Chapter 7
“Hey, look who’s early.”
Daniela glanced up from her laptop to find April Kwan sliding into the chair beside her on the third row.
“Yeah, I learned the hard way not to be late for this class,” Daniela admitted with a rueful smile. “Looks like we both made it before Professor Thorne.”
“Good. I love to watch him walk into a room.” The girl grinned lasciviously. “Who am I kidding? I love to watch him period.”
Daniela chuckled, turning her head to observe the students filing into the lecture hall, bleary-eyed from a long night of studying—or partying.
First-year law students were assigned to a section, which was a large group of students who had the same courses with the same professors at all the same times.
After spending two days in the company of these kids, most of whom were fresh out of college, Daniela already had a pretty good idea which of her peers were the scholars and which were the boozers.
As if to prove her point, one scraggly blond guy staggered and fell into a seat near the back, drawing laughs from his classmates. He grinned sheepishly and let loose a loud burp, this time eliciting disgusted groans.
Watching him, April predicted, “He won’t be around much longer.”
Daniela wondered if the same could be said about her. How long would it take her to win Caleb Thorne’s trust and accomplish her mission?
Would she win Caleb’s trust?
“Here he comes,” April murmured, sotto voce. “The reason God made denim.”
Amen, thought Daniela, watching as Caleb Thorne entered the lecture hall wearing a white Henley and a nice pair of jeans that clung to the thick muscles of his thighs.
A matte-black helmet with the Ducati logo was tucked beneath one arm, completing the whole rebel-without-a-cause look he managed so effortlessly.
He walked with a controlled stride, unhurried yet deliberate, a cross between a strut and a prowl that was downright swoonworthy. As he started down the wide stairs, Daniela could almost hear the collective feminine sighs that swept around the hall.
“Good morning, Professor Thorne,” cooed a pretty brunette seated at the opposite end of Daniela’s row.
Caleb nodded a tacit greeting. By the time he reached the lectern at the front, all conversation ceased as an air of hushed expectancy settled over the room.
Daniela silently marveled at the transformation.
Nearly ten minutes remained until the start of class, yet the mere appearance of Caleb Thorne was enough to bring the students to attention.
She remembered what Kenneth had told her about Caleb’s prowess as a criminal defense attorney.
No doubt he’d commanded the courtroom as easily as he did a classroom of sixty-five.
As he placed his motorcycle helmet behind the lectern and began pulling course materials from his messenger bag, April leaned close to whisper, “Why aren’t we sitting in the first row?”
“Because we don’t want to be so obvious,” Daniela whispered back.
As if he’d picked up on her words, Caleb glanced up, his dark eyes sweeping the crowded hall before coming to land on hers. Her breath hitched, her skin tingling as if he’d physically reached out and touched her.
But a second later his gaze shifted away, leaving Daniela to wonder if he’d noticed her at all.
April seemed to think so, seizing her arm in sudden excitement. “Did you see that? He looked right at you!”
“We’re seated in his direct line of vision,” Daniela said drolly.
“And yet, you’re the only one he looked at.”
Daniela felt a tiny thrill of pleasure. Maybe there was hope after all.
She half listened to a series of announcements made by Caleb’s research assistant, Emma Richter, a mousy-looking brunette in desperate need of a makeover.
As she began distributing handouts, Daniela wondered, not unkindly, if she could earn extra credit by offering fashion-emergency services to the drably attired young woman.
It would be an act of solidarity, since her days of questionable sartorial choices weren’t so far in the past.
“Emma is passing out copies of the seating chart,” Caleb informed the class.
“Study it, memorize it. Starting Friday, and for the rest of the semester, sit in your assigned seat. This not only helps me connect names with faces, but gives me a way to track attendance. I will circulate an attendance sheet every class period. If you don’t sign the sheet, I’ll mark you as absent.
As stated on the syllabus, you may miss up to six classes this semester, for whatever reasons you deem necessary.
But if you miss more than six classes, you would have missed more than thirty percent of the class, which means that you will fail this course, regardless of how you perform on the final exam. Understood?”
The students murmured in docile agreement. April whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “Anyone dumb enough to miss six of his classes deserves to fail.”
Daniela chuckled, then promptly wished she hadn’t.
Caleb’s dark, piercing eyes homed in on hers, and this time there was no mistaking that she was the focus of his gaze. “Let’s recap what we discussed on the first day of class. Miss Moreau, why don’t you tell us what you’ve learned about civil procedure so far.”
Daniela took a deep breath as she found herself in the proverbial hot seat, a rite of passage dreaded by all first-year law students.
“Well, basically, civil procedure consists of the rules used by the courts to conduct civil trials. Civil trials, of course, being the judicial resolution of claims by one individual or group against another. As I understand it, civil procedure is sort of like the ‘blueprint’ for litigation.”
“Yes, but why the heavy focus on the federal rules of civil procedure in this class?”
“Because most states model their rules of civil procedure after the federal rules of civil procedure.”
“And?”
She gave him a quizzical look. Hadn’t she answered the question correctly?
But then again, she’d heard horror stories about law professors deliberately trying to trip up their students, sometimes subjecting them to sadistic interrogations, all in the name of teaching legal reasoning skills and stimulating “lawyerly” thinking.
Before she could formulate a response, Caleb segued to the next line of questioning, leaving Daniela feeling unbalanced—which, she supposed, had been his intent.
“Talk to me about the United States v. Hatahley. Who are the parties, and what are the facts of the case?”
Daniela racked her brain, mentally sifting through the myriad cases she’d read last night.
“Um, the plaintiffs are members of the Navajo tribe. Their livestock was grazing on federal land, and they were sued to have the livestock removed. But before the suit was decided, the feds unlawfully sold the plaintiffs’ livestock to a glue factory.
