“You get it now,” she said. “You understand how a man could become so jealous that he might commit a crime of passion.”
Stone shook his head. “I’m not jealous.”
But the words rang hollowly. She was tempted to mess with him again, like she had earlier. But before she could say anything more, he continued.
“And men get jealous all the time without ever killing anyone over it,” he said. “If Mueller had found out his wife was cheating on him, he would have just divorced her.”
She snorted. “And lose any of his millions?”
“Billions,” Stone corrected her.
She’d seen the bank records; he wasn’t exaggerating. But she hadn’t been impressed. She knew someone who had more money and wasn’t as obnoxious about it as Byron Mueller. “Exactly.”
Stone snorted now.
“I know he has some money to spare,” she said. “But men like Mueller don’t like giving up any of that money, especially to a woman who’s wronged him.”
“He wouldn’t have had to give up a dime,” Stone said. “My partner Ronan Hall drew up an ironclad prenup before Byron married his latest bride—”
“Late bride,” Hillary corrected him. “She’s dead.”
“But my client wouldn’t have killed her,” Stone insisted, “even if he found out she was cheating. He would have just divorced her.”
Damn it! Stone was good—so good that he was getting to Hillary. And she could not have that, could not have him swaying her, because if he could sway her, he would definitely sway the jury.
“Sure,” she agreed. “If he was thinking rationally, you’re right. He would have just divorced her. But in the heat of the moment, finding out that she was cheating on him...” She stepped closer to Stone and ran her fingertips over the cashmere that was molded to the sculpted muscles of his chest. They rippled beneath her touch, and his heart began to beat harder. She could feel it as she laid her palm over it. “...finding out that she was with another man, kissing him...”
She leaned closer and brushed her mouth across his throat, and his pulse jumped beneath her lips. “Touching him...” She skimmed her hand down his chest to the buckle of his belt, then lower, over his fly...
“Damn you!” he cursed her on a raspy breath. And he reached for her again. But he didn’t just jerk her against him. He swung her up in his arms. “Where’s your bedroom?”
She laughed again as she pointed out the door to him. It was painted white like the walls and the scarred wood floor. “See what I’m saying,” she said. “Passion...”
“You going to pull that in court to prove your point?” he asked as he turned to get her and his broad shoulders through her doorway. “You going to get every member of the jury all worked up and jealous?”
“Do you think it would work?” she asked.
He dropped her onto the bed so that she bounced against the mattress. Just like Dwight had warned him, her bedroom wasn’t girlie. Hillary was not girlie. So there was nothing pink or floofy. Her room was white, like the rest of the apartment. Her sheets were white, too, with thin blue pinstripes on them. But her bed was unmade, and the only pillows were the ones she slept on.
But Stone didn’t seem to mind a bit. He pulled off his sweater, his muscles rippling in his chest and washboard abs. “Worked on me...”
So he was all worked up and jealous...
Over her?
She never would have imagined that in a million years before that night in her office, when he’d kissed her. That had just been a little over a week ago, but it felt like a long time.
So long that she couldn’t remember a time that she hadn’t wanted him. But then, even before that night, she’d wanted him—had had her little hot fantasies about him.
If he was truly jealous about Dwight, she could have told him that the last several times she’d been with the other man, she’d imagined that he was Stone.
She’d wanted him to be Stone.
Why was she so damn attracted to a man like him? One who represented criminals and killers? And he didn’t just represent them; he got them off.
That wasn’t going to happen this time, though. This time she was going to win.
After stripping off his clothes, he reached for hers. He dragged off her sweater, tousling her hair. Then he peeled her pants and underwear down her legs. And as he did, he kissed every inch of skin he exposed. His lips skimmed over the arch of her foot and her ankle before moving up her calves and thighs to her core.
