“Loosely translated? I said you were a big, pigheaded fool.”

“Mmm…are you sure you didn’t say how much you wanted my body?”

“No. This is how you say that.”

She told him, but by the time she was finished, he was already obliging her.

In the dark, he drew her close. They had managed, finally, to pull out the bed. Now they were tangled in her sheets. The afternoon had become evening, and evening night.

“I’d like to stay,” he said quietly.

“I know.” It was silly, she thought, to be unhappy that he would go. She’d always jealously prized her nights alone. “But you can’t. It’s too soon to trust Nick overnight.”

“If things were different…” Damn, he hadn’t expected it to be so frustrating. “I’d like to take you back home with me. I’d like to have you in my bed tonight, wake up with you tomorrow.”

“He’s not ready for that, either.” She wasn’t sure she was ready herself. “Until I have a chance to smooth things out with him, and make him understand, it’s probably best if he doesn’t know we’re…”

What were they? The question ran through both their heads. Neither of them voiced it.

“You’re right.” The mattress creaked as he shifted. “Rachel, I want to be with you again. It doesn’t just have to be in bed.” He traced the curve of her cheek. “Or on the floor.”

“I want to be with you.” She touched her fingers to the back of his hand. “It’s good. And that’s enough.”

“Yeah.” He was nearly sure it was. “I can take some time Wednesday. How about an early dinner?”

“I’d like that.” They fell into silence again, until she sighed. “You’d better go.”

“I know.”

“Maybe Sunday you and Nick could come to dinner at my parents’. We talked about it before, remember?”

“That would be good.” He kissed her again, and the kiss went on and on. “Just once more.”

“Yes.” She enfolded him. “Just once more.”

Rachel shifted the phone to her other ear, scribbled on a legal pad and stared dubiously at the stack of files on her desk.

“Yes, Mrs. Macetti, I understand. What we need are a couple of good character witnesses for your son. Your priest, perhaps, or a teacher.” As she listened to the rapid-fire broken English, she wondered if she could catch the attention of any of her harried coworkers and hope that they’d feel sorry enough for her to bring her a cup of coffee. “I can’t tell you that, Mrs. Macetti. Our chances are very good for a suspended sentence and probation, since Carlo wasn’t driving. But the fact is, he was riding in a stolen car, and…”

She trailed off, carefully folding the page she’d written on. “Uh-huh. Well, as I explained before, it would be rather difficult to convince anyone he didn’t know the car was stolen, since the locks had been sprung and the engine hot-wired.” Satisfied with the shape of her paper airplane, she shot it out her door. It was as good as a note in a bottle.

“I’m sure he’s a good boy, Mrs. Macetti.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Bad companions, yes. Let’s hope that this experience will have him keeping his distance from the Hombres. Mrs. Macetti. Mrs. Macetti,” Rachel said, trying to be firm, “I’m doing everything I can. Try to be optimistic, and I’ll see you in court next week. No—no, really. I’ll call you. Yes, I promise. Goodbye. Yes, absolutely. Goodbye.”

Rachel hung up the phone, then dropped her head on her desk. Ten minutes of trying to deal with the frantic mother of six was as exhausting as a full day in court.

“Tough day?”

Lifting her head, Rachel spotted Nick in her doorway. He had her paper airplane in one hand, and a large paper cup in the other.

“Tough month.” Her gaze locked on the steaming cup. “Tell me that’s coffee.”

“Light, no sugar.” He stepped in and offered it. “Your note sounded desperate.” As she took the first sip, he grinned. “I was coming down the hall, and it hit me in the chest. Nice form.”

“I find they make excellent interoffice memos.” Another sip and she felt the caffeine begin to pump through her system. “Since you saved my life, what can I do for you?”

“I was just kicking around. Thought maybe we could grab some lunch.”

“I’m sorry, Nick.” She gestured to the clutter on her desk. “I’m swamped.”

“They don’t let you eat?” Because he found he enjoyed seeing her here, entrenched in the business of justice, he eased a hip down on the corner of the desk.

“Oh, they throw us some raw meat now and again.” Lord, he was flirting with her, she realized. Rachel gauged the files piled in front of her, calculated how much time she had before her meeting with the DA to bargain on a half a dozen cases. It was going to be close. “Actually, I would like to talk to you, if you have a few minutes.”

“I’m on six to two tonight, so I’ve got plenty of minutes.”

“Good.” She stood, easing by him to close the door. The moment she turned back, she realized he’d taken that gesture the wrong way. His hands went to her waist. She had a moment to think that in a few years that combination of smooth moves and rough manners would devastate hordes of women. Then she managed to slip aside.

“Nick,” she began, then hesitated. “Sit down.” When he settled in her battered office chair, she sat behind the desk. “We’re going on three weeks. I’d like to know how you’re feeling.”

“I’m cool.”

“What I mean is, when we go back in front of Judge Beckett, it’s very likely she’ll give you probation—unless you make a big mistake in the meantime.”

“I don’t plan on mistakes.” The chair creaked rustily as he leaned back. “Going to jail isn’t high on my list these days.”

“Glad to hear it. But she may also ask about your plans. This might be the time to start thinking about that, whether you’d like to make the situation with Zack more permanent.”

“Permanent?” He gave a quick laugh. “Hey, I don’t know about that. I’ll probably want my own place, you know. Zack and me…well, maybe we’re getting on a little better, but he cramps my style. Kind of hard to have a lady over when big brother can walk in any time.” He flicked his green eyes over her face. “Know what I mean?”