“I have a lawyer.”
She huffed. “Then why do you need me?”
“Respectability. Stability. Image.”
Her face darkened. “I don’t follow.”
But the wary glint in her gaze said she did understand. The fluttering pulse at her throat gave away her panic.
“Hear me out, Libby.” He ran his thumb along the line of her jaw, and heat flared in her eyes.
Good. He still affected her, too. He tugged his mouth sideways in a satisfied grin.
“You see, Renee’s got a bum for a boyfriend and a new drug habit. She’s neglecting Ally. I want to make a home for my daughter, a better one than the hellhole she lives in now. You can help give me that edge.”
She was already shaking her head. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Libby was his last chance.
“I want you to marry me, Lib. I need a wife.”
Chapter 2
“This is insane! You can’t be serious.” Libby paced across the black-and-white-tile floor of her kitchen and sent Cal a dubious look.
“I’m dead serious.” The penetrating blue of his returned gaze echoed his resolve. He’d sprawled casually in one of her antique ladder-back chairs, making himself at home. As if he thought he belonged in her kitchen. As if five years and so much painful history hadn’t come between them.
While they waited for the pot of coffee she’d started, he propped a booted foot on another chair and watched her pace. Jewel, her gray cat, rubbed against Cal’s leg, and he reached down to scratch her head while clucking his tongue. His calm repose stood in sharp contrast to the jitters dancing along Libby’s nerves.
If Cal’s crazy proposal weren’t enough, she still heard the hiss of her stalker’s voice echoing in her head. She shivered. Had Cal not been in the garage, would the creep have caught her? Killed her?
The sooner she dealt with Cal, the sooner she could get rid of him and report her stalker’s latest stunt to the police.
“I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t serious.”
When Cal spoke, she snapped her gaze to his.
Cal. In her kitchen again after all these years. And back in her life, if he had his way.
Seeing his long, muscular legs stretched out comfortably at her table filled Libby with a déjà vu that swirled like warm honey in her blood. The sight was so familiar. So inviting.
So…wrong.
She shook her head briskly, clearing it of cozy memories and renewing her protest. “No. There are so many reasons why it’s a bad idea, that—”
“Name one.” He dropped his boot to the floor and stood. Moving to the gurgling coffeemaker, Cal poured himself a cup then leveled a challenging gaze on her as he sipped.
“It’s just…wrong. It’s—”
“Why?” He stepped closer to her, and her pulse scrambled. “Why is it so wrong?”
Angling her head to meet his gaze, she noticed the thin, pale scar on his square chin, nearly hidden in his bristly black stubble. She remembered that scar, remembered tracing it with her tongue in the heat of lovemaking. Catching her breath, she averted her eyes, struggled to calm her runaway heartbeat. “Because I…I—”
She couldn’t think straight with all his raw male sensuality towering over her and the pine scent of his cologne teasing her senses. Rather than let him corner her, either with his body or his arguments, Libby ducked away, rubbing her arms.
“Are you sure you’re all right? You were pretty shaken up earlier, and you still seem…edgy.”
The concern in his tone unnerved her as much as the lingering thoughts of the man on the stairs. “I’m fine. Really.”
She didn’t want to discuss her stalker with Cal. That was her problem. She’d deal with it in her own way.
As she crossed the room, she turned the tables, wanting, needing to stay in control of this discussion. “Why marry me? Surely you have plenty of other women you could choose from.”
“No one else has your power and prestige in court,” he said. “Which I’ll need to counter my prison record. And no one else owes me like you do.”
Her spine stiffened. “I owe you nothing! Get that through your thick skull.”
His smoldering stare closed the distance between them. Pitching his voice low, he said, “No one else got under my skin the way you did. We were good together, Lib. You know that. Not even prison could make me forget the way we burned up the sheets.”
His husky tone slid over her like a lover’s callused hand, rough yet gentle. Her skin tingled in response. Grasping for control, she swallowed the hitch in her breath and crossed her arms over her sensitized breasts so he wouldn’t see how his words had affected her.
Her traitorous body’s reaction to him was just one more reason why she couldn’t afford to let him back in her life. Sure the sex had been good. Mind-blowing even. But the last thing she needed was another broken heart thanks to Cal Walters.
“You’re crazier than I thought if you believe for a second that I’d ever sleep with you again.”
He arched a dark eyebrow. “You sure about that? Your eyes are telling me you remember just how good it was between us. I’ll bet that chemistry is still there.”
He gave her an impudent grin, and she gritted her teeth.
“That’s not lust, hotshot. It’s shock. I can’t believe you have the gall to ask anything of me considering our past.” Drawing on her practiced courtroom control, she marched across the kitchen to him, her shoulders back. “We had great chemistry in bed. I’ll give you that. But sex wasn’t enough to save our relationship when you found out Renee was pregnant. You stood right here in my kitchen and told me it was over without so much as blinking. ‘See ya later, Libby. It’s been real. Gotta go marry someone else now.’” She gave a jerky wave, her hurt and anger coiled inside her, ready to spring.
A muscle in Cal’s jaw twitched. “It didn’t happen like that. You make it sound like I cheated on you. I never—”
Libby lifted a palm to stop him. “I know you were faithful, that it was over with Renee long before you met me. I’ve never questioned that. But one day everything was great, and the next you came by for five minutes to pick up your things and break my heart. Just boom, you’re gone.”
“Maybe I was a little quick in leaving, but I’m not good at goodbyes. I don’t do big, emotional scenes. I honestly thought a clean break would be easier for both of us.”
She flicked a hand and shook her head. “Whatever. It’s over. Just forget it.” Calming herself with a deep breath, she added, “Regardless of how you remember our breakup, the point is, we’re history. You’ve got a lot of nerve coming to me, using our past as leverage to make demands and accusations. Get this much straight—I had nothing to do with the prosecution of your case. Zilch.”
“Right.” His features hardened, and the blaze in his eyes now had nothing to do with desire. “You just came to my sentencing to gloat, I suppose? I saw you conferring with the lead prosecutor.”
“I came to your sentencing. But not to gloat.” That he’d believe such a petty thing of her hurt. More than she cared to admit. His opinion shouldn’t matter anymore. “And if I did talk with Stan, it was something personal, like, ‘Where are you going for lunch?’ Not anything about your case. Like I said, there are ethical canons that prevent—”
“Then why couldn’t you look me in the eye? You knew