The Prosecutor

Chapter Eleven


Emma climbed the stairs to Zac’s second-floor apartment and a sudden case of the jitters sent her pulse twitching. She paused in the center of the staircase.

Run.

Being here with him—alone—was probably a mistake. Probably? No question about it. This was a colossal risk. After the scorching kiss-fest a few days ago she might have lost a few brain cells. Either that or her body and its lack of male attention had taken over and decided not to heed Penny’s warning about Zac.

But hey, they were adults capable of controlling themselves. She glanced at the folders tucked in her right arm.

It’s fine.

She hefted the shopping bag in her other hand to her wrist, grabbed the knob at the top of the polished oak railing and pulled herself up. She loved these old houses with all the dark wood trim. The door to his apartment opened and there stood Zac, wearing black track pants and a T-shirt that hugged his shoulders in all the right ways. He never wore tight clothes, but somehow they always molded to the long, lean muscles that spanned his upper body. His blond hair was wet and combed back, revealing those perfectly angular cheeks and—yep—Emma needed a man.

Pronto.

So much for not thinking about it.

Total mistake.

Zac grabbed the stack of file folders from her. “Something wrong?”

Everything. What was she doing letting herself get involved with the prosecutor on her brother’s case? Brian’s only chance in eighteen months and Emma was hormonal about the hot prosecutor. She should march right down the stairs and out the door. No harm done. Except she couldn’t discount the kisses they’d shared. Those were definitely something.

She hadn’t slept with him, though. Even if the way Zac Hennings moved turned her liquid and made her fantasize about things they could do together.

“Emma?”

Walk away.

She handed him the bag of takeout. Too late now. “Sorry. Thinking too much.”

“I know the feeling. Come in.” He shut the door behind her and set the folders on the side table. When he turned back to her she spotted it, the hardness in his eyes, the taut cheeks and locked jaw. Standing this close, his raw energy, primal and predatory reached her, sending a burst of heat to her core.

Is it hot in here? “Bad day?” she asked.

“My day stunk.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

He stepped closer, staring down at her for a second while his gaze moved over her face, stalled at her lips and then went to her trench coat. Zac had something on his mind and—being the smart girl she was—she could make a good guess as to what it was.

Walk away.

“You feel that?”

Sure do. She swallowed. “Um—”

“It’s crazy. The minute I get close to you, it’s an explosion.”

He slipped his hands into the neckline of her coat, pushed it off her shoulders and down her arms, and caught it before it hit the floor. He tossed it over the living room chair.

But his eyes were on her lips again. Her stomach dropped and heat surged and—wow—she got a little woozy. Two rational adults.

He dipped his head closer, teasing, testing to see if she’d meet him halfway.

No. She stepped back, hunched her shoulders. “We’re not behaving. Either one of us.”

It shouldn’t have been wrong. Not when it felt so right and good and natural. Since Brian’s nightmare began, she’d been denying herself the basic human need to be touched. To be loved. And now she had her chance. For Emma. Not for anyone else but her. For once, only she should matter. I need a man.

This man.

Zac straightened, shook his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. My fault.” He banged his hands on his head. “I’m all screwed up. I know it’s wrong, but I want what I want.”

He wasn’t the only one. Maybe just once what would be so bad about that? No strings. Even if she’d never been the no-strings kind of girl, she’d make this one exception. I want what I want. That want pushed her to her tiptoes, stretching toward him, angling her head until her lips hovered close enough to feel his breath on her face. She waited, hoping he might stop her.


I need a man. Screw it. She clamped her hand on the back of his neck and hauled him closer. His lips slid across hers and she mangled his shirt in her fist while Penny’s warning blared in her head.

Penny who?

She focused on the feel of his perfect lips on hers and pressed closer, needing the contact, the feel of his body against her. So long she’d been without affection, without the caress of hands. Then her skin caught fire, every inch sizzling, and she wrapped both arms around his waist and pulled. How close could she get? She wasn’t sure, but she knew it wasn’t enough. Enough of this didn’t exist. She’d always want more.

He broke away and kissed across her jaw. Emma lifted her chin, exposing her neck.

“Atta, girl,” he said.

“Penny says we shouldn’t have sex.”

“Penny is a pain in the ass.”

More kisses and his hands moved under her blouse, his thumb stroking her belly. Penny who? “You could be right about that.”

Apparently that was all he needed because he lifted his head and gave her his million-dollar country-club smile.

She glanced down as he worked the buttons on her blouse, one button, two buttons, three buttons. And then her shirt was open and his hands were on her breasts, detouring as they moved to push the blouse off her shoulders, those fantastic fingers moving down her arms until the shirt was off and Emma’s chest hitched.

