The Naked Truth. Shannon Hollis

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СКАЧАТЬ way onto the next flight to New York, or he could brazen it out and hope the sense of humor she displayed on TV was real and not put on for the camera.

      “I am, too,” he whispered back. “Usually I’m much better behaved than this. But then, I’ve never danced with you before. Now I know I have limits.”

      She giggled, tried to choke it back, then seemed to give up. She threw back her head in an honest-to-God laugh. Both arms crept up around his neck.

      “I meant I was shocked you weren’t going to counteroffer.” Her voice wobbled with laughter.

      Oh, no. Could he just go into cardiac arrest right here and now? Maybe if he went out on a stretcher she’d look at him with pity instead of…what was this?

      Her face was alight with humor, not malice or derision. And in her eyes he saw appreciation and a lowering of her guard.

      “Mitchell Hayes, you win the prize.”

      “And what would that be?” he asked, trying to keep his head up in a sea of embarrassed misery.

      “You’ve told me five honest things in the space of half an hour. That’s more than I’ve been able to squeeze out of half the guests we have on the show—and a lot more than I usually get out of the men I’ve dated.”

      He huffed a breath of laughter and tried not to think about the way her arms were looped around his neck, bringing that delectable body even more flush against him. “So what’s the prize?”

      “We’re going to start over. You don’t scout for a major television network, you never came to my office. I’ve just met you and learned that you’re from New Mexico, you love your family, and you play the trumpet and want kids to enjoy music the way you do.”

      “You left out the fifth thing.” What was it his dad used to say? In for a penny, in for a pound.

      She shrugged, and flashed that enchanting triangular smile. “Your body’s very honest, too,” she said. “I like that in a man.”

      JENNA HAMILTON read the brief one more time in the cab: Skinner v. Best, Kurtz, Crawford, Reavis, Haas. The rolling in her stomach was due less to reading while in motion than to the simple fact that this was the biggest, most public case she’d ever had to handle.

      And she wasn’t sure she could do it.

      No, no. Scratch that. She’d learn as she went, and get the best advice she could find. She’d already read every scrap of case law in the online library—and she’d branch out to libraries in other states if that’s what it took to win this case.

      As the station’s corporate lawyer, and a junior lawyer at Andersen Nadeau who had her eye on a partnership some day, this was her chance to shine. Eve and the others expected her to pull it off, and she wouldn’t disappoint them if she could possibly help it.

      The cab pulled up outside the offices of Kregel, Fitch and Devine, which had once been a brick warehouse but was now part of the trendy Decatur district. She paid the driver and took comfort in the knowledge that she knew the details of Liza Skinner’s suit inside out and backwards. Not only that, the file rested in her Kate Spade tote. If there was ever a secret weapon designed to give a woman confidence, it was that.

      When the receptionist caught sight of it a moment later, she straightened and announced her right away. The butterflies in Jenna’s stomach settled down. Maybe it was a sign of things to come. She took a firmer grip on the handles and followed the young woman into a spacious office that had enough of the warehouse’s bricks and pipes left showing to give it an edgy, industrial look while screeching “major interior designer” at every turn.

      A tall man crossed the room, his hand outstretched.

      Nice suit, was her first thought.

      Nice hands, was her second, as Kevin Wade shook hers.

      “Thanks for coming, Ms. Hamilton,” he said, his voice a smooth bass that tickled something deep inside her. “My client and I appreciate your willingness to be flexible.”

      His café-au-lait skin was just a shade lighter than hers, and his brown eyes held a male appreciation that made her body sit up and take notice. No, that wasn’t it. Her spine was straight to give the impression of control, not because it would throw her breasts into prominence. Nuh-uh.

      “We might be at this for a while,” she replied, “so please call me Jenna.”

      “And I’m Kevin to my friends.”

      She didn’t bother to point out that friends was the last thing they were—or were likely to become. Too bad. But with this much money at stake, it was far more likely they’d wind up on either side of a courtroom, each doing their best to grind the other into defeat.

      Instead of seating himself in the power position behind the desk, he waved her over to an area by the window that contained a couple of couches facing each other across a low, square coffee table. Some case law and several manila folders already lay on it, as though he’d been doing the same thing she had in the cab.

      As they went through the points of Liza Skinner’s lawsuit, she realized that he was darned good at his job, and that this was more of a challenge than she’d anticipated. If only she could focus on the numbered paragraphs of the filings instead of the way his long-fingered hands lay on the papers, or the way she’d get a whiff of his delicious cologne every time he got up to fetch a highlighter or a box of paper clips. This was not going to win Eve and the team what they wanted.

      She reined in her errant thoughts with a stern hand. “Kevin, I’m afraid that’s not going to be acceptable to my clients,” she said after he reiterated Liza Skinner’s position on one particularly irritating paragraph in the brief. “The fact is, the lottery winners are not willing to cut her in on a share of the money—nor should they have to. It’s regrettable that they and Ms. Skinner didn’t think to set down the terms of their agreement in writing before they bought the tickets. But without any kind of contract, it’s impossible to hold my clients to what she’s demanding.”

      “They were friends,” he reminded her. “Would you make your friends sign something before you gave them tickets, say, for a birthday gift?”

      “This wasn’t a gift,” she said. “They all played the same number each week and they all went in on it together—except for Ms. Skinner. She was out of town, out of state—out of my clients’ lives permanently, for all they knew. Any reasonable jury would see that her claim is groundless.”

      “It can’t be groundless if there was a verbal agreement,” he pointed out. “She may not have told them she was leaving town, but she never told them she was leaving the group.”

      “Regardless of whether she told them or not, I think her departure managed to state it pretty effectively.”

      “But metaphors don’t stand up in court.”

      He smiled at her, and Jenna lost her focus. That smile had probably gotten what he wanted out of every judge in town. Well, it wasn’t going to work on her.

      “The members had a verbal agreement, and Ms. Skinner contributed to the pot.” He pointed to the relevant paragraph in the complaint.

      “They won after her monetary СКАЧАТЬ