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Excerpt
His voice promised midnight sin and passion.
Attorney Gabrielle Rousseau lives her life by simple rules: Never let a man stand in the way of your ambition and never drop expensive lingerie at the feet of a charming Texas rogue.
As sinfully gorgeous Devlin Sinclair helps her retrieve her most intimate purchases, Gabrielle knows she's in trouble. His suggestive smile and dark smoldering gaze leave no doubt that he'd be happy to deliver on her long-resisted fantasies. None of which she can afford to indulge.
Not now. Not with him.
Devlin Sinclair is an attorney with ambition to match her own, and the new obstacle in her path to partner. Avoiding him is not an option, but sharing a case-at the insistence of her boss-is flirting with danger. Devlin makes her forget everything except the feel of his hands on her.
Devlin knows the lady doesn't believe in forever, but he's never walked away from anything he's wanted. He's determined to share the pain that shadows her and find a way to teach her that what they have is forever.
ON THIN ICE is sensual, sultry romance at its best as only Eve Gaddy can deliver.
"Ms. Gaddy creates a sizzling sensual tension guaranteed
to please the most exacting of romance fans. 4 Stars"--Romantic
Times, Melinda Helfer
"This writer's characters come to life and leave the
reader breathless. She is wonderful. Outstanding! 5 BELLS!"
--Bell Book & Candle, Lorraine Stephens
"...a thoroughly satisfying reading experience that will
appeal to those who love a blazing romance wrapped inside a
heart throbbing story line...one of the best category writers
on the market today." -- Painted Rock, Harriet Klausner
"A master of romantic suspense, Ms. Gaddy gifts us with
an unforgettable novel. Highly Recommended" --Under the Covers
Book Reviews, Kathee S. Card
"Passion, danger, love, honor--all abound in this
wonderful offering of Ms. Gaddy's. ...What a humdinger of a
book!" --Compuserve, Jo Riemer
CHAPTER ONE
It was obscenely expensive, totally
impractical, and the most gorgeous thing Gabrielle Rousseau had ever seen. Soft
and silky, it flowed over her skin like a caress, whispering, "You know you
want me.”
With
a wicked smile Gabrielle slipped out of the emerald-green nightgown and
redressed, layering her sensible tan suit over her frivolous lace bra and
panties. Placing the pièce de résistance on top of the rainbow offering of
underthings, she abandoned the dressing room before practicality set in.
She
was worth it, Gabrielle reminded herself. After the fight she’d been through,
she deserved a perk. Winning a case was an incredible, though fleeting, high.
Lingerie lasted longer.
Partner.She
tossed up her head seeing the title in her mind’s eye. Each victory brought her
dream closer. And this particular triumph, the seemingly impossible task of
proving Mike McDermott innocent of murder, had given her an adrenaline rush
that could only be compared to—So far, she hadn’t found anything to compare it to.Fast track, choke on my dust, she thought. She was on the warp-speed
track now, phasers on stun.
The
emerald nightgown slid from the top of the heap of clothing in her arms.
Gabrielle grabbed for it, missed, and tripped over a display, landing amongst
the kaleidoscope of lingerie that pooled at a man’s feet.
Cursing
her clumsiness under her breath, she didn’t look up but scrambled to retrieve
her haul. Hopefully he’d go away and leave her alone, not try to help and make
her feel like even more of a klutz. No such luck. He dropped down beside her,
and she found herself gazing at richly black kid leather Italian loafers.
Exactly the type of shoes a prosperous businessman would wear.
Or
a successful attorney.
Lord,
please don’t let it be anyone I know, she prayed. Not that there was anything
wrong with going to a lingerie shop on her lunch hour. But as one of Christian,
Gilmer & Simmons’s hottest and, she hoped, fastest rising trial lawyers,
she took pains to present an entirely professional image. A weakness for fancy
lingerie wasn’t something she wanted printed on her resume.
Gabrielle
raised her head and stared into gray eyes fringed with thick brown lashes.