He wanted her. Somehow she believed it was more than sex. Maybe it was the gentleness of his touch or the brief hesitation that gave her a chance to follow Penny’s orders, but it was there, urging her forward. Penny who?

He gave her a playful push toward his bedroom. One of us will get hurt. Most likely me. Right now, though, with all this crazy lust roaring inside her, she’d risk it. All this time she’d taken a backseat to everyone else. If she could have one night that was all hers, one night to forget all the problems and heartache, one night of ecstasy, she’d live with potential heartbreak. When it came to a broken heart, she was a pro.

In the bedroom, Zac yanked his shirt off and tossed it. Light from the hallway threw shadows and she watched the shirt sail through the air and land on a high-backed chair in the corner of the room. She reached for him, giving herself a minute to explore the planes of his chest and shoulders. Yes, it had been too long. Closing her eyes, she let the moment drift and stretch and settle in her mind so she’d always remember.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m great. It’s...” Her voice trembled and she stopped. Don’t lose it now, Emma.

He backed away, cupped her face in his hands. “What?”

“Fun. It’s fun. And I’ve been without fun for a long time.”

“Fun is good.” He nudged her backward and her calves smacked the edge of the bed.

She sucked in a breath, her arms flailing as she flew backward and landed with a whoosh. The prosecutor wanted to play. From the bed, she placed her foot on his belly and pushed. “You’re going to get it for that, Zachary.”

“Bring it on, Emma. Bring it on.”

Slowly, he lifted her foot and ran his hands along her leg, his long fingers skittering over her jeans as they made their way up. So good. Inside, little by little, she came apart, abandoned all control.

He settled one knee on the bed and went to work on the button at her waist.

“I’ve got it.” She flicked the button and worked the zipper down.

Again, Mr. Prosecutor went to work, removing her jeans, those dangerous hands slowly moving over her bare legs. He glanced up and the slant of light from the hallway illuminated his face and the slow, easy smile quirking his lips. Her chest hitched again. She was gone. So gone.

He’ll destroy me.

But she didn’t care. She shot to a sitting position, clamped her hands on the waistband of his pants and shoved. “Get these off.”

Then something happened, like an eruption of energy, the air around her crackled and her skin tingled and snapped and she breathed in just as Zac kissed her, his tongue doing magic things to her. Needing the contact, Emma dug her fingers into his back.

Zac broke away, flipped her over and unhooked her bra. She flipped over again, still in her underwear, but letting him see her. Even in the dark, she saw that gleam in his eye. “Get naked, Zac. I’m a chick in need.”

He cracked up, but did as he was told. How she loved a man who followed directions. He reached across her to his bedside table and his erection poked her leg. Wow. It had definitely been a while since she’d felt that. The crackle of foil drove away the silence and Emma tried not to think too hard about him keeping condoms in his bedside table. Or the women who’d been here.

Not going there.

Within seconds, he was back to her, trailing kisses over her chest, those luscious hands moving over her breasts and stomach and she slapped at the bed, squeezing the blanket. Surely she would die from all this attention.

She opened her legs and watched him slide between them. God, he was gorgeous. She wanted this, wanted him. Grabbing his cheeks, she pulled him to her and kissed him. Long and soft and then he pressed into her and she gasped. Too good.

They moved together, her locking her legs around him and gliding her hands over his back, then his face and chest, and when he settled himself on his elbows and kissed her again it was all too much. She’d been alone for way too long.

She held on and moved with him, their bodies in perfect unison, and then her stomach clenched and she sighed. Zac licked behind her ear, teasing her. He got as good as he gave because the muscles in his back tensed under her hands and he picked up his pace, racing, racing, racing until her mind whirled and her body turned frantic while she held on, wanting to prolong this moment before it all went away.

Too late.

Her world exploded into enormous flashes of light and ecstasy. She focused on breathing, enjoying the long-denied release of a good, healthy orgasm. Her world wasn’t the only one exploding. Zac collapsed on top of her, his breaths coming in heaving bursts while she ran her hands over his back, along the quaking muscles.

“Heck of a way to end a rotten day,” he said.

“I’ll second that.”

After a few moments, he rolled off her, taking all the warmth with him, and a blast of cold sent goose bumps up her legs. Zac lifted his arm, an obvious invitation for her to snuggle into his side. She wouldn’t complain. She curled into him and ran her hand through the wispy blond hair in the center of his chest.

“Emma Sinclair, somehow I didn’t figure you for a snuggler.”

“Usually I’m not.” Loneliness did that to a girl. “So you figured right.”

He nibbled her neck. “I’m a snuggler.”

Oh, this man is a total destroyer. But she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed because it all felt so right. So effortless.

