“It’s a yes,” I say.

We nod good-bye to the bailiff and share an elevator down. Unfortunately, there are a few straggling jurors heading down with us, so Reeve and I stand on opposite sides of the elevator and keep our gazes lowered to our feet.

I follow him home, and while he starts dinner—just some soup and sandwiches—I head back to his room and change out of my monkey suit. I pull one of the soft white T-shirts he wears under his dress shirts out of his drawer and slip it on.

Back in the dining room, I go ahead and unpack my briefcase, pulling out the things I’ll need to work on tonight. I’m not going to spend much time on my opening statements. I know the facts of this case inside and out, and the opening statements are nothing more than a forecast of the evidence I’ll present to the jury.

No, I’m going to spend most of my time working on the questions I’ll have for my first witness. Now, most attorneys would want their client to take the stand as the first witness in a trial. If you want to present a chronological case, it’s a good and effective way to start. I know Jenna will do a fantastic job. We spent a majority of this weekend going over her testimony.

But I’m going to do something a little different. I’m going to call Dr. Summerland to the stand.

He won’t be expecting it and neither will Reeve. Normally, the defendant would be called to testify during his case in chief, which follows mine. But the defendant isn’t required to take the stand, and I can’t afford to trust that Reeve will put him up there. I mean, if this douche were my client, I wouldn’t put him on the stand. He’s too arrogant and cocky, and the jury will hate him.

So I decided to take the bull by the horns and call Dr. Summerland during my case in chief. As I said, they’ll never expect it because it’s not a very common practice, and that will also ensure that Reeve will not have bothered to prepare Dr. Summerland for it as well.

I almost give out a maniacal, evil laugh, but suppress it. I don’t want to have Reeve pressing me over what I find so fucking funny.

“Dinner’s ready,” Reeve calls out, and I turn from the dining room table and pad into the kitchen. He’s laid out soup and grilled-cheese sandwiches at the center island and is pulling two bottles of water from the fridge.

“Looks fantastic,” I say, and realize how starved I am. I haven’t eaten since a quick bowl of cereal this morning. I’m always too wound up to eat during the lunch recess while a trial is in progress, preferring to stay at counsel table and work while it’s quiet. Reeve, I’ve noticed, goes to lunch each day with Kratzenburg and the insurance cronies, but I didn’t expect different. They would be analyzing every nuance of what happened in the courtroom.

“Eat up,” he says as he puts a bottle of water in front of me, leans over to kiss the side of my head, and sits down on one of the stools. I hop up on the one next to him and pick up the sandwich, taking a small bite.

“Mmm,” I moan in relief. “Best sandwich ever.”

He grins at me and dunks his in the bowl of tomato soup in front of him. “It’s basic but filling.”

I nod, too hungry to answer him. We eat in silence for a few moments, both lost in our thoughts, which should be focused on our opening statements, but I’m not right this second. I’m thinking about how great this food is, how sweet Reeve is for cooking for me, and even from my peripheral vision, how damn good he looks sitting next to me.

Visions of me pushing my bowl away, crawling onto his lap, and dry-humping him at the kitchen counter fill my head. Blinking, I try to clear my thoughts. We both have work to do after we eat. No sex . . . at least not until we’ve finished our preparations for tomorrow.

“Glad jury selection is over,” Reeve says out of the blue.

I expect my body to tense up over his comment, because it leads us into dangerous territory talking about the case, but then I realize I don’t feel awkward at all. I don’t think Reeve will reveal any dark secrets he might be harboring, and I sure as hell have no compulsion to share my game plan. Instead, I find it intriguing that we can talk about something in the trial that’s already been concluded and maybe see what the other person is thinking.

“Are you pleased with the results?” I ask.

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s an okay jury for me. I think it’s a fantastic jury for you. You did a good job stacking it male heavy.”

I nod because he’s right. It’s a pretty damn good jury. Especially with Mr. Harmon on the panel.

Jerking in my seat, I snap my head toward him. “That reminds me . . . why didn’t you excuse Mr. Harmon from the panel? You know he’s absolutely pro-plaintiff.”

Reeve doesn’t look at me but takes another sip of his soup. “He’s okay. I just had a gut feeling about him that maybe he’ll be a little more impartial than you give him credit for.”

My eyes narrow at him. “Uh-uh. No way. Not buying it. You totally should have kicked him off the panel, but you didn’t. Why not?”

He just ignores me, taking another sip of soup.

I reach my hand out and lay it on his forearm, halting his movements. He turns to look at me.

“Reeve, why didn’t you excuse Mr. Harmon? He’s bad for your case.”

With a blank face, Reeve just stares at me, a tiny muscle in his cheek pulsing. He swallows hard and covers my hand with his own. “Don’t ask me that question, Leary. Just leave it be, okay?”

I open my mouth to argue because I’m pretty sure I know why he did it, but then I snap it shut. I don’t want to hear him say it. I don’t want him to admit that he’s done something to help my case.

While part of me is sweetly overwhelmed that he’d do that, another part of me is horrified. Oh, not that he would do something unethical. As I’ve told him before, there are certain things I would sacrifice my law ethics for. But I don’t want to accept he might have thrown me a bit of a bone, because I don’t want there to be any expectations that I would ever do the same.

Because I wouldn’t.

I wouldn’t lift a single finger to help him in this case.

“I would never expect you to return a favor in this case, Leary,” Reeve says. “I didn’t do it expecting anything in return.”

My mouth gapes open, because he’s a fucking mind reader. His hand comes up, his knuckles chuck me under the chin, and my mouth closes. He smiles at me in understanding.

“I don’t get it,” I say, awash with confused feelings.

Reeve leans toward me, resting one hand gently on my thigh. He presses his lips against mine, and my eyes flutter closed over the gentle touch.

He pulls away, and I feel his hand curve around the back of my neck. My eyes open and he’s looking at me so seriously, I feel the weight of his stare pinning me down.

“Leary,” he says softly, “I want you to win this case.”

“What?” I gasp, but his other hand comes up to press his fingers to my lips.

“Shh,” he admonishes. “We’re not going to speak about this again, but put everything between you and me aside. I don’t believe in my case. I believe in yours. Unfortunately, I’m still stuck defending it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not hoping like hell that you and Jenna get everything you deserve. And here is what we won’t talk about again. I might do things to throw you a bone every now and then, and that’s not going to change. Just know that I’m doing this because I want to and because I can, and not because of anything you do for me in return.”

I blink at him in astonishment.

“We clear?” he asks softly.

I blink at him some more.

“Leary?”

Finally, I nod my head. “I don’t know what to say.”

He smiles at me, his fingers squeezing my neck. “Tell me you adore me.”

“You know I do,” I say from a place deep within my heart.

“Tell me you’re going to fuck me silly after you finish working tonight,” he says, now grinning big.