Chapter 4 #2
She started to giggle, remembered where they were, and clapped both hands over her mouth to smother the rest of the sound. Her eyes sparkled at him, and damn if something didn’t twist in his chest. Something entirely foreign.
Daniela shifted her weight in the chair, the movement dislodging a curly lock of hair. She brushed it back with her fingertips, and Caleb, half mesmerized, wondered how long it would be before it wiggled loose again.
“I probably shouldn’t confess this to you…” Her voice trailed off.
Caleb raised one brow. “Well, now I’m intrigued. Confess away.”
Those witchy eyes sparkled some more. “I’ve never held criminal defense lawyers in the highest esteem.”
“That’s your big confession?”
“I never said it was big. Why do you sound so disappointed? Were you expecting something juicier? More titillating?”
“Definitely less predictable. There’s nothing groundbreaking about hating criminal lawyers.”
“True,” she conceded. “Lawyers in general get a bad rap, but criminal lawyers are particularly seen as bottom-feeders.”
“A privileged viewpoint held only by those who’ve never been charged with a crime.”
“Fair.” She bit the corner of her lip, tapping her pen on her notebook. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
Caleb hesitated. He should tell her no. He shouldn’t indulge her. He should send her away to let him work in peace.
He should do anything other than what he was doing right now—playing with fire.
“Ask your question, Miss Moreau. I can’t promise you’ll receive an answer, but fortune favors the bold.”
“Um, okay.” Her eyes traveled over his face. “Did you ever defend a client you knew was guilty?”
The question betrayed a naivete that was almost endearing. But Caleb didn’t respond. He held her gaze for so long without speaking that she swallowed nervously, ducked her head and started doodling in her notebook.
“Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly. “That was probably too personal.”
“Probably.” His tone was mild.
“I can understand why you wouldn’t want to answer that particular question. You were a bigtime criminal lawyer, and your clientele included murderers—”
“Successfully acquitted defendants,” Caleb corrected.
She blinked at him.
“The law is a precise endeavor, Miss Moreau. Words have meaning.”
“Right. Of course.” She smiled. “You had an impressive acquittal rate. Close to ninety percent, right? The stuff of legend.”
“Ah,” Caleb murmured. “There’s that flattery again.”
“Did I lie, though?”
He merely chuckled.
She eyed him across the table, chewing her plump bottom lip as if to keep herself from asking another burning question.
He sighed, resigned. “Go ahead.”
“Okay.” She released her lip, leaving it glistening.
His wayward dick took the bait, pushing against his zipper and derailing his concentration long enough for him to miss the next few words out of her mouth.
“…legal ethics require attorneys to separate their personal values from their professional duties. You have to provide an effective defense for your client, even if you fundamentally disagree with their actions.”
When she paused uncertainly, Caleb forced his gaze from her mouth to her eyes. As her words registered, he felt himself smirk. “Is this your clever way of circling back to your original question?”
“No,” she said quickly, a little flustered. “I guess what I’m asking is, how did you separate your personal and professional views? Where did you draw the line in accepting clients? Did you draw a line? Like, for example, did you ever represent corrupt cops?”
“No,” he said flatly.
“Really? Never?”
“Not once.”
Admiration flickered in her eyes. “Was that an intentional choice? Not defending dirty cops?”
Caleb gave her a brusque nod. “It was.”
That seemed to please her. Smiling, she sat back in her chair and resumed doodling in her notebook.
Caleb tilted his head to one side, studying her. He’d always been good at reading people. Some would say it was his superpower. But with Daniela Moreau…
His silent scrutiny made her visibly self-conscious.
She dropped her pen, lowered her eyes to his inked hand and stared for a long moment before glancing around the room, as if searching for a visual distraction.
Finding none, she looked back at him. When she saw that his gaze was still fixed on her, she frowned.
“Is…is something wrong?”
He shook his head slowly. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”
“Oh?” She swallowed something in her throat, then tried to joke. “There’s not much to figure out. I’m just an overstressed law student who—”
“No,” he interrupted softly. “You’re not just anything, Miss Moreau. There’s much more to you than meets the eye, and right now, frankly, I don’t know if that’s good or bad for me.”
She stared at him, barely breathing.
Thunder rumbled overhead, punctuating the audible hum of silence between them.
Caleb leaned slowly forward, watching a pulse beat wildly in her pretty little throat. He let his gaze linger there, just long enough to make her squirm, before his eyes deliberately traveled back up to her face. Her noticeably flushed face.
“Do I make you nervous, Miss Moreau?” he murmured.
“Oh God. Do you even have to ask?” She let out a shaky laugh and gave him an almost chiding look. “I think you’re fully aware of the effect you have on people, Professor Thorne.”
“Including you?”
“Especially me.”
They stared at each other in the warm glow of light from the brass table lamp. The room seemed to inhale with them.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Caleb leaned back slowly in his chair, trying to snap the strangely potent connection between them.
Daniela’s hand trembled slightly as she tucked a curl behind her ear and hitched her chin toward the neglected pile of books spread before him on the table. “So, um, what brings you to the library this rainy morning?”
“Research.”
“You have homework, too?” she teased.
Caleb smiled a little. “Sort of. I’m writing a book on criminal procedure, specifically as it pertains to race and racism in American law. But I won’t bore you with the details.”
“Doesn’t sound boring at all.” The sincerity in Daniela’s soft voice made him want to share everything about the project with her, as if she were his trusty editor in New York.
Or a woman in whom he found it wholly natural to confide.
Scary thinking, Thorne. You’re charting dangerous territory here. Better come back before you lose your way.
“Maybe another time,” he said, dismissing her invitation to expound on the book. “You need to work on your case brief, and I need to get some research done.”
Daniela, to her credit, took the hint. “Yeah, I need to get on one of those computers over there to access some databases,” she mumbled, unfolding her long legs and rising from the table.
As she stuffed her notebook inside her backpack, the same damp curl glided across her smooth brown cheek to catch in the corner of her mouth.
She swept it away with a finger and tucked the errant curl behind her ear.
God, she was beautiful.
She swung her backpack over one shoulder and smiled at him. “See you in class tomorrow, Professor Thorne.”
Caleb nodded slowly. “See you then.”
This time when she walked away, he forced himself not to watch.
He’d already punished himself into enough cold showers to last a lifetime.