Mine to Entice
“I’ll have you begging yet, Jericho.”
Kate issued the declaration with a tight, sexy grin on her lips, before she made it crystal clear. “I’ll win, Jericho. I always do.” She adjusted her low-cut collar and shimmied in her gauzy skirt as she left her lab table.
Jericho’s easy grin quickly became serious looking as he reached out and captured her hand. Turning it over, he gently caressed her palm. “What makes you think you won’t give in first?”
“Pure determination.” Kate paused, staring right at Jericho. “It’s mind over matter. And I’m very good at that. What are you good at?” She threw the words at him.
“Making you scream out in gut-clenching, heart-stopping pleasure.”
“Good answer,” Kate said, her eyes widening as Jericho stood and looked deep into her eyes and took her mouth in a searing earth-shattering kiss.
Dear Reader,
You hold the last book of my first miniseries, WOMEN WHO DARE, in your hands. It was a wonderful ride. Now, in Mine to Entice, Kate gets her chance to show everyone that she’s no longer “Sister Kate.” She entices Jericho into her bed and he releases the wild woman in her. But what happens when that woman is set free and she wants so much more than just a souvenir from Jericho?
I hope you enjoyed this journey with me as much as I did creating it. Thanks for being a Woman Who Dares and for picking up my series. I love to hear from readers, so please contact me at www.karenanders.com.
Best!
Karen Anders
Books by Karen Anders
HARLEQUIN BLAZE
22—THE BARE FACTS
43—HOT ON HER TAIL
74—THE DIVA DIARIES
103—HERS TO TAKE*
111—YOURS TO SEDUCE*
SILHOUETTE INTIMATE MOMENTS
780—JENNIFER’S OUTLAW
MINE TO ENTICE
Karen Anders
To Kathryn Lye for believing in me and giving me the freedom to create.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
1
WHERE THE HELL was Kate? Jericho St. James thought to himself as he continued with the questioning of his next-to-last witness. He’d scheduled Kate Quinn last for the impact of her testimony, but she hadn’t come in on time. He had no idea if she was waiting outside the courtroom…or not. He couldn’t even ask the judge if he could skip over her, since she was the only witness he had left.
Just as he asked his final question, he nodded to the bailiff who knew to go get Kate. Hopefully she was sitting just outside the door.
He opened his mouth to tell the judge he had no more questions, but the courtroom doors opened and Kate walked through.
Jericho stared. He couldn’t help it. He’d never seen buttoned-up Kate Quinn dressed this way. It wasn’t as if the dress was too tight or too sexy. It was conservative and covered all the important parts. It was the whole package that had him gaping.
It was true that he found it very difficult to concentrate when Kate was in the room, no matter how she was dressed. She looked like innocence personified, wide open and defenseless and soft, like whipped cream, like butter, like silk. But there was something about her that promised ecstasy and fire, something that was inherent, but dormant.
Heat infused every pore of his