Page 17 of The Twins
I did as he’d asked and took his hand. His flesh was warm and his hold firm, which further added to the tug between my legs.
He set his hand on the hollow of my back, and his shoulder brushed mine. I stepped around the table and breathed deep, inhaling his cologne. It was leafy and outdoorsy, perhaps with a hint of sandalwood.
I settled myself between them. Finn passed me my drink, and I was glad of the cool liquid spreading on my tongue. I feared that sitting between two Irish hunks was going to mess with my self-control big time.
The waiter appeared, giving me a moment to gather myself.
Finn ordered, his leg now pressing up against mine.
Then Cillian put on his small black round-rimmed glasses again—so panty-wettingly sexy—and put in his order.
I cleared my throat.
“Soufflé and salmon, right?” Finn asked me.
“Er, yes, thanks.” I smiled at the waiter who was studying me curiously.
A flutter of self-consciousness tickled my rib cage. Did he know I was out with both men? That this was a threesome? That we would probably, hopefully, have a three-way fuck at some point in the near future?
The waiter smiled and stepped away.
“So tell me more about your work,” Cillian said, sitting back and stretching his arm over the back of the bench. “What type of cases do you prefer?”
Good. This was a good subject for me. I set down my shoulders. “I prefer cases that really and truly, for the sake of justice, need to be won.”
“What do you mean?”
“Take the one that closed this week.” I nodded at Finn. “The Tippin one.”
“Yeah, I know it.”
“She was innocent.” I held up my hand. “Not innocent of killing her husband but innocent of murder.”
“How is there a difference?” Cillian cocked his head as though curious about my answer rather than the actual answer.
“I’m sure you can figure it out.” I set my attention on him.
The right side of his mouth tugged into a smile, exactly the same way I’d seen his brother’s do in the stationery cupboard.
“Go on.” Cillian picked up his drink.
“It was self-defense. She killed her husband because he was about to kill her and her children. That is not a woman who needs to go to prison. That is a woman who fought for her lifeand won. Would society prefer to see her and her children dead so that an abusive monster lived? I don’t think so.”
“I agree with you totally,” Finn said. “And your closing speech was incredible.”
“Thank you.”
“So you like cases where your client is innocent,” Cillian said. “But what happens if you get someone who deserves to go to prison? Do you just not try very hard to get them off the charges?”
“No. I always do my job to the best of my abilities.” I paused and sighed. “Though there are cases that are more difficult than others, ones that tug my usually linear view of the justice system.”
“Explain.” Cillian frowned.
“Okay, last year, I had this client. Archie McDougal.”
“Archie McDougal,” Finn repeated.
“Yes, I didn’t pick his case, one of the partners, Terry Harris, was supposed to be representing him, but poor old guy took sick with his heart and I got put in his place.”