Straight gold-blond hair fell to the collar of his navy pinstriped suit. A
patented knock-your-socks-off smile kicked up at one corner of his mouth and a
skimpy black lace bra dangled from his long, graceful fingers.
"Excuse
me. I believe this is yours.” His deep voice held laughter in check, though
amusement glimmered in his eyes.
Warmth
flooded her face, spreading over her neck and chest. Paralyzed, she stared at
the blond god in front of her and wanted to sink into the floor. "No, I—you—Oh,
never mind.”
So
much for her famed ability to think on her feet. She snatched at the bra,
catching the lace on the clasp of his watchband. Yanking on the elastic strap,
she tried to untangle them but only managed to create a snarl, much like the
effect she had on a fishing line whenever she touched one.
"It
won’t—I can’t—” Increasingly frustrated, she fought with the bra, which by now
had taken on a life of its own and wrapped itself around his arm like an
amorous python. "Oh, damn, I give up,” she finally muttered.
His
smile melted her into a quivering puddle. Heat shot through her veins, pooled
in her stomach, and spread lower. Her dazed gaze remained on his face until he
disentangled himself with an easy flick of his wrist, hinting at an intimate
acquaintance with women’s underwear. As he handed her the bra, his fingers
brushed against hers. She could have sworn her skin tingled from the shock.
Her
humiliation complete, she murmured, "Thank you,” and prayed he’d leave. He
didn’t.
"Here,
let me help.” He began to gather up other bits of satin and lace.
"Thank
you,” she repeated, "but I can get the rest myself.” Go away, go away, go away,
she chanted silently, adding an emphatic expletive.
He
ignored her, picking up a minuscule pair of hot-pink panties, a peach-colored
lace nightgown, and another bra that should have been banned as an incitement
to riot. The scents of satin and rose-petaled sin intensified in the air,
assaulting her senses and firing images of those dexterous fingers dancing
over—
Ruthlessly
squelching her wayward thoughts, Gabrielle gritted her teeth, gathered the
remainder to her bosom, and rose at the same time he did. Cheeks flaming, her
chin angled in challenge, she thrust out an imperious hand.
"You
have excellent taste,” he told her, placing a few of the items in her
outstretched hand. "No, that’s mine,” he added when she tried to take a silky
black teddy from him.
"It
doesn’t look like your size,” she snapped before she could help it.
He
laughed, more heartily than she thought the comment deserved. "It’s for a
friend,” he said, his voice rich with enjoyment. Another knee-weakening smile
tugged at his lips.
Friend?
Right. "So are these,” Gabrielle said with an ironic smile.
He
walked to the checkout counter with her, politely waiting his turn as she laid
out her things. Rhonda, the clerk, greeted Gabrielle by name and asked if she’d
received the latest sale circular.
"Haven’t
seen you in a month of Sundays,” Rhonda continued, chatting as she rang up the
sale. "Where you been hidin’ yourself, honey?”
Her
face heating anew, Gabrielle mumbled, "Work, mostly. I haven’t had much time
for shopping lately.” She glared at the man, daring him to comment. His lips
quivered, but he remained silent.
Spreading
out powder-blue and white scented tissue paper, Rhonda wrapped each individual
piece of lingerie with the care a jeweler gave to a perfect gemstone. "Oh, for God’s
sake, Rhonda, just put the damn things in a bag,” Gabrielle finally said, her
patience snapping like the last link in a trace chain.
She
heard a choked-off laugh and turned her head, slicing the blond god with a
razored glance. Rhonda grinned knowingly as she finished and handed her the
striped paper shopping bag. Lighten up, Gabrielle, she told herself. You’ll
never see him again.
And
a good thing too. He was obviously involved with someone. Even if he hadn’t
been, her performance had to be the Kodak moment of embarrassing incidents. She
should be glad she’d never see him again.
Unable
to resist a last glance, she looked over her shoulder at him as she left. Their
eyes met. He gave her another one of his bone-melting smiles and winked.
