A Conflict of Interest. Anna Adams

      Shoving his chair back, he jammed his phone into his pocket. Then he grabbed his coat and made for the door. The cold air of November promised cleansing. But once he was outside, he was just cold.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      JAKE BURST OUT of the courthouse’s side door and ran straight into Maria. She stood as she’d sat, frozen, her hair whipping around her face. She was holding her coat, but her fingers must have been numb. The wool slipped through her fingers to the ground.

      He stared from the burgundy cloth to the woman who’d managed to grab a piece of him from the day he’d first glimpsed her. He’d done the wrong thing. For the first time in his adult life, he’d chosen to ignore responsibility.

      He’d really like to blame Maria for his lapse. Shouting This mess is all your fault would have felt so much better than dithering over doing the right thing.

      Instead, he reached for her coat. “Can I give you a ride?”

      Her eyes flickered with barely a hint of recognition.

      “Let me help you.” He draped the coat over her shoulders. “You should get out of the cold.”

      She reached for his hands, and the coat dropped again. He looked down. Her palms brushed his, her skin ice beneath a fine sheen of adrenaline-induced sweat. Touching her was more personal than a kiss.

      Her desperation got inside his better judgment. He forgot about guilt and innocence or responsibility.

      “You have to trust the jury,” he said, his voice feeling rusty.

      Life came back to her face. She snatched her coat off the ground. “Whether he’s guilty or innocent, he’s in trouble, but you can still help that family. Talk to his aunt and uncle,” she said. “They’ll listen to you.”

      “What is it with you and this kid?”

      “Not you, too,” she said. “Caring that he gets help and no one else gets hurt doesn’t make me a pervert.”

      “I can’t discuss his case with you.” Perfect. How many times had Leila suggested he come out from behind the bench and feel something? Now her wish was coming true, to a degree she never would have dreamed. Not only did he feel too much for a woman who’d thus far ducked any contact that didn’t include taking a ladle from his hand at a soup kitchen, he also sounded like an idiot—an experienced jurist who didn’t even understand the concept of double jeopardy.

      “Stop saying you can’t talk about Griff. You couldn’t bring him back to trial if he hired a skywriter to confess this time.”

      “We only have your word that he confessed the first time.”

      She flinched and tucked her hands behind her back. “You think I lied?”

      Her hair blew around her face. The wind kissed her slender, exposed neck. He wanted to pull her close and tell her he’d think anything she asked him to if she’d just let him explore that creamy skin.

      Unwelcome passion could blind a person. He’d learned early in life to resist it, because it never led anyone to a rational decision.

      “Jake, are you listening?” She backed away. “I feel as if I’m shouting, but no one hears me.”

      “You made sure you were heard. Can’t you see everyone in that trial wonders what the hell really happened between you and Griff?”

      “I’m not a liar. I wouldn’t risk everything I’ve worked for if I didn’t believe he could be saved.”

      “You have to put yourself ahead of that kid and stop making me wonder whether Griff’s journal is the truth. If I wonder, so will the police and the Psychology Review Board.”

      Maria sucked in a breath. Her face flushed as she struggled into her coat. “Don’t threaten me.”

      “You’re in real danger.”

      “Yeah.” She pushed her hand beneath her hair to free the coiling strands from her collar. He swallowed, relieved that she was too distracted to see what she did to him with a move so innocuous as pushing her fingers through her hair. She reached into her pockets and pulled out those freaking mittens, but gave up before she got one on. “A normal kid neither kills his parents nor claims he has. That’s the danger.”

      Bunching the lapels of her coat in her fists, she jerked past him. A hint of sweet flowers and precious spice caught him by surprise. Jaywalking across the street, she seemed to have only one goal. To escape him.

      She cut around the square, toward the Old Honesty shops. He couldn’t move and he forgot how to breathe until, finally, she was out of sight.

      Slowly, he turned in the opposite direction, fighting for control. A white square on the sidewalk caught his eye. Moving toward it, he felt as if he were trying to walk on legs he’d never used before.

      He should have made that call. Griff wasn’t Maria’s only underage patient, and his family wouldn’t be the only one coming after her.

      The white square was Maria’s other mitten. He picked it up and glanced back the way she’d gone. Scanning the cluster of men and women easing between one another, in and out of the shopping area, he couldn’t see her. He started to put the mitten in his pocket.

      Then, without thinking, he lifted the soft material to his face. Maria’s enticing scent made him want her. Bad.

      Sweat beaded on his forehead. He shoved the mitten into his pocket as far as it would go. Too bad the town had no community lost and found so he could get rid of it without seeing her again.

      FOR ONCE, Maria wished she’d hired a receptionist. She managed her own schedule to keep overhead down. But, on Monday morning, three days after the verdict in Griff’s trial, she opened her office door to face an answering machine that was blinking like an angry, red eye. She’d anticipated cancellations, but deep down, she’d hoped her clients would hang in with her.

      Dumping her keys and coat in the visitor’s chair, she stared at the machine. Her neighbors were angry. Yesterday, she’d been waiting to pay for groceries when she’d overheard nothing good about herself from two ladies talking about her in the checkout line.

      “She’s the one.” The woman clutching a quart of milk and a pineapple had nodded Maria’s way, her whisper loud enough to set off seismic detectors.

      “That poor Griff. You know, he was in my class back when he was in second grade. You couldn’t find a sweeter boy.” The second woman had sniffed. “Outsiders, you know? This town used to be ours. We knew everyone. Everyone knew us. When a family had a problem, we took care of it at home.”

      “The chamber of commerce insists we need growth. This should teach those young intruders about small towns.”

      “You are canny, my friend.” The teacher had plunked a massive box of instant potatoes on the conveyor, choking out a cough as white powder wafted into the air.

      Maria had pulled her cart closer, unsurprised by their concern for a kid from one of the town’s oldest families. But they obviously hadn’t seen Griff in years. They couldn’t guess at the truth.

      Now, she walked around the office, pausing to open the blinds before she dropped into her chair and swung around to her desk. Both Gil and Jake had warned her. Time to face the bad music and work on preserving the job that had given her independence and respect.

      She’d given the practice her time and her hard-won skill, and she’d powered through the days, believing she could do some good. She cared about her clients, but she was also vitally interested in eating three squares and wearing clothes. Loss of income meant insecurity.

      She’d been the black sheep in her family because she was the one who accepted responsibility. Images from the past clicked through her mind like frames in a movie. Her mother’s “friends,” all male, moving into one of their temporary homes for what