Get a grip, he growled at himself. Get… a… frigging… grip! And not on her. No gripping her. No touching her. You’re a lawyer, man. Act like one. She’s your colleague. Treat her like one.

I’m not letting her go out with anybody looking like that. How’re you going to stop her?

“Time is on our side,” Mallory said, looking thoughtful and apparently not aware that her breasts were practically exploding out of her clothes. Wow, were they ever great breasts. She didn’t have breasts when they were in law school. Couldn’t have. He’d have noticed.

Flames stabbed him in the groin as he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra, or if she was, it was the smallest, lowest-cut bra on the market. Damn. He could balance this brief on his erection. That would make a good impression.

He shifted his position again in a vain attempt to hide the clear evidence of what was really on his mind and said, “I agree. The slow pace of the law is playing to our advantage.”

“Nobody got sick, the damage isn’t permanent, not really, and the ordeal is almost over for the plaintiffs, at least in terms of their personal appearance.”

“Yeah. Let’s see.” For something to do with his hands as well as something else to cover his lap, Carter reached for the printed calendar of events. “The dye incident happened on March 17. The lot went out on the twenty-fourth… it was on the shelves by the… right… the last bottle was purchased on the… and used a week later… So the person who bought that last bottle has had six months to grow out. If Kevin would cut off half his hair he’d be a blonde again.”

He’d mentioned Kevin on purpose. He wanted to see her reaction. She got a little pink in the cheeks.

“Has Phoebe produced the pictures of her clients’ hair yet?” she asked him.

“Nope. They’re not due for another ten days.”

“Can we get her to speed it up?”

“Probably not.”

“We can try.”

“You try.”

“I will,” Mallory said. “What about the other damages they’re claiming?”

He answered her with half his brain. He really didn’t think she was dating Kevin Knightson. He was as sure as he needed to be that Kevin was more interested in other men than in Mallory. So what was the connection?

“It’s a shame we didn’t succeed in negotiating with the plaintiffs back in the spring.” She sighed, and Carter held his breath, waiting for her breasts to pop completely free from that sexy little jacket. “If we had, we might have managed to rehabilitate Tammy Sue. She might be selling cosmetics in a department store now.”

“Your legal department negotiated just fine. Problem was that Phoebe got hold of them. Do we know how she did it?”

“The way I heard it,” Mallory said, “she and her parents were at their country club in New Jersey talking to friends who knew somebody who knew somebody whose hair had turned green-you know how news spreads. Phoebe grasped the implications of a bit of gossip and zeroed in. She’s a vulture,” she concluded just as their drinks arrived.

A vulture and a black widow spider. Phoebe had slipped him her home phone number as they were leaving her offices. Once again, Carter faced the shameful possibility that he’d been given the case for just that reason, to seduce Phoebe into a settlement.

He took a sip of scotch. It went down smoothly, warming his throat. He could do it, seduce Phoebe into a settlement. Justice would be done. Sensuous was willing to make a fifty-million-dollar lump sum restitution to the plaintiffs. Phoebe would get fifty percent of that. Phoebe was asking for a hundred million. If the judge came even close to that, after years of filing appeals and generating their own enormous legal fees, it could bankrupt the company.

Carter looked at Mallory. She was chasing salt around the edge of her glass with the tip of a little pink tongue. Watching her was more warming than scotch. He thought about Phoebe, her spiky hair, her lipstick. Why did women wear gray lipstick? Did they think men were necrophiliacs?

Yes, he supposed he could seduce Phoebe, gray lipstick and all, but he wouldn’t enjoy it and he’d hate himself. Nope, this one he was going to handle with his brain, and make sure Mallory noticed.

Mallory was sipping her drink and periodically checking her watch as she went on about the case. Should they push a little harder when they were reminding the witnesses of the settlement they might already have gotten? That’s what she was saying when Carter cracked. He simply could not turn her loose in this town or, even worse, turn her over to the care of some man when she was showing her cleavage, wearing that skirt that displayed her thighs-oh, God, great thighs, too, slim but not skinny. Thighs to stroke. Thighs to slide between-

“Y’know,” he said, feeling like a whirlpool of boiling hormones and trying to sound like the most dedicated, responsible lawyer ever to grace the bar, “we don’t have any business going out tonight. Either of us. We ought to have a working dinner together. This is some good brainstorming we’re doing here. I’m going to call Brie and tell her we’ll make it another time.” He looked expectantly at Mallory. Her turn. She looked surprised and ominously uncertain.

“I can’t…”

He frowned at her.

“Well, I guess I can…” she amended herself.

His heart lightened. He lifted his eyebrows, silently telling her, “Go on, go on.”

“Here’s how it is,” she said finally. “I’ll have to break the date in person and then meet you for dinner. I should be able to make it by eight-fifteen. Want to order from room service or go out?”

“I’ll see if I can get a reservation at the JUdson Grill. It’s noisy enough that we’ll be able to talk without anybody overhearing us.” He picked up the phone and dialed Directory Assistance. He knew he couldn’t spend the whole evening in the suite with her without jumping her. This was only Step One-don’t let anybody else jump her. Step Two was win her respect for his intelligence and professional skill, which to him meant settling this case and effectively saving her company. His mouth watered just thinking about Step Three, when he’d make her desire his body, which had always been the easy part for him.

“Got the reservation,” he yelled through the door when she withdrew to do who knew what before rushing out to taunt her date with her utter desirability-and then ditch the bastard.

“It’s just a working dinner,” Mallory said breathlessly to Maybelle fifteen minutes later.

“Whoopee!” Maybelle cried. “Progress! Dickie!” And then to Mallory, “We gotta go shopping.”

Mallory gasped. “I can’t. I told Carter I’d be at the restaurant at eight-fifteen.”

“So? I’ve gotta get back here at eight to meet with the president.”

“The president?”

“Yes?” Richard said, gliding through the door.

“Get us our coats. Get the car. We’re goin’ to Bergdorf’s.”

“The president?” Mallory repeated.

“Uh-oh, a shopping spree,” Dickie said, but was back in half a minute with Mallory’s black cashmere and a coat for Maybelle that appeared to be several llamas sewn together.

She shrugged it on over a top that featured sequined diagonal stripes in purple, yellow and red. It made her look like a parrot. The llamas toned down the effect a bit. “Not our president,” she said suddenly, as if Mallory’s question had just registered. “He’s the president of a little country, the kind they call ‘emergin’.’ Needs an image change if he’s gonna win the next election. I shouldn’ta been blabbin’ about it, either. Come on, hon, no time to waste.”

“I don’t need more clothes,” Mallory protested as Maybelle dragged her to the car. It was an enormous pale blue Cadillac of indeterminate vintage, with Richard at the wheel.

“No, y’all jes’ need more clothes like that little red jacket,” Maybelle said. “Ain’t no wonder he didn’t want you seein’ anybody else tonight.”

Was that why he’d suggested the working dinner? “I have to admit he forced my hand and that’s the only reason I wore the red jacket,” Mallory said, and told Maybelle about the mustard shower.