Spellbinder

Chapter One As he set his third Corona down after taking a long swallow, Evan Lachlan felt Elias Bradshaw looking at him across the table. When he glanced over, there was a quizzical smile on the judge's face. Lachlan arched a brow in query. "You really don't know, do you?" Bradshaw asked. "Know what?" He returned his gaze to the fascinating sight of Holly McClure dancing with Susannah Wingfieldyeah, two women, like this was a dyke bar or something. A Bonnie Raitt CD was thundering from the sound system while the band took a break at what Holly swore was the only halfway decent blues bar in New York. And whoever would've thought they'd run into Bradshaw and Wingfield at a place like this? An upscale restaurant or exclusive club was more their styleor so Lachlan would have said before getting a good look at Susannah. The prim attorney was surely a sight to behold, a Friday night fantasy (the last thing he'd ever admit to Holly) in black miniskirt, black stiletto heels, and crimson silk shirt with threecount 'em, threebuttons undone. As for the black leather biker-chick jacket that draped the back of her chair . . . incredible. He'd seen her legs before, of course, but never this much of them, or in black silk hosiery. And they were well worth looking at. Susannah Wingfield, off-duty. Lachlan shook his head in amazement. He would've bet good money that this blonde carbon copy of Audrey Hepburn could never laugh and toss her long hair and sing and shake it likewell, better not go there. He had to work with the lady, after all. Besides, he preferred watching his own lady. Holly was dancing with as much abandon as Susannah, but her moves were sinuous as a cat's. Above boots with three-inch heels and tight faded Levi's she wore the blue-and-white baseball jersey that had been Evan's congratulatory gift on publication of her Village Voice article, "Property of U.S. Marshals Service." Three inches taller than Susannah's five-seven, and outweighing her by at least twenty-five pounds, Holly looked chunky by comparison. Then again, anybody but Gwyneth Paltrow would look chunky next to Susannahwho was, to Evan's discerning eye, too skinny. He liked a woman he wasn't likely to pulverize in bed if he shifted wrong in his sleep. On the Evan Liam Lachlan Scale, Holly McClure rated an eight in most departments. Plus a ten for the eyes. "You have no idea who she is," Bradshaw's voice said. "Why, who is she?" Evan asked. Besides the slinkiest thing in this bar. "I'm surprised the subject never came up. I thought you'd been seeing her for several weeks." Bradshaw drank Scotch and leaned back, watching Susannah. "So?" Lachlan prompted. "What? Oh. We had quite a chat about it when she came to the office regarding her research." The judge was enjoying this. The marshal was not. But Lachlan's voice was silken smooth as he said, "Holly went to that ritzy college with Susannah. You saying that puts her out of my league, Your Honor?" "Not at all," Bradshaw assured him, taking another swallow of Scotch. He looked amused. Lachlan hated that expression on anybody, but especially on Elias Bradshaw. This was not the couple he would have chosen to double-date with. As a U.S. Marshal assigned to judicial protection, Bradshaw was Lachlan's dutyand sometimes his cross to bearthree days a weekRawn, Melanie is the author of 'Spellbinder ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780765354365 and ISBN 0765354365.