She should be glad... but she wasn’t.
Gabrielle made it to the weekly meeting of the
criminal defense litigation section with minutes to spare. She took a seat at
the huge conference table, sinking into the chair beside Nina Abbot, a junior
attorney she’d struck up a friendship with and who often assisted Gabrielle
with her caseload. Nina didn’t stand on ceremony with Gabrielle, and Gabrielle
liked it that way. There was already too much pomp and circumstance at
CG&S.
"Okay,
let’s hear the rest of it,” Gabrielle said, referring to a conversation she and
Nina had begun earlier that day.
"Surely
you’ve seen him,” Nina said. "He transferred here weeks ago. Where have you
been, girl? What have you been doing?”
Gabrielle
figured she was the only person in the Dallas office who hadn’t yet met Devlin
Sinclair. The hotshot defense attorney who’d just transferred from the Houston
branch was rumored to have come to Dallas at a senior partner’s urging. She
knew Sinclair’s reputation, of course, just as she knew the reputations of all
of the competitive defense attorneys within the large firm. However, since the
firm maintained offices all over the Southwest, she had never met the majority
of them.
"I’ve
been buried under the legal avalanche of the century, remember?” she said to
Nina. "I didn’t think I’d ever wade through the paperwork. Besides, I know you.
You think any male between the ages of twenty-five and sixty has potential.”
"Not
just potential.” Nina shook her head and sighed. "No, this guy is
absolutely—Oh, God, there he is.” She brushed her blond bangs away from her
face and patted at the cascade of curls falling to her shoulders. "He’s coming
over here. Maybe my horoscope was right, maybe—Gabrielle.” This was accompanied
by an elbow digging sharply into Gabrielle’s ribs. "He’s staring at you.”
Smiling
at her friend’s sotto-voce discourse, Gabrielle turned her head. No. Tell me
no, she thought, her blood congealing as she watched a man walk toward her
with a swift, confident stride. Blond hair. Gray eyes. A long, lean, cool drink
of water. Heaven help her, she needed a drink.
"You
bum!” Nina whispered in her ear. "You have met him. How could you not tell me?”
He
stood before her smiling, a heart attack just waiting to happen. "Devlin
Sinclair.” He held out his hand. "I don’t believe we’ve been formally
introduced.”
Gabrielle
extended a limp hand and said faintly, "Gabrielle Rousseau.” She could only
thank God that her mouth hadn’t dropped open.
Taking
the chair beside her, he said, "Rousseau? The McDermott case, right? Heard about
that this morning.” He looked at her with approval—and not a trace of jealousy.
"Congratulations. Tough case.”
Get
a grip, you fool, she lectured herself. You face rabid DA’s daily. Take
control here.
"Thank
you,” she said.
Brilliant
response, Counselor.
There
wasn’t time for more, thank heavens. Just then the section chief, Sid Norris,
entered, and the meeting began.
An
hour later, Gabrielle felt much better. Terminal boredom had helped settle her
nerves. Sid had actually complimented her on the McDermott case, an act that
was unheard of for the chief attorney.
She
risked a surreptitious glance at Devlin Sinclair. So what if he thought of her
as that klutz who’d fallen at his feet in the Midnight and Lace lingerie shop?
She consoled herself with the certainty that he’d remember her courtroom
victories a lot longer than her clumsiness. Her successes were the bottom line.
The
meeting over, Sid called out to her as she started to leave the room.
"Rousseau, I want to see you in my office. A private matter. It won’t take
long.”
Gabrielle
groaned silently. Sid’s "not long” could mean anywhere from ten minutes to two
hours, not including the time spent waiting for him to appear. Gathering her
papers, she exchanged a wry glance with Nina before she left the room.
The
familiar sizzle of ambition hit her the moment she stepped inside Sid’s office.
Settling comfortably into a leather side chair and closing her eyes, she let
her imagination take wing. The siren call of achievement beckoned her. Partner.
