The Burden of Desire. Natalie Charles

make sense.

      “It’s my fault. The hours you’ve been pulling... I should’ve given you help a long time ago.” He planted himself in her visitor’s chair. His thick eyebrows pulled together, wrinkling the skin on his forehead, and he cursed. “We need to fix this. Quickly.”

      She thought of that press conference, how Marlow had chosen to drag Mrs. Kruger out into the spotlight to humiliate Sally, the office and the police. “He let his client sit in jail so that he could shock us all with the news.” Her cheeks grew hot.

      “We were about to bring a man to trial for a murder that never happened,” Jack said, loosening his tie. “I don’t think I need to lecture you on the seriousness of this.”

      Her heart fell to the floor. No, he didn’t, but he may as well have with that last comment. The effect was equally humiliating. “No, sir. Believe me.”

      A quiet rage flickered in her gut. She’d worked her rear off to get to where she was—one of the lead attorneys in the homicide division. She’d worked late nights and weekends for the better part of a decade, sharpening her skills. This case was just like any other: she’d pored over the evidence carefully and taken her responsibilities seriously. Even if Jack didn’t exactly see it, she was certain that the evidence had been manipulated and a trap set. Sally had spent most of her life being underestimated and taken lightly, and she’d worked hard to prove everyone wrong. No one was going to make a fool out of her.

      She tried to keep her voice steady now, but it sounded shaky, as if her words were being dragged over gravel. “I’m going to review that file. I’m going to figure this out. Some crime was committed, and whether it was an attempt to commit insurance fraud or murder...” She looked at him. “I’ll fix it. I promise.”

      “Sally.” He leveled a gaze at her. “You’re off the file. I’ll review this myself.”

      Her heart galloped, and her breath quickened. Jack would review the files? And what if he found a mistake? She scratched at her leg. She hadn’t made one, she was sure. But what if she had? She didn’t want to be blindsided. “Jack, no one knows that case better than I do. You know me. You know I’ve always been forthright with you. Besides, this doesn’t violate any ethical rules. I can examine the file as well as anyone.”

      “Sally, I want a review. You can’t review your own file. That doesn’t even make sense.”

      “I can review it.”

      They both turned at the sound of a voice. Ben stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips, and shrugged nonchalantly. “Jack already briefed me on it this morning, and I’m probably the least busy person in this office.”

      “Not for long,” Jack said, unconvinced.

      “Not for long. But for now.” Ben crossed his arms. “I’ve prosecuted complicated cases. I had a few murder cases while on tour. I know my way around forensic evidence. Besides, Sally and I are partners on this case. You said so yourself, Jack.”

      He sat in quiet thought before shaking his head. “God knows I don’t need to deal with investigating this mess, on top of everything else I’m doing.” He eyed Ben and then looked at Sally. “What do you think? I’m inclined to let him do it.”

      She smiled tightly. “Then I don’t think it matters what I think.”

      “Fine.” Jack shrugged and rose. “Ben, it’s now your file. I’m off to go try to explain this to the media sharks circling our office.”

      Sally glanced at Ben, who gave her a small wink and a nod. And this became, officially, the worst Day of her life.

      * * *

      Sally may have been spoiled, bratty and rude, but she had her back against a wall. What kind of man would he be if he let her squirm, pinned under the threat of her superior’s review? Win-win, Ben thought with some self-congratulation. He’d relieved his boss of additional work, and he now held the upper hand over Sally.

      Not that he’d use it. He was a gentleman, after all, and gentlemen didn’t humiliate women. Having a little power over her might convince her to talk to him again, that’s all. If she did, she might learn that he wasn’t as vile as she thought he was. Not anymore.

      He didn’t want to admit that her cutting glares that morning had bothered him. In the past, he’d made some choices he wasn’t proud of. The womanizing. The drinking. He was finished with both. Maybe, if she agreed to speak with him again, she’d stop looking at him as if he’d stepped in something foul. Not that he cared what Sally Dawson thought of him. He didn’t need the approval of a haughty trust-fund baby to sleep well at night. She’d always struck him as a little kooky, anyway. She did her own thing, traveled through life slightly off-kilter. He didn’t care if she thought he was a decent person at the end of the day. She didn’t matter at all. But he could repair the past by fixing his relationship with Sally. He hadn’t always been decent to her.

      He flung a self-satisfied smile at her. In response, she leveled a withering glare that would have peeled paint off a wall. Had he expected his charms to work that quickly? Sally sat back in her desk chair stiffly, her piercing glare informing him that he should drop dead.

      “You probably think I should thank you.” Her voice was a barely audible hiss. She rose, rounded her desk and stepped forward, closing in on him like a great cat evaluating its chosen prey. “I’m not going to.”

      “I wouldn’t expect you to thank me,” he replied calmly. “You probably want my head. But I heard Jack laying into you, and I think it’s in your best interest that your superior not review that file.”

      “Oh?” Her eyes narrowed to menacing slits. “And why is that?”

      He focused on those light brown eyes. He’d forgotten that they contained tones of gold—the exact shade of whiskey filtering late afternoon sunlight. Beautiful eyes.

      He tore himself from their glare to close her office door behind him. “Look, Sally. A mistake was made. It’s the only rational explanation, and whether it was made by you, the police or the crime lab, it happened. You brought a murder case for a victim who wasn’t dead. That’s a problem.”

      “It’s not that simple—”

      “No one said it was simple. But if I find the mistake first, I’ll come to you. Maybe you can spin it and save your job, or at least your position in this office.” He pulled up straighter and added, “I’m doing you a favor.”

      “A favor?” She gave an unlady-like snort and walked away from him, heading back to her desk. She didn’t sit. Instead she leaned against it, her gray dress hugging her curves, and looking elegant and furious, preparing herself to give him a piece of her mind. “I’m not done with this case yet.”

      Ben stepped forward then. “I beg to differ. According to Jack, you’re quite done.”

      “I didn’t make a mistake. I know how risky it is to bring a murder to trial without a body. I was careful, and the evidence was good.”

      The neckline of her dress was plunging to dangerous depths. Ben brought his focus back to her angry brown eyes. “I don’t care how good you think the evidence was. I’ve been instructed to review this file, and that means it’s mine.”

      She tilted her head to the side and rolled her eyes. “You sound so military right now.”

      Before he could decide what she meant by that comment, she pushed herself off her desk and approached him once more. He was very aware of her lean, bare legs and the way her body teetered just slightly on those heels. Those shoes were ridiculous—amazing that she could even stand, let alone walk in them. Her legs, on the other hand, looked strong and smooth. She probably ran five miles a day. He fought the urge to reach out and touch them.

      “Ben.” Her voice had assumed a smooth, glassy tone, and her eyes were wide. “I’m going to level with you. I love my job, and I’m trying hard to save it.”

      The