She waved one of his notes. “And the name of my second foster father is misspelled.” The tight, dim smile she exhibited didn’t hold a candle to the one she’d flaunted last night. “Of course, he’s dead so I guess it doesn’t really matter.”
“Step away from my desk, Ms. Baxter.” The order rushed from Carson’s throat as if he’d exhaled a blast of fire.
Annette stilled. Well, well, Mr. Carson Tanner wasn’t so happy to see her. A vast turnaround from last night’s primal reaction.
Nothing she hadn’t expected. Dropping the note and lifting her hands in mock surrender, she retreated two paces. “You caught me red-handed.”
For several seconds he stared at her, probably hoping her appearance was just a bad dream. He might as well get used to the idea that the two of them were involved, because she wasn’t backing off. She needed him.
As if she’d telegraphed that thought, his gaze raked her body. He liked what he saw. Good. From the twist she’d arranged her hair into to the shrink-wrapped black sheath she wore, all had been carefully selected for him. That was the one lesson she had learned on the street:Dress to impress. A john was far more likely to be generous if he liked what he saw and thought what he was paying for was worth the price.
She smiled as she paid him back in spades. Same shirt and trousers as last night—both a little rumpled, but the look was good on him. The tie hung loosely, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. She imagined that showing up for work unshowered and unshaven, wearing yesterday’s clothes, was far from the norm for this uptight deputy DA.
His gaze locked with hers. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but what you did last night is called entrapment. You broke the law.” He crossed the room and stepped between her and his desk, shuffling the photos and reports into a stack, his anger visibly expanding with each movement.
“Did I?” The innocence she was able to impart in her tone surprised even her and did exactly what she intended.
He did a one-eighty, pinning her with his fury. “You knew who I was when you approached me at the bar. Don’t bother denying it. I don’t know how you discovered I would be assigned this case and I don’t care, but your games aren’t going to work.”
The next logical step would be to call security. She had to act fast. “They’re setting me up.” The line wasn’t exactly original, but it was all too accurate.
“Security will see you out.”
Men. They were so easy to read. She had her hand on his before he could reach the receiver. “Give me five minutes,” she urged, the desperation in the words frighteningly real. Too real. He was the only chance she had of stopping this thing before it went too far.
“Five minutes,” she repeated when he didn’t immediately reject her suggestion.
For a moment she thought he might just give in; then his expression hardened. “I’m certain you’re aware, Ms. Baxter, that I cannot discuss any aspect of the case with you.” He held up both hands to ward her off. “In fact, I can’t be in the same room alone with you.”
Damn. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip before she could stop the old habit. She hadn’t done that in years ... hadn’t permitted that slithering insecurity to make her feel ... afraid. She snatched back her courage. No fear. Play on his sympathy. Men were suckers for a woman in jeopardy.
“I need your help.” If he refused to listen, she still had options, however unappealing. “This”—she indicated the file on his desk—“is a conspiracy. The very men you hold in great esteem are railroading me to cover their own crimes.” That was a vast understatement.
Fury raged in his eyes, etched into the granite of his jaw. She wasn’t getting through. “I’m telling you the truth.” She had to make him see. “I have no reason to lie to you,Mr. Tanner.”
“Really?” He planted his hands on his hips. “You follow me to a bar. Come up with that wild proposition and then show up here like this—on the same day I’m assigned to investigate your activities.” He shook his head, his disgust crystal clear. “I don’t know, but that sounds a little manufactured to me.”
“I knew you’d get the case,” she confessed. “You’re the best.” Selecting a distant memory, she used it to summon tears. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was scared.” She searched his eyes for a glimmer of compassion. “I made a mistake.” That was a lie, but he couldn’t prove it. “You’re the only person who can help me.”.
“You don’t know me.”
“I know all about you, Carson Tanner.” His anger seemed to abate the tiniest bit. “You’re the Avenger. The man who never loses. The deputy district attorney poised to succeed Wainwright.” Such a handsome man for a prosecutor, too. Dark hair, equally dark eyes. Classic jawline, nice lips. The whole package. Just a little too trusting. But he would learn that trust was vastly overrated.
“Get out.” The words were as ruthlessly relayed as the glare he now aimed at her.
Any compassion she’d hoped for vanished in that same instant. Oh well. There was always plan B. She walked around him, his gaze trackingher every move, and scooted onto the edge of the desk. The hem of her dress slid to the tops of her thighs. His attention went straight there as if he had no authority over his own eyes. So very predictable. She crossed one meticulously toned leg over the other. He swallowed with difficulty.
Whatever it takes.
“All I want is justice,” she implored, tracing with one red-nailed finger down the deep neckline that exposed her cleavage. His gaze followed the path of that finger.
As if he’d just snapped from a trance, his expression darkened with fury once more. “I sincerely doubt that you know a whole hell of a lot about justice, lady.”
“I know many things, Mr. Tanner.” His remark should have pissed her off, but she’d expected that and worse. “Don’t mistake what I do for what I know.”
“I’m asking you to leave.” He stepped directly into her personal space. “It’ll be considerably easier if you leave of your own volition rather than forcing me to call security.”
“You’re the defender of the underdog, the champion of truth,” she insisted, taking the statement word for word from recent headlines. “Don’t you want to hear my truth?” He wasn’t fooled for a second. She read the derision on his face as easily as scanning the latest issue ofCosmopolitanat the checkout counter.
