And if DocuKeep backs up a company’s data, it interfaces with their system,” Wright added.

Trog smiled in confirmation. He really wasn’t a total goofball.

“If anyone figured out later they had been hacked, and possibly even how the hacker had gotten in,

it would be convenient to have someone else’s electronic footprint all over DocuKeep. That was why
Deon wanted to make sure that Trog was linked to the break-in.”

“So Jack, did you find out what companies DocuKeep backs up?” Jacob asked.
“Yeah,” Agent Wong answered. “There’s one in particular you might find interesting, the U.S.

Attorney’s Office for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.”

Jacob was on the phone in seconds talking to someone in the FBI computer lab. He was going to

have them pour through his own office’s data to see if anything had been manipulated. The other
companies that DocuKeep worked with would also be notified of a possible security breach.

“I guess that Randall figured out that someone may have accessed our files,” he said when he

finished the last call. “We need to find out who Deon Flux really is.”

Chapter Twelve

Life had not stopped for Trog’s Wild and Wacky Adventure, and I did have other clients. Over the
next week, I worked on those cases. Most were pretty standard, possible workplace discrimination,
sexual harassment and things like that. Even the “standard” cases were much more interesting than
anything I used to handle at KL and the warm environment of our office really made a difference.

I didn’t even mind the wackier clients, truthfully. Most were scheduled for Philadelphia courts.

Occasionally, though, one did wind up in federal court, especially the Silver Cougars, who seemed to
particularly love to stage their protests in front of national landmarks.

“Good morning, Ms. Fishbine,” Judge Baker sad politely.
“Heh,” Agnes muttered, working her jaw like she was chewing cud.
“And how are you this morning?”
“Eh,” Agnes replied.
“Mr. Branson,” the judge said, addressing the prosecutor, “what brings us here this time, err,

today.” Mr. Branson seemed to be permanently assigned to Agnes’s cases. I wondered whom he had
offended.

“Your Honor, Mrs. Fishbine ...”
“Ms.,” I corrected.
“Ms. Fishbine,” he went on, obviously fighting an eye roll, “is being charged with trespass,

obscenity and indecent exposure on federal park grounds.”

“Oh, changing it up a little,” Judge Baker said with a smile.
“Hmmm,” Agnes replied.
“We dispute the charges,” I spoke up.
“I figured you would,” the judge replied. “Let’s hear the facts, Mr. Branson.” Turning to me she

added, “As the prosecution views them.”

“On or about November 16

, our fine city was honored to welcome a delegation from the

sovereign nation of Uzbekistan. The delegates were being treated to a specially guided tour led by
Mr. Stanley Thompson, head of the tourist bureau and Councilman Jackson, whose wife is 1/8
Uzbekistani.” I glanced over to my left and at the beleaguered Councilman Jackson who was looking
like he had a bad case of indigestion.

“And this tour apparently included,” the judge looked down at paper in front of her, “Ah, the

Liberty Bell this time. Go on.”

“As Your Honor is aware,” Branson continued, “Ms. Fishbine is not a fan of Councilman

Jackson’s. Just as the Uzbekistani delegates arrived at the national landmark, which had been
temporarily closed off to the public, Ms. Fishbine appeared suddenly from a place where she had
concealed herself.” Appeared suddenly? She was 88. How sudden could her movements be? This
time, I fought an eye roll. The judge and I were apparently on the same wavelength.

“Are we, perhaps, being a little melodramatic, Counselor?” the judge asked skeptically. “The

woman has a walker. Are you sure she was concealing herself?”

“She had been lying in wait behind some shrubbery, Your Honor!” As an aside, I think that every

Monty Python fan in that courtroom wanted to double over with laughter when he said “shrubbery.”

“Oh okay,” Jude Baker responded, not suppressing an eye roll.
“Ms. Fishbine was dressed only in a red, white and blue hula skirt with ... pasties affixed to her

breasts.” He said the word “pasties” the way someone would say “genital warts” or “chronic

diarrhea.” I had a feeling that Mr. Branson was a Republican.

“Must have been chilly,” Judge Baker noted pragmatically. I noted that mentally, as potential

evidence to refute the “lying in wait in shrubbery” characterization.

“Brrr,” Agnes agreed.
“The pasties had bells affixed to them incidentally, as did Ms. Fishbine’s walker.”
“Appropriate,” the Judge said. “Where’s the obscenity charge?”
“Ms. Fishbine extended her middle finger in an obscene gesture aimed at Councilman Jackson and

cried out “Fuck you, you senior citizen hating motherfucker!”

“I see,” the judge said calmly. “And I can also see what your argument is going to be Ms. Roth, so

go ahead and make it for the record.”

“As Your Honor,” I threw a scathing look at my opponent, “and Mr. Branson both know, Ms.

Fishbine’s gesture is not ‘obscene’ under the law unless it was intended to invoke a sexual response
in Councilman Jackson.” I glanced his way and saw him wince. That man had to be in therapy. “I can
call Councilman Jackson to the stand ...”

“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Roth,” the judge said glancing at the politician with a slight look of

concern. “Mr. Branson, you have actually heard of the First Amendment, haven’t you?”

“Your Honor, how long does this have to go on? Mrs. Fishbine ...”
“Ms.” I reminded him.
“Ms. Fishbine,” he threw me an angry glare, “is harassing a public servant.”
“The key word there is ‘public,’ Your Honor,” I retorted. “Councilman Jackson voluntarily ran

for office so that he could enter public service. By doing so, he invited the public to disagree with his
politics by exercising their First Amendment rights.”

“Politics?!” Branson spit out incredulously. “Exactly what political message does ‘Fuck you,

motherfucker” espouse?”

“It was ‘fuck you, senior citizen hating, motherfucker,’ Counselor,” I shot back. “It was a

statement about the councilman’s support of policies that adversely affect the elderly residents of this
city.”

“Yeah!” Agnes jumped in.
“Let your lawyer handle this, Ms. Fishbine,” Judge Baker warned.
“Ms. Fishbine was making a legitimate political statement, that was protected by the First

Amendment, and unless her gesture was aimed at getting Councilman Jackson sexually aroused, it was
not legally obscene.” Councilman Jackson was starting to look a bit green in the face.

“The indecent exposure on federal land is because her attire was suggestive?” Judge Baker

asked. She was starting to look a bit tired. It was 11:30 AM.

“Suggestive?” Branson looked apoplectic. “Your Honor, she was clad only in a hula skirt and

pasties. She’s 88.” Both the judge and I, along every woman in the room over 45, immediately tensed
up and Branson realized, too late, what he had just implied.

“What does her age have to do with anything, Mr. Branson?” Judge Baker asked with a dangerous

note in her voice. “Surely you’re not suggesting that if she were younger, her outfit would have met
with your approval?”

“Of course not, Your Honor ...”
“So, it would still have been indecent exposure, if say, she had perkier breasts?”
“Your Honor, I didn’t mean ...”
“Ah, huh. What about the trespass charge Ms. Roth,” the judge cut him off.
“Your Honor, my client had already been on the grounds when they temporarily closed it off. She

didn’t even see that they had done it. It was only supposed to be closed for ten minutes, so they didn’t
put up barricades or announce in advance that the area would be shut to the public. In fact, we can
call Mr. Thompson if you like to verify this, but it’s my understanding that he decided to close it off
right there on the spot.”

“Is that true, Mr. Thompson?” the judge asked the Tourist Bureau guy, who was seated in the

spectator gallery.

“Yes, Your Honor,” he admitted sounding beaten.
“Let the record reflect that Mr. Thompson answered in the affirmative. Any argument on the

indecency charge, Ms. Roth?”

“Your Honor, while her fashion taste may be questionable, technically, she was covered, and her

breasts were not fully exposed.”

“Any final argument from the United States, Mr. Branson?”
“Your Honor, once again, Ms. Roth may have skirted within the bounds of the law, but as a matter

of public policy, we simply can’t have elderly citizens wearing pasties making ... obnoxious ...
gestures to politicians in public. There are groups of children visiting the Liberty Bell every day.
They don’t need to see that. Nobody needs to see that.” He didn’t sound beaten like the Tourist
Bureau guy and he didn’t seem physically ill like Councilman Jackson. He was seething with rage. He
probably would have liked to give Agnes and I the finger at that moment.

“Harrumph,” was Agnes’ response.
“Ms. Fishbine,” Judge Baker said patiently addressing Agnes, Mr. Branson does have a point.

Lots of children visit these historical sites. I know you don’t like Councilman Jackson’s politics. And
you do have a right to express that dislike. I suggest, though, that you use all of this energy and passion
that you have in a more productive way. Why don’t you join his opponent’s campaign effort? You
also have the right to vote, as do all of your friends. I’m dismissing the charges, but think about what I
said.”

“Hmm,” Agnes replied with a nod, looking thoughtful. It occurred to me that Judge Baker should

be on the Supreme Court.

I escorted Agnes out immediately before Branson could slap her with some other charge. I had a

feeling it was now his mission in life to convict Agnes Fishbine of something. When I got to the curb,
I realized that I had forgotten to get a copy of the order dismissing the charges, so I headed back to the
courtroom.

When I got there, I encountered Jacob arguing a case against a defense attorney whom I didn’t

particularly like. He was one of those guys who wanted nothing more than to see society return to
something that resembled Mad Men and who considered Gloria Steinem to be the anti-Christ. He had
once called me “babe” just before a legal argument. I kicked his ass across the courtroom.

I sat down toward the back of the courtroom to watch unobtrusively. I was feeling a little anxiety

about Jacob, to be honest. After that fun and sexy interlude in his office, and the meeting afterward,
we had gone our separate ways. I had sort expected him to call or at least text me. After all, we had
this case together, and he had made me gush, you know? But then, there hadn’t really been any new
developments yet, and we had decided that this was only a physical thing, so maybe it wasn’t such a
big deal. I mean this wasn’t that or anything.

I had done “just physical” relationships before with casual friends and those had been fine. This

would be fine too. Even though this already felt different than those. I sighed. I couldn’t really figure
it out. I’m a self-assured woman. I feel good about myself as a person and I feel attractive. While, I
have my share of insecurities like anyone else, they have never been a major source of anxiety

before. But then, guys had always called or texted within a week after some sexy time together.

For the first time, the evil demons of self-doubt were coming to haunt me. For the past three

nights, I lay in bed at night trying to drift off while “What if he was just playing me?” was kicking me
in the ribs and “What if he’s lost interest already?” beat me over the head with a baseball bat.

Seeing him there in court, arguing so brilliantly and confidently didn’t help. I was torn between a

desire to get closer because I found him fascinating and an instinct to distance myself because he
might not find me fascinating. I ordered myself to stop it. If there was one thing I did know about this
guy, it was that he was busy. And a week could fly by without him noticing. But then a third demon
came strolling along. “It only takes a second to text a smiley face emoticon” kicked me in the shin.

