Lilly's Law. Dianne Drake

she doesn’t want anything, Jimmy. So get me an almond cookie with that and tell Wong we’ll do a make good—another ad.” To Lilly he quipped, “I’m the guy you see on the street corner with the cardboard sign—Will Trade Ad Space for Food.”

      “The phone, right now!” It wasn’t funny. Not him, not her reaction to him, and geez, she knew he’d felt it. How could he not, with the heat they were giving off together—a real blast furnace of lust or pheromones or whatever it was called.

      Want to go to bed with me, Lilly?

      “What?” she shrieked.

      “I said what happens Monday morning when I’m back in court?” He handed the phone through the bars and she took it being careful not to come into contact with his skin.

      She was sweating now. No hiding, no denying. “I, uh…” She didn’t know. Didn’t know the question, didn’t know the answer. “I’ve got to go,” she whispered, her voice infused with the hoarseness that comes in the aftermath of good sex. Oh no! Not that voice. He knew that voice.

      “And was it good for you, Lilly?”

      She didn’t hear that! He didn’t say it; she didn’t hear it.

      “Lilly? Don’t you want to know?”

      “Know what?” she choked out.

      “What I just asked.”

      “No,” she panted, having no clue what that was.

      “You don’t want to know why I called you last night?”

      She ventured a look into the cell to see if he was smoking a cigarette—the relaxing smoke that capped off awesome sex—but he was finishing the last of his blueberry muffin. “So tell me and make it fast,” she snapped.

      He shrugged. “In the last couple of weeks I’ve been involved in this little investigation and…”

      That she heard loud and clear, and it was all she wanted to hear. “Another investigation? Fool me three times, Mike? Is that it? Well, not a chance.” And she spun around and left.

      Then just before she reached the guard desk…“Hey, Lilly. Are you wearing underwear?”