“Go ahead. Pick up the telephone and call him. Maybe he’ll order us to go out to dinner and settle our differences like he did three months ago and…” Jennifer’s voice trailed off, and a warm flush crept onto her cheeks.

“And we not only settled our differences about the documentary,” Evan said quietly, looking directly at her, “we ended the evening by making love.”

“Yes. Well. We agreed not to discuss that further at this point.”

“Meaning there will be a point that we’ll discuss it further?” Evan said, raising his eyebrows.

“Don’t push me, Evan. I am not going to postpone finishing this documentary until after the Gardner trial. That’s it. Bottom line.”

“You,” Evan said, pointing a finger at her, “are a pain in the neck.”

“And you,” Jennifer shot back, “are being rude. Evan, you were hopping mad three months ago that any kind of documentary was going to be done about you and this office. The mayor wants this film for positive public relations.

“You and I compromised back then with my agreeing to allow you to give final approval on the film, and you agreed to cooperate when I returned from California and got rolling on this. You can’t change your mind about the whole thing now.” Jennifer paused. “We’re not doing very well here.”

Evan sighed and ran one hand over the back of his neck. “No, we’re not, and you’re holding all the cards. If I talk to the mayor about postponing your being here, he’ll blow a fuse. I’m stuck with you.”

“That,” Jennifer said, jumping to her feet, “is the most demeaning thing I have ever heard and…Whew.” She pressed one hand to her forehead and sank back onto the chair.

“What’s wrong?” Evan said, rising and coming around the front of the desk. “You’re white as a sheet all of a sudden.”

“I just got up too fast, that’s all. I was dizzy for a second there, but I’m fine now.”

“Do you want a glass of water? Some soda? Orange juice?”

“No, no,” she said, waving one hand in the air. “I’m okay. Really. You can go back and sit down in your chair now. I don’t need you hovering over me like you are. So close…and…hovering…like that.”

“I suppose you know,” Evan said, still hovering, “that the sweater you’re wearing matches your eyes to perfection.” He nodded. “Of course, you do.”

“Is that a crime?” she said, glaring at him. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“No, but you reap what you sow. Pick the sweater, pay the price.”

And with that, Evan gripped Jennifer’s upper arms, hauled her to her feet and kissed her.

Jennifer’s eyes widened in shock, then in the next instant her lashes drifted down and she wrapped her arms around Evan’s back and returned the searing kiss in total abandonment.

Oh, dear heaven, she thought, she’d been waiting three long months for this. For Evan. She remembered every exquisite detail, every overwhelming sensation, of making love with Evan Stone. It had been like nothing she had ever experienced before and…

But it had been wrong, wrong, wrong, should not have taken place. They’d only known each other for a handful of hours back then and…

Evan raised his head a fraction of an inch to draw a rough breath, then slanted his mouth in the opposite direction and captured Jennifer’s lips once again, drinking in the taste of her, savoring.

Three months, his mind hummed. An eternity, that’s what it had been, waiting for this kiss. But he wanted more. He wanted to make love with Jennifer again. Now. Right now.

Ah, hell. They had been near-strangers when they’d made love, should never have let things go that far, so out of control, and here he was again, falling under Jennifer’s spell and… No.

Evan broke the kiss, inched Jennifer away from his aroused body, then lowered her back onto her chair. She blinked, shook her head slightly, then took a wobbly breath.

“Oh…my…goodness,” she said.

Evan marched around his desk, sank onto the chair, and dragged both hands down his face.

“That was dumb,” he said, his voice gritty with passion. “Really stupid. And it won’t happen again.”

Well, phooey, Jennifer thought, rather hazily, why not? That kiss had been sensational, absolutely wonderful. Oh, Jennifer, get it together. It was wrong, wrong, wrong.

“We’re going to be working very closely together during the next couple of weeks,” Evan said, “and I can’t afford to be distracted from having total concentration on this pending trial. Is that clear? Therefore, I’m going to do everything within my power to pretend you aren’t there, close, next to me and…Are you getting this? As far as I’m concerned you’ll be invisible.”

“I…”

“And one other thing,” he went on. “Don’t wear that sweater again.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Jennifer said, rolling her eyes heavenward. “This is ridiculous.”

“No. This is dangerous. You took part in those kisses we just shared, Jennifer. Totally. This…whatever it is…between us didn’t diminish in the time we’ve been apart. But I cannot, and will not, allow anything, or anyone, to keep me from concentrating fully on this case.”

“No, of course, not. I understand.” Jennifer nodded. “You really believe that Lyle Gardner is guilty of killing his brother, don’t you? And you’re worried that you won’t be able to prove it with the evidence you have. This is me, Jennifer, asking you this, Evan, not Jennifer Anderson the film journalist.”

Evan hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I’m worried that Gardner is going to get off.”

“But everyone I’ve interviewed for the film believes that he’s guilty. I spoke with those two detectives who handled the case. Colin Waters and Darien Wilson, right? They are both adamant about Lyle Gardner’s guilt.

“I also interviewed Maggie Sutter, who gathered forensic evidence at the scene for the investigation. She’s convinced that Lyle killed his younger brother but…”

“But we’re missing the last piece to the puzzle,” Evan said wearily. “The evidence that would make it possible for me to feel confident I can get a guilty verdict from the jury. We’re not giving up. Waters and Wilson are putting in grueling days trying to find what we need, and I’m going over every shred of evidence we do have, time and again.”

“You all must be exhausted.”

“We are, but there’s no getting around the fact that all the defense has to do is establish reasonable doubt, while I have to prove without a doubt that he did it. If I can’t do that, he walks. Lyle Gardner will stroll out of that courtroom a free man and he’s guilty as sin. I know it. I feel it. I’m just not certain that I can prove it.”

T hat evening Jennifer sat curled up in the corner of the sofa in her apartment with a mug of hot tea. Her hair was still damp from a long, soothing shower and she was wearing her favorite old chenille robe that had once been a bright blue but was now a rather faded, dingy gray.

Her notebook was propped on the arm of the sofa and she was transferring her notes onto the legal pad on her lap, adding more details and impressions.

No wonder Evan was concerned about the outcome of the trial that was rapidly approaching, she thought, staring into space. The case was complex with a myriad of players in the drama.

And no wonder the press was everywhere, hoping for any details they could add to their daily reports to the public. The Gardner family, one of the icons of Chicago, had been toppled in a wave of scandalous disgrace to the delight of the sensation-seeking citizens of the windy city.

The murdered man, Franklin Gardner, had been a highly visible member of the socially prominent and civic-minded family. Franklin, along with his brother Lyle and mother Cecelia, were continually lauded for their generous donations of time and money as they supported fund-raising events for a multitude of charities.

“The mighty have fallen,” Jennifer said aloud.