He won the argument, of course, and the judge adjourned for lunch. I went up to the records clerk

to get a copy of the Order, heart beating quickly as I wondered if Jacob would come over to talk. I
sensed him come up a moment later and to my horror, I felt my cheeks getting hot. He was making me
blush? WTF.

“Hey,” he said and tapped me on the arm.
“Oh, hey!” I replied, trying to sound casual, but managing to sound like I was about to diffuse a

bomb instead.

“You okay?” he asked furrowing his brow. “You look flushed.”
“Yeah, it’s just ... warm.” I fanned myself with the Court Order.
“I would invite you to grab a bite to eat, but I have a lunch meeting I have to get to.” He looked

like he genuinely regretted it, which made me feel a little more confident.

“No worries. I have plenty to do too. Um, any developments on the DocuKeep case?” I asked,

trying to find something safe to discuss, so that I wouldn’t break down and ask why he hadn’t called
or texted in a week.

“We think we may have an idea about what might have been tampered with on our end. It

involves confidential information, though, so I can’t really discuss it.”

“Oh, I understand.” I nodded.
“The good news is that it looks like your client is off the hook.”
“Oh. Right. That’s great.” I swallowed. So, I guess that meant we wouldn’t have reason to be

working together anymore. I wondered if that meant that we wouldn’t be seeing each other. His
phone buzzed at that moment and he took it out and glanced at it.

“Damn. I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon.” With that he turned and rushed out and then I felt not

only anxious, but weirdly sad too.

Chapter Thirteen

I found myself at my desk at ten that night rather than home with Ally. There were a couple of
reasons, one good, and one ... I wasn’t sure yet. First of all, while the Silver Cougars may have been
zany, most of my cases weren’t. They involved genuine Civil Rights issues that were important to
me.

My Grandpa Roth had been an attorney as well, and he had been one of the many northern Jewish

lawyers who risked his own safety to sign up black voters in the south during the Civil Rights
Movement. My brother, Adam, and I, who were the legal practitioners of this generation of the Roth
family, admired him tremendously. Adam worked for a legal nonprofit that represented poor
individuals wrongly convicted of crimes, and now, I too, was finally doing something that would
have made Grandpa Roth proud. The fact that my work interested me and made feel fulfilled made
working late much more tolerable. That was the good reason.

The other reason I was there late, was that I kept getting distracted. I would take a short break

between cases and find my mind drifting to Jacob. I would think about kissing him, and think about
doing more than kissing him. That was fine. We had a physical relationship and I was fantasizing
about physical things.

The only problem was, that I wasn’t just thinking about physical things. I was remembering

something funny he said, or I was remembering something intelligent he said and I was wishing that I
could talk to him. Just talk. And then, at one point, something really disturbing happened. I had been
reviewing a case that wasn’t as interesting as some of the others, and I glanced up at the clock. It was
7 pm and before I knew it, I found myself wondering what he was doing ... when I should have been
doing something else. Sound familiar? Uh oh.

I decided to pack it in at 10:30 and just as I was about to toss my phone in my purse, I paused.

Why couldn’t I just text him? What was this 1915? I couldn’t reach out and contact a hot guy I liked? I
sat back down at my desk and thought for a moment. Then I opened up my texting app and typed.

“I was just thinking about you. By the way, I like what you’ve done with the ceiling above your

desk.” ;) I pushed send and popped my phone into my purse with a slightly guilty smile. A few
seconds later there was a telltale “ping” sound and my tummy got the flutter. I sat back down again
and opened my purse. Taking out my phone I saw his reply.

“Lol What r u wearing?” As trite as that opening line was, when he said it, it still got me hot. But

then, he could probably say, “Pass the salt” and it would get me hot.

“A smile,” I typed back. “And my suit. I’m still at my office.”
“Anyone there w/ u?”
“Just me.”
“Call me.” Yes, he was being bossy again, but I liked it a lot more this time. He was right.

Context mattered. My heart was thumping as I punched in his number. He picked up on the first ring.

“Hello,” I said but he was focused on something other than social niceties.
“Take your skirt off,” he said simply. I didn’t waste time being coy. I liked letting him be in

charge and I was happy do whatever he asked. I tucked the phone between my chin and shoulder,
stood up and undid my skirt, letting it fall around my ankles.

“I took it off,” I said and I heard his breathing pick up and I loved that I was turning him on. I felt

more confident again and it made me feel really sexy.

“Are you wearing stockings like the other day?”
“Yes,” I replied seductively.

“And pretty little silk panties?” he asked thickly.
“Yes,” I repeated in a breathy tone.
“Take them off.” I steadied my breathing and slid off my panties, walking over to the love seat

against my office wall. I stopped to lock the door just in case. Walking in on this might really confuse
Jaya, should she come back for something.

“Okay, I took my panties off and I’m reclining on my loveseat. Would you like me to practice

some self-love?”

“Yes,” he said sounding both amused and aroused. “Reach down and touch yourself. Tell me

how wet you are.”

“I want you to play too.”
“What makes you think that I’m not?” he asked and the image of him stroking himself made my

pussy ache.

“Mmm. I’m so wet,” I said breathlessly.
“I’ll bet that your clit is swollen. Rub it.”
“You’re rubbing your cock?” I asked as my fingers happily obliged.
“Yes,” he answered thickly.
“Are you thinking about fucking me?”
“Yes,” he said again, more emphatically. My fingers circled my clit deliciously and I spread my

legs wider apart imagining him pushing that hard cock up inside me.

“Oh baby, I wish you were inside me,” I said with a moan.
“God, I want to fuck you so much.”
“Oh yeah.” I was already getting close. I couldn’t believe how turned on I was. I was soaking wet

and moving rapidly to the edge. “Jacob, I’m going come.”

“Me too.” He sounded like he couldn’t hold on another moment.
“Oh! Oh God.” And then I came hard, shivering with sensation as my pussy pulsed and pulsed,

spreading warm relief and intense pleasure throughout my body.

I heard him groan and breathe out heavily and I knew that his ending had been happy too. We both

stayed like that without saying anything for a few moments, just listening to each other’s breathing
return to normal. And even though, it had just been phone sex, that moment felt sort of intimate.

The feeling grew even stronger as we spent another half hour the phone just talking. It wasn’t

awkward at all. It felt warm and natural. We made each other laugh and traded banter like we had
known each other much longer. We really did have a similar sense of humor and it seemed that we
also shared a fundamental sense of integrity. We both believed in justice.

“Well, that was fun,” he said finally.
“Yeah,” I agreed with a laugh.
“We’re going to have to do the real thing soon, though. I’m starting to get distracted at work.”
“You are?” I asked, trying not to sound actually pleased to hear that.
“Yeah, and I can’t do that. I have to focus,” he answered and my kite flew a little lower. One thing

that hadn’t changed was that work was the priority. Oh well. At least I wasn’t just a random piece of
ass to him. That was something. And I had really enjoyed talking to him too. It just felt very natural
and the more I got to know him, the more he interested me.

***

Three days and one misdemeanor jury trial later, I was sitting at my desk again when Lena knocked on

my office door and poked her head in.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, giving her a smile that slipped away when I took a good hard look at

her. She looked pale and her nose was red and runny. Oh no. The Federal Bar Association
Thanksgiving Social was tonight. Dana hated large social events and so she wasn’t going. Lena had
been my date.

“I don’t feel good,” she croaked.
“Yeah, well you look worse. Go home.”
“What about the thing tonight?”
“Don’t worry about it. I can go by myself.”
“Dana can survive a crowd for one night.” Lena popped back out and returned a moment later

with Dana in tow.

“Oh God, I hate these things. I never know what to say or do,” Dana said, sounding distraught.
“Lena, I am not making her go. Dana, honey, tell her that it’s not just about socially awkward. I

know that noise that the noise bothers you and that you get disoriented in crowds.”

“She’s right, Lena. I feel exhausted afterward,” Dana said apologetically.
“I am a grown woman. This isn’t the prom. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, I’m really sorry, though. I’m going home now to drink a bottle of Nyquil and sleep these

germs off. Remember, you don’t have to stay long.”

“Right,” I said reassuringly.
As she and Dana left I sat thinking. It was the Federal Bar Association. Jacob would be there

anyway. I remembered how good he looked in a tux and I smiled. Yeah, our relationship was
physical, but we were friends too, right? Friends went places together. Would it be so weird to ask
him to go with me? I really had felt a connection with him the other night. Those last few moments had
felt intimate. There was absolutely no reason that I could not ask him to be my escort at a function we
both had to attend.

Okay, I was going to do it. I took a deep breath and picked up my phone. I swear that I really am

a confident woman, but I will admit that something about this guy made me feel like I really was
asking someone to the prom. I gritted my teeth and punched in his cell number. He picked up on the
third ring.

“Hey, what’s up,” he answered. That was different than his greeting last time.
“Hey, um I wanted to know if you could do me a favor.”
“Sure, what do you need?”
“I have to go to the Bar Association thing tonight and Lena was supposed to be my date but she’s

really sick.” I swallowed and went on, trying to keep my tone light. “Dana really has a hard time at
these big social events, and so I guess I’m going stag but I don’t know all that many people yet. I just
wondered if maybe we could go together?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end and in that moment I knew that this was going to

be a very difficult night. A lump started developing in my throat.

“Abby, I thought we were both on the same page with this,” he replied and my stomach got

queasy. “I told you that I’m not looking for a girlfriend and you said you wouldn’t want to be involved
with someone who worked as much as I do.”

Everything he was saying true, so why did it feel like someone had plunged a knife into my chest?

I just felt so embarrassed and so rejected. I felt like I couldn’t breath and my face was burning up. An
unpleasant tingle crawled down my arms and tears stung my eyes. I willed myself not to let them
flow.

“I’m not asking you to marry me, Jacob,” I said in a tone a bit sharper than I would have liked. “I

thought we were friends that’s all. I’m not Lena’s girlfriend and she was supposed to go with me
tonight.”

“Okay,” he said hesitantly, “But people might talk about you and me going together. And I also

pointed out that I wanted to be discreet. If they think we’re dating, they’ll expect us to date. If they
know we’re just fucking, they’ll judge.”

Even though that too was absolutely true, the words “just fucking” took that knife in my chest and

twisted it around a few times. It also threw a big wet blanket over my desire to ever make that fully
happen.

“Technically, we’re not fucking,” I pointed out. “Didn’t your father ever have a talk with you?” I

knew that I sounded cold but his words were wounding me and my sarcasm was my only armor.
There was another moment of silence on the line.

“Sorry, I didn’t know we were being technical. Hey, listen I have to run. I’ll probably see you

later.”

With that he hung up. My mouth popped open. It felt like a slap and I wanted desperately to call

back and say, “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad. You’re right.” And that made me angry with myself. After
all, was asking him to fill in as my escort to a function we both had to attend really that bad?

