Falling Grace. Melissa Shirley

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ do my job completely or the whole idea of jurisprudence means nothing.” I could have gone on forever about my beliefs in a system that had never let me down, but he dropped his mouth open as though my words offended him.

      “Even if you know for a fact she did it? You’ll stand up there and ask the jury to find her innocent of murdering a three-year-old?” He flopped back against the booth, crossed his arms, and shook his head.

      “I’ll never know for a fact she did it. I wasn’t there and neither were any of you.” I glanced from Blane to his brother, then around the room. Had it suddenly shrunk? All of these random diner customers seemed to be much closer than when we walked in. Damn. “Blane, thank you for offering to buy me dinner, but I think I’m going to take my chances with a frozen pizza and a bottle of cheap grocery store wine.” At least in the safety of my apartment, I wouldn’t be scowled to death.

      “Grace.”

      I held up a hand. “No. It’s okay. I’ve been in this spot before.” Not that I’d enjoyed it. I slid out of the booth and stood, then stepped past his brother who’d come to stand at the edge of the table between us. His mouth gaped open as I leaned down. “See you around, Tex.”

      I stomped back to the grocery store, picked up the pile of stuff he’d set on the shelf and strode to the checkout counter. When the cashier picked up the box of condoms, I stared hard at the swirling silver font. “Never mind. I don’t need those.”

      “Round here, we usually let the man take care of this kind of thing.”

      I narrowed my eyes. “How very nineteen eighties of you.”

      She shoved the box to the side, took my money, and bagged my purchases without another word.

      Chapter 4

      The ringing of my phone, along with the sunrise, woke me from a sound, dreamless sleep. I’d barely unpacked my pajamas before falling into bed. Why was the phone ringing at six a.m.? I glared with one open eye at the name on the screen. Rory. Perfect.

      I slid the answer bar across and said, “Hello,” waiting for the ding of round two’s bell announcement.

      “Grace, don’t hang up on me. I’m sorry. I had no right to act that way.”

      No, she didn’t, but my dad always said a little graciousness never hurt. I didn’t always agree, but this time, in the interest of our working relationship and the renewal of our friendship, his words rang true. “It’s okay, Rory. I should have consulted you before I took the case.”

      “That’s not how this works, Grace. Five years ago, I would have hiked up my britches and jumped right on it myself.” Her accent lacked the sexy slur in Blane’s, but still softened every consonant. “I know this case isn’t about me or my past.”

      If her past belonged to me, I would have been shredded. She’d come home to find her son dead. Maybe because she’d already lost too much, or maybe, because, in her grief, she believed every foul lie out of her ex-husband’s mouth, successfully defended, then divorced the murderer when the truth came out.

      A few years later, thinking she’d finally out-lived the pain of her past, she took a job with a big Dallas firm and was on her way to partnership. Her boss, whose judgment had been clouded by the promise of a judicial seat in exchange for her help with the case, set Rory up to relive her personal tragedy in defense of a guilty client. Risking her career, Rory exposed the truth to the prosecutor. Legal tabloid shows put her life on the screen every night for weeks. They dissected her behavior for a long time even after the case ended. Somehow, she survived, but I didn’t have a clue how.

      “I never thought about how this would affect you.”

      “And you shouldn’t have to. You were right.”

      She had courage I could only dream of. “So you’re okay with it? Me taking her case and defending her?”

      Her sigh ghosted from satellite to satellite. After a few more seconds, she spoke. “Yes. I can deal with you working the case, if you can deal with me being bossy, overbearing, and not looking at one piece of paper attached to it.”

      “I can. If you can deal with me being insensitive and needy while I shove those papers under your nose every chance I get.”

      “Deal.” She chuckled, though the sound hardly reflected mirth or good humor. After another pause--I could practically see her switching gears--she spoke again. “Now that it’s all settled, did you bring a dress for tonight?”

      I sat up in bed, marveling at her expectation that, without a drop of caffeine in my body, I should keep up. “A dress?”

      “For the fundraiser at the country club. Mom sent you the invitation a month or so ago. Did you forget?”

      Oh, shit. “Fundraiser for your mom’s hospital charity thing. Nope.” I sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. “Okay. I forgot.”

      She laughed. “That’s not a problem. I’ll pick you up at nine. I have to run into town and pick up Jack’s tux anyway, and there’s a great store over on Main Street by the office.”

      “Sounds good.” Sleep and a nice, long cuddle with my pillow sounded better.

      “I can call Margie and see if she’ll open early. If we leave now, we’ll have more time to find the perfect dress for your Texas debut.”

      Apparently, being a child prodigy genius meant Rory didn’t require as much sleep as those of us with normal functioning brain cells. “No. Nine is perfect.”

      “Great. You can get ready at my place, and we can all ride together.”

      Rory always had a plan.

      We hung up and at nine a.m. on the dot, she rang my doorbell, and let herself in. I’d fallen back to sleep after her call and barely made it to the shower before she arrived. The movers had been indiscriminant about how they tossed my belongings into the apartment, and I rooted through eight boxes before I finally got my hands on a towel. Her hair glistened in an up-do that highlighted my lack of style as well as my inability to locate my hairbrush in the packing boxes still stacked in my living room.

      Once we finally made it to the store, she handed me several dresses to try on before she discovered the one. The long burgundy dress draped down my body in a single wave of perfection. Before I completed one spin, she shoved a pair of shoes at me and I fell in love. Red rhinestone accents wrapped around silver stiletto heels. The shoes were dyed the exact color of the dress.

      “Oh my God. I think I’m having a shoe-gasm.” I clutched them against my body, ready to attack anyone who threatened our new relationship.

      “I can see that.” Her dry smile belied her own love for stilettos and sling-backs.

      The entire in-store excursion took about fifteen minutes, and she’d spent most of that time pulling dresses from the rack. “So, we’re done here?”

      She took the dresses from the room and returned them to their hangers.

      I slipped back into my own clothes, smoothed a hand down the fabric, and walked to the counter with her. Margie, who I immediately liked better than most people I’d ever met, СКАЧАТЬ