Smash Cut
it. The come-hither eyes. That business with the top button of her blouse. The legs. Oh yeah, the legs. Jergens had never looked so good, felt so good on a pair of thighs. All that timid lip biting. Letting down her hair, for godsake. Just about every woman on the planet knew these drills.
But she had perfected them.
She’d taken him by his dick and led him into the restroom of an airplane full of people, where they could have been caught, exposed, made a laughingstock. He didn’t know if sexual congress on a commercial aircraft was illegal—he’d have one of his clerks look it up—but it sure as hell wasn’t smart .
What if they’d been bagged by a little old lady? Or a child? Imagine the hue and cry that would have been raised had little Suzie walked in on them. No one would have slept for the rest of the flight. All two hundred plus passengers would have wanted to take a gander at the pair who couldn’t control their libidos, to catch a glimpse of the fornicators.
He imagined having his picture plastered on the front page of the Journal , being escorted out of the Jetway by an air marshal wearing a disapproving, even disgusted frown. The DA’s office would probably have made a poster of it and circulated copies throughout the Fulton County Justice Center. He’d have never lived it down.
He didn’t like losing, and would do whatever it took to win. But he could lose with dignity if he knew he’d done his absolute best, if there had been virtually no chance of winning to start with but he’d given his all to try to beat the odds. He could lose like that. He didn’t like to, but he could.
But to be mocked, hoodwinked, made a complete and utter fool of, as this chick had done, that was untenable.
And why? Besides screwing her blind, what had he ever done to her?
Ah well. It would remain one of life’s little mysteries.
He lowered his hands, stretching his stubbled cheeks before let ting his hands drop onto the stack of mail, messages, and paperwork that had collected during his twelve-day absence.
Marlene came in carrying her notepad and a steaming cup of coffee.
“Thanks.” He scalded his tongue on the first sip, but it was his preferred blend and tasted good.
She took her customary place in the chair on the other side of his desk. “So. How was Paris?”
“French.”
“That bad?”
He smiled. “It’s a beautiful city. Flowers in bloom. The food was outstanding. Good wine.”
“You don’t like wine.”
“I managed to quaff a few glasses just to be sociable.”
“The Seine?”
“We had Mom’s party on a dinner boat.”
“Notre-Dame?”
“Still there, but I didn’t see the hunchback.”
“Pretty women?”
“Everywhere.”
Marlene sniffed with disdain. “They all smoke. That’s how they stay thin.”
Derek gave her a look, and her eyes narrowed on him. “Don’t you dare say it. But it is the one diet I haven’t tried.”
He laughed. They’d been together so long, they could tease each other without offending. Marlene Sullivan had followed him when he’d boldly stormed out the door of a large and respected firm after a heated quarrel with the senior partner.
She’d helped him hang out his own shingle, and since then had been his right hand, guardian at the gate, social secretary, errand runner, and sounding board. She had a keen legal mind, frequently opening up another avenue of thought when a case proved tough and the direction in which he was taking it would lead nowhere except to conviction. He couldn’t run his practice or his life without her, a fact of which she reminded him often.
He trusted her implicitly. She would carry to the grave anything he told her in confidence. Now, as he regarded her affable, matronly face, he considered telling her about his experience on the plane. Brace yourself, Marlene. You’re not going to believe what your boss did on his transatlantic flight.
But no. He couldn’t divulge that, not even to his loyal assistant, who’d seen him at his best but also at his absolute worst. Last night’s sexual escapade

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