Chapter 23
“It’s time for bed,” I say. “ To sleep.” I grab Reese’s arm, pulling him out of the bathroom off my foyer.
“I’m not going to argue,” he says. “I’m officially done for a few hours.”
I slide my palm down his arm, my fingers lacing with his, the first time I’ve ever held his hand, not the opposite, and when I look at him, the warmth in his eyes tells me he knows this, too. My cheeks warm like his eyes, which is silly, because I’ve done all kinds of naked things with this man. I cut my gaze, my throat thick with just how connected I feel with this man. How emotionally exposed I am with him. I am so very naked with this man in every possible way, and now he’s about to sleep in my bed, with me, by my side.
We cross through my living room, which is decorated in navy blue and grays, the navy of my curtains a shade darker than his gorgeous blue eyes. I guide Reese inside the doorway just off that room, and he stops inside the entrance, scanning the gray and pink décor. Lots of pink, actually, a color choice I made after I left my law career and Mitch behind, a kind of kiss off to everyone I felt had masculated me in my life. I can be more than flat and one-dimensional, and with my writing, I in fact, must embrace variety to be interesting.
Reese walks straight for my bed with the puffy pink comforter and pink pillows, his exhaustion showing in how quickly he strips off his shoes and pants before slipping under the covers. I join him, and he pulls me under his arm, onto his chest, and that’s when he murmurs, “Pink suits you, Cat,” his voice laden with grogginess, and when I glance up at him, his eyes are shut.
Warmth fills me all over again as I consider that statement, which means more to me than he realizes. Pink is poison to my father. Weakness. A tool a man would use to classify me as woman, not an equal. Reese is my first, in every way. I could love this man and that terrifies me, but it’s not a feeling you can walk away from. It’s a feeling that consumes and seduces, a drug you can’t get enough of, like this man. I can’t get enough of him.
I smile and shut my eyes, letting the earthy, rich scent of Reese consume me as my body relaxes into his, the heaviness of sleep reclaiming me.
Reese and I sleep for four hours. We wake to the buzzing of my cellphone as Liz texts me and wants to talk. “Important?” Reese asks.
“No,” I say. “Go back to sleep.”
He doesn’t argue. He’s out again in a minute, and I snuggle closer to him and do the same. We finally get out of bed at two o’clock, shower together, and dress. Reese dresses in the clothes I picked out for him, including jeans, a black T-shirt, and the blue underwear he points out, since they were my favorite, though I really couldn’t care less about the color. They’re on him. That’s what counts. I myself decide on the New Yorker look of all black, including my jeans, my knee-high boots, and a sweater, considering a cold front has officially arrived, per the weather app on my phone.
I’ve just finished flat-ironing my hair when Reese appears and leans on the counter next to me, his thick, dark hair still damp, his blue eyes bright and focused on me. “Stay with me for the rest of the trial.”
Stay with him, at his apartment, for the rest of the trial. It’s almost like living with him. My first instinct should be caution, but I don’t seem to have any left with this man. In my mind, I know that I should slow things down. We’re moving fast, but the truth is, I don’t want to slow down. “Yes,” I say. “I’d like that.”
Approval fills his expression. He’s pleased with my answer. I like this reaction. I like that I never feel like I am in a power play with this man. We are simply together in what is such unfamiliar territory for me, and I can only navigate it by acceptance. “That was easier than I expected,” he comments.
My lips quirk. “How can we fuck this out of our system if I’m not with you?”
“Indeed,” he says, his expression amused. “I do think we’ll both enjoy that process, but Cat,” his voice softens, “I’ve never met a challenge I wanted to fail, until now.”
A knot of emotion fills my chest. “I’m okay if you fail this one, too, but, of course, you should see the challenge through.”
“Of course,” he says, smiling, and he has such a devastatingly sexy smile. “Of course. That will take energy for us both. We need to power up. Do you want me to run and grab us food while you pack?”
“Oh, I have an idea. Kind of a ritual. If you like waffles and omelets, there’s a place I order from that has the best Sunday brunch. The menu is on the fridge. They deliver, and you can tell them Cat’s usual and then whatever you want.”
He leans down and kisses me. “The usual. Got it. I’ll wait on you by the coffee pot.”
He disappears, and I sigh, the spicy, sometimes borderline earthy, but always wonderful scent of him lingering in the air. I did good when I packed his cologne. He smells so good. He always smells good, and that will never get old. I stand up and pack a bag, enough for a few days, at least. Once I’m done, I set my bag in the living room, just outside the bedroom, and carry my MacBook with me.
I find him at my island kitchen, his computer in front of him, coffee beside him, his hair almost dry, a wave to the thick, untamed strands that is almost curly. “Twenty minutes for delivery,” he says. “The menu looked good.”
