The Law of Attraction

“Characters who touch your heart and a story to match. When I finished the last page, I wanted to start reading it all over again.”

—Bestselling author Jennifer Greene on Doctor For Keeps

“Gold shines at creating characters you care about.”

—Bestselling author Virginia Kantra

“Kristi Gold is one of those authors whose books you never want to miss. She touches your heart in all the right places.”

—Reader to Reader Reviews

“Kristi Gold’s Renegade Millionaire will captivate readers with its undeniably sexy hero and the combustible attraction between characters. An exceptionally well-written story that should never end.”

—Romantic Times on Renegade Millionaire, 2003 Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award

“Kristi Gold combines her trademark larger-than-life hero with the Barone Dynasty’s sensuous plot and comes up big in Expecting The Sheikh’s Baby.”

—Romantic Times on Expecting the Sheikh’s Baby, 2004 National Readers’ Choice Winner, Best Short Contemporary Series

Dear Reader,

I was thrilled to be invited to participate in THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS: REUNION with my contribution, The Law of Attraction, for several reasons: I’m a born and bred Texan, San Antonio is one of my favorite cities, I enjoy working with authors to bring together a satisfying series, and I’m admittedly a television courtroom drama addict.

This story features Daniel Fortune, a dynamic San Antonio assistant D.A. who has designs on being the next District Attorney, and Alisha Hart, who left corporate law to become a champion of justice for the common folk. Take these two passionate attorneys, pit them against each other on a high-profile case, add a good dose of chemistry, and you’re bound to have fireworks inside and out of the courtroom. As an added bonus, that high-profile case involves an infamous exhibitionist known as the “San Antonio Streaker,” an element that lends itself to more than a little humor, and a whole lot of fun. And I admit to having had more than my share of fun writing this book.

Needless to say, quite a bit of research on Texas law was involved and I’ve tried to make the legal process as accurate as possible. However, I’m a writer, not an attorney, so I did use a little creative license in the courtroom scenes for the sake of entertainment.

I invite you to get ready for a wild ride, and I do hope you enjoy The Law of Attraction as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it!

Happy reading!

Kristi Gold

Acknowledgments:

Many thanks to family friend and future attorney, Wes B., for pointing me in the right direction. Any errors in legal procedure I might have made are definitely my own.

Dedication:

To Kathie DeNosky, one of the most talented authors and best friends I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Bonus Features

One

“I can’t believe you spent all day with the naked guy.”

For once Alisha Hart was thankful for the barroom buzz drowning out the cute and somewhat cocky Joe Alvarado’s comment. Unfortunately her current law clerk had a definite lack of decorum at times. But he worked cheap, and with her fledgling law practice, cheap was all she could afford.

Moving her glass of champagne aside, Alisha folded her hands before her on the scuffed wooden table and frowned. “Do you think perhaps we could call him Mr. Massey—his appropriate name—instead of ‘the naked guy’?”

Joe loosened his tie, reclined in the high-backed chair and chugged another drink of beer. “I just call ’em like I see ’em. And let’s face it, plenty of San Antonio’s good citizens have seen him. All of him.”

“Not all of him.”

He forked a fast hand through his dark hair and gave her his usual impatient scowl. “Okay. Most of him.”

Alisha couldn’t argue that point, but she would soon have to argue the now infamous case of the “San Antonio Streaker.” Without an official public defender’s office in the county, she’d qualified to be added to the list of practicing attorneys willing to represent those who couldn’t afford private counsel. Just her luck of the draw that she’d been assigned as Les Massey’s public defender. True, the man had posed almost in the buff at several notable tourist attractions, but he’d been clever enough to keep certain parts of his anatomy covered. As far as Alisha was concerned, he might be a misguided man on a mission, but he was within his rights to express himself, even if he freely expressed himself practically naked.

“Regardless of what he’s done,” she told Joe, “he’s still a client and deserves my attention.”

“More or less a nonpaying client.”

