Conviction of the Heart Read Free Page A

believe she’d actually agreed to a date. Well, not a date. Dinner.
    But he wanted to consider it a date.
    He’d watched her for some time. It was more than just his natural attraction to redheads. He found something more compelling in her behavior, her demeanor. He found her different from the rest of the ambulance chasers he encountered in his work.
    During their midwinter case, he witnessed her inner fire and passion for what was right, whether or not it fell squarely within the law. She never let opposing counsel walk over her. She even used humor as a tool to pry open judges’ hearts to let her pleas inside.
    When the case concluded, he wanted to see her—unprofessionally—but she created a distinct distance between them that dissuaded him. He tried to put her out of his mind. She kept re-appearing. Every so often, he caught a glimpse of her in the court buildings, or in her favorite lunch spot in the inner courtyard of the old castle, and those feelings would bubble up again. He couldn’t forget her.
    Not that he hadn’t tried. Brother officers used his fascination with the standoffish attorney to rib him without mercy. A lawyer and a cop? Might as well be oil and water, one working to get bad people locked up, and the other working just as hard to set them free again. It didn’t matter that she worked in a different specialty. His associates lumped them all together as a waste of educated flesh. It could never work. Just asking for trouble. Who needed trouble?
    Nick wasn’t convinced.
    Determined, he cultivated the judge’s secretaries, many of whom had a soft spot for him. If she was scheduled to appear, they let him know. He’d put himself in the way of finding her, to ask her out.
    And now, she’d finally said yes.
    Mama Rosa’s was a cop hangout, a place with good Italian food and checkered red and white tablecloths and candles on the table after dark. He arrived first and took his usual table, chewing over whether he should have taken her somewhere fancier. She was probably used to more upscale places, restaurants with three forks in a setting. He was the kind of guy who ate with his elbows on the table.
    He’d offered to drive her, but she wanted her own car. Although it appeared the man with the mysterious pocket had left the scene, he wasn’t convinced it was safe to leave her. She’d finally allowed him to walk her to her car in the lot. He’d told her how to get here. But a half-hour later, she still hadn’t arrived.
    Maybe I should have insisted.
    Maybe she wasn’t coming.
    He adjusted his posture, at a loss to explain why his seat wasn’t as comfortable as usual. He loosened his tie, then took it off, shoving it in his pocket. He unbuttoned his top button. Perhaps she’d find the casual look appealing, looser. Maybe she’d relax. It sure as hell made him feel better.
    He leaned forward on his chair, sitting on the edge, just short of a fidget. Concetta, one of the older ladies who’d been serving at Mama Rosa’s as long as Nick could remember, stopped by the table to ask if he needed anything. “You’re watching the door awful close, Nicky. Your boss coming? Or a woman?” She studied him, dark birdlike eyes boring into him.
    “Is it that obvious?” He allowed a laugh, finding it came with a wash of relief. Suzanne owed him nothing. If she didn’t come—
    Then she stepped through the door.
    She’d shed her brown jacket. Her yellow dress, sleeveless, exposed more of her skin than he’d ever seen. He thought she’d lost her professional pumps, too, brown sandals on her feet instead.
    More stunning was the shoulder-length red mane she’d released from whatever semi-magic pinning procedure women used to twist their locks into knots. Loose around her shoulders, her hair was beautiful.
    “Oh, ho!” the waitress said. Something in her voice triggered his notice. He looked away from Suzanne, tracking Concetta’s quick exit. What was she up to? She scurried off into the back. A