On Thin Ice by Eve Gaddy Page A

considered her. Apparently Gabrielle didn’t want to talk about Sabatino. And he didn’t care to talk about Marcie Field. Not answering would only make her more curious, so to appease her he gave her something. “She needed a lawyer. What’s to understand?”
    “That lady is pro bono all the way, Shinclair.”
    His lips quirked at the slurred word. She stared at him intently, obviously unaware of her lapse. “Everybody does a little pro bono work,” he said. “You do, don’t you?”
    “Certainly.” She gave an emphatic nod and took another sip of wine. “But you—” she poked him in the chest with her forefinger “—aren’t the type. Not a pro bono bone in your body. You don’t have to counsel for free, not at this stage of your career. So why?”
    Not the type, he repeated silently. Devlin gave in to the irresistible urge to shock her out of her smug reading of his character. “I was a PD for three years.” Her finger fell, and her mouth dropped open. Though he smiled, her disbelief annoyed him more than it amused him. “Just out of law school,” he added.
    “You? A public defender?” She stared in amazement, then threw her head back and laughed.
    Her throaty, abandoned laughter brought on a curious range of feelings. Lust at the sight of her slim neck, exposed as it was, and at the rich sound of her enjoyment. Intense, and irritating, disappointment that she’d reacted as she had. Why should he be surprised that she only saw what everyone else saw? And why the hell should he care? Sipping his drink, he waited for her paroxysm to subside.
    Abruptly, she sobered and put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.” A hiccup lessened the effect of her apology. She continued doggedly. “You were so good with your client today. It shouldn’t have shocked me, I guess. But I can’t—couldn’t imag—”
    “Yeah, I know.” He gave her a cynical smile. “It doesn’t fit the image.
    Tilting her head, she gazed at him, as though trying to piece together a puzzle. “If the image bothers you, why don’t you change it?”
    He shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me. I’m not a PD anymore. “
    “Maybe part of you still is,” she said shrewdly.
    Devlin didn’t like the direction this conversation had taken. He’d outgrown that particular save-the-world mind-set long ago. Three years as a PD would polish off anyone’s idealism, and finding out the truth about Celine had sounded the death knell on his. Remembering Celine sure as hell held no interest for him. “Nope,” he answered. “What you see is what you get.”
    She hadn’t taken her hand off his arm. He’d left his jacket in the car, and her fingers pressed gently into his skin, warming it through the cloth of his shirtsleeve. There was no reason for that innocent contact to send a surge of desire pumping through his blood. No reason at all.
    “I wonder,” she said.
    “And I wonder,” he said, taking the offensive, “what it is about Sabatino that gets to you. You’ve defended others like him. But there’s a difference this time, isn’t there, Gabrielle?”
    Her hand dropped away. A gleam of alarm came and went in her eyes, so quickly, he might have imagined it. Except he hadn’t.
    “I’ve got a lot more at stake this time,” she said.
    “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. Care to let me in on the stakes?”
    Her lashes lowered, then rose, her expression changing to sultry. Even knowing her game, it still sent his hormone level rocketing.
    “Winner take all. Partner.”
    Devlin let out a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding. Damn, she was good.
    “But tonight—” she stroked her hand up his arm “—I don’t want to talk about Sabatino.” Her hand glided slowly down to his. “Or partnerships. Or law. I’m taking the night off. What do you say, Counselor?”
    An invitation. In her eyes, in her touch, in her words. So, she wanted to distract him, did she? Just how far would she go?
    “That depends.” He took her hand,