LITMIR.BIZ

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      Cole didn‘t say anything, he just continued to stare at her, then a slow smile touched his lips. “Yes, it has been a long time. Too long.”

      Marni had no idea what he was thinking, but she knew Cole wasn‘t about to give up. He‘d never been one to accept defeat, and while the thought of Cole‘s pursuit frightened her, it also gave her a slight surge of female satisfaction. A ridiculous reaction under the circumstances.

      * * *

      AFTER COLE DROPPED her off at her car, Marni drove straight to the Salvation Army to deliver the clothes in the trunk, then stopped at a luggage shop on Wilshire to pick up a new briefcase. She should have bought a new one months ago. If she had, she wouldn‘t be a jumble of nerves right now.

      Her resolve not to tell Cole about Jenna increased. Besides, she reasoned, how would she tell him? She supposed she could give him the letter she‘d sent him when Jenna was born. The letter had been returned–unopened–by Carson, no doubt. But at least he hadn‘t read the contents, so he didn‘t know about Jenna. Nevertheless, she‘d made an attempt to do the right thing, regardless of her deal with his father.

      She deposited the new briefcase in the trunk of the car, then drove the few blocks to her office, trying not to think of Cole. Yes, she decided, her life would be much less complicated if she stayed away from Cole Ballinger. Her response to his kisses was far too troubling.

      Marni arrived at her office by midafternoon to find a frantic Peg fielding telephone calls. “Where have you been?” her secretary asked in an exasperated tone.

      “I had an unexpected lunch date.” A stab of guilt pierced Marni. She should have called to check in.

      “Someone tall, dark and handsome?” Peg sounded hopeful, and Marni winced.

      “What‘s up?” she asked, determined not to discuss her “lunch date” with her secretary.

      “This arrived just before noon.” Peg picked up a bound manuscript, then tossed it back on the desk to emphasize her displeasure.

      Marni reached for the document, and her heart sank to her feet. An appellate brief from Kendell‘s attorney. “Have you read it?”

      “With a ham sandwich and a Coke.”

      What Marni liked most about Peg was her ability to get involved with the cases. Peg knew almost as much as Marni did when it came to the files assigned to them.

      She nodded toward her office and Peg followed, grabbing her dictation pad. Marni slipped out of her jacket and hung it on the coatrack in the corner, then adjusted the cuffs of her blouse. Light streamed into the small office through the venetian blinds, and she closed them to help cool the office. The air conditioning in the old county building worked with as much efficiency as an unrestored vintage automobile and was probably just as ancient.

      “On what grounds is the defense appealing?” Marni crossed the gray industrial carpeting to her desk. Peg closed the door.

      “Judicial error.” Peg‘s outrage was apparent in her pale blue eyes. She adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses over her small, upturned nose, and pushed a lock of nondescript brown hair out of her face.

      “Judicial error? Gladstone runs his courtroom by the book.” Marni sat behind the desk in the squeaky leather chair.

      “I highlighted the important sections for you,” explained Peg, lowering herself into the chair across from Marni‘s desk. She held her pen over the stenographic pad, ready to take down her employer‘s every word.

      Marni took a minute to review the brief, particularly the sections Peg had highlighted. The more she read, the angrier she became. The defense was claiming that Gladstone should never have admitted the testimony of Kendell‘s cell mate, who, they alleged, had been coerced. The brief went on to claim that the witness had been promised a reduction in his sentence if he agreed to testify.

      “I can‘t believe this. Who took the witness‘s statement?”

      Peg flipped through her notepad and produced the names of two policemen.

      “I‘ll need to talk to Dorlan. Does he know about this?”

      “Not yet. He‘s out of town until Monday.”

      “Damn. Let his secretary know I have to talk to him if he calls in. And try to get hold of the officers,” Marni said. “I want to see them first thing Monday morning.”

      Peg jotted notes on her pad. “Sure thing.”

      “Better yet, give them my home phone number and have them call me over the weekend if necessary. We‘ve got to prepare a response, and I want to have it filed by Tuesday afternoon.”

      “Do you need me to stay late tonight?”

      Marni shook her head. “No. I‘ll get as much done this weekend as possible and have it to you by noon Monday. Will that give you enough time?”

      Peg nodded. “Don‘t worry, Marni. We‘ll win this round, too.”

      The phone rang and Marni jumped on it. “Marni Rodgers. Hold on,” she said tersely, still upset over the appellate brief. Cradling the receiver against her shoulder, she said to Peg, “Order the transcript. I need any argument between counsel regarding the witness and his subsequent testimony.”

      Peg stood and adjusted her glasses again. “It‘s taken care of. The court reporter promised we‘d have it before five. Do you want me to take it home and index it?”

      Marni appreciated Peg‘s offer but couldn‘t ask her secretary to work on a weekend. Peg had a family of her own to take care of. “I‘ll handle it. Oh, Peg. Call Jenna for me and tell her I‘ll be late, would you?”

      Peg nodded, and slipped out of the office after dropping a stack of messages onto Marni‘s desk.

      Marni turned her attention back to the telephone. “I‘m sorry. Hello?”

      “Do you have plans for dinner?” Cole‘s deep, resonant voice responded.

      The room tilted and Marni clasped a hand to her throat. Had he been listening? Oh, God. No!

      “I have to work.” Her voice quaked with emotion, but at least the room righted itself again.

      “You sound angry.”

      “You‘re damn right I‘m angry.” Angry and scared, she thought. Call Jenna for me and tell her I‘ll be late. Please God, she silently prayed.

      “Something I said?” His voice was soothing, and Marni‘s pulse slowed a fraction. She wasn‘t angry at him, only at her own carelessness.

      “The defense filed a brief on the Kendell case,” she said, trying to concentrate on the conversation.

      “Sounds bad.”

      “It is.”

      “Care to talk about it?”

      Marni found herself responding to his gentle coaxing, and before she realized it, she was telling him all about the defendant‘s contentions of coercion of a material witness, explaining that if the appellate court overturned the trial court‘s ruling, Kendell would have to be retried without the testimony of the witness. And if that happened, the prosecution‘s case could be weakened. “What‘s even worse is that the defense knows our strategy. It‘ll be like starting from scratch, and this case was tough enough the first time round.”

      Cole leaned back in the soft executive chair of his office overlooking Century City. He smiled as he listened to Marni relate the legal issues involved in the murder trial. When she talked about her work, there were no barriers. “Is it true?” he asked.

      “I don‘t know. I have to talk to the officers who took his statement. If they promised him anything, we could be in big trouble.”

      A light tapping sound drifted over the phone lines. He pictured her drumming the tip of her pen on

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