Star Witness - By Mallory Kane Page 0,24

the two cardboard containers. She shoved one toward him and opened the other, then dug into the bag again and tossed him one of the two plastic forks she found.

He picked up the fork, but he wasn’t as interested in his jambalaya as he was in watching her. She opened the carton and dug into the mound of rice and shrimp and sausage. She shoved a forkful into her mouth and closed her eyes as she chewed.

“Best thing I ever ate,” she mumbled, closing her eyes. “Mmm.”

Harte swallowed hard. The look on her face made his mouth water, but not for food. A spear of pure lust shot through him. He was hungry for her. Grimacing, he forced down a few mouthfuls of jambalaya, then pointed at the bottle. “Want some wine?”

She looked up. “Will you help me drink it?” she asked.

He shook his head with a wry smile. “No. I’m working.” Not to mention that he needed to keep his head clear around her.

“Well, I guess if you’re working, so am I.” She looked longingly at the Chardonnay, then turned her attention back to the food. Fifteen minutes later, Dani moaned and leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head and arching her back. “Oh, I ate too much. Now I’m sleepy.”

He tried to look away. He really did. But the red shirt had fallen away and her perfect breasts strained against the thin cotton of the white tank top she wore underneath, outlining her nipples clearly. He didn’t think he’d ever met another woman who was so unconsciously sexy. And that was part of what turned him on. She had no idea how just looking at her affected him.

Shifting subtly, trying to tamp down his physical reaction, he reminded himself that she was his witness, and therefore his responsibility. He had vowed, to her and to himself, to keep her safe.

She caught his gaze and quickly adjusted her shirt so that it covered the revealing tank top, but her eyes stayed glued to his and something glinted behind them. Was it interest? Maybe even desire?

He busied himself with closing the cartons and putting them in the refrigerator. “Want a glass of water?” he asked.

“Sure, thanks.”

He filled two glasses and held one out to her.

As she reached for it, a crack of thunder split the quiet. She jumped, nearly turning the glass over.

Chapter Seven

Harte caught Dani’s glass just in time to keep it from turning over. “Hey,” he said. “It’s okay. It was just thunder.”

“I know,” she snapped. “It startled me, that’s all.”

He studied her closely as she took a deep swallow of water. Her hands were trembling. She really was afraid of storms.

“Are you going to be able to concentrate?” he said.

“Of course,” she replied, her voice sounding slightly defensive. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“If the storm passes directly over us, it could get nasty. We might lose power.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. That’s good, because we’ve got a lot to cover.”

“A lot to cover? I thought you said my testimony wouldn’t take long.”

“It won’t. Not your direct. But with Jury Drury sitting first chair on the defense side, there’s no telling how long he’ll try to drag out the cross-examination. He’s a master at rattling witnesses. He’ll be on everything you say like a vulture on roadkill. Make you doubt what you heard with your own ears. I want to try to give you some defense against that.”

Dani groaned. “As you pointed out yesterday, I’ve questioned and cross-examined my share of witnesses. I know what to expect.”

“I know. But this time you’re the one testifying. Keep in mind that your goal is to put away the scumbag who caused your grandfather’s death.”

“I’m not likely to forget that,” she muttered.

Harte grabbed his briefcase and pulled out the Canto file. During the three months since Akers assigned the case to him, he’d familiarized himself with the specifics, including the autopsy report, Dani’s witness statement and the transcripts of all the interrogations of suspects. Plus, he’d had the dubious pleasure of reading and responding to the mountains of motions filed by Drury.

But during all that time, he’d only talked to Dani twice. He remembered his dad telling him something his grandfather had said. “Criminal law’s nothing like television. It’s ninety-nine percent paperwork and one percent court drama. So if you’re in it for the limelight, find yourself another career.” Lucky for Harte, he didn’t mind the paperwork.

“Okay. You pretty much know what to expect. So let’s start with you telling me what