More than anything though, I was angry at myself for letting myself become vulnerable. There had

been flings before. That’s all we had in this relationship. It’s not like we were having deep
conversations or connecting on an intellectual level every day. I didn’t even know where he fucking
lived. So, why had I let myself think about him so much? And why did I let myself feel such a strong
connection with him? And then I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I covered my mouth to muffle a sob and
the tears flowed. I knew that I couldn’t go to thing alone now and I desperately needed comfort. When
I needed support there was one place I could always turn.

Chapter Fourteen

My brother, Adam, came by to pick me up at 6:30 that evening. He looked very good in a tux himself.
I had not planned to tell him what was going on, but he knew immediately that something was.

“Why were you crying?” he asked as soon as my apartment door closed behind him. I had done

my make-up very carefully and emptied a bottle Visine into my eyes, so I had no idea how he had
figured it out.

“What makes you think I was crying?”
“You’re my sister. We have a psychic connection.” He came in and sat down. “That, and your

neck gets blotchy.”

“I had guy problems but they are all under control, so don’t worry.”
“You’re not pregnant are you?”
“No!”
“Good. Although I am wearing the right outfit to challenge someone to pistols at dawn,” he said

looking down at his penguin suit.

“I was having a fling and I let myself get too interested. That’s all.”
“You should have known better. Chicks can’t handle flings.”
“What? That’s not true. I’ve had flings before.”
“No you haven’t. You’ve dated placeholders. That’s different. A fling isn’t so much a

relationship as just some hot sex. Women may try to just to keep it physical, but their emotions
usually end up getting in the way.”

“Do guys ever have flings with women who they could feel something for?”
“Sometimes. Could be that you really think a chick is hot, fun to be with, interesting, the whole

nine yards, but the timing just isn’t right. But see, guys can keep things in the fling category. You
know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I hear what you’re saying,” I said sadly. Then something else dawned on me though. The

timing wasn’t right for me to have a serious, potentially life-long, committed relationship either, and
that really wasn’t what I was looking for. Really. I just wanted there to be a connection that was
passionate but more than just sex.

“Isn’t there a way to have a relationship that’s physical and intimate, but where there’s no

pressure and each person can do their own thing?”

“Yeah, those relationships exist, but I think they’re much more common when you’re over forty.

By then you know who you are and what you want and you’ve got your own life.”

Personally, I didn’t feel like waiting ten years, but I reminded myself that I did have my shit

together pretty well for a woman in her thirties. I guess I would just have to wait and see what
happened. I reached over and gave Adam a big hug.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, hugging me back. “Now, let’s get going. I missed dinner.”

***

I walked into the Bar Association event with my head held high and a smile fixed on my face. Adam
made a beeline for the food table and I stayed close beside him. He was definitely a source of
support. As he piled a plate full of enough food to feed a small nation, I casually looked around the
room. When I finally spotted Jacob, I got a jolt, he was looking right at me. He took a step in my
direction but at that moment Adam returned to my side and he paused. Oh boy. Even across the room I

could see the emotions flitting across Jacob’s face. He wanted to come talk to me, but he had known
that I was upset earlier. He wondered if I told Adam. He and Adam already did not get along, and one
thing he couldn’t have, was a “scene.” He seemed to make up his mind and he gave me a small wave
and a smile and then headed off in the other direction.

And that was when I realized that I had underestimated him. He did feel a connection too. I

wasn’t just a booty call to him. Despite how he had characterized it, we really weren’t “just
fucking.” We were in the beginning stages of developing actual intimacy whether or not we attended
social events as a couple. Intimacy was something that grew, not something that just appeared by
assuming some status or taking on a role. I had taken him off guard earlier by suddenly trying to
change the rules without discussing it with him first. That didn’t mean that he didn’t want to continue
to let things develop naturally between us.

I should have just come alone. I sighed. Why did I seem to do everything wrong with this guy?

What was so different about him? I decided that I needed to talk to him but I didn’t want to cause
tension him and Adam either. I needed a plan. I felt my purse vibrate and I opened it up and checked
my phone. It was a message from Trog.

“I know who Deon is.” There was an address. A few moments later another message arrived,

“Come alone.”

“What’s that about?” Adam asked.
“That client whose case I was working on with Jacob...”
“Jacob? He’s ‘Jacob’ now?” Suddenly a look of understanding appeared on his face followed

closely by a look of anger. “Sachs! He’s the one? Et tu, Abby?”

“I don’t have time for this, Adam! Something is going on and I need to ...”
“Abby, what’s the matter?” Jacob interrupted. Adam and I hadn’t seen him approach. He must

have crossed the room in like three strides. “Who messaged you?”

“What business is it of yours who messages her?” Adam demanded.
“This has nothing to do with you,” he answered, clearly trying to remain calm.
“And what exactly does it have to do with you, Sachs?”
“Adam, stop it!” I demanded. “I told you we’re working on a case together.”
“Has he touched you?” Adam asked me. “You better not have touched my sister.”
“Whether or not he has touched me is none of your business.”
“Is too my business!” was his brilliant retort. He must be so impressive in court. And then

suddenly, it was like the last twenty-one years just vanished and we were 8 and 10 years old again.

“Look, Adam. I’m touching him,” I said jabbing my finger at Jacob’s bicep. “What are you gonna

do about it, huh?”

“Oh you think you’re so funny, don’t you? Look at me, Abby Roth, I’m the funniest person in the

world.” The latter part included a really lousy imitation of my voice. I totally do not sound like that!

“Shut up!”
“Make me!”
I was just about to grab Adam and give him a noogie, when how incredibly asinine we were both

acting sunk in. I paused and looked at Jacob, who was staring at us like we were insane.

“I’m really glad I’m an only child,” he said.
“This is stupid! Adam, Jacob and I are working on a case together. Anything else we are doing

together is none of your business.”

“I think I want to date your sister,” Jacob said and I stopped talking so suddenly that my mouth

was still hanging open.

“You do?” I asked in shock.
“Even after seeing this?” Adam asked. It was a reasonable question.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” he said. “I feel like we have a good connection. I don’t know how

much time we would get to spend together, though, and I can’t promise any long-term commitment. So,
if you’re not interested ...”

“Yes! I’m interested. Hold that thought. Trog knows who Deon is. He’s the one who messaged

me. He gave me an address and he told me to come alone.”

“Hold on!” Adam broke in. “You want to date my sister, you need to discuss it with me. I’m the

designated male of the Roth clan and just for the record, I don’t know how I feel about those terms.”

“I can throw in a goat and a sack of grain,” Jacob added.
“That was sarcasm. You have touched my sister! And she rubbed off on you.”
“This is not 1815, Adam!” I growled. “Now, since you’re so eager to protect me, why don’t you

come along with us to this address and find out what’s going on.”

“I’m calling Wright and Wong. They’ll make sure that we have protection.”
“Yeah, you better make sure you have protection,” Adam said, and then he paused. “Wait, Wright

and Wong?” he asked with a laugh. Jacob and I ignored him.

***

Fifteen minutes later we were at an address in North Philly on block that looked like Europe after
WWII. I’ll note that I didn’t see any cops cruising in this area. They were probably too scared to
come here. Couldn’t say that I blamed them. There were streetlights here as well, but those that
actually worked, didn’t cast all that much light, and the darkness made the made the hulking forms of
garbage piles and derelict buildings look all the more menacing.

“Nice neighborhood, wonder how the schools are around here,” Adam said. “The wife and I are

thinking about looking for a bigger place.”

“Will you be quiet?” Jacob said. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”
“Because two white dudes in tuxedos and a chick in a ball gown blend in North Philly,” Adam

tossed back. “I wouldn’t worry too much. This area looks abandoned. Actually, it looks post-
apocalyptic.”

“I think that’s the building up there,” I said looking at four story brick building with broken out

windows, covered in graffiti. “I think I like the bloody condo better. Maybe we should go back there
instead.” Jacob slid his arm around me protectively.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Adam asked.
“I was thinking about tossing her down on that pile of garbage over there and having my wicked

way with her,” Jacob replied. There was a moment of tension between the two men and then I saw my
brother slowly smile.

“More sarcasm! Better be careful Sachs, or you just might become an amusing companion and

tolerable human being.” He turned and started toward the building.

“Hang on a minute,” Jacob called after him. “Let me check in with the FBI.”
“Did everyone hear that?” Adam called out. Jacob pulled out his phone and had a quick

conversation with either Wright or Wong.

“They’re in position. We’re not supposed to go inside the building. We just approach and

message Collins when we are in front.”

“Who?” Adam asked, looking confused.

“Trog,” I explained.
“Why don’t we just message him now?”
“Because they said to message him when we’re in front of the building,” Jacob replied. “Right

now, we’re on the sidewalk.”

“The building is like, fifty feet away. What’s the freaking difference?”
“The difference is that the FBI said to message him when we got in front of the building and we’re

not in front of the building yet. I can repeat it for you, but I can’t understand it for you.”

“Oh my God!” I broke in. “Will you two just shut up and keep walking.” I picked up the hem of

my skirt and stalked off toward he building.

“Actually, I’ve reconsidered,” I heard Adam say behind me. “I think that you and my sister make a

great couple. Just please don’t reproduce.”

A couple of minutes later we stood in front of the building and Jacob texted Trog. We waited but

there was no answer. Okay, this was getting really weird. There was some light here, but not as much,
and I was starting to get genuinely freaked out. Then out of a pile of rubble up ahead I heard a shrill
sound and I almost jumped three feet in the air. Someone had dropped a phone. I let out a sigh of
relief.

“Should I answer that?” I asked.
“Well, I know that it’s not for me,” Adam answered. I walked over the rubble and dug until I

found it.

“Hello?” I asked making sure to hit speakerphone.
“Hello there, Ms. Roth,” an electronically altered voice replied.
“Who is this?”
“Oh, you’ll find out shortly; don’t worry.”
“So, it wasn’t really Trog who texted?”
“Yes, it was, the first part anyway. I was the one who sent the second message, which you

obviously didn’t comprehend. Which word threw you, ‘come’ or ‘alone’?”

“You expect me to come to North Philly by myself at night? You must be nuts.”
“Technically, it’s just a personality disorder. Come around to the back and pick up the phone

there when it rings.” The call ended.

“Wright and Wong won’t be able to see us back there. Let me tell them.”
Jacob quickly called the agents and then the three of us walked around to the back of the building.

It was even darker there, and I had to let my eyes adjust. We stood there for about ten seconds and
then a phone started ringing. I searched the darkness for the source of the sound. It was coming from
the top of what looked like a pile of loose rock on the other side of a crater. Yes, there was actually
a crater in North Philly. Jacob started off for it around the rear side of the pit.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Adam called after him.
“I’ll answer this one. That pile it’s sitting on looks unstable.”
“Maybe it’s just a personality disorder,” I quipped, but my humor was wasted on Tweedle Tough

Guy and Tweedle Testosterone.

“If anyone is going to save my sister from unstable piles, it’s me,” Adam announced like some

crazed proctologist. He stalked off toward the phone via the front side of the crater.

