Attractive Nuisance (Legally in Love Book 1) (3 page)

He looked at the ceiling. Guilty of
not
doing so. Oh, he really
was
a slacker. Ugh. Nothing irked Camilla more than a person who didn’t take the cause of justice seriously. Of course, she probably took it more seriously than most, but still. Ten minutes of prep time? For a jury trial?

“It doesn’t change the fact that I’m hungry now. And you are too. I can read it in your face. It’s a hungry face.”

“No, it isn’t.” Her stomach growled just then. Traitor! “I had a bowl of Cheerios an hour ago.” Or she would have if she’d remembered to. The growl rumbled again. It had better shut up or she’d get it transplanted in revenge.

“Cheerios. That’s not food. It’s oat-flavored air. Come on.” He took her hand and led her up the stairs. “I like those shoes, by the way. I saw them when you walked in, and they threw me out of my storytelling groove. Your legs look a mile long in them.”

Camilla almost tripped on the top step of the staircase. If Zane hadn’t had her elbow she’d have been flat on her face.

“Steady there. And no getting ticked at me for that comment. I’m a guy. I see stuff. Stuff I like. I’m going to get distracted by it. It’s a good thing you whacked the chair. It was like a gong that snapped me out of my leg-glance trance.” With the flat of his hand he steered her toward the exit from the main floor. His touch shouldn’t have sent heat through all the layers she was wearing, but it warmed her back and radiated out from her spine to the rest of her body. Oh, dear. She was in trouble. So much trouble. She’d better focus on something else.

Out in the parking lot sat six vehicles, including one jacked up truck. It towered over the other cars and SUVs, looking ridiculous.

“Look at that thing.” In spite of herself, she spoke to him friendly-like. “That sucker would never make it through an automatic car wash. What kind of person needs a truck like that? Someone with short man’s syndrome?” She’d seen things like this in legal disputes.

“I don’t know. Let’s go check it out.” Zane took hold of her wrist, with that fabulously crusty hand of his, and led her over to it. They began circling it, checking out the tailpipe—all chromed out—the mud flaps á la Yosemite Sam, the KC lights decorating the roll bar. Somebody loved his truck.

“Methinks he doth compensate too much.” She’d left her own sedan, the car of her dreams, over at the county attorney’s office parking lot. Sure she owed too much money on it to feel any measure of security in life, but she adored it. Was Zane Holyoake a car guy too? She could never be with anyone who didn’t at least accept her adoration for her BMW. Not that she was considering “being with” Zane Holyoake. No. In fact, she hadn’t even agreed to go to lunch—er, brunch—with him. Although, she might accept a ride back to the office. If he was nice.

“Paint job could use a touch up around the running boards here, but I like it.” Zane reached in his pocket and jingled some keys. Camilla looked around for which car would flash its lights and beep when he pushed the automatic lock button. A decade-old Toyota? A station wagon? A half-totaled minivan?

Instead, he stepped up on the running board of the passenger side door and jammed his key into the lock of the lifted truck. It turned. He opened the door. “I like digging. My friends and I went four wheeling last night, and I had to get it in at the car wash this morning before court. Did you know there’s an automatic car wash on Highway 89 that’s lifted-truck friendly? And they don’t mind mud. The owner went to high school with me. We spent time mudding back in the day.” He hoisted himself aboard and then reached down a hand to Camilla.

She couldn’t move. Or speak—for quite a long moment. But when she did, she managed, “Oh, hey. I’m going to walk.”

“All the way to Tango? In those shoes? When you could be riding in
style
?”

His idea of style and hers were on opposite goal lines. Of the Forty-Niners and the Patriots.

“Come on. They’re still serving their breakfast menu, but they start up the lunch grill at 10:30. We can get in at that magical moment of 10:35 where you can get a hamburger with an egg on it. Or a sausage patty, if eggs sound gross.” Eggs didn’t sound gross. She liked them. And sausage. And hamburgers. His hand still reached down toward her, beckoning to her growling stomach. Her toe inched forward.

Then stopped. He was going to pump her for information about the office. He was using her as his stepping stone to the deputy job. She’d seen him manipulate a jury now—and she knew her own limitations.

“Like I said, I had Cheerios not too long ago.” And she had work to do. Work to do, work to do, the mantra chanted in her head as she minced back to the office in her platform sandals and pencil skirt. Tomorrow she’d need a wider skirt to take longer, faster strides—away from Zane Holyoake.

CHAPTER FOUR

Apprehended

Camilla hunched over her files, trying to ignore the stunning show of sunset colors arraying themselves outside her cubicle window. The sun sank below the jagged desert mountain to the west, leaving bars of fiery orange rays shooting through the magenta-tinged clouds, and the sherbet-colored display out the second floor window of the Yavapai County Courthouse called to her.

