“You make me nervous,” I say honestly.
He smirks. “I make you nervous?”
“Yeah. I—I want to impress you,” I mutter.
“Well, go on. Impress me.”
I release the deep breath I was holding in and run through my opening argument, only to have him respond with, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Are you familiar with the primacy versus recency effect?” he asks.
“Can’t say that I am,” I admit.
“It’s a theory of jury persuasion. Some trial attorneys feel that primacy, the first thing a jury hears, is what sticks with them the most. And others feel that recency, the last thing a jury hears, is what sticks with them most,” he explains.
“And what do you think?”
“I lean towards recency.”
“Is that why you save all your statements dripping with sexual innuendo and confessions until the end of our conversations?” I jest.
“Do you remember the last thing I said to you before we left the office the other night?”
“I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”
“Every word.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “Good. Give me your closing.”
So, I do just that.
James watches, arms crossed over his chest, the tilt of his head and the slight narrowing of his eyes reminding me of how intense he can be. How intimidating. How sexy.
I shake the thought away, forcing myself to focus.
As soon as I finish, he gives me a look.
“What? What was wrong with that one?” I demand, my nerves already fraying.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “You’re close, but it needs more.”
I huff, deflating.
“You can’t just rattle off facts and hope to win. They need to feel it,” he says, leaning against the table. His shirt stretches across his shoulders, drawing my eyes to the outline of his body.
I stare him down for a moment, then grab my notes. I hate that he’s right, but I hate the thought of letting him down even more.
I adjust my skirt and straighten my blouse before launching into the statement again, trying to summon the confidence that seems just out of reach. James’s eyes are on me the entire time, and I feel the weight of his attention even as I stumble over my words.
“That’s the strongest one yet,” he says when I finish, his voice neutral but his eyes saying more.
I sit back down, exhaustion pulling at me.
“I feel like I’m never gonna get it right, it’s not gonna stick with the jury the way it needs to, and I’m gonna lose this trial. Fuck. I do not want to lose this trial,” I admit.
He moves closer, taking the seat next to mine.