Perfection.

Don’t go there, Emma. Perfection didn’t exist. At least not for her. She eased her hand over his hip, drew tiny circles and loved the feel of being so close. “We have food out there. We should eat.”

“There’s food, too?”

Smarty-pants. “Yes, there’s food. And then we have work to do, so no funny stuff.”

Finally, with great effort, Zac rolled away. Part of her hated it, wanted him to stay close, let her feel loved a bit more. When had she turned into such a needy person?

Maybe since she’d been without affection for so long.

Who knew? She watched Zac gather his clothes and slide into his pants, already wondering if they’d do this again.


“Emma, quit looking at me like that or you won’t get food. I’ll keep you in this bed all night.”

Promises, promises.

* * *

ZAC TUGGED HIS SHIRT ON and from outside the bedroom, a cell phone chirped. Good distraction before carnal thoughts coaxed him back to bed.

“That’s my phone,” Emma said.

“I’ll grab it for you. In your coat?”

“Yep. Pocket.”

He left the room in search of the phone and to give his brain a minute to catch up to what just happened. If there were any more ways to annihilate his career, he wasn’t sure he could find them.

But, yeah, Emma Sinclair was worth it. She had to be because he’d never crossed the line when it came to his job. Right now, he didn’t care, didn’t anticipate caring in the near future, either.

More of Emma was what he wanted.

He retrieved her phone, grabbed the bag of food and headed back down the hall. He’d heat up dinner while she got dressed. Give them both a little privacy. By the time he stepped into the bedroom she’d already slipped on her blouse. “Don’t get dressed on my account.”

She swatted at him and bent to pick up her jeans. “Yeah. Whatever, mister.”

“Can I turn on the light?”

“Sure.”

Zac flipped the switch, flooded the room with light and found Emma with her eyes closed. She slowly opened them and he imagined lazy mornings watching her roll out of bed. Easy now.

He handed her the phone and she checked the screen. “Oh, this is funny.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a text from Penny. What timing.” Using her thumb, she hit a button. “Oh. Oh, wow.”

This should be good. He waited, wondering if she’d share whatever news Penny had sent. Was that fair? To wonder? To expect it?

Hell if I know.

After a second, the silence morphed into awkward and he held up the bag. “I’ll nuke the food.”

Emma finally lifted her head. “Zac?”

“Yes?”

“She got a call from Ray Gardner.”

Son of a gun. If he were being taken off the case, he’d have been told. Maybe not. Ray had been pretty steamed at him earlier. Zac waited, the silence tearing his brain to shreds. “Ray is my boss.”

“He’s assigning an investigator from the SA’s office to Brian’s case.”

Air flew up Zac’s throat and came out in a whoosh. If it was relief or satisfaction, he didn’t know. Either way, his boss had redeemed himself. Zac leaned against the doorframe and stared at Emma’s face, where a tentative smile appeared. Her eyes filled with tears and she blinked them away.

“It’s okay to be happy,” he said. “You’ve worked hard for this.”

She lifted the phone then let her hand drop again. “I know. I just can’t believe it. Someone is listening.”

“And you made it happen.” He held up the bag. “I’m on the food. Take your time.”

He turned from the doorway, hoping she wouldn’t press him on what he knew about the investigator. In short—and overdue—order he had to separate his job and this case from his feelings about Emma. It was all too intertwined and...muddy.

“Zac?”

He popped his head back in the bedroom and she held the phone up. “Did you have anything to do with the investigator being assigned to this case?”

“I may have suggested it as a precaution.”

“You think my brother is innocent.”

Trouble. Part of him wanted to tell her he agreed with her, but the truth was, he didn’t know. The prosecutor in him wanted to believe the jury got it right and hadn’t convicted an innocent man. But he’d also been an ASA long enough to know that, sometimes, justice got sidetracked. Things went wrong. Innocent people went to prison.

He tapped his hand against the doorframe and stared into her big, hopeful eyes. “I think there are inconsistencies with Brian’s case that need to be looked at.”

If she was disappointed, she didn’t show it. Nothing moved. No slumping shoulders, no dramatic sigh, no pinched eyebrows. Nothing. Emma Sinclair, rock star.

Finally, she ran her hands over her legs and drummed her fingers. He should say something. Even if he wasn’t ready to admit that Brian might be innocent, he should say something. But that was the tricky part.

“Emma—”

She held up her hands and attempted a brief smile that screamed of indecision. “It’s okay. You’re a prosecutor. I know what your job is. And thank you for suggesting the investigator. It’s more than anyone from your office has done since this nightmare began. That means a lot to me. By the end of this, you’ll see that Brian is innocent.”

For her sake, he certainly hoped so.