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not-so brightest McCarthy on the block. Cellblock that is. They also happen to be the only two McCarthy’s with a criminal record. They’re two for two in many respects.
    “Come on, big spender.” Zoey pulls him out by the ear. “I’ll let you buy me coffee.”
    I wait for the click of the door before reverting my full attention to the beautiful creature seated in front of me, and my heart wrenches at what’s happened to her. “Now that I’ve taken you on as my client, I’ll need a few questions answered.”
    “Of course—anything.”
    “Tonight over dinner.”
    Kennedy flashes that easy magazine smile only she knows how to do, the cover girl with the glittery grin. I’m sold—have been for years.
    “And I suppose you’ll be wanting the truth.” A dimple goes off in her cheek as she says it.
    “There is no other option.”
    “Dinner with me? And the truth?” She gargles out a laugh as she slinks to the door. “Some people really do want it all.”
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    I wait until after lunch , after I finish going through my client list for the day to watch one of the videos. At first I wasn’t going to do it. The stoic, gentleman in me thought better against it, but then the legal eagle in me, the shark, the piranha thought better of that, and decided I needed to know what I was up against—what Kennedy was up against. I choose Sorority Sister Screams only because the title is the most innocent of them all—if you can say that, and I really don’t think you can. Deep Throat Debutant may never get viewed, at least not by me. I hit play, and the screen goes dark for a moment. Pink scrolling handwriting comes up spelling out the title one letter at a time. Classy.
    Kennedy comes into focus, soft at first, a blur of flesh then an abrupt manipulating of her limbs to get her in a camera-ready position. Kennedy laughs as Keith lands his hands on her knees. She shakes out her dark hair, her shoulders coming into sharp focus as he lies her down over ground zero, and there she is, her perfect body, pale, firm, perky in all the right places. My dick ticks in my boxers, forcing me to reposition it. Down boy. This is all work and no play. Hopefully this will pan out to be a prophecy at best.
    The action begins. Keith’s hairy ass takes over the screen for a few minutes too long. He pulls her lower onto the mattress, spins her body, pinning her thighs back with his greasy mitts. He’s showing her off to the world. Kennedy is on display in a horrifically graphic way, and I’m physically sickened by his actions. Her lashes flutter, her mouth opens with her next breath as he sinks his head over her belly, then lower still, uncomfortably lower, and I shut my laptop because I’ve just concluded all of the research I’ll be conducting.
    Nope. That horrible nightmare was Kennedy’s past. I very much plan on being a part of her future. I only want the best for her, and the best for her right now is keeping myself in the dark when it comes to her sexual escapades with her ex.
    The rest of the afternoon I’m high off the idea of spending an entire uninterrupted evening with Kennedy of all people. Kennedy is a girl who makes you wonder what she’s thinking. You can see the challenge in her as clear as her beautiful eyes. I want a woman who’s able to challenge me. I need that. Deductive logic begs to reason that I need Kennedy. And, God knows, I’m all about deductive logic these days.
    While I was away at NYU, and then later while I was getting started in my career, I did try to forget about her. I tried washing away the memory of those stolen summer kisses, those achingly raw exchanges, away with a few other women. There weren’t many. I wasn’t a serial dater, but I had a few regulars who kept my bed heated and my balls content for the time being. After a while, they each wanted a commitment. No, they never came out and said it, but, before I knew it, I was hanging out with their good friends, double dating with their good