Tempted (A Player Brother Romance Book) (A Standalone Novel) (Player Brothers Book 1) (24 page)

"Oh Blair," he said, pulling us closer once
more and speaking with his lips pressed against my forehead. "I just want
to be with you."

I leaned in and rested against his chest, the crown of
my head nestled perfectly into the crook of his neck.

"You’re with me,” I whispered. "I'm not
going anywhere." I didn’t want to move, but I also knew that we both had
court early the next morning. "Do you want to go get some clothes for
tomorrow and stay over?" I asked.

"I have a suit in the car. I picked up my dry
cleaning this morning,” he said.

"Well that works our nicely."

"Yes it does,” he whispered.

We fell asleep on the couch wrapped in each other’s
arms while the television flickered with some late show.

Chapter
Eleven

"Aiden and Blair! Sitting in a Tree!
K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" The sound of Kelsey's mocking voice cut through my sleep
like a knife through butter.

I opened my eyes immediately, regretting having fallen
asleep on the couch due to the muscle cramp slicing through my neck muscles.

Sometime in the night Aiden and I had repositioned to
a semblance of lying down. My head rested on the arm of the couch, and Aiden
was just lifting his head off of my shoulder. His hair stuck out in disheveled
spikes. I could only imagine what I must have looked like.

I glanced up squinting at my roommate who stood over
us with a grin on her face and her arms crossed.

"Good morning, Sunshine,” she beamed.

I carefully sat up, untangling from Aiden as he also
became vertical. I rubbed my neck to try and relax the cramp.

"Coffee?" I said, giving Kelsey a pleading
look.

"In about ten minutes," Kelsey said while still
giggling as she headed to the kitchen. "I gotta say though, you guys
looked
adorable
all snuggled up together. Just adorable. Too bad I
didn't take any pictures before waking you up... Oh wait! I did!"

Her laugh veered into a false maniacal cackle.

"Great."

I rolled my eyes and looked over at Aiden who glanced
at me with a sheepish look. We both burst into laughter at our scenario. The
clock indicated that we had about three hours before we had to be at court,
plenty of time.

"What do we do now?" Aiden said, raking his
hands through his hair.

"I think breakfast is in order at least,” I
answered.

He chuckled and stood, adjusting his clothing and
heading off to the restroom. I met Kelsey in the kitchen just as she had the
coffee brewing. She looked at me wide eyed.

"What?!" she said in a stage whisper.

"I don't know," I said with a shrug.
"We just fell asleep on the couch together."

"That's like.... I don't know. That's way
serious!"

"It kind of is, isn't it,” I agreed.

"More serious than sex even, I would say,” she
said with a knowing nod. Her face relaxed and she spoke again in a normal tone
as Aiden stepped into the kitchen behind me. "Coffee?"

"Thought you'd never ask,” he said, reaching for
the mug that she held out to him.

"I'm going to go and get ready for the day,"
Kelsey said in an attempt to avoid being the third wheel.

She gave me a significant glance behind Aiden's back
as she exited the room, which I responded with by rolling my eyes. Despite the
obvious awkwardness, as soon as she was gone Aiden walked over to me and kissed
me on the forehead.

"Good morning," he whispered.

"Good morning," I said.

I felt strangely light headed, as if everything were
falling into place. A small part of me felt a tiny amount of victory, since
waking up with Aiden had been a fantasy of mine for a long time. I poured
myself some coffee after he did and I opened the cabinets to see what we had to
offer for breakfast.

"Let's see,” I said. "Would you like some
Pop Tarts?"

"Seriously?" he said. "Do you have any
eggs?"

"We do not have eggs,” I said.

"You stay here and get ready for work,” he said.
"I'm going to run down to the store and get you a proper breakfast. I
don't know how you enter the courtroom everyday on nothing but toaster pastries.
Honestly, Blair." He shook his head but the look in his eye betrayed his
continued playfulness.

"Okay," I said with a small laugh. "If
you say so."

"I'll be back in ten minutes,” he said, pulling
on his jacket and grabbing his car keys on his way out the door.

I took the opportunity to take a shower and get
dressed while he was gone. When I exited the bathroom buttoning my blouse, I
was met with the undeniable scent of frying bacon. When I walked into the
kitchen I discovered Aiden working two pans on the stove top, bacon and eggs,
and putting on a pair of oven mitts to take the biscuits out of the oven. He
turned to me and grinned.

"Kelsey let me back in on her way out,” he said.

"What did you do?" I asked in astonishment.

"I made you breakfast," he insisted.
"That's what I did. The biscuits came from a can, but we were on a time
crunch. Next time I'll make them from scratch. But watch. You'll do great today
in court. Better than you ever will have done before."

So he can cook more than just fish.

"All because of your breakfast,” I said.

"Yup."

He leaned over and kissed me before grabbing a couple
of plates out of the cabinet. We ate together at the counter sill laughing over
the absurdity of our morning, and he headed off to shower and change.

We discussed the idea of arriving a few minutes apart
from each other to the court house, but settled on just getting there when we
got there. We were in separate vehicles after all.

"Besides," I said. "I think Ms. Klein
is on to us already."

The trial continued with remarkable success in the
following days. The senior partners met up with us as we arrived at the court
house and as always we awaited the summons from the bailiff. We had received
word that the test results had returned with the DNA found underneath the
victim's finger nails. The results supported our theory, and both of the senior
partners agreed that we would be close to a verdict soon. My task for the day
was to resume my questions regarding the test results.