What a seductive sound the word made, even if only spoken in her mind. It meant
dark, gleaming tones of a richly polished mahogany desk. Clear, sparkling
crystal water goblets. A staff of people to do the drudge work, her own parking
space instead of the half-mile hike in the Texas heat or freezing drizzle. A
beautifully appointed, spacious office instead of the dreary cracker box she
now inhabited. The scent of cool leather surrounded her in a cushion of hopeful
affluence, success in shades of burgundy.
Success
would mean that she’d been right to leave her past behind. Failure would mean
she might as well have stayed where she was... stayed who she
was.
Another
scent tugged at her senses, growing stronger as the seconds stretched by. A
heady, masculine scent of... power.
"I
seem to be interrupting. Again.” The deep male voice came from the doorway of
Sid’s office.
Already,
she knew that voice. Its smoky bass tone made her think of sex and midnight
sin. Gabrielle opened her eyes and gazed at Devlin Sinclair. The man had no
right to look that good. Or to look so totally at ease. So...
right, dammit. As if the office was his, instead of his boss’s. His success
rate was, in her opinion, advantage enough.
"This
is a private meeting, Sinclair. I’ll tell Sid you’re looking for him.”
"He
knows,” Sinclair said, stepping inside and crossing to the window. "He told me
to meet him here. Something about a confidential matter. I assume he wants to
see both of us. Some view,” he added admiringly, looking out at the Dallas
skyline. "You lived here long?”
See
them both? "Why?” Gabrielle demanded, rising and striding to the window to
stand beside him.
Sinclair’s
eyebrows lifted as he turned to look at her. "Curiosity. Your accent isn’t from
these parts.”
What the devil did her accent have to do
with anything? she wondered, before she realized they were talking about
two different things. "Not that,” she said impatiently. "Why did Sid ask you to
meet with him privately?”
His
lips quirked, nearly a smile. "I have no idea. Do you?”
She
didn’t, dammit. And she didn’t like it. Gabrielle had never liked surprises,
even as a child. Not since she was six years old and her mother died
unexpectedly. It would be just like Sid to have brought Devlin Sinclair to
Dallas expressly to ruin her chances of advancement. Sid, the chauvinistic
creep, couldn’t stand the fact that Gabrielle—a mere female—had the best record
and billed the most hours in their section. Considering her reputation, Sid
couldn’t afford to ignore her, but he loved seeing her nose bent out of joint.
And if the rumors were true and Sid was really thinking of retiring...
voilà, Devlin Sinclair. Sid’s replacement?
Over
her dead body!
"You
have very expressive eyes,” he said, with that damnable smile tickling at his
mouth. "You’re glaring at me like you’d like to spit roast me over a slow fire.
Why is that? I didn’t put that display in the middle of the walkway, you know.”
"I
knew it! I knew you’d bring that up.” Her forefinger jabbed him in the chest,
squarely in the middle of the geometric design adorning his silk tie. "Listen,
Sinclair, just because we met in a lingerie shop—” Abruptly, she halted,
removing her finger from his chest. None of this was his fault. Maybe. She
didn’t trust him, though. Not one inch. She suspected his ambitions were on par
with hers or he’d never have reached his current level in the firm’s hierarchy.
"Absolutely
right,” he agreed, nodding. "A beautiful woman should feel no need to apologize
for buying expensive lingerie.”
Her
eyes narrowed. In her experience, flattery hid ulterior motives. She crossed
her arms over her chest and strove not to stamp her foot. "I’m not apologizing.
And I’m not beautiful. Don’t try that line with me.”
He
put a finger under her chin and tilted up her head. Examining her solemnly, he
said, "No, I suppose not. Not classically beautiful, anyway. Your mouth is too
wide, for one thing. And your nose turns up. But beauty is subjective. Your
face is unusual. I like it.”
She
knew how he won over juries, or at least the women jurors. He hypnotized them
with his eyes and that damnably deep, sexy voice. His almost smile was the
clincher. Well, she was too shrewd to fall for Counselor Smooth. "I’m so
thrilled,” she said through her teeth, "that my face meets with your approval,
Mr. Sinclair. You can’t imagine what that means to me.”