“I said I would get it,” Jacob replied, walking faster.
“No need! I’ve got it!” Adam shot back, walking faster still.
“You’re a real piece of work, Roth!” He started to jog.
They both arrived at the phone at the same time and a brief struggle ensued before one of them

must have managed to push the answer button, probably by accident. There was a high-pitched
electronic sound and then a rumbling began. I had seen enough action movies to know that a rumbling
was usually not good.

Both guys froze and a moment later they disappeared, replaced by a cloud of dirt. I looked on in

horror thinking that I might have just watched my beloved little brother and the best kisser I had ever
met die before my eyes. But then I heard Adam’s voice from somewhere down in the pit.

“I should have let you get it.”
I ran up to the edge and looked down. They were both standing up and trying to clear the air of

rock dust. From what I could see, neither one seemed badly hurt; thank God. It wasn’t going to be
easy climbing out of there though. I was just about to tell them that I would try to alert Wright and
Wong when I saw their faces register warning.

I spun around and standing about ten feet away and holding a gun was ... a rather nerdy looking

guy who I didn’t recognize. But Trog was standing next to him, sporting a gag and a lovely pair of
handcuffs.

“I believe that you know Trog. He’s here tonight because Deon asked him to come. You would

think that he would stop showing up for these little rendezvous after the last time. When he did show
up, I let him discover my true identity and text you before I pulled a gun on him.”

“Okay, and who are you exactly?”
“You don’t know?” he asked looking miffed and then walked over to the edge of the pit and

looked down.

“Sachs. It figures that you would be here with the hot girl.”
“Randall?” Jacob asked, looking surprised.
“Yes, Randall Greene. Didn’t think that I was cool enough to be a criminal mastermind, did you?”
“Well...” Jacob shrugged.
“Ha! Looks like I outsmarted you, Pretty Boy.”
“What in hell are you talking about?” Adam yelled up at Greene. “Who are you?” While they

talked, I tried to unobtrusively look around for Wright and Wong, but I couldn’t see very far in the
dark. I just hoped that they had managed to move in closer.

“This is Randall Greene, a federal prosecutor who supposedly went missing a while ago,” Jacob

explained. “Apparently, he’s been trying to hack into our own system and make it look like Abby’s
client over there did it for some reason.”

“You still haven’t figured out why? What is wrong with you people? Well, I suppose that I can

explain it to you, since you won’t be alive to tell anyone.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, panicking.
“You people are nuisances and you already know too much. I’m afraid that I’m going to have to

eliminate you and bury you in this pile of rubble. Nothing personal.”

“You said you would explain to us why you did all this,” I reminded him.” I knew that I had to

buy enough time for the agents to get here. Where was their position anyway, Cleveland?

“Yes, I did, didn’t I? Well, okay. I have a ‘thing’ for our boss, Lynn Davis.”
“A thing?” I asked.
“She’s hot,” he explained. “But she never flirts with me the way she flirts with the pretty boys like

Sachs down there.”

“She flirts with you?” I asked. Why did that bother me?
“We can talk later,” he replied with a smile.
“You’ll probably have some time in the pit before I shoot you,” Randall confirmed helpfully.

“Anyway, you know those rumors that she got her job by questionable means?”

“Yeah,” I answered.
“Well, they’re true. Most people think she slept with someone important but that’s not it. She’s

been helping the Moretti crime family for years.”

“Moretti?” Jacob asked sounding stunned.
“Why do you think she assigned the youngest prosecutor in the office to try the case? Hint, it

wasn’t because she thought you would win. When you did, she almost had a nervous breakdown.
But, Randall was there to rescue his damsel in distress.”

“How was that?” Jacob urged him on.
“If I could hack our databases I could tamper with evidence and make it look like the prosecution

had fixed the trial. Then I could tip off Moretti’s lawyers. But it couldn’t look like an inside job. So I
needed some help.”

“MMMMPPPHH,” Trog said irately.
“Mr. Collins here fit the bill perfectly. I got him to hack into the company that does our data

backup and hacked him and used remote access to gain entry into our databases. By now, the appeal
in the Moretti case has probably already been filed.”

“Why did you bother with disappearing?”
“I had to be completely unavailable when the entry occurred, just in case. I figured it wouldn’t

hurt to cast suspicion on Mr. Collins for that too.”

“What were you going to say later when you reappeared?”
“I would just claim that I had been kidnapped but I escaped.”
“And you did all this so that what, Lynn Davis would owe you?” I asked.
“So she would sleep with me. I mean look at me. I’m a total geek. How else am I supposed to get

hot girls? Besides, I was bored.”

“Dude, I think this might be more than a personality disorder,” Adam noted.
“And now, if you’ll forgive me, it’s getting rather late and this is a dangerous neighborhood, so

I’m going to have to kill you and get home.”

Wright and Wong were still nowhere in sight. The guys were trapped in a pit and Trog was ...

Trog, but he was also handcuffed. It was up to me. I knew what I had to do. For the first time ever, I
was thankful that Barry was my yoga instructor. When Greene turned to grab Trog to throw him into
the pit, I took advantage of his momentary distraction.

Like lightning, I threw my body into Down Dog pose directly behind Greene, causing him to back

into me and lose his balance slightly. As he tried to catch himself, I flipped around and assumed
Balancing Stick pose, jostling his gun arm with my outstretched leg. As Greene’s grip on the gun
loosened, I switched quickly to Extended Triangle and knocked it free with an arm thrust. Greene
tried to scramble for it, but I stopped him with a knee to the groin thanks to Tree pose. He doubled
over in pain just as Wright and Wong came running up accompanied by several Philly police officers
with guns drawn. As Wright ungagged him, I heard Trog get in the final word to “Deon.”

“You might not be a real girl, but you got beaten up by one, Loser!”
Breathlessly I looked down into the pit. Jacob and Adam were just staring silently. Finally Jacob

spoke.

“You beat up a guy, baby. With Yoga.”
“Did you just call my sister ‘baby’?”

Chapter Fifteen

Later that night, Jacob and I sat together on my couch, the same couch where I had fantasized about
him so many times, so let’s just say that despite earlier events, I was still up for some excitement.

“Now, I believe that at one point tonight, you mentioned wanting to date?’
“What I said about ‘just fucking,’ that was a very poor choice of words. I could tell I upset you

but I didn’t really know what to say. You took me by surprise; that’s all. I’m sorry though. The more I
thought about it ...”

“I know we don’t know each other very long, or very well yet, but I just feel like we have natural

rapport and a lot of chemistry, physically but also personality-wise.”

“I agree. But I’m not in the greatest position to be somebody’s romantic partner.”
“I think every couple is different. I wanted to get out of KL because I thought that I was missing

something. When I had free time though, I found that there was nothing much that I actually did with
it. What I really wanted was challenging legal work that had meaning for me, not a bunch of hobbies
or vacation packages, although those are nice too. I’ve discovered lately that I really don’t mind
putting in a lot of hours when I enjoy the work.”

“Well, that’s good, because I work a lot of hours. But I’ve also discovered that I like taking

breaks with you.” He smiled. “Don’t you think it might be hard though, not having much time to spend
together?”

“I think that we would look forward to the times we were together more. And it’s not really such

a bad thing to long for someone a little.” I reached up and traced his bottom lip with my fingertip.

“Longing can be good,” he said with a smile. “But what about the fact that we’re over thirty and

I’m not looking to make serious long-term plans, at least at this point.”

“I’m being completely honest when I say that I really don’t care. I’m living life day-to-day and

enjoying it. I have a fulfilling career. I have friends and I have a supportive family. All that I want is
to develop an intimate connection that’s deeper than just great sex.”

“I think we already have the beginning of one, and I’m glad that you’re optimistic about the quality

of the sex,” he teased.

“Hmm. Maybe I should ask for some supporting evidence.”
“I would be happy to prove my case,” he replied and leaned in to kiss me.
I believe that I may have mentioned this already, but Jacob is, without a doubt, the best kisser I

have ever met. A little later, we discovered we had something else in common. We were both big
fans of Down Dog pose. Thank you Barry, for making me work for it. That muscle control certainly
came in handy. It turned out that my optimism had been well founded, the sex was more than great; it
was sublime. Whatever it was, pheromones or just plain old attraction, the connection between just
felt incredibly intense and when I came, I passed right by the clouds, went through the stratosphere
and achieved orbit. Every time.

Later as I lay in bed, I went over all of it in my head, I had finally met a guy with whom I had

amazing sexual chemistry, similar humor and intelligence and a lifestyle that actually fit with mine
much better than I could have imagined. Who knew that Trog and the Silver Cougars would have
helped me find that?

The End

About the Author

N.M. Silber is an admitted Nerd Girl, proud Jewish mother, practicing attorney, and USA Today
Bestselling author. Her Lawyers in Love series has been called “fast-paced, unbelievably witty,
smart and hilarious,” and her endearing cast of lusty litigators is beloved by readers around the globe.
She was voted an Amazon Readers’ Choice Best New Author of 2013 and has been a #1 Bestselling
author in Romantic Comedy and in Humorous Erotic Fiction there, as well as a Top 100 Bestselling
author at Barnes & Noble. She has stated that her goal is to write books that make people laugh, blush
and genuinely feel good.

Bonus Short Story

Crime & Cake

Public defenders don’t jump out of cakes. It’s a simple fact, but one that Sarah Eisenberg’s best
friend, Chelsea, refuses to accept. A gangster’s birthday party leads to an encounter with the only
prosecutor in Philly who is the best friend of Sarah’s courtroom nemesis and the son of her idol. Why
did he have to be so sexy too?

When Matt Brenner sees a beautiful woman, dressed like Marilyn Monroe, trying to flee a raid,

he’s amused. When she turns out to be a delightful flirt, he’s aroused. When he discovers that she’s
the tough female lawyer, battling on the other side of the courtroom from him, he’s intrigued.

Join Sarah and Matt, along with their friends, two thugs, a Cher impersonator, a German Beer

Garden Girl and a five foot-tall hotdog, in another hot and hilarious tale by N.M. Silber, Crime &
Cake!

Chapter One

“Just give up. You are never going to convince me that jumping out of a cake dressed like Marilyn
Monroe is an act of feminist solidarity,” I said, grabbing handfuls of warm, fresh smelling, clothes out
of the dryer at the Laundromat down the street from my apartment. The heat had steamed up the
windows so much, I couldn’t see if it was still snowing outside. I had a feeling it was, though. The
two blocks home would probably feel like running the Iditarod. I sighed.

My neighbor, Chelsea, gave me an exasperated look, and she could do exasperated. She was a

graduate-level theater arts student, and she could convincingly mimic most emotions. Unfortunately
for her, though, I was a public defender, and I was used to seeing people put on a show. At age
twenty-six, and only one year out of law school, I was already a cynic.

I suspected that the emotion she was really experiencing at the moment was closer to desperation,

but even that, wasn’t enough to make me want to do this for her. Female trial lawyers, who wanted to
be treated with respect by male colleagues, had to be tough. They didn’t jump out of a cake and sing
“Happy Birthday” in breathy, baby-like voices, while batting their fake eyelashes. Sorry, Chelsea.