"I'd like to call Detective Roger Ingram to the
stand,” I said as I stood, upon the judge’s invitation.

Prosecution hadn’t had anything new, and so the line
of questioning defaulted to the defense, to us. I waited the appropriate time
while the detective was sworn in. Then I turned and picked up the test results,
several eight by ten pages tucked into a clear plastic binder, the most
important page moved to the top to be read with ease.

"Detective," I began, turning my body to
include the jury with my voice.

The audience had filled out considerably as news of
the police oversight had spread. Court junkies, local online activists and
family members of both families filled the wooden benches across the small
barrier. I handed the test results to Detective Ingram.

"Do you care to tell the court what document I
have just handed to you?"

"Yes." He shifted his weight as if the gaze
of the entire room upon him caused him pain. "This is a test result on
some DNA."

"Specifically which DNA."

"The DNA found at the crime scene."

"Where, specifically was the DNA found?" I
said, turning to look him right in the eye.

I had seen the pictures of Rita Shaw's body. I hadn’t
intention of easing up on his discomfort.

"Underneath her fingernails,” he said.

I walked over and stood behind the chair in which sat
Darius Shaw, who watched the exchange with wide eyes.

"Do you care to read to the courtroom what the
test was for, specifically?" I asked.

"The test is to determine the match between the
DNA found and that of Darius Shaw,” he said.

"Thank you, Detective," I said. "Before
we continue, indulge me with some information first. You have been working in
homicide for a long time. Isn't that so?"

"Yes, that is so,” he said.

"Would you say that it is safe to assume that the
DNA found underneath the finger nails of Rita Shaw to be that of the
killer?"

He murmured something indistinguishable.

"I'm sorry?" I said, making a show of being
unable to hear what he had said.

"That is a fair assumption, yes,” he said in a
louder tone.

"Would you care to read to the courtroom what the
results say, as to whether the DNA belongs to our client, Darius Shaw?
Specifically, do the test results match?"

He paused and shifted once more in his seat, with his
eyes cast low. "No they do not."

"So the DNA found under the finger nails of the
victim, Rita Shaw, does not match the DNA of our client Darius Shaw. Is that
what I understand you to be saying?"

"Yes, that is correct,” he said.

"Is it even possible," I continued. "That
the DNA found belongs to anyone related to our client, Darius Shaw?"

"No,” he mumbled.

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

"No, it is not possible."

"No further questions,” I said, giving the jury
my best Pollyanna smile as I walked the length of the court room, circling
around the table as I took my seat.

I glanced over to the senior partners who both looked
at me with approval, nodding and smiling. Ms. Klein gave me a subtle wink.

I glanced over to the prosecution. The entire team of
lawyers scrambled through their notes with wide panicked eyes. The judge
crossed his hands while waiting for their response. Finally the lead prosecutor
stood.

"The prosecution would like to request a
twenty-four hour recess,” he said trying to act cool, but I could see the
slight tremble in his hands as he spoke.

"Granted."

The judge lifted the gavel and brought it down with a
pop. The bailiff took over at that point and excused the jury and then the rest
of us. Ms. Klein leaned over to me.

"Excellent work Ms. Michaels,” she whispered.

"I have to be honest," I said. "Aiden
was the one who discovered the test was missing. My part was developing the
line of questions. We worked on it together."

"Team work pays off once again,” she said with a
knowing glance.

As soon as she and Mr. Mahoney had left the room, Aiden
stepped to my side. He acted as if he were going through his notes and spoke in
such a way that only I could hear him.

"Do you want to have dinner with me
tonight?" he asked. "I think we have this case in the bag."

"I think so too," I said. "Dinner sounds
great."

"Great," he said.

The look in his eye, such boyish optimism. Maybe Aiden
had been right, I thought. Maybe this wasn't the best of circumstances, but
maybe we would be okay after all.

I felt like I walked on clouds as we headed out of the
courtroom. The senior partners had stopped in the hallway to confer over
something before they left and saw us walk out together.

"Aiden," Mr. Mahoney said from across the
hall. "Would you care to come by the office for a moment before your day
ends?"

"No, not at all,” he said.

I couldn’t help but wonder what they might be meeting
about, and why I hadn’t been included in the invitation.

Aiden turned to me as we reached the parking lot.
"I'll pick you up around seven?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, bringing my mind back to the
present. "That works for me."

He trotted off to his car as I watched after him. I
tried not to let the disheartening feeling ruin my mood. I had recently decided
that I would be happy if Aiden got the job. He deserved it, much to my chagrin.
Initially I had hoped that my competition might be a shady bottom feeder that I
could easily outperform, instead I had gotten Aiden Player.

Sweet, stubborn, charming, and despite the gap in our
acquaintance probably knew me better than anyone on the planet, aside from my
mother.

I still wanted the job, and I hadn’t conceded yet.

Nor would I, I decided.

I still intended to fight for the full time job, but I
would do it the right way. Aiden was no stranger to competition having grown up
with five brothers. That much I knew. Losing to him would sting, yes, but it
would not be a total loss. I was a strong contender, and I had two weeks left
to prove to the partners that I was the right fit for the firm.

I opened my car door and sat down, plunging the key
into the ignition.

Enough about that right now, I thought.

The case is not even over, and I have nothing to worry
about just yet. Whatever they were seeing him about had nothing to do with the
final judgment most likely. Just like the jury couldn’t decide the fate of our
client, the partners didn’t yet have the final determination of who would get
this job, unless of course I was far worse at my job than I thought I was.