The woman was seriously all legs and tits. Hell, she could be the X Games Best All Around Chest Winner, if that were an actual category in the sporting event. Damn, it should be!

At the moment, her boobs happened to be right across the table from me. Those puppies were perfectly round and mouthwateringly delicious, even through her tight forest-green sweater. I wondered idly if the sweater was in honor of the holiday or to match her big green eyes.

Then there was her hair, all fiery red and secured in a ponytail that was way too neat. All of a sudden, my cock was rising to the occasion, and not for the birth of Jesus Christ. I imagined setting that ponytail free so that red mess would fan around her face, or maybe over my hips as she lowered her mouth . . .

“Excuse me, Mr. Wrigley,” Legs said, interrupting my fantasy with her silky voice. “I hate to interrupt your deep thoughts, but it is Christmas Eve. You opted for public representation, so I’m here. In fact, I’m the only one here, thanks to my lucky draw of this shift, so I’d appreciate your not wasting my time.”

Most women’s voices annoyed me, but not hers. This woman’s words were breathy. Not exactly husky, her voice sounded more like she was recovering from a bad cold and talking for the first time in days. She didn’t need to raise her voice; her quiet demeanor was dominating in some odd way.

And she wasn’t just curvy body parts as I’d thought. She had brains too.

I frowned and my ears pricked at this idea. I was usually the dominant in any situation, the guy in charge, and here was this gal taking over with minimal effort. Strangely, I liked it. I nodded in response as I took in the striking bird of prey in front of me. Silently, I willed her to pick me as her new victim. I could pretend to let her chase me a little before capturing me and bedding me down.

God, I’d fuck the stiff pole right out of her ass, and then she’d know who was really in charge.

“Alyson Road,” she said, offering me her hand. It was creamy and dainty next to my dark skin, roughened from hours in the gym.

“Allison Road? You’ve got to be shitting me? Like the song?” I couldn’t help but burst out laughing while still grasping her hand in mine. I hated that stupid song. Fucking pussy song. “Did your parents write that song? God, I hope not.”

My gaze followed every one of her moves, watching intently as she crossed and uncrossed her legs, her tight black pants doing little to conceal her curves or the knee-high boots she wore underneath, before she pulled her chair more snugly underneath the table. No longer extending her hand, she said flatly, “No. They did not.”

“Thank fuck! That is the worst song I’ve ever heard. God, every time the Gin Blossoms perform on Howard Stern, I want to take his fucking man card away.”

She cleared her throat. “If it’s okay with you, we’ll move on to why you’re in here. I’ve heard all the jokes before, so you’re not impressing me with your quick wit or humor, Mr. Wrigley. And it’s A-L-Y-S-O-N, not A-L-L-I-S-O-N, for your information.” She spelled out the letters of her name, each one rolling off her tongue with a confident ease.

Leaning my chair back on its two rear legs, I couldn’t help but laugh again before trying to contain myself. This chick and her soft demeanor were all business. Of course, she would be. Who else would work on Christmas Eve? I was pretty certain she could have made me wait until the day after Christmas to post bond, but here she was defending the public on the most holy night of the year.

Add a big heart to the brain, tits, and long legs I’d already noted in her plus column. Maybe I didn’t want to bang her, but rather cherish this sweet thing? The reality of that seemed slim, seeing as the smart, good girls didn’t go for me. Nor did I expect them to. I was the bad boy, and I had the guilty conscience to back that notion right the fuck up.

“Of course, Ms. Road. It’s Jake, by the way. Just J-A-K-E. Full name is J-A-S-O-N, but I haven’t been called that in twenty years.” I mocked her spelling with my very own rendition, teasing the schoolgirl, looking for a reaction like I was in the third grade. “So, let’s get down to brass tacks and get my ass outta here so you can head home to your . . . husband? Boyfriend? He must be waiting for a gem like you to come home to start the holiday, right?”

No harm in trying.

As I spoke, she narrowed her eyes and glared daggers at me. “Are you done with probing into my personal life, interrogating me? I’m pretty sure I’m not the one in jail.”

Obviously annoyed, she followed that volley with another few leg switches. Left over right, right over left. I wanted to grab her knees and spread her limbs and dive in, let my tongue dig deep into her folds, make her let go of all that stuck-up bullshit she had going on while screaming my name. She probably tasted like sweet honey.

I got lost in another wave of thoughts . . . was she bald down there? Or did she have a fiery red landing strip? She didn’t strike me as the full-bush kind of girl; probably had a regular waxing appointment. Yeah, she most definitely kept that area tight and groomed. She was way too uptight to let it go all jungle.

Being detail-oriented wasn’t all that bad. This was the type of woman who remembered birthdays and anniversaries. She’d never leave her kids with the wrong babysitter.

“Mr. Wrigley! Can you please focus? I really do want to go home and have some hours to myself this holiday.”

Herself? Hmm . . .

“In addition to not seeking or calling a lawyer, I understand you still haven’t made any calls? Is that right?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to bug my brother. It’s his first Christmas with his new family and, well, he’s always been the more responsible of the two of us. This would just give him more ammo against me. Basically, Ms. Road, I’m still one huge disappointment even at thirty-one years old, so I didn’t call him. I guess I could call Camper, but she’s the reason I ended up bashing that asshole’s skull into the wall, so I don’t really feel like seeing her right now. So, yep, no call. Looks like I’m spending the holiday in the slammer.”

I leaned forward on my elbows, bowing my head between my arms as the severity of my situation returned. It wasn’t the time for hitting on the hot public defender or thinking about eating her pussy. I was in jail, and this was extremely bad.

Frowning, she asked, “Why did you bash that asshole’s skull?”

The word asshole sounded so funny coming from her pale-pink painted lips. She said it like she wanted to rinse her mouth out with soap afterward, as if her lips had never spoken such an obscenity and now she was forced to while quoting me.

This was a spectacular woman who had everything—smarts, looks, and passion. If my heart hadn’t been painted black, I’d hand it over to Ms. Road to do with it what she wanted. Or someone like her, but I never imagined that for myself.

Lane got that. Not me.

“Mr. Wrigley?”

“Fucking neo-Nazi. He was spewing some shit to Camper earlier in the evening, running off at the mouth over ‘her nose not looking like a Jew girl’ and ‘she should keep herself bald because her dark pubes gave her away.’ I guess she had a night or two with him, and he didn’t like that she was Jewish. He kept going, running off at the mouth over his other lady freaking over him hitting someone Jewish on the side. Can you believe that crap? Guy was downright disrespectful. I mean, if you’re sleeping around with a bunch of women, you don’t go bragging in public. Anyway, she’s a good friend and she works for me, so I let my emotions take over. She had already gone by the time it happened.” Frustrated, I let out a long breath.

“Did he say anything to incite you? Or you just acted on earlier emotions?”

She was scribbling notes on her legal pad, her slender fingers wrapped tightly around the pen. For a moment, my thoughts wandered again, visions of her hands wrapped around my cock skipping through my raddled brain.