Alisha recognized that Les Massey would soon receive the benefit of her services without handing over a dime of his own money—as if he had any—courtesy of the state of Texas. “That’s what the system is all about, Joe. Solid legal representation for the indigent. The ‘little guy,’ so to speak.”

He let go a strident laugh. “From what I hear, Les wouldn’t be considered a ‘little guy.’ Rumor has it that was one long coonskin tail he had covering his goods during his little show at the Alamo. Have you seen any evidence of that?”

“Oh, dear God, Joe. I’m not even going to go there.” Granted, Alisha had been mildly curious, but she suspected that the legend of Les’s “goods” had been blown totally out of proportion. And even though he would be considered a fine specimen, with his buff body and surfer-blond hair, she wasn’t interested in his “goods” or any other aspect of his person. Besides, he was seven years her junior, rarely utilized all three of his brain cells at once and was a little too smarmy for her selective taste in men. “Can we change the subject now?”

“Sure. Let’s play Twenty Questions. Guess who just walked in?”

“Your wife?”

“Nope. Not yet.” He leaned forward. “I’ll give you a hint. He’s practically a legend in legal circles.”

Couldn’t be Les, unless he’d escaped from jail. “I give up.”

“Would you believe the big man himself?”

“Isn’t it a little late for Santa?”

“Try Daniel Fortune.”

Great. Just what she needed—the man who delighted in pushing all her hot buttons whenever the opportunity presented itself. The man who ruled the criminal courts like a king. The man she wanted to cling to like cheap plastic wrap every time he came near her—a fact that would remain a secret to everyone, especially the senior assistant district attorney.

“Well, I should’ve known the iceman cometh,” Alisha said, trying to keep her tone nonchalant. “The temperature just dropped a few degrees in here.” In reality, her body temperature had risen to rainforest proportions.

“He’s brilliant,” Joe said. “One of the best prosecutors in the state.”

One of the best-looking prosecutors in the country. “Yes, he’s got a good record.” And a great butt.

“Don’t look now, but he’s heading this way.”

Alisha battled the urge to look and she won out for the time being. Maybe Mr. Fortune would keep walking right on past her. Maybe then she could sneak another peek at his derriere.

Joe slapped his palms on the edge of the table, startling Alisha. “I’m going to go to the boys’ room, then give Julie a call. If she doesn’t get here quick, she’s going to miss the festivities.”

Alisha wanted to ask him to please stay, which was totally absurd. Chances were the esteemed A.D.A. wouldn’t even bother to say hello. And even if he did, her obligation only required she be polite and toss out a few insults if necessary. “Fine. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Trying to appear relaxed, she turned her attention to the wide-screen TV across the room and pretended to watch the Times Square globe beginning its descent, signaling the arrival of the new year on the East Coast. Pretended not to be at all concerned that the preeminent attorney was somewhere on the premises. Pretended she didn’t care where he was or what he was doing, even if she did. She’d just sit there and blend into the surroundings—not at all that difficult considering she had blending in down to a fine art in crowded bars.

“Hey, Hart, did you really get the guy with the big schlong?”

Following a spattering of laughter, Alisha’s gaze snapped to the man posing the query seated two tables over—the lard-bellied lawyer, Billy Wade Carlisle, not board certified in anything since “bottom feeder” had yet to be designated as a specialty. Right now she would like to take his ratty toupee and stuff it in an orifice where no toupee belonged.

So much for remaining anonymous. Of course, the place was rather loud and a bit rowdy tonight. With any luck, Mr. Fortune hadn’t heard Billy Wade’s brilliant query.

“Looks like you could use a drink.”

The sound of his voice coming from behind her, deep and downright deadly, drew Alisha’s complete attention. So did the very masculine hand that slid a glass of champagne before her. She visually tracked his navy coat sleeve up to his wide shoulder and, against better judgment, continued on to his eyes. Tonight those eyes looked dark even though she knew they were green—not crystalline green but a deep green that at times looked almost brown, other times green-gold, depending on the lighting. Intense eyes that shouted power. Considering the definite cast of amusement in his gaze, no doubt he was about to contribute to her status as current courthouse laughingstock.