As a result, the plaintiffs were awarded damages of almost $200,000 by the federal district court and the U.S. Court of Appeals.”
Caleb nodded, leaning against the table next to the podium and folding his muscular arms across his chest, as if he had all the time in the world to grill her. “So, what is the rule of law here, Miss Moreau?”
“The injured party needs to be put in the position it would have been in were it not for the wrong of the injurer.”
“Which means?” he prompted.
Daniela moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her mouth felt dry as dust. “If we apply this rule to the case at hand, the plaintiffs should get the market value of the livestock, as well as the loss of use in the time before they could have reasonably replaced the livestock.”
Caleb nodded slowly, those fathomless dark eyes fastened on hers in a way that made it increasingly difficult to concentrate. “If the facts of the case were changed so that, say, the Navajo lost a herd of cats instead of highly trained horses, would the court rule the same?”
“That depends,” Daniela hedged.
“On what, Miss Moreau?”
“On whether the judge was a cat lover, thereby placing greater importance on the loss of cats over livestock.”
Her classmates, who’d been heretofore watching the spirited exchange like spectators at a Wimbledon match, now erupted in laughter.
A ghost of a smile played around the edges of Caleb’s mouth. He straightened from the table and sauntered around the podium to turn a page in his textbook. “Good job, Miss Moreau,” he said in a deep voice tinged with humor. “Although you probably should have quit while you were ahead.”
Daniela grinned sheepishly as more laughter rumbled across the room.
After class, she was approached by two guys inviting her to join their study group.
“Nice work briefing the Hatahley case,” they complimented her, eyes glued to her cleavage. She wore a low-cut red shirt and a high-slitted denim skirt that hugged her body like a glove.
“How many people are in your study group?” she asked, leaning over the table to unplug her charging laptop.
“Four so far,” answered the taller of the pair, an attractive blond whose gray eyes immediately latched onto her ass. “We’re trying to keep it at six, like they suggested in summer orientation.”
“Good,” Daniela said briskly. “April and I will make it six, then.”
Two pairs of eyes shifted toward April, who stood almost shyly beside Daniela.
“Cool,” said the other student, a cute redhead with green eyes and freckles. “Do you guys wanna meet now? We’ve got some time before Contracts at eleven.”
“Can’t,” said Daniela, with a surreptitious glance toward the front of the room where Caleb stood talking to a group of students. “I’ve got something to take care of first. Maybe after class on Friday.”
“Sounds good. Catch you ladies later.”
As the pair moved off, April giggled. “This is going to be a great year. With you by my side, I’ll get to meet all the hotties on campus.”
Daniela grinned, but there was only one hottie on her mind at the moment.
“Hey, did you check out the seating chart?” April asked, thrusting her copy forward for Daniela’s inspection.
“It’s in alphabetical order, but look where it places you.
Smack dab in the middle of the second row, right in front of Professor Thorne’s lectern.
He’ll have an up-close-and-personal view of you all the time. ”
“Hmm,” Daniela murmured, both pleased and terrified at the prospect.
“I, on the other hand, have been banished to the far end of the second row, to languish in utter obscurity.” April gave a wistful sigh. “You lucky woman.”
Daniela laughed. “Maybe not. Being in that seat puts me in his crosshairs, and we all know how that goes.”
“Yeah, but he’s already cold-called you, so theoretically, you should be safe for a while.
Besides, you did great. I think he was really impressed.
I know the rest of us were. Anyway, I’m going to the library to get some reading done before class.
I’m nowhere near as prepared as you obviously are.
” Stifling a yawn, the girl stepped into the aisle and headed up the stairs. “See you at eleven.”
Daniela stayed behind and waited for Caleb to finish talking to students. She couldn’t afford to let him out of her sight, knowing that Shara Adler was probably camped outside the lecture hall waiting to invite him for coffee.
This time Daniela would beat her to the chase.
Gradually the last of her classmates dispersed, and Caleb and his assistant, Emma, started up the stairs together. As they conversed, the woman gazed up at him with pure adoration, leading Daniela to wonder if any woman on campus was immune to the man.
As the pair drew nearer to where she stood, Caleb’s dark eyes locked on hers, making her mouth go dry.
Immune she was not.
“Do you have a minute?” she asked when he reached her.
He nodded, then glanced at Emma. “Thanks for your help today. We’ll talk later.”
“All right,” she said, smiling shyly. She eyed Daniela curiously before continuing up the stairs and out of the classroom.
“What can I do for you, Miss Moreau?” Caleb asked, his tone formal.
Shoring up her courage, Daniela said, “I was wondering if I could buy you a cup of coffee.”
She saw the refusal in his eyes even before he opened his mouth. “Thank you, but—”
“I was hoping to pick your brain about the case brief I’m working on. I know it isn’t due until the end of the semester, but I could really use some help.”
“I’m sure Shara would be more than happy to answer any questions you have.”
“I know, but…” She gave him what she hoped was her most beguiling smile. “Well, you did offer your assistance yesterday in the library. Do you remember?”
“Of course I remember.” By the look on his face, though, she could tell he probably wished she hadn’t remembered. Fortunately, he was too much of a gentleman to renege on the deal. “Why don’t you stop by during my office hours this afternoon? We can talk then.”
“Can’t do it this afternoon,” she lied. “I’m meeting with my study group. Besides, I really want to start working on the case brief as soon as possible. One cup of coffee, Professor Thorne. That’s all I ask. Please?”
He hesitated, flicking a glance at his watch. “Coffee, huh?”
She grinned, tasting victory. “And maybe a beignet, too. What the heck. I’m feeling generous.”
He chuckled, and her stomach fluttered at the low, sexy rumble. “In that case,” he drawled, “how can I refuse?”