He
laughed and dropped his hand just as Sid Norris entered the office. Sid’s
beady-eyed gaze scrutinized her for a second longer than his usual dismissive
glances. Gabrielle damned the flush Sinclair’s touch had provoked. Lord only
knew what Sid was imagining.
Her
own imagination had started working overtime the moment she saw Devlin
Sinclair. And the fact that she’d met him in a lingerie shop, for heaven’s
sake, didn’t help matters any. Lord, why did he have to look, not to mention
sound, like every woman’s fantasy?
Hold
it right there, she told herself, cutting off the thoughts. Tripping over
that display had scrambled her mind as well as bruised her dignity.
"Have
a seat,” Sid said, looking them both over with what Gabrielle thought of as his
ferret-faced expression. "I’ll get right to it. I’ve just been handed a case
that I’d ordinarily take care of myself. However, my current commitments won’t
allow me to devote the time and attention needed. So the two of you are going
to take it on.”
Sid
paused and let that hang in the air, playing for maximum effect. Pregnant
pauses were one of his specialties, and his pompous air never failed to
irritate Gabrielle. This time there was an underlying note of challenge to his
words as well. What was Sid up to?
"What
case is this, Norris?” Sinclair asked.
"A
high profile one.” Sid picked up his half-glasses and propped them on his nose.
"So it won’t be easy, needless to say. You’ll need to pull in some more help
along with your regular teams. I don’t care who you use, just make sure they
can keep their mouths shut.”
Why
the emphasis on keeping quiet? Gabrielle wondered, gazing at her boss. Anybody
too mouthy didn’t last long at CG&S. Just what kind of case was he dumping
on them? She couldn’t believe he was pairing her with Sinclair, but for a
chance at promotion she’d work with the devil himself. Glancing at her
soon-to-be partner, she thought she just might be doing that. After all, they
called him Devil Sinclair. His courtroom reputation was as good as hers. Or
better.
Though
he looked prune-faced as ever, she knew Sid was enjoying his power. After
another lengthy pause, he added, "Did I mention this case is important? Winning
is a priority. Do anything necessary to achieve that. Anything at all. We can’t
afford to let this one go down.”
Give
me a break, Sid. Can you get any more melodramatic? she thought,
grimacing. Who in the world was this client who rated two top trial lawyers?
They’d probably be working on this case from dawn to well past midnight, six
days a week.
"Has
the client been charged?” Sinclair asked.
"Yes.
In fact, you need to get bail set as soon as possible.” Sid tapped his finger
on the file on his desk and continued, "The charge is racketeering—protection
extortion. Also gambling, running an illegal operation. Bail will likely be
sky-high, but that won’t matter. Just get him out as quickly as you can.”
"Racketeering
and gambling?” Gabrielle repeated. "What is he, some kind of organized crime
lord?”
Sid’s
sour smile said it all. "As organized as it gets. Mafia.”
Mafia.
The word steamrolled through Gabrielle’s mind as a double load of cinder blocks
fell on her chest. "Who is the client?” Her heart beginning to race, her
breathing shallow and fast, she waited. The Mafia was everywhere. Coincidence,
she told herself desperately. No reason to panic.
"The
feds think the Mafia is trying to set up a whole new operation here in Dallas.
First I’ve heard of it, but that’s what they’re saying. If this man falls, so
do a lot of others. The feds want the dons, so they busted Franco Sabatino,
hoping he’ll talk. I doubt the charges are trumped up. Make damned sure no one
knows what your defense will be. You two are in for a hell of a fight. But
winning will be one hell of a victory.”
Blood
roared in Gabrielle’s ears, drowning out anything else Sid said. Her stomach
churned with violent nausea. Her skin turned clammy and hot at once.
Franco
Sabatino. The case that could make her career.
The
man who could ruin it.