She had to cover her ears to not hear its siren song.

Tinted glass. Not the best way to experience an Arizona sunset, but better than no view.
She’d elbowed her way through the ranks to even land this cubicle with a view of the outside world—a lot of weeks the only way she got a glimpse of it during daylight hours.

“You really should go home, Cami.” Sheldon hoisted his satchel over his shoulder to leave. “It’s Friday night. There’s one of those summer blockbuster movies coming out. Go watch it or something.”

“It’s not summer anymore, Shel. We can’t call it a summer blockbuster.” Camilla tapped the file pile with the eraser on her pencil. “Gotta plow through this, but then I’ll head out.”

“Fine. It’s fall. But in Arizona, fall is better than summer.” No arguments there. “Come on. There’s a lake. We live in the mountains. There are other places on earth besides this office.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “These criminals aren’t going to destroy the whole earth if you cut back to eighty hours a week.”

“How do you know that? They might go free. They might destroy
someone’s
world.” Camilla took a sip of her Diet Coke. “I’ll leave the video clerk case on your desk. Can you check through it for me on Monday and see if I missed anything? I want to go before Judge Gilson prepared.”

Sheldon plucked up the file and started to flip through it, setting his satchel on the ground. “Wow. The detective found this on Jimenez? You’re going to put this witness on the stand? I think it’s gutsy, but if you’re sure she’ll come through and not go all watery…”

“She’s solid. And her testimony puts Jimenez at the scene—with the knife in his hand.”

“Whoa.” Sheldon slid the file back onto Camilla’s desk. “Nice. If you’ve got this, you’re prepared.
Now go home.
”

Sheldon was right. Camilla had put in the time and knew the case. Throwing more hours at it could potentially muddle her clarity of argument. But there was just one more thing she wanted to verify—

As he put his hand on the door, Sheldon turned back. “It’s not like presenting yet
another
perfect case is going to sway Falcon’s opinion any more your direction. You know you’ve got the deputy county attorney job in the bag.” The current deputy had been headhunted off to a corporate position back in his hometown of Natchez, Mississippi, leaving this one vacant in just a few weeks’ time. But Camilla grew up here, and she never wanted to leave. Prescott was the prettiest place on earth, and it ought to be the
safest
place in Arizona, even if it meant missing every single summer and fall blockbuster.

“Did I hear my name in vain?” Falcon swooped in.

“You’re still here too, sir?” Sheldon’s eyes strayed to the clock. It was after five-thirty, probably a record stay for the guy, at least on a Friday. Maybe Lydia, Mrs. Sheldon, was getting her hair done for their date. To the blockbuster.

“I came back when I heard the news.” Falcon raised his voice. “Everyone? You all still here?” A few heads popped up above cubicles like a prairie dog town. Not many. To her vast shock, Camilla saw Zane’s well-styled hair appear, attached to his thick neck and broad shoulders. They came soaring around the corner from the hallway by the exit. Surely he’d gone home at three. This was Friday. When did the slacker-man get back? “You all need to hear this, if your news feeds haven’t told you already.”

Staffers shambled into a loose circle near Camilla’s desk where Falcon stood.

“Our local sheriff’s department has executed a major coup, one that will make national headlines.” He stood tall. He liked the sheriff’s department. They worked hand in hand to make Prescott a good place. “Sheriff Woodston himself, in a routine traffic stop, managed to nab by sheer cop instinct one of the most notorious criminals of the last several years.”

“Who? The Mailbox Bomber?” one of the paralegals muttered. “Or the Dog Walker?” Lately there’d been a rash of thefts of registered dogs and puppies by a man posing as a dog walker for hire. It was unknown whether he resold them or did something more sinister to the pets.

“I wish. I’m a dog person, myself.” Of course he was. Camilla was a cat person, through and through. “Nice guess. But think bigger.”

“The Unabomber.” A throwback from the Eighties chucked out.

“Jimmy Hoffa.” Someone always guessed Jimmy Hoffa. It was required.

“In Prescott? No, my friend. But about that big. I’m here to tell you, Sheriff Woodston arrested the Beemer Bandit.”

The air sucked out of Camilla’s lungs. The Beemer Bandit! Here, in Prescott? Murmuring erupted among the staff. But Camilla had a question.

“Sir, his crimes have been committed in other jurisdictions. Won’t he have to be prosecuted there, rather than here?”

“Yes, he’s been active all over Arizona and other states. He’ll have to face prosecution for each of those crimes, but he’s been arrested for something perpetrated right here in our county. And I intend to make an example of him—let the whole criminal underworld know that Yavapai County Arizona is not a place for them to do business.” Falcon’s voice had taken on a timbre like he was stumping for his campaign. He really did kindle a fire when he orated. This speech served as good practice for what he’d have to do at his press conference on the steps of the courthouse later tonight. But before then, Camilla intended to secure the lead on this prosecution, even if it meant being bolder than she’d ever been to get it.

