THE DEFENDER by Adrienne Giordano Page A

chirped.
    Damned irritating woman. Even if he did goad her with that counselor comment. She stormed into the kitchen, hot on his heels in those stilt shoes, ready for war. Damn, he liked her.
    Once in the kitchen, he spun, waved her in and closed the ancient swinging door. One day he’d have a lake house like this. With a goofy swinging door.
    He folded his arms and stared down at her mutinous face, and her blue eyes sparked. He shouldn’t have been excited by it. Sickness. Had to be. Because every damned time he saw that look, he wanted to grab her, plant a lip-lock and see how long it took to cool her fire.
    Propping her hands on her skirt-clad hips, she huffed, “Well? What is it?”
    “We made a deal. You need to trust me.”
    “First, it’s not you I don’t trust. It’s the FBI. My job is to protect my client’s rights. Part of that means having an iron-clad deal before I allow the FBI access to her. What do you not understand about that?”
    Was he an idiot now? Some schmuck she could emasculate because she had Ivy League brains and the supermodel looks? Not happening, babe. “I know your job. I also know defense lawyers like to annihilate cases guys like me bust their humps on. I’m telling you, you won’t derail this.”
    Instead of the heat and temper he expected to find, her gaze was questioning. Unsure. “Why do you think I’d derail this? I want my client safe. I’m in danger. Getting Heath incarcerated will help all of us.”
    Damned good point.
    One that shut him up. Maybe he was too close to it. Too close to remembering that day when the bank foreclosed on his parents’ home because a guy like Heath ran a mortgage scam. Mix that emotional garbage in with his lust for the hot defense lawyer and he had a situation.
    He wrapped his fingers around his temples and squeezed in and out, letting the pressure build then release. “Look, we made a deal. In your office. Last night. You can waste time by not letting me question your client or we can get on with it. It’s up to you.”
    She hesitated. Studied the cabinet behind his head, then brought her gaze back to him. Why that response—or lack of one—shocked him, he’d never know. But somewhere deep inside, in a place he didn’t like to acknowledge, a place where guys like him shoved all the waste they didn’t want to deal with, he absorbed the stab of hurt. “Unbelievable.”
    She grabbed his forearm. “I trust you. I do. But we both have to be careful here.”
    “Right,” he said. “We’ll wait.”
    “No. That’ll be a waste of everyone’s time. I have a compromise. Let me talk to my dad. If he’s in agreement with going forward, I’ll let you question Elizabeth.”
    She wouldn’t make him drive back to the city. A compromise indeed. “You’re okay with that? I won’t hear any moaning about it?”
    “My father is a much better attorney than I am. If he signs off, it’s good.”
    Russ pulled his phone from his pocket. He still had Penny’s, minus the battery. “You can’t use your phone. Here’s mine. I’ll give you privacy. Take your time.”
    She nodded. “Thank you. I think this works for both of us.”
    “I agree.”
    He turned to go, not sure how he felt about this compromising Penny. He’d just discovered another hidden facet. The one that saw a solution even if it didn’t sync with her original plan. He was hanging on here, clinging to the rail, scrambling for footing so he didn’t get sucked into the emotional hell that would be falling for Penny Hennings. The defense lawyer.
    “Hey, what you said about your dad being a better lawyer. I don’t believe that. He has more experience. Doesn’t make him better.”
    Something happened. Russ wasn’t sure what, but Penny flinched. Not just a little, either. “What?” he asked.
    “I...I...” She held up her finger. Hesitated. “After the beating I gave you on the witness stand, you should hate me. Instead, you tell me I’m just as good a lawyer as my