“It’s so good,” I promise, setting my computer down, as well as my phone, before making coffee. “I save calories for Sundays just to pig out on brunch.” I rejoin him, claiming the high-backed barstool directly across from him. “Anything from Walker Security?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you still putting Kelli on the stand tomorrow as a follow-up to the boyfriend?”
“As much as I want that back-to-back presentation of additional suspects, I’m going to hold off. I told Blake he could have time to get me evidence. I actually told him he could only have two days, but I’m rethinking the timeline.”
“What are the factors you’re considering?”
“Now that I’ve convinced the Walker team to come on board, we might actually find a bombshell I can use. I’m going to save her for the last bombshell testimony, but I dislike placing distance between her testimony and the boyfriend’s.”
“I know you said that you wanted to wrap this up this week. Is that still going to happen? And why were you winding it down that quickly?”
“My initial decision was made when it became obvious that the prosecution was going to rest their case quickly.”
“Which told you what?” I ask.
“That they were hiding from a weak case and didn’t want to risk me tearing it down. That’s when I decided that short and efficient is the way to go with my presentation. I can’t give Dan a chance to make the prosecution look good.”
“If I were the prosecutor and the judge told the defense they had to get a confession to avoid a dismissal in a case I was prosecuting, that would add fire to that strategy. I’d try to speed things up and keep that ruling in the jury’s minds. And I’d do that simply because at least some of those jurors will take that as the judge’s assumption of guilt.”
“Good point,” he says. “And if I’m right about my assessment, Dan the man already needs me to be speedy to avoid highlighting his weak-ass case. The man didn’t even call the investigative officers. He knows they have no evidence to present. I don’t think he’s going to hold things up.”
“But maybe you need to slow things down, Reese. Dilute the judge’s ruling.”
“If I dilute that ruling, I dilute how pathetic the prosecutor’s case is.”
“Not if you grind the right points to death. Even consider recalling some of their witnesses to refresh the jury’s minds.”
“Maybe. I need to think about this.”
My phone rings, and I grab it. “The security desk,” I tell Reese before I answer. “Yes. Please. Send them up.” I end the call and refocus on Reese, going right back to our conversation. “I’m surprised they didn’t drag everyone who knows Nelson Ward to the stand and try to paint some nasty character profile.”
“Nelson is beloved by everyone,” Reese says. “That’s one of the reasons I was willing to take this case. That and the fact that the baby wasn’t his and there is no DNA evidence. And I believe he’s innocent.”
“Even after last night?”
“Yes. His wife was behind that, and he needed her back here to testify.”
“He should have called you,” I say. “And taken your calls.”
“Agreed. And I threatened to scale back my defense to the basic requirements, and definitely not aggressive. But I still believe in him.”
“Okay, then back to buying time. You could call on the list of character witnesses.”
“Each of which could suddenly present me with a problem,” he counters. “I keep every trial simple for a reason. I don’t create new problems while trying to solve another. Hell, I could spend weeks and maybe even months building his character, but I go back to the two key points: Every witness is a potential backfire, and I dilute the weakness of the prosecutors’ presentation.”
“What about putting Nelson on the stand?”
“You said it yourself. No one likes a rich, successful, good-looking man who has everything they don’t have. I think it’s risky.”
“But you say he’s loved by all.”
“It’s too risky.”
“Okay,” I concede. “It’s risky. Are you still calling the investigative officers tomorrow?” I ask, remembering his list from our work session yesterday.
“Yes. That plan hasn’t changed. Dan isn’t going to avoid that hit. And they will be.”
“You’re sure they have nothing to offer to hurt you?”
“I have their written statements. If they deviate, they look like liars.”
A knock sounds on the door, and Reese stands up. “I’ll grab the food.”
I nod and grab a couple of bottles of water from the fridge, and a few minutes later, we are both pigging out on waffles and eggs. “Set aside the case for a while,” Reese says. “Any regrets over the agent firing this morning?”
“None. Though she was the one who texted me while we were asleep. She wants to talk.”
“Are you going to talk to her?”
“I’ll talk to her, but I’m not rehiring her. I’ll start looking for a new one to deal with my option when the trial is over.”
“How do options work?”
“I signed a contract and they optioned my next true crime novel. They get first right of refusal. But I know the terms. I’m not legally obligated to accept the deal with Dan. I am legally obligated to present a proposal for my own book, though they can decline, because I turned down the partnership with Dan. But that’s fine. Once they pass, and I get another agent, I can go to another publisher.”
“A lot of people would have taken the deal, Cat.”
“And I have my mother to thank for leaving me my apartment and a trust fund I’ll inherit at thirty-five. I’m not in a position where I have to do what I don’t want to do.”
“I didn’t know about the trust,” he says.
“I don’t talk about it. It’s hard to look forward to money you get because a parent died.”
“How did she die?”
“She had untreated high blood pressure that triggered a massive stroke.”