If she had anything to do with it—and Camilla Sweeten intended to have
everything
to do with it—the Beemer Bandit was going down. Her hand balled into a fist because this was about more than “crime doesn’t pay in Prescott.” This time it was personal.

The staff filtered away, but Zane muscled his way up to Falcon, and the two of them started walking toward the exit. “Hey, I’d like to take lead prosecution on this, if you don’t mind. I know I’m new, but it’s going to be a jury trial, and, well, that’s kind of my specialty.”

Camilla’s innards exploded. “Wait! No! Falcon, I mean, Mr. Torres.” She chased them down. All these weeks of being a total chicken and not telling him exactly what she wanted—she was going to have to shove all that aside immediately, trounce her fears, and tell him what she wanted. “Nothing against Mr. Holyoake, here, but I would very much like to take lead on this case. It’s important to me.”

“You own a BMW, Sweeten. It’s a conflict of interest.”

“Oh, please. Irrelevant. Sustained.” She swept her hand through the air. “Come on, Mr. Torres. You know how hard I will work on this. It matters to me. I’ll make the Yavapai County electorate proud of this office and the job it does.” There! She’d hit on his soft spot—his reelection chances. It might have been a bit underhanded, which wasn’t usually her thing, but she’d never wanted an assignment so much in all her life.

Falcon chewed on her offer, his fuzzy eyebrows furrowing. Oh, he just had to accept. She was senior here, and she’d worked like no one else. Suddenly she remembered her recent gaffes, denying his request to go out with his boss’s son, and the botch when she first saw Zane. Falcon couldn’t hold those against her, could he? This was too important. And, there was a side benefit looming: if Camilla did this job well, really plastered the criminal into his spot behind bars, Falcon would have to see her as a viable option for deputy county attorney. She’d prove herself to be his Girl Friday.

Please?
She plead with her eyes.

But Zane cleared his throat and stood taller. As if he needed to. Tall people! Ugh!

“The Beemer Bandit case will be before a jury, sir. You know what that means.”

Everyone knew what that meant—Zane, Falcon and Camilla. Falcon pushed his lips forward and began nodding.

Sheldon came up behind Camilla and rested a hand on her shoulder. He was coming to her defense! Bless his fifty-eight year-old heart. “Mr. Torres, I want to point out that Camilla won the Tipton case, as well as a dozen other cases in the last six months. She’s tried and true.”

Why did he have to mention the Tipton case? That’s the one where her closing arguments sounded like a six year-old. Curses. Camilla steeled her emotions so they wouldn’t show on her face.

Falcon spoke at last. “It’s great to see you both so eager. And you’re right, Sheldon. Camilla has been the bread and butter of this office all year. For the past two years, actually.” His look spoke, too. It said,
even if she won’t do everything I request.
Dang it. “But we all know where our strengths lie.” He looked at Zane, who turned on his thousand-watt smile. Oh, he had to be using teeth whitening strips during every lunch hour. They seriously glowed, messing up both Camilla’s focus and her chances at the job. Curse him!

The boss reached out and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Let me tell you what I’m going to do.” At last. “This is a high profile case. The local news is already pouncing on it like hungry coyotes, and national media are going to ooze their way to Prescott any minute. For that reason,
I
intend to take lead on the case. I’ve got to be the face of the office, you know.” He was right. So right. Neither of them could argue. Falcon had the PR skills to deal with the microphones and cameras. Camilla deflated, but not as much as she would have if Falcon had chosen Zane. At least there was that.

Falcon squeezed her shoulder, and she saw that he squeezed Zane’s too. “However.”

There was a however?

“I’ll be taking the lead on the case only nominally. I’ll deal with the press, but for the day to day details, the two of you eager youngsters will be doing all the work. Camilla, you’re our workhorse. Zane, you’re our show pony. We’ve got a good stable. I don’t want to let either strength go to waste. Together, along with my handling of all the extra publicity, we can put this bad boy away. Car owners won’t have to worry about this guy ever again.”

Camilla’s eyes shot over to Zane’s. He was looking at her, grinning from ear to ear. Her heart caught flame, but not with love—with irritation. More like
heartburn
than a burning heart. This slacker? Who spent zero time working on details, who simply showed up at court with an arsenal of camping stories and a nice suit? That kind of fluff might work in magistrate court, but there would be reporters—
national
reporters—in the Superior Court of Yavapai County this time, pal. His debonair charm and jaunty personality would be as transparent as the emperor’s new clothes.

And Camilla’s reputation would be at stake too.

She exhaled a slow, disgusted sigh and looked heavenward for help.