“I’m telling you, Sarah, you’re looking at it all wrong. Nobody would think you were less

intimidating in a courtroom just because you jumped out of cake. Being sexy is powerful. And we
women have just as much right to own our sexuality as men do.”

“Look, Gloria Steinem, I totally agree with that, and being the owner of my own sexuality, I

choose not to twirl titty tassels for a group of dirty old men.” I used a pair of socks to illustrate my
point.

“Cut that out!” she demanded, trying not laugh. “You know there are no titty tassels involved. Rent

A Star is a class act. We’re celebrity impersonators not strippers.”

“I get that women can be empowered and sexy, but why couldn’t you have been impersonating

Hedy Lamarr? Did you know that she was also a mathematician? She invented a device that jammed
the radio frequency directing enemy torpedoes. It’s true! Look it up. ”

“Because even though she was a celebrated actress, not many people request Hedy Lamarr jump

out of their cake.” She took a deep breath and gave me what I could almost swear was an earnest
look. “Okay, I’ll cut out all the feminist rhetoric. I really need help, Sarah! I don’t know how I
double booked tonight, but if I skip either party, I’ll get fired and I need this job. None of my other
part-time jobs pay as much as the cake gigs.”

“Why do you have so many jobs, Chelsea? Your parents are both doctors. They’ve offered to pay

your tuition. You don’t have to jump out of cakes, or dress up like a German Beer Garden Girl, or
five-foot-tall hotdog, or sling lattes at the Bean, or any of the billion other jobs that you have.”

“Because I want to be independent, and all of these jobs, arguably, are improving my acting

skills. I practice my German accent at the microbrewery, and I play different celebrities at the cake
gigs. I meet all kinds of people at the Bean. They’re like character studies. Okay, maybe handing out
flyers for Weiner World isn’t so useful ...”

“What if someone recognized me?” I asked, getting back to the topic at hand. “I would be so

embarrassed.” I looked around, hoping nobody who worked in the criminal bar was overhearing this
conversation. Here in Philadelphia, the Defender Association and the District Attorney’s Office were
both so large, that I didn’t even know what every one of my fellow lawyers looked like.

“You would be in costume. You have dark brown hair and you dress conservatively for court. I

would put you in a blonde wig, and I have a tight red sequined gown and stilettos.” She tilted her
head to the side and gave me an appraising look. “I could also do a dramatic make-up, porcelain skin,

smoky eyes, and blood red lips.” She looked far too excited about this for my comfort.

“Oh God.” I grimaced up at the ceiling, starting to feel panicky. Why did I have a feeling that I

wasn’t getting out of this?

“Okay, I have no choice. I’m sorry, but you drove me to this,” she said sternly, placing her hands

on her hips and looking me straight in the eye. “Two words. Bug Boy.”

“Oh come on,” I said with a defensive laugh. She wasn’t going to play that card. She really must

be desperate. “That was months ago!”

“Sarah, I rescued you from a guy with an insect collection. He talked to me about it all night. I

totally took one for the team.” Okay, she had me. I sighed again and rolled my eyes, pulling the
drawstring of my laundry bag tight and hefting it over my shoulder.

“Fine. But we are officially even. I never want to hear mention of Bug Boy again.” With that, I

headed for the door and the blizzard outside.

***

I stared in the full-length mirror in Chelsea’s bedroom later that evening, feeling a little stunned by the
image staring back at me. Sarah Eisenberg, Esquire, with her sensible knee-length suit skirts, and
sturdy pumps, had completely vanished. In her place, stood a sex goddess from another era. Chelsea
had been right, nobody who knew me in my day-to-day life would recognize me like this.

The tight gown hugged my curves and shimmered in the lights. It had a deep décolletage that

nicely framed my 36 C’s, and a slit up the side that offered a teasing glimpse of one stocking-clad leg,
complete with garter. The red satin heels I wore had ankle straps, and so that gam looked sexy from
top to bottom, if I may say so myself.

Even more shocking, though, was what was above the shoulders. With the fake eyelashes, the

blonde wig, and the heavy make-up, I really could pass for Marilyn Monroe, or at least a good
Marilyn Monroe impersonator.

Even though it was a very “obvious” look, I had to admit, I felt drop-dead sexy, and yes, weirdly

powerful. “Powerful” was usually something I felt in a courtroom when I knew my case cold, not
something I thought I would feel dressed like a vamp. But then, I had never really dressed like a vamp
before.

I turned and looked over my shoulder at the shape of my bottom through the shimmery fabric. Even

though I felt sexy, I still felt a little embarrassed too. This dress was so tight, that I might as well have
been naked.

“You look amazing!” Chelsea gushed, looking like she was about to get all misty-eyed. She

clasped her hands together in front of her mouth and looked truly overwhelmed. I had a feeling she
wasn’t acting. “You’re stunning.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.” I still wasn’t quite sure about this. At least there were no tassels. I just

had to pop up and sing Happy Birthday. That was it, and then I was done. I didn’t have to sit on the
old guy’s lap, or run my fingers through his comb-over, or kiss him or anything. In fact, the rules were
that we weren’t allowed to touch the clients, and vice versa, thank God. Wait a minute. “We?” Oh
man! “This isn’t your wacky job Sarah,” I reminded myself irritably.

“Okay, sing it through once. Pretend you’re at summer camp.”
“Yeah, singing Happy Birthday to a strange old guy is just like singing Blowin’ in the Wind at

Camp Ramah in the Poconos,” I replied dryly and cleared my throat. At least I could carry a tune. My
voice was decent, if nothing to write home about. I sang one chorus of the song and looked at Chelsea.

She didn’t look very thrilled. “What? That was on key,” I said defensively.

“I wasn’t serious about summer camp.”
“What does that mean? What was wrong with that?”
“You sounded ... wholesome, more like Marie Osmond than Marilyn Monroe. Don’t you

remember how Marilyn sang Happy Birthday to JFK?”

She took a deep breath and suddenly, she looked different, the way she stood, the way she smiled,

it was like she was channeling the former bombshell. Chelsea really was good. Then she began
signing in a breathy voice that sounded like sex. I had to admit it was mesmerizing. She let the last
note float out and linger like a caress, and when she was done, she flashed me a bright smile and she
was herself again. Wow. I almost applauded.

“You should totally be doing this, Chelsea. I can’t do that like you can. The only time I ever

perform in public is when I’m telling some half-assed story, that my client swears is true, to a jury.
I’m just not good at kittenish. I’m more like an angry lioness.”

“You can too do it, Sarah. I’ve seen you be very sexy, when you’re relaxed and not overthinking

everything. Look, if you can’t pretend you’re Marilyn, pretend you’re me doing Marilyn.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, and fidgeted for a minute, thinking about her suggestion. I did know

Chelsea really well. So, couldn’t I imitate her? Maybe I could. I tried to focus and center myself the
way she did when she was about to assume a character. I pictured how she stood, and walked, and
spoke ...

“Hhhhappy birth ...day, to you ...” I began, almost not recognizing my own voice. “Hhhappy

birthday to ... you. Hhhappy birthday, Mr. Dirty Old Guy. Happy Birthday to .... you.” I paused, and
looked at Chelsea, quirking an eyebrow questioningly. She was silent for a beat, and then she let out a
huge “squee” and came running over to hug me. I took that as a sign of approval.

Chapter Two

“Um, excuse me.” I tried to flag down a passing caterer’s assistant but he ignored me and rushed on
by. “Excuse me.” I tried again with another, but the result was the same. Okay, no more Mr. Nice
Guy. “Hey! MARILYN MONROE HAS ENTERED THE BUILDING! I’m the cake girl! Who do I
talk to here?” I yelled out in a no-nonsense voice. Finally, someone paused.

“Peter!” an assistant yelled to someone in the distance. “Marilyn Monroe wants to talk to you.” A

tall, gaunt looking man in a black turtleneck and trousers glanced over at me and then, looking put out,
headed in my direction. Geez, I hoped I wasn’t troubling him.

“You’re Ms. Davis, from Rent A Star?” he asked as he approached. Chelsea and I had agreed that

it would be better for both of us if I used her name that evening, just in case her boss ever checked, or
anyone asked who I was. I wasn’t even carrying identification on me. So, if they found me floating in
the Delaware River later, I could be a woman of mystery.

“Yes.”
“Come this way,” he said and hurried off toward what looked like a storeroom at the back of the

bustling hotel kitchen. As we passed through the door, I saw an enormous Paper Mache replica of a
cake with a small stepladder leaning against it. “The party is already well underway. The guest of
honor, Mr. Anthony DiLaurento, is celebrating his 85

birthday with his ... family. Mr. DiLaurento is

a very powerful ... businessman in South Philadelphia, and they want him to be happy. He’s got a
thing for Marilyn Monroe.”

The dirty old man was Anthony DiLaurento? Oh, great! This was a nightmare. Please God, don’t

let me get caught jumping out of a cake at a party for a mafia capo. This more than made up for Bug
Boy. Chelsea now owed me as far as I was concerned.

“How will I know when to jump out?”
“Haven’t you done this before?” he asked giving me a dubious look. “You’ll hear someone say

the word ‘surprise!’ You jump up then. There will be a microphone stand right next to the cake. He’ll
pass it to you and you’ll sing your song.”

“Okay, I jump up and sing my song and then?”
“And then we’ll help you out, and you’ll give this cigar to Mr. DiLaurento,” he said handing me a

Habano. I guess the fact that Cubans were illegal wasn’t a really big deal to the DiLaurento family.
“Then you’ll exit, return back here; I’ll pay you and you’ll be on your way.”

“Gotcha,” I said, swallowing nervously and popping the cigar into the clutch bag that Chelsea had

leant me. I took a deep breath and pictured her. She wouldn’t be nervous. She would be ready to put
on a show, and impatient to get out of here. “I am Chelsea,” I said quietly.

“You told me that already,” Peter the caterer said, sounding annoyed. “Now let’s get you into that

cake.”

He took my arm and led me over to the stepladder, helping me to keep my balance as I sat on the

edge of the enormous paper pastry and swung first one leg, and then the other, inside. Hopping down,
I stood looking out. There was no seat in there, so apparently, I would have to squat. Luckily, thanks
to the slit up the side, I could just pull that off in this dress. I crouched down as he covered the top
with some cheesecloth. This was really uncomfortable; I hoped I wouldn’t have to be in there long.

It was only a few minutes, but it was long enough, as it turned out. By the time I felt someone start

rolling the cake out of the storeroom, my legs had started to lose circulation and get numb. I could
hear laughter and boisterous voices all around me. It sounded like quite a party. I hoped that I

wouldn’t miss my cue. There was the sound of feedback, and a microphone crackle, and then a voice
with a heavy Philly accent boomed out, and the cake came to stop near it.

“Yo, everybody listen up! This is a very special night here! Uncle Antony is turnin’ 85. Now, he

remembers the days when Frankie and Dino and the rest of that gang, used to put on a show, and he
was a big fan of a certain blonde back in that time too. And so, we put together this surprise!”