“Don’t even start, Counselor,” Alisha muttered.

He had the nerve to look innocent—and stunning, with his brown hair combed back in neat layers and his jaw surrounded by a spattering of evening whiskers. “Start what?”

“Your commentary on my recent appointment to represent Mr. Massey.”

He moved beside the table, giving her the full effect of his striking face. “No commentary involved. I just wanted to buy you a drink.”

She tried to look pleasant and calm despite her frenzied pulse. “Thank you, but I still have one.”

“Save it to toast the new year.”

The drink would probably be warm by then, and that definitely complemented her current state at the moment. “I appreciate it.”

He surveyed her face from forehead to chin before centering his gaze on her eyes. “I take it you’re getting your share of digs about the streaker.”

Alisha rimmed her glass with a fingertip, purposefully avoiding his gaze. “He doesn’t streak, he poses.”

“Poses until he evades the authorities, then he streaks.”

“I’m not going to give you any details about my defense, if that’s what you’re after.”

“I’m only wondering how you’re handling all the exposure.”

Cute. Real cute. She risked a quick look at him to find him sporting a half smile. “I assure you, I’m handling it fine.” As fine as she could with an extreme exhibitionist who enjoyed strutting like the cock of the walk, something she’d discovered during the first encounter with Les Massey at his arraignment.

Daniel propped his hand on the back of her chair and leaned closer. “Just another quick question.”

He was nothing if not persistent. And darned if he didn’t smell good, too. “I said I’m not going to—”

“Are you alone?”

That she wasn’t expecting—a query posed in a provocative tone that sounded as if he was quite capable, and willing, to end her solitude.

Fortunately Joe picked that moment to return to the table, prompting Alisha to spout out, “I’m with him,” followed by a wave of her hand in the clerk’s direction. After all, Daniel Fortune didn’t have to know that her companion was blissfully married. She certainly didn’t want him to think that she was so pathetic she’d been forced to spend New Year’s Eve without a date, even if she had been dateless for some time now.

In the blink of an eye, the A.D.A. straightened and restored himself to consummate professional. The iceman returneth. “Good to see you again, Mr. Alvarado.”

“Same here.” Joe shook Daniel’s offered hand with gusto and grinned like a down-and-out miner who’d struck gold. “The way you handled the Richardson case last year was amazing. I still don’t know how you managed to get a conviction without the victim’s body.”

“I owe it to the San Antonio PD’s spotless investigation.”

Good answer, and good grief. When Alisha noticed Joe’s starstruck expression, she expected him to fall prostrate at the A.D.A.’s feet and kiss the large shoes he walked in. “Joe, I’m sure Mr. Fortune would just as soon forget about work tonight.”

“You’re right, and I’m being rude.” Joe gestured toward the chair next to Alisha. “Why don’t you join us? My wife should be here in a minute.”

So much for Alisha’s pretense that Joe was her date. Daniel sent her a quick glance, as if asking her permission to join the party, which she didn’t give, and not because she wouldn’t like to have him join them. Because she would like for him to join them, and that wasn’t necessarily advisable. Considering her status as a part-time public defender and his as full-time defender of the public, for all intents and purposes they were enemies. Especially now with the high-profile Massey case hanging over her and his office in charge of convicting him, not to mention her unwelcome attraction to the prosecutor.

For what seemed liked infinity, he simply stared at her and she stared back, until she heard, “Sorry I’m late.”

Alisha released her gaze on Daniel to find Julie Alvarado standing at the table, all five feet six inches of head-turning brunette. The kind of woman you wanted to hate—model-beautiful—but was simply too nice to despise. A social worker who devoted her life to protecting children and spoiling her husband. “Hi, Julie. We were starting to worry you might not get here in time.”

“I was beginning to wonder, too.” Julie tossed her bag on the table and leaned to give Joe a kiss. “Sorry, honey. I had something I had to take care of tonight. An emergency removal of three kids. What a way to end the year.”