“That’s rough.”
“It was hard. She wasn’t all that happy. My father treated her like crap. She and I fought a lot because I wanted her to get out, or at least force him to do right by her.”
“I understand. My parents have struggles. At times, I think they’d be better off apart.”
“If it weren’t from watching the Walker couples, I’m not sure I’d even believe marriage can work,” I admit. “But they don’t seem like normal human beings.”
“And what am I, Cat?” he asks, studying me, watching me for a reaction.
What is he? It’s a complicated question that I answer as simply as possible. “Not an asshole anymore.”
“I’ll take that,” he says. “For now.” He moves on. “Didn’t you tell me your brother came by? I got the impression you weren’t on good terms.”
“We haven’t been but the whole visit was odd. He wants something. He actually asked about you.”
His brow furrows. “What about me?”
“He just asked if I would recommend you as the best of the best. Or something along those lines. I said yes and he dropped the topic.”
“Does he know about us?”
“No. I think it was because of the trial. You’re on everyone’s radar. And apparently, he actually reads my column, which highlights your trial skills.”
“Which brother?”
“Gabe. He’s the second oldest and he works for my father’s firm. Oh, and since we’re talking about my column. I think I should save my ‘who done it’ angle in my column for later in the week, right before Kelli’s testimony. If you agree, I’ll reframe the pages I’ve written for tomorrow, which I need to do soon.”
“I agree,” he says, his eyes narrowing on me. “You’re not worried about journalistic integrity by colluding with the defense?”
“You’re not worried about corrupting a journalist?”
“I’m counting on it, sweetheart,” he says, his eyes filling with mischief. “How am I doing?”
“I’ll let you know,” I say, but the truth is, he’s corrupted everything I thought I knew about what I wanted in a man, and made it all about him.
Hours later, Reese and I walk into his apartment, and he carries his bag and mine into his bedroom. “I’ll put these in the closet,” he says. I join him and he motions around the room. “Pick a section and make it yours.”
My stomach flutters, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with how fast we are going. “Reese—”
He’s kissing me before I ever finish that sentence. “I plan for you to be here often. Claim your space. I’ll share everything but you, Cat.” And with that loaded comment, his phone starts ringing and he snags it from his pocket. “Blake,” he says, kissing me. “Save that thought. I want to hear it,” he adds before answering the call.
He listens a minute and says, “Let me dig out my files. I’ll call you back.” He ends the connection and looks at me. “Nelson’s secretary said she’d talk to him, but she’s with her mother today and doesn’t want to upset her any more than this trial has already.”
“Haven’t you already talked to her?”
“Yes, but I talked about Nelson. Blake and his wife are going to find out what she knows about Kelli. But Blake is asking for some information I have in my files. I’m going to go look it up for him.” He cups my face and kisses me. “I’m glad you’re here, Cat.” He turns and leaves the closet, and I stare after him with that stupid ball of unnamed emotion tightening in my chest.
I rotate and scan his closet, deciding on a spot to hang the items I brought with me. I consider leaving the rest of my things in the suitcase, but decide that means leaving it out and in the way. I open his drawers and pick a couple of spots to place my things. I empty out his bag and mine completely and store them. And for a moment, I simply stare at my dresses next to Reese’s suits and have no thoughts. I just have feelings. So many feelings I can’t even name. I don’t want to name them. It’s too soon. I grab the toiletries and head to the bathroom. I place my items at one of the two sinks, hoping it’s not the one Reese uses. I’m just finishing when my neck prickles and I turn to find Reese in the doorway, one of his broad shoulders leaning on the frame. “Did you ever live with Mitch, Cat?”
“No. I’ve never lived with anyone. Have you?”
“Never even considered it,” he says.
“Not even with—”
“Karen was her name. And no. I was focused on my work, and to be completely honest, her living with me felt like it would be a distraction.”
“And what am I?”
He studies me for several moments, his expression indiscernible. “Come here,” he orders softly.
I think about that command, not because it’s a command, but because it doesn’t bother me as it would with anyone else. I walk to him and he takes my hand, lacing our fingers together and leading me out of the bathroom to the chair in front of the windows. We sit down and he pulls me under his arm, and I rest on his shoulder, as the sun splashes the sky with rainbow colors as it disappears at the horizon. “Ask me again,” he says softly.
I don’t ask what he means. I know. “What am I?”
He looks over at me. “The only person I’ve ever watched a sunset with and had it matter.”
Those words alone might not mean more than a seduction, but I don’t miss the relevance of him saying them right here, in his room, in this chair, after asking me to stay with him. So when he asks, “What am I, Cat?” I shift and climb on top of his lap, straddling him, my hands on his face. “Someone who matters,” I reply, pressing my lips to his.
He cups my head and kisses me. “Ask me again.”
“Who am I?”
“Mine,” he says. “You just don’t know it yet.”