Short, Sweet And Sexy. Cara Summers

      “I’ll be happy to check into it for you.”

      “Andrew…” The warning note in Sam’s voice was clear.

      Andrew sighed. “You can always take Sam at his word, Ms. Potter.”

      A.J. nodded. Then she plucked the poodle off Andrew’s lap, turned to Sam and gave him the same brief nod. “Two more things. First, I won’t press charges for the money. And two, I don’t want you harassing my client anymore. He said you’d have questions. We’ll settle them this afternoon, and then you’ll leave him alone. Understood?”

      The two brothers watched her until the door swung shut and blocked her from their view.

      “Very nice. If that skirt had inched up just a little bit—” Sam whirled on his brother.

      “Hey! I’m just admiring the view. She’s—”

      “Yes…?”

      Andrew cleared his throat. “In the interest of brotherly love and support, it’s only fair to tell you that if you decide you don’t want her, I’m calling second dibs.”

      Sam frowned. “I don’t want…” He stopped short, stunned, when he found he couldn’t complete the sentence.

      Andrew grinned at him. “See? You’d have known it sooner if you were as good a detective as I am.”

      Sam didn’t comment. He had too much to think about as he headed toward the door.

      GLANCING AT HER WATCH, A.J. raced down the steps of the precinct building with Cleo in tow. Ten o’clock. She’d lost another five minutes delivering her client’s message to Sam Romano. But Pierre had insisted. And he was her client. Her very first. She might have danced a little jig on the sidewalk if it weren’t for the fact that landing her first client had caused her to miss the monthly meeting at the firm.

      Unless…Fishing out her cell phone, she punched in her uncle’s number, then kept her voice as patient as she could as she waited for the receptionist to route the call. A quick scan of the street told her there were no taxis in waving range, so she drew Cleo with her toward the corner.

      There was a chance, a slim one, that she hadn’t missed the meeting entirely. But that hope was dashed when her uncle’s secretary Mrs. Scranton immediately put the call through.

      “Ari—oh, sorry, I forgot. No one is allowed to call you that anymore.”

      A.J. drew in a deep breath the moment she recognized her cousin’s voice. Rodney was the only one in the family who needled her about the fact that she’d changed her name legally to A.J. She’d done it before she went to college. To her, the name Arianna conjured up images of all the pink dresses and formal afternoon tea parties she’d endured to please her Aunt Margery. In college and law school she’d wanted to project an entirely different image. A.J. was a much better name for the tough lawyer she’d intended to become.

      “Rodney, don’t tell me. Let me guess. Uncle Jamison announced his retirement and the board appointed you the new head of the firm. That’s why you’ve moved into your dad’s office.”

      “I’ll be running this place sooner than you think. I’m going to be working with Father on the Parker Ellis Chase file. In a few months, it will be mine.”

      “Congratulations.” A.J. tamped down the feelings running through her. Jealousy was a waste of time, and disappointment…well, she could eventually do something to change that. Parker Ellis Chase ran a fifty-million-a-year company that was constantly running into problems with the EPA. The file was an up-and-coming litigator’s dream.

      “You were on TV. We caught it at the end of the news. Dad wants to see you as soon as you get here. A hit-and-run?” He made a clicking sound with his tongue. “It’s bad enough that you’re dragging in those ragtag pro bono clients from the overflow at the Public Defender’s office, but a hit-and-run? Father is not pleased.”

      “Thanks for the update, Rodney. Did anything get thrown my way at the meeting?”

      “You got quite a few research requests. I put the files on your desk myself.”

      Careful to keep the disappointment out of her voice, A.J. said, “Thanks. I’ll be in shortly.”

      The one disadvantage cell phones had over the wired kind was that you couldn’t slam them in someone’s ear. As she tucked the phone in her pocket and once more searched the street for a taxi, Cleo made a low sound in her throat.

      “I know, sweetie. You’re very late for your appointment, but I called Dr. Fielding, and he’s going to squeeze you in.”

      Out of habit, she glanced around. A few pedestrians milled past them, hurrying to cross the street before the light changed. But there was no sign of another dog. She did catch a glimpse of Sam Romano coming out of the front door of the precinct, and she quickly strode away from him toward the corner.

      Just as they reached it, Cleo growled deep in her throat and then barked.

      The shove from behind took A.J. by surprise and sent her sprawling to her knees. Then the man grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet. With her free hand, she grabbed the strap of her purse, swung it off her shoulder and into the man’s face. The moment he dropped her arm, she aimed and landed a quick kick to his stomach.

      With a string of curses, he sank to his knees, but he caught the strap of her purse and held on. In the second that their eyes met and held, A.J. sized him up. He was thin, with a beard, but there were muscles under that frayed gray T-shirt and a grim determination in his eyes.