Innocent 'til Proven Otherwise by Amy Andrews

Author:Amy Andrews
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781408972663
Publisher: Harlequin Mills & Boon Ltd
Published: 2012-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

TWO weeks later Max was chatting to Reginald Aimes in the cavernous atrium of the courthouse the opening morning of Cullen v Brisbane Memorial when the aroma of warmed baked goods enveloped him in a cloud of intoxicating sweetness.

Despite his hearty breakfast his belly rumbled and he turned his head to identify the source just as Reg said, ‘Ah, Aleisha, how are you, my dear?’

Ali, pulling close to the two men, grabbed Reg’s outstretched hand and presented her cheek for his fatherly peck. ‘Ready,’ she said.

And she was. This thing had been hanging over her head for so long now, like a cancer. She was ready to finally be able to do something about it. To fight.

‘Good.’ He patted her on the shoulder. ‘It’ll all be over in a couple of weeks and Max is confident we’ll win, aren’t you, Max?’

Max dragged his gaze back from his search and smiled at her. ‘Absolutely.’

She looked good. Tired, but good. He was pleased to see she’d taken his advice and dressed conservatively in dark trousers and jacket, flat shoes and minimal make-up.

Her hair was still a wild array of butterscotch curls that were utterly feminine and completely distracting but, short of asking her to cut them off, he was stuck with them.

Both in this world and the more elusive, erotic world of his dreams.

A mobile rang. Reg patted his pocket and withdrew the ringing gadget. ‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to take this.’

They watched Reg move away and Max indicated for her to follow him. Ali tagged after him, out of the main foyer area and along several carpeted corridors. She felt surprisingly calm as each step took them further into the bowels of the old, yet still imposing building.

She suspected it wouldn’t last. No doubt the second she walked into the courtroom she’d be a blithering mess. But for now, Ali felt good.

‘In here,’ Max said.

Ali waited for him to unlock a door and preceded him into the room. It was nondescript and boxlike with cheap grey vertical blinds covering the only window. Six chairs surrounded a small oval table, a far cry from the monolith in Max’s boardroom back at the firm, and she noted that Max’s laptop and briefcase had already claimed a spot.

She turned to face him. He hadn’t moved from the doorway and she quirked an eyebrow at him.

Max stood, statue-like, suspended in a cloud of sponge cake and warm croissants, unable to breathe for a moment.

It was her?

She smelled like a patisserie?

He gave an inward groan at the unfairness of it all as the overwhelming urge to nuzzle her neck surged like a symphony in his blood.

As if she weren’t good enough to eat already.

Max gripped the knob hard. ‘Sit.’

Ali frowned at his tense request. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ he dismissed, stalking to the table and sitting down as the door clicked shut.

Ali pulled out one of the chairs and sat, aware of a small twist of tension bunching her neck muscles. ‘So, should we go over the procedure for the day again?’ she asked.

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