Joe stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, looking very proud, and rightfully so. “Mr. Fortune, this is my wife, Julie. Julie, this is Daniel Fortune.”

“We’ve met,” Julie said. “I testified during one of your trials.”

“The Henson trial,” Daniel said. “That was a tough one.”

Julie regarded Joe again. “The one where the boyfriend put his girlfriend’s five-year-old daughter into a coma because she spilled her juice on his CD collection.”

Alisha inwardly cringed when she recalled the details she’d only read about. Thank God she’d still been working at her former firm defending rich executives involved in white-collar crimes, and that so far when appointed by the court she’d only represented misdemeanor offenses and not heinous felonies.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Joe pointed to the empty chair beside Alisha. “We can count down together.”

Alisha counted to ten before Daniel said, “Maybe some other time. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

With another glance at Alisha, he strode away with blatant confidence, his wide shoulders straight, his large hands dangling at his sides, while heads turned as he passed. No doubt about it, he was a natural attention-getter. He’d certainly gotten hers on more than one occasion.

After Julie sat down beside Joe, Alisha pushed the glass of champagne, compliments of the A.D.A., toward her. “Take this. I still have some left.”

Julie exchanged a veiled look with her husband. “I don’t care for any champagne, but I guess it will work for a toast.” She held the flute aloft. “To the new year. May it not royally suck.”

They all touched their glasses together with a shared “Here, here.” Joe and Alisha took sips of their drinks while Julie merely pushed the untouched glass aside.

Joe narrowed his eyes and said to Alisha, “That Daniel Fortune is something else. You should do him, Hart.”

She nearly gasped. “Why would you even think such a thing?”

He looked at her as if she’d just plummeted several rungs on the intelligence ladder. “Because he wants you.”

What a colossal joke. “Oh, sure he does.”

“Don’t be obtuse, Alisha,” Joe said. “I saw the way he was looking at you. In fact, I’ve seen him look at you that way before at the courthouse. He treats everyone else with indifference, but he treats you like he’d like to get into your drawers—and not the ones in your file cabinet.”

She shrugged off the remark. “He razzes me because he doesn’t like defense attorneys.”

Joe sighed. “Jeez, Hart. Have you been out of the dating loop so long that you don’t recognize a few come-ons? The guy’s got a hard—”

Julie slapped a hand over Joe’s mouth. “My husband is trying to say—and failing miserably—that Daniel Fortune’s hot for you.”

Alisha found that hard to believe. Yes, she worked at being attractive, both inside and out. Yes, she had worked hard for respect and had enjoyed substantial success in her thirty-two years. But as far as physical attributes were concerned, she had unruly red hair that she futilely flatironed every day only to be sabotaged by humidity—the reason why she’d kept it curly tonight. She was short, not particularly busty and she’d inherited her mother’s ample hips. Her skin practically blistered with only a few minutes of sun exposure, and although she didn’t have a forest full of freckles, she had more than her fair share. She certainly didn’t see herself as the kind of woman that would seriously interest Daniel Fortune. He probably preferred bombshell blondes with more body and less brain.

Julie leaned forward and laid a hand on Alisha’s arm. “I can certainly understand why he would be interested in you. You’re very pretty and smart.”

“And a redhead,” Joe added. “Men like redheads. A lot of mystery there. You know, about whether they’re natural redheads or not.”

“We’re not going to discuss that, Joseph,” Julie said.

He gave his wife a whipped-dog look. “Sorry, but it’s true. Anyway…” He looked back at Alisha. “You should do him. If I were a woman, I would.”

Alisha rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Julie loves hearing that.”

Joe aimed his grin on his wife. “She’d do him, too. Wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

Julie batted her eyelashes. “Why would I want to when I have you, honey?”

“Okay, let’s say you didn’t have me.”

Julie shrugged. “Yeah, I’d do him. In a heartbeat.”

Joe turned his attention back to Alisha. “See?”

