“Sure,” Alstrop said.

“What if the judge told you that you can’t turn right on red-that you must stay stopped until the light goes green again, even if there’s a sign in front of you that specifically says RIGHT TURN ON RED. What would you do?”

Alstrop looked at Judge Wagner. “I guess I’d do what he said.”

Jordan smiled to himself. He didn’t give a damn about Alstrop’s driving habits-that setup and question was a way to weed out the people who couldn’t see past convention. There would be information in this trial that wasn’t necessarily intuitive, and he needed people on a jury who were open-minded enough to understand that rules weren’t always what you thought they were, who could listen to the new regulations and follow them accordingly.

When he finished his questioning, he and Diana walked toward the bench. “Is there any reason to dismiss this juror for cause?” Judge Wagner asked.

“No, Your Honor,” Diana said, and Jordan shook his head.

“So?”

Diana nodded. Jordan glanced at the man, still sitting on the witness stand. “This one works for me,” he said.

When Alex woke up, she pretended not to. Instead, she kept her eyes nearly closed so that she could stare at the man sprawled on the other side of her bed. This relationship-four months old now-was still a mystery to her, as much as the constellation of freckles on Patrick’s shoulders, the valley of his spine, the startling contrast of his black hair against a white sheet. It seemed that he had invaded her life by osmosis: she’d find his shirt mixed in with her laundry; she’d smell his shampoo on her pillowcase; she would pick up the phone, thinking to call him, and he’d already be on the line. Alex had been single for so long; she was practical, resolute, and set in her ways (oh, who was she kidding…those were all just euphemisms for what she really was: stubborn)-she would have guessed that this sudden attack on her privacy would be unnerving. Instead, though, she found herself feeling disoriented when Patrick wasn’t around, like the sailor who’s just landed after months at sea and who still feels the ocean rolling beneath him even when it isn’t there.

“I can feel you staring, you know,” Patrick murmured. A lazy smile heated his face, but his eyes were still shut.

Alex leaned over, slipping her hand under the covers. “What can you feel?”

“What can’t I?” Striking quick as lightning, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her underneath him. His eyes, still softened by sleep, were a crisp blue that made Alex think of glaciers and northern seas. He kissed her, and she vined around him.

Then suddenly her eyes snapped open. “Oh, shit,” she said.

“That wasn’t really what I was going for…”

“Do you know what time it is?”

They had drawn the shades in her bedroom because of a full moon last night. But by now, the sun was streaming through the thinnest crack at the bottom of the windowsill. Alex could hear Josie banging pots and pans downstairs in the kitchen.

Patrick reached over Alex for the wristwatch he’d left on her nightstand. “Oh, shit,” he repeated, and he threw back the covers. “I’m an hour late for work already.”

He grabbed his boxers as Alex jumped out of bed and reached for her robe. “What about Josie?”

It wasn’t that they had been hiding their relationship from Josie-Patrick often dropped by after work or for dinner or to hang out in the evenings. A few times, Alex had tried to talk to Josie about him, to see what she thought of the whole miracle of her mother dating again, but Josie did whatever it took to avoid having that conversation. Alex wasn’t sure herself where this was all going, but she did know that she and Josie had been a unit for so long that adding Patrick to the mix meant Josie became the loner-and right now, Alex was determined to keep that from happening. She was making up for lost time, really, thinking of Josie before she thought of anything else. To that end, if Patrick spent the night, she made sure he left before Josie could wake up to find him there.

Except today, when it was a lazy summer Thursday and nearly ten o’clock.

“Maybe this is a good time to tell her,” Patrick suggested.

“Tell her what?”

“That we’re…” He looked at her.

Alex stared at him. She couldn’t finish his sentence; she didn’t really know the answer herself. She never expected that this was the way she and Patrick would have this conversation. Was she with Patrick because he was good at that-rescuing the underdog who needed it? When this trial was over, would he move on? Would she?

“We’re together,” Patrick said decisively.

Alex turned her back to him and yanked shut the tie of her robe. That wasn’t, to paraphrase Patrick earlier, what she had been going for. But then again, how would he know that? If he asked her right now what she wanted out of this relationship…well, she knew: she wanted love. She wanted to have someone to come home to. She wanted to dream about a vacation they’d take when they were sixty and know he’d be there the day she stepped onto the plane. But she’d never admit any of this to him. What if she did, and he just looked at her blankly? What if it was too soon to think about things like this?

If he asked her right now, she wouldn’t answer, because answering was the surest way to get your heart handed back to you.

Alex rummaged underneath the bed, searching for her slippers. Instead, she located Patrick’s belt and tossed it to him. Maybe the reason she hadn’t openly told Josie she was sleeping with Patrick had nothing to do with protecting Josie, and everything to do with protecting herself.

Patrick threaded the belt through his jeans. “It doesn’t have to be a state secret,” he said. “You are allowed to…you know.”

Alex glanced at him. “Have sex?”

“I was trying to come up with something a little less blunt,” Patrick admitted.

“I’m also allowed to keep things private,” Alex pointed out.

“Guess I ought to get back the deposit on the billboard, then.”

“That might be a good idea.”

“I suppose I could just get you jewelry instead.”

Alex looked down at the carpet so that Patrick couldn’t see her trying to pick apart that sentence, find the commitment strung between the words.

God, was it always this frustrating when you weren’t the one running the show?

“Mom,” Josie yelled up the stairs, “I’ve got pancakes ready, if you want some.”

“Look,” Patrick sighed. “We can still keep Josie from finding out. All you have to do is distract her while I sneak out.”

She nodded. “I’ll try to keep her in the kitchen. You…” She glanced at Patrick. “Just hurry.” As Alex started out of the room, Patrick grabbed her hand and yanked.

“Hey,” he said. “Good-bye.” He leaned down and kissed her.

“Mom, they’re getting cold!”

“See you later,” Alex said, pushing away.

She hurried downstairs and found Josie eating a plate of blueberry pancakes. “Those smell so good…I can’t believe I slept this late,” Alex began, and then she realized that there were three place settings at the kitchen table.

Josie folded her arms. “So how does he take his coffee?”

Alex sank into a chair across from her. “You weren’t supposed to find out.”

“A. I am a big girl. B. Then the brilliant detective shouldn’t have left his car in the driveway.”

Alex picked at a thread on the place mat. “No milk, two sugars.”

“Well,” Josie said. “Guess I’ll know for next time.”

“How do you feel about that?” Alex asked quietly.

“Getting him coffee?”

“No. The next time part.”

Josie poked at a fat blueberry on the top of her pancake. “It’s not really something I get to choose, is it?”

“Yes,” Alex said. “Because if you’re not all right with this, Josie, then I’ll stop seeing him.”

“You like him?” Josie asked, staring down at her plate.