That was it! My cue! But when I tried to stand, my legs wouldn’t cooperate. Shit! They had gone

completely numb, and I couldn’t move. To my confusion, though, it sounded like the crowd was
reacting to something. I reached up to the edge of the cake, and shoving the cheesecloth out of the
way, I grabbed on and used my arms to haul myself up. I was finally thankful for all those damned
bicep curls.

As my eyes peeked over the rim of the cake, I saw a scene of chaos unfolding before me. People

were running and knocking over chairs everywhere. Dinnerware was smashing on the ground. What in
the hell was going on? And then I heard it, the word that struck terror into my heart – “Raid!” The
party was being raided! Fuck! I had to get out of there, but my legs were just starting to tingle with
circulation again, and they were not going to support my effort to scale the side of a giant cake. I
looked around frantically, and saw the microphone stand to my immediate left. Pulling myself up
further, and reaching out as far as I could, I just managed to grab it, and pull it over to me. Holding it
firmly, while leaning against the side of the cake, I did the only I could do ... I rowed.

Planting the microphone stand on the floor, I pushed with all my might, forcing the wheels beneath

the cake to turn. Slowly, I began rowing my way off the dance floor and toward a door. Freedom was
in sight, when it all came to an end, as a stream of uniformed police officers came charging through
the very portal that I had been aiming at. They grabbed DiLaurento family members all around me
and began cuffing them and reading them their rights. I looked up, and saw that the doorway was
clear again; I had one last chance.

With every ounce of strength I had, I hauled myself on my “pins and needles” wracked legs over

the side of the cake and dropped to the ground with a thud. I landed badly, though, and twisted my
ankle. Wincing, I staggered toward the door, looking like a mummy from a 1950’s B horror movie. I
had almost made it once again, when a lone figure entered, saw me, gave me a curious look ... and
then checked me out.

Looking down, I saw my boobs working harder to escape my bodice, than I had worked to escape

the cake. I stood upright, causing a bolt of white-hot pain to shoot to my ankle, but I squared my
shoulders for battle anyway. After all, I was a Philadelphia public defender, and I was facing a
Philadelphia Assistant District Attorney. We had never formally met, but I had seen him at court
before. Facing me was Matt Brenner, hot and sexy Matt Brenner, to be specific. Clearly, I had been
born under a cloud.

“Well, hello there Norma Jean,” he said with cocky grin. “Leaving so soon?”

***

I sat in his office while he took numerous phone calls. At least some of them were probably
confirming that Chelsea Davis was an innocent employee of Rent A Star, and not in any way affiliated
with the DiLaurento crime family.

It was a typical government attorney’s office, fluorescent lights, iron desk and filing cabinets

circa World War II, but he also had some nice looking leather-bound volumes on his bookshelf,
mostly the usual legal tomes, but then my eyes rested on the spine of Harper Lee’s To Kill a

Mockingbird. Hmm.

My eyes moved to his wall. He had a college degree from the University of Chicago and a law

degree from NYU, a definite urban dweller. I wondered what he would make of rural Venango
County, PA where I had grown up, famous for great deer hunting and not much else.

He laughed at something someone on the other end of the phone said. It was a deep, rich sound

that drew my attention back to him. I noted that when his face lit up with laughter, he was transformed
from merely handsome, to devastatingly attractive. He had dark brown hair with just a hint of curl,
and striking hazel eyes. He was also tall and well built, and had a very sexy smile. Yum.

He glanced up at me and my eyes darted away to his wall again. Luckily, just as I was getting too

interested in how hot Mr. Brenner was, two framed photos on his wall brought me back to reality.
The first was a picture of him and some of his friends and fellow prosecutors, including Kevin
Nicholas.

Mr. Nicholas, (lawyers referred to each other formally in court), was assigned to the same

courtroom that I was, and he and I were constantly battling. Sometimes I suspected that he enjoyed
pushing my buttons and trying to make me explode. But then, I also took pleasure in denying him. Our
daily courtroom cage matches had become a source of entertainment for several members of the staff.
If Mr. Nicholas ever found out that I jumped out of a cake dressed as Marilyn Monroe, he would gloat
until the end of time. I would never live it down.

The other photo was of him and an attractive middle-aged woman with the same striking hazel

eyes, his mom, who also happened to be the Federal Public Defender out in Pittsburgh. Shelly
Brenner was brilliant and tough and highly respected. And here sat her youngest son, Matthew, with
Marilyn the cake girl. I sighed. There were hundreds of prosecutors in this office, but I had somehow
managed to get busted by the one who I not only found attractive, but who happened to be the best
friend of my arch enemy, and the son of my idol.

He finally hung up the phone and spun around to look at me. His eyes dropped to my cleavage for

a second, but he quickly dragged them back up to meet mine. Leaning back in his chair, he tugged on
his tie to loosen it, and cleared his throat.

“So Ms. Davis, it looks like you check out. You are, in fact, employed by Rent A Star.” He knit

his brows as he looked at a paper that he held. “As well, it seems, as various other establishments,
the Penn Bavarian Microbrewery, for example.”

“Beer Garden Girl,” I replied.
“The Coffee Bean,” he continued.
“Barista.”
“Wiener World?”
“I hand out flyers ... dressed as a hot dog,” I noted. He looked up and I saw him fighting back

laughter.

“Why so many jobs?” he asked in a slightly strained voice.
“I’m a graduate student in theater arts, and I need to pay my tuition and the cost of living in the

city. Besides, these jobs are kind of like acting,” I added, using Chelsea’s explanation.

“For when you play a meat product on Broadway?” he asked and I bit my lip so that I wouldn’t

laugh.

“Haven’t you ever heard of Spamalot?” I asked with a smile. He smiled back and we shared a

moment. My pulse sped up so quickly I felt a little dizzy.

“Touché,” he said finally, glancing back down at his paper.
“So, do you jump out of cakes often?” he asked without looking up.

“Is that a line?” I asked, surprising myself by how flirtatious I sounded. What was I doing? This

outfit was clearly having an effect on me. Or maybe it was just Mr. Brenner. I saw him smile again.
He was enjoying himself.

“I was just going to advise you to carry ID with you when you do them. Actually, that’s a good

idea in general. You never know.” I had to hand it to him; he was very professional.

“So I’m not being charged with anything?”
“No, even though you did have a contraband cigar in your purse.”
“That wasn’t mine!” I laughed. “I was supposed to hand that to the Birthday Boy, Mr.

DiLaurento.”

“What, you don’t enjoy a good Cuban?” he teased.
“Only if he’s a good dancer too,” I teased back, wiggling my eyebrows and Mr. Brenner looked

positively delighted. He stared at me silently for a beat, like he was making up his mind about
something.

“Well, I don’t have any excuse to hold you,” he said finally, sounding like he regretted it.
“Why? Did you want to hold me?” I asked with a coquettish wink. Stop it now Sarah! He looked

surprised, but then I saw his eyes darken and I realized that I had better get out of there, before I did
anything I would regret later.

I stood quickly and tested my weight on my ankle. It felt much better. So I turned and tossed a

“See you around, sailor” over my shoulder on my way out the door. I was halfway down the block
when I realized I left my clutch purse back in his office. There wasn’t much in it, just a comb, some
lipstick ... and my cab fair. Shit. I pulled my coat around myself tightly, put my head down against the
biting December wind, and walked the fifteen blocks home. By the time I got there, my ankle was
swollen again and parts of me had frozen over.

Chapter Three

Monday morning I found myself back in court, once again, Sarah Eisenberg, public defender, the only
remnant of my Saturday night blonde bombshell persona, a limp. My courtroom partner, Jill Hughes,
came bustling in with a stack of files and a paper cup of coffee the size of a water tower.

“Hey, how was your weekend?” she asked, quickly setting up.
“Uneventful,” I lied.
“Well, I hope you got lots of rest. The DA changed things up on us, and assigned Mr. Nicholas’s

buddy to fight on the side of truth and justice with him. So, now we have two pretty boy prosecutors
to deal with.”

“His buddy?” I asked, a feeling of dread slowly settling over me.
“Matt Brenner. You know, Shelly Brenner’s son. I hear he’s good, and I have a feeling that with

him here Mr. Nicholas will be even cockier than usual.”

“Great,” I croaked.
“I’ll be right back. My husband has to take both kids to the pediatrician this morning and he’s in a

state of panic. I need to go try to talk him in.”

As she left I sat down numbly, listening to the sound of my heartbeat and the blood rushing in my

ears. Get a grip, Sarah. What’s wrong with you? Even if he recognizes you, which he won’t, who
cares? He acted like a professional the other night and he will again. But he would probably tell Mr.
Nicholas, who would positively revel in the idea of me jumping out of a cake. Maybe I could get
assigned to appeals.

“All rise!” the court clerk came out from the judge’s chambers and everyone quickly stood up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two tall dark haired figures wheel in brief cases, and quickly
assume their places at the prosecution table. Jill rushed back to stand beside me again. “The Court of
Common Pleas of Philadelphia, Criminal Division, is now in session, the Honorable Judge Randall
Jefferson presiding, all those with matters before the court come forward and ye shall be heard.”

“Be seated. Counsel enter your appearance,” Judge Jefferson announced, sounding tired as usual.

I heard a familiar deep voice and my heart sped up even more.

“Matt Brenner for the Commonwealth, Your Honor.”
“Kevin Nicholas for the Commonwealth.”
“Jill Hughes from the Defender Association.” And then it was my turn. I steeled my nerves and

spoke out in a firm voice; only vaguely similar to the flirty one Mr. Brenner had heard on Saturday
night.

“Sarah Eisenberg from the Defender Association.” In my peripheral vision, I could see Mr.

Brenner turn to look in my direction, but I continued to stare straight ahead.

“Call the first case,” the judge instructed.
“Commonwealth v. Clancy,” the clerk called out. It was Jill’s case and I exhaled.
“Is the Commonwealth ready to proceed?” the judge asked.
“We are, Your Honor,” Mr. Brenner answered.
Somehow, I managed to focus and psych myself up into my “zone.” I hobbled over to Mr.

Nicholas with a determined look.

“Wild weekend?” he asked glancing down at my foot.
“Make me an offer,” I demanded.
“What did you have in mind?” he asked with a lascivious note in his voice.
“Probation,” I answered, ignoring it.

“Are you kidding me? Your client is charged with a felony, Counselor.”
“Yes, I was informed,” I answered dryly. “But it’s a non-violent felony and she has no prior

criminal record.”

“It’s still a felony. She stole an innocent citizen’s credit card number and used it to buy things

like,” he consulted a list, “radial tires, Pepperidge Farms Gift Baskets, and oh, what’s this, $500
worth of adult toys at the Pleasure Chest. Well, someone is going to have happy holidays.” I knew
then, that it was going to be a long day.