Time to quell the conversation before Alisha seriously considered the suggestion. “I don’t do prosecutors, okay?”

Joe looked somewhat frustrated. “You don’t do anyone, Hart, and that’s your problem. You might be in a better mood if you got laid now and then.”

“And you need to lay off her, Joe.” Julie smiled, exposing perfect white teeth to match her perfectly lined lips. “When she’s ready, she will.”

Alisha wasn’t ready to do anything other than get out of there. But politeness dictated she hang around, at least for a while longer. Yet she found herself enduring the couple mooning over each other like two besotted teenagers, so obviously in love that only a fool couldn’t see it. Even their names sounded perfect—Joe and Julie, lovers extraordinaire. They did include her in general conversation a few times, but only to be nice, Alisha decided. She suspected they’d really like to be home and in bed, carrying on like most happy husbands and wives. That was so far out of the realm of Alisha’s comprehension that she found herself growing suddenly melancholy.

Everyone in the world, or at least in the bar, had seemed to pair off. Even Billy Wade, who’d latched on to some big-haired blonde. He was singing “Auld Lang Syne” off-key and the woman didn’t even seem to mind. Alisha minded. He was definitely one acquaintance she’d rather forget. In fact, she wanted to forget this whole scene and go back to her apartment. At least there she wouldn’t have to tolerate watching everyone engaged in the traditional midnight kiss when a partial glass of warm champagne was the only thing available to wrap her lips around.

She pushed her chair back from the table and stood. “Listen, guys, I’m out of here. I’ll see you on Monday, Joe. Bright and early.”

“Do you really have to go?” Julie asked.

Alisha slipped her coat on and grabbed her purse from the empty chair beside her. “Yeah, I do. I’m tired.”

“I understand.” Julie’s knowing expression said she did. Only a woman could appreciate another woman’s plight of being all alone during a party. “Why don’t you have dinner with us tomorrow? It’s just going to be the two of us.”

“I’ll think about it,” Alisha said, knowing full well she’d already made her decision. As much as she loved being around the Alvarados, she hated being a third wheel more. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning and let you know.”

“Be careful, Hart,” Joe said. “Lots of crazies on the streets tonight. But God forbid, if you are involved in an accident—” he hooked a thumb over his shoulder “—I’ll be sure to call Billy Wade’s number. One-eight-hundred-bad-legal-advice.”

“You do that,” Alisha said, leaving them with a fake smile before elbowing her way through the milling crowd. Although she shouldn’t do it, she couldn’t help but scan the area to see if by chance Daniel Fortune was still hanging around. Why, she couldn’t say. Even if he was still in the bar, she had no intention of approaching him. By the time she reached the door she confirmed that he had left, and probably not alone.

Right now Alisha had more concerns than Daniel Fortune’s sex life. She had plenty to accomplish in regard to the Massey defense, not to mention a few other cases pending. Very few. A couple of divorces involving women who didn’t quite qualify for assistance, one contested will, one product-liability case. All basically hinged on settlements before she saw a significant amount of money. But these clients needed her help, and she was more than happy to offer it. Plus, she did get paid when she was selected from the public-defender rolls. The money was decent, although she wasn’t sure they would ever be able to pay her enough to make the Massey mess worthwhile.

Yes, she had much to do, and so what if she didn’t have anyone to date? No big deal. At least she wouldn’t be worrying about contributing to the divorce rate anytime soon. But Daniel Fortune was tempting. He also qualified as a potential mistake.

When she pushed out the door into the cool, misty night, that potential mistake was leaning against the lone lamppost, hands in his pockets, face illuminated by the halogen bulb. Suddenly making that mistake didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

You should do him, Hart….

Alisha could not imagine that. All right, she could imagine it. And she had. Several times. She certainly wasn’t going to make the first move. Or any kind of move, for that matter. But she faced a certain dilemma. She had to walk past him on her way to the pay-by-the-hour parking lot across the street. Of course, she could ignore him—as if that were really possible since he’d already seen her. Or she could sprint to her car with only a muttered good-night.