We wound up having a non-jury trial. As usual, Mr. Nicholas and I engaged in a battle royal that

included me trying to minimize the gravity of the situation, and Mr. Nicholas listing, in detail, every
single naughty purchase my client made with a stolen credit card number. I was so wrapped up in my
fight that I temporarily forgot about Mr. Brenner, but when the dust had finally settled, I glanced up
and saw him watching me intently. I froze for a second and our gazes locked. He knew. Then it
dawned on me, the limp, of course. I looked away, not sure what to do. It was hardly earth shattering
that he knew, but still, it was embarrassing. I had been so flirty. Good lord, I asked him if he wanted
to hold me. I wanted to hide.

Somehow, I made it through the rest of the court session. As people filed out of the courtroom, I

saw Mr. Brenner say something to Mr. Nicholas, who glanced in my direction and gave his friend a
baffled look but left without him. I continued packing up my files and trying to seem nonchalant.

“Hello Norma Jean, or should I call you Chelsea?” he asked leaning against the defense table

beside me. I stopped packing and made myself look him in the eye.

“Chelsea is my neighbor, and she’s a good friend of mine. She really is a theater major, and she

needed my help. I would have told you who I was, but I was afraid it would impact on my actual
job.” I saw his expression soften for a moment, before the cocky prosecutor mask fell back into
place.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not going to go easy on you just because you look great

in red sequins.”

“Give me all you’ve got, Counselor, because I can take it,” I said with a note of challenge. Even

though I had been embarrassed thinking about how I had flirted before, I was flirting with him now,
and I didn’t care. It seemed that I lost my inhibitions, and possibly my good sense, when I got close to
him. There was some sizzling chemistry between us and we both knew it.

“I plan to find out,” he said in a quiet voice, his eyes darkening like they had that night in his

office. It was getting a little hot in here, and I needed to change the subject.

“I suppose there’s no chance that you won’t tell Mr. Nicholas how we met, huh?”
“None at all.” He laughed. “I can’t deny him that. You kick his ass on a regular basis. I’ve heard

stories about you.”

“I don’t doubt it. I know he calls me Ms. Iceberg behind my back by the way.”
“You know about that?” He had the grace to be embarrassed on his friend’s behalf.
“It’s okay. I call him Mr. Dickless.” That made him laugh harder.
“Well, you don’t seem at all like an iceberg to me. See you in court Norma Jean.”
“See you around sailor,” I said with a wink. I watched him walk down the aisle still laughing and

shaking his head. As the courtroom door closed behind him, I collapsed into a chair, closed my eyes
and grinned a huge silly grin.

***

The next day I was fully prepared for Mr. Nicholas to torture me mercilessly. To my surprise, though,
he seemed rather conflicted. I must have caught him scrutinizing me a dozen times. I assumed that he
was trying to picture me as Marilyn Monroe. It’s not that I was unattractive. I’m sure that even he
would admit that. It’s just that I was such a ballbuster in court. I had a feeling that Mr. Brenner had
told him that he thought I was sexy, and Mr. Nicholas was trying wrap his head around that.

It didn’t stop him from being his usual charming self of course, and the two of us wound up going

several rounds. In a strange way, I was gratified to see that he wasn’t treating me any differently. I
was starting to realize that I had been worried about nothing. Chelsea was right. I did overthink
things. I couldn’t help but notice that no matter what he was doing, Mr. Brenner always seemed to try
to stop and watch when Mr. Nicholas and I were engaged in battle. I watched him too, though. There
was some kind of pull between us and it was hard to resist.

That pattern continued throughout the week with one minor change on Friday. That day Mr.

Brenner and I faced each other on a case for the first time. It was just a preliminary hearing, not a
trial, so normally there wouldn’t have been much arguing. Somehow, though, the two of us wound up
toe-to-toe in front of the judge tossing case law at each other fast and furiously. It felt passionate with
him, though, rather than aggressive like it did with Mr. Nicholas. When I thought about it later, I
realized that it didn’t take Freud to figure out that we were substituting a courtroom battle for sex. I
wondered how long it would be before one of us broke down and acted on our obvious mutual
attraction.

Chapter Four

The answer was, several weeks. Mr. Brenner and I began facing each other on more and more cases,
and I started to suspect that he was trading with Mr. Nicholas so that we would be up against one
another, so to speak. Our battles were becoming more passionate, and our growing desire, more
thinly veiled. At times I felt dizzy with adrenaline, and I could almost smell the testosterone on him.
One of us would have to do something soon, or we might just fuck each other right there in the middle
of the courtroom one day.

Finally, one Tuesday in mid-January it happened. We had been battling fiercely all morning, and

my pulse was racing. Court had adjourned and everyone had left the courtroom but Mr. Brenner and
me, who were still arguing.

“Would it be so hard for you to cut me a break for once?” I asked, looking into his flashing eyes,

the color of a thunderstorm.

“I did cut you a break once. Not only were you in possession of contraband, you signed your

neighbor’s name on an official police report. I could have filed charges.” It was the first time he had
brought up anything personal in over a month. I decided to test the waters a little and see if it was
significant.

“You still could,” I said quietly. “Are you going to charge me?” I knew that the look I was giving

him telegraphed my desire. At that point, I had accepted the fact that I wanted Mr. Brenner, and if he
showed me that he wanted to go there, I would go.

“Not if you’ll go out to dinner with me on Friday night.” He gave me a look that hit me right

between the legs.

“Counselor, I do believe that may constitute prosecutorial misconduct,” I teased.
“Only if you dance well too,” he said with a sexy smile. “Now give me your phone number

Norma Jean.”

***

Wednesday was a busy day in court. Mr. Brenner and I locked horns in a check fraud case, that as
usual, seemed to leave both of us feeling like we should smoke a cigarette or something. When the
court session was done that day he came over to talk to me.

“Let’s have a conference.”
“About what?” I asked.
“Come on,” he said without answering.
“Do I need my ...”
“No.” He put his hand on the small of my back to urge me along. While that would have annoyed

me if someone else had done it, Mr. Brenner’s touch created a much different reaction. He led me up
behind the jury box into the deliberation room and closed the door. Then he turned and took a step
toward me.

“Yes?” I asked, swallowing, excruciatingly aware of how close he was to me.
“I can’t wait until Friday,” he said simply.
I moved at the same second he did, throwing my arms around his neck as he grabbed my bottom

and pulled me against him. And then we were kissing, and kissing, and kissing. Oh my God, were we
kissing! We groaned into each other’s mouths as our tongues tangled together hungrily. He tasted
minty and smelled spicy. It was an intoxicating combination that set all of my nerves tingling.

Our hands roamed over one another’s bodies and I arched and ground against him. I needed to be

pressed against him. I felt like I couldn’t get close enough, and the ache in my pussy reminded me that
we could still get much closer than this. I wasn’t the only who was aware of that fact. I could feel
how hard he was and sensed that he was close to losing control. I just wasn’t sure that I cared if he
did. Finally, he broke our kiss, breathing heavily.

“Sarah, if we don’t stop, I’m going to fuck you right here on the jury table. We shouldn’t take that

kind of chance.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said in a hoarse voice. “Bad career move. You have anything scheduled

this afternoon?”

“Nothing I can’t postpone.”
“I’m feeling kind of ill. I might have to take half a sick day,” I said pulling out my cell phone from

my pocket.

“Must be going around,” he said, pulling out his. Ten minutes later, we were in his car, headed for

his apartment. I turned to him, any feelings of awkwardness trumped by naked lust.

“So, I should mention that I am healthy, and get tested regularly, and my partners have always

used condoms, unless we were having a monogamous relationship. I am on the Pill too, though.”

“I’m healthy, and tested regularly, and I always use a condom, unless I’m involved in a

monogamous relationship,” he replied. There was moment of silence and then he added hesitantly,
“You know, this might sound crazy...”

“I’m good with monogamy. We’ll get to know each other better over time,” I cut in and he

groaned and sped up. Five minutes later, he was inserting the key into his apartment door as I
fidgeted, yearning for him to insert himself into me.

We were barely inside before our tongues wrapped together again, while we tried valiantly to

undress each other. Jesus, lawyers wore a lot of clothes. Finally, in frustration I stepped back, and
practically ripped off my blouse. He freed himself of his tie and undid what buttons were left on his
shirt, as I shimmied out of my skirt and managed to escape my pantyhose. Note to self: start wearing
thigh highs.

We finished undressing at almost exactly the same time, and paused to take in the view. His body

was hard ... all over. He had great muscles, a flat belly, and oh wow. Thank you God. He seemed
pleased with what he saw too, and I also thanked my gym.

“Sarah,” he said in a low husky voice.
“Give me a tour. Let’s start with the bedroom.” I panted. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to a

door off to the right. Hitting a switch on the way, a dim bedside light came on. That’s all I noticed. I
would check out the décor later. At the moment I had other things on my mind.

He yanked back the duvet and turned to give me a look that sent me sailing across the room and

into his bed. Hey, don’t judge; I was owning my own sexuality. Gloria Steinem would be proud of
me. He quickly joined me and pressed that wonderfully, warm hard body against mine, kissing me
feverishly again. Then he moved his mouth to suck lightly on my neck, and then lower still, to suck on
my painfully hard nipples. I arched and bucked and made a lot of noise, gasping, moaning, pleading,
demanding ... As he moved further south he paused.

“Ever since I met you, I’ve been fantasizing about whipped cream. I think it was the cake thing.”
“Later,” I answered breathlessly. “That can be dessert, but right now. I just need you to fuck me.”

He groaned, rose and crawled up over me, lifting one of my legs and resting it on his shoulder.
Bracing his hands on either side of me, he positioned his hips and I reached down to guide him to my
entrance.

“Oh God, Sarah,” he said thickly, and then his cock slid into me and he got the most incredible

look of pleasure on his face as he bit out one word, “Fuuuuck!”

“Yes, so good!” I moaned, writhing under him. He was so big and hard and he satisfied the empty

ache. He began rolling his hips in a steady rhythm, groaning and swearing. I liked that he was a noisy
lover. I could hear how good I was making him feel. He was looking totally out of it, staring in
fascination at my breasts bouncing up and down as he pumped into me again and again. Craving
release, I reached down and began rubbing my clit. That got his attention.

“Oh yeah, Sarah. So sexy.” He changed his angle and deepened his thrusts, making me moan

louder.

“Yes, please! Matt! Oh God I’m going to come!”
“Yes, come on baby. I’m right there with you,” he ground out, thrusting harder and faster, his face

flushed and beautiful.

I was aware of everything, our damp skin sliding together, the sounds of our breathing and our

groans, the smell of sweat and sex, and most of all, the pressure building between my legs. I let
myself get lost in it as he pushed me closer to the edge with every stroke. And then I was there, and
there was that second, the one just before you lose control, delicious. Suddenly, I went over the edge;
my stomach dropped, my pussy clenched and my body went rigid. At that moment, Matt thrust deeply
one last time and held himself still against me.

“Oh God! Sarah!” he called out and shook, letting go deep inside me as my muscles continued to

contract around him. Then he collapsed on top of me and we held each other still groaning and
panting together.

***

An hour, and another round in the shower later, I sat dressed in an NYU t-shirt that almost reached my
knees. Matt sat in a Philadelphia Eagles t-shirt and sweats, doling out the Chinese food we were
having for either a late lunch or an early dinner.

“So, we’re dating, exclusively, wow,” he said, looking thoughtful but happy.
“You’re sure that...”
“Yeah!” he broke in. “Even though we don’t know each other well yet, it feels, okay. More than

okay. It feels right.”

“I do know a little about you. From court, I know that you’re smart, and professional, and fair.”
“Thanks, and I know the same things about you. Plus, I know that you’re very passionate, in the

courtroom and in the bedroom.” He smiled.

“Ditto. I know that you have dubious taste in friends, though,” I teased.
“So do you; at least Kevin doesn’t dress like a hotdog or jump out of cakes.”
“Touché.” I smiled. “I know who your mom is, and that she’s amazing.”
“Yeah, she is,” he said with a proud-looking smile. “My dad’s okay too.” He laughed. “He’s a

cardiologist. What do your parents do?”

“My mom is an English teacher ... and my dad is the District Attorney of Venango County,” I

admitted with a smile.

“No way!” He laughed again. “So my mom is the Federal PD out in Pittsburgh, and your dad is the

DA in Venango. There’s something almost poetic about that.”

We talked for a while longer about our families and where we grew up and then conversation

turned back to our friends.

“So, Mr. Nicholas ...”
“You’ll have to call him Kevin if we’re dating.”
“Kevin, and I have never exactly been besties. Is it going to be really weird for him? He seemed

very conflicted about finding out I was the cake girl.”

“He’ll get over it. What’s the real Chelsea like? If he met someone too, he would be too

distracted to care.”

“Sacrifice Chelsea to Mr. Ni ... Kevin. I don’t know.”
“He’s not that bad.” He laughed. “He’s just like you, tough in court, but nicer outside the

courtroom. This may be hard for you to believe, but he treats women well.”

“Well, if you’re serious, she’s not seeing anyone, and I would love to see her have a reason to not
work all those wacky jobs. Her parents are always offering to pay her tuition, and she could get
easily a job in the theater department at her school.”

“So why does she do it?”
“She says it’s acting experience, but I think she’s just bored.”
“Is she as beautiful and as smart as you are?” he asked giving me a flirty smile. I must confess,

part of me melted.

“She’s very intelligent and very good looking. She has blonde hair and blue eyes, though. I’m sure

he would find her attractive.”

“Well, let’s double date then on Friday, but let’s spend the rest of tonight alone together. I want

more time to get to know you, and I want to sleep with you.” Okay, I’ll admit it, when he said that, the
rest of me melted.

We talked for hours, learning more and more about each other as the night wore on. Eventually,

we did sleep though, happily entwined. And the next day in court, while we still battled passionately,
there was notably less edginess to it.

Chapter Five

It was much easier to talk Chelsea into a blind date with a handsome young lawyer than it was for her
to get coverage for her multitude of jobs on Friday night. She sat having coffee with me Friday
morning, going through the plan.

“Okay, Tara is going to work a double at the Penn Bavarian to cover me, and in exchange, I’m

going to give her, and her roommate, Lisa, who’s working at Weiner World, a ride in. My friend
Jerome is going to cover my cake gig.”

“Someone named Jerome is going to play Marilyn Monroe?”
“Cher.”
“Ah.”
“So, I’ll get all ready to go, and then just drop them off and come back here in time for the guys to

arrive.” She gave me the same huge grin she had been giving me since Tuesday night. “I’m so happy
for you. I knew from the moment he busted you it was meant to be.”

“That’s something you don’t hear everyday. Now, look, I know that I’ve said some things about

Kevin in the past ...”

“Oh, I figured he probably wasn’t as bad as you thought. I mean I’ve watched you in court and

you’re nasty, but you’re a sweetie pie otherwise.”

“Thanks.”
“Welcome.” She smiled. Of course, nothing went as planned.
Matt and Kevin were supposed to arrive at six, and at quarter of, Chelsea was herding Tara,

dressed like a Beer Garden Girl, her roommate Lisa, dressed like a hotdog, and six foot two inch
Jerome, dressed like Cher, and looking fabulous I might add, out the door. I hoped they had a bigger
cake for him than the one I had. Not knowing what to do with myself, I waited, fidgeting. Kevin and I
had never interacted socially. And this was the first time I had been dressed up for a normal date with
Matt.

I did feel great in this outfit, though. It was my favorite black knit dress and it hugged my curves,

but in a much more sophisticated way than the red sequined number. Paired with my tall black boots
... and thigh highs, I felt sexy. A moment later there was a knock on the door and I went over to look
through the peephole. Matt and Kevin stood there. They were a few minutes early, but they looked
great. I swung the door open with a smile, invited them in, and took their coats. There was a moment
of awkward silence, as Kevin and I stared at each other, until Matt elbowed him.

“Hi! Ms. uh, Sarah,” he said with an uncomfortable looking smile.
“Hello Mr. Kevin,” I said dryly and he actually laughed, which seemed to break the tension.

“Chelsea will be right back. She just had to run some people to work, but it’s close by.”

A moment later, there was another knock, and I assumed it was her, so I just opened the door

without checking the peephole. It wasn’t Chelsea though. It was two guys I didn’t know. Before I
could inform them that they must have the wrong apartment, they shoved their way in and one pulled
out a gun! Matt immediately pulled me toward him, and he and Kevin stepped in front of me, but I
squirmed out. It was my apartment these thugs were invading after all. I wanted to see what was going
on.

“Where’s the cigar?” Thug One asked.
“What are you talking about?” I asked angrily, as Matt did his best to stand between the gun and

me.

“Don’t play games,” Thug Two chimed in. “The cigar you were supposed to give Mr.

DiLaurento.”

“That was a month ago,” I pointed it out. “It took you this long?”
“It was the holidays!” Thug One said defensively. Just then the door flew open and Chelsea came

barreling in.

“I left my purse here! I need my driver’s license,” she explained, pausing to look up. Seeing Matt

with his arm around me, and Kevin next to him, she smiled. “Hi. I’m Chelsea.”

“Hi, I’m Kevin,” Kevin said with a flirtatious smile.
“Hey! We’re trying to conduct business here,” Thug Two complained. Chelsea looked to her left

and saw our two new friends for the first time.

“Is that a real gun?” she asked.
“You wanna find out?” Thug One sneered.
“I’ll protect you,” Kevin offered. “I mean, I’m not protecting anyone at the moment.”
“Okay,” Chelsea said with a nod and went over to stand next to Kevin who promptly put his arms

around her. Chelsea had been in too many plays.

“Now, the cigar,” Thug One said, getting back to business. The door flew open again, and Tara,

the Beer Garden Girl came racing in.

“Chelsea! What are you doing? I’m going to be late!”
“Who in the hell is that?” Thug One asked.
“AAAH! Holy shit! Is that a gun?!” Tara cried, freaking out. (There was always one who freaked

out.)

“Shut up and go stand over there by them, Heidi!” Thug Two demanded. Tara quickly obeyed.

Unfortunately, we were out of gentlemen to protect her.

“Now, as I was saying,” Thug One began again. The door flew open, and Lisa the Wiener came

running in.

“You guys! I’m going to get fired!”
“What in the hell is that?” Thug Two asked.
“Oh my God! Is that a gun?”
“Enough of this shit. Get over here,” Thug One said to his buddy, on his way to stand in front of

the door. “I don’t want any more visitors.”

“Now, about that cigar ...” The door flew open again, hitting them both in the backs of their heads,

as Jerome came rushing in. The two thugs fell forward with a thud.

“I don’t have all night, baby!” Jerome complained. Lisa the Weiner, who was still fairly close to

the door, saw her chance and made a break for it. Unfortunately, her costume was cumbersome and
she wound up tripping. (There was always one who tried to run but fell down.) Luckily, what she had
tripped over was Thug Two, knocking the gun out of his hand. Matt went for it, but Jerome got there
first, grabbing the weapon, and spinning around, he assumed a firing stance, gangsta style, aiming
directly at Thug One and Thug Two.

“Is that Cher?” Thug Two asked sounding confused.
“Shut up, bitch!” Jerome demanded in a much more manly voice. “Or I’ll bust a cap in yo ass.

Somebody call the cops before I get twitchy.”

“Well, this is an interesting date so far,” Kevin noted.

***

The rest of the date went really well. The guys had made reservations at a great restaurant, and

afterward, Matt showed me that he could really dance. Kevin and I got along much better out of court
than we did in, and he and Chelsea hit it off fabulously. I suspected that they would quickly become a
very cute couple. I hoped he could, at least, entice her to give up Weiner World.

Matt called into his office to have someone track down the cigar he had confiscated from me. It

turns out, that in addition to tobacco, Mr. DiLaurento would have also been getting several diamonds
of questionable provenance as a birthday gift. That made more sense than Thug One and Thug Two
committing numerous felonies just for a smoke, even a good one.

When we finally got back to my place, I surprised Matt with a gift of my own, a can of whipped

cream and a jar of cherries. After a couple of hours of delicious fun, and a nice hot bath together, we
snuggled up together in bed and talked.

“I met you jumping out of a cake dressed as Marilyn Monroe at a gangster’s birthday party, and

our first real date included a Cher impersonator, a German Beer Garden Girl, two criminals and a
five foot-tall hotdog. I can tell already that this will be a very interesting relationship,” he said
stroking my hair.

“I would have to agree with that Counselor. Look at it this way, though, after all of that, what

could possibly happen to us that would be any crazier?”

Ever heard the expression “famous last words?”

THE END?

Document Outline

Title Page
Praise for The Law of Attraction
Praise for The Home Court Advantage
Praise for Legal Briefs
“The very essence of romance is uncertainty.” | Oscar Wilde
This book is dedicated to everyone who supported me through tough times.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
About the Author
Bonus Short Story | Crime & Cake
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five

Wyszukiwarka

Podobne podstrony:
Lawyers in Love 1 The Law of Attraction Silber N M
Lawyers in Love 3 Legal Briefs Silber N M
Lawyers in Love 4 Winning Appeal Silber N M
The?elings of?lling in love
02 Kuji In Mastery The Power of Manifestation by MahaVajra
In the Eyes of Love Sheri Livingston
The Power of Love
Light Dragons 1 Love in the Time of Dragon
Celine Dion The Power Of Love
Emily Franklin [Principles of Love 07] Lessons in Love (v5 0) (pdf)
Celine Dion The Power Of Love
Jennifer Rush The Power Of Love
Crystal Jordan In The Heart Of The Night 4 Crazy Little Thing Called Love
The Power of Love
Celine Dion The power of love
596 Celine dion the power of love
Love in the Time of Demons Thirteenth Century Approaches to the Capacity for Love in Fallen Angels

więcej podobnych podstron

Lawyers in Love 5 Power of Attorney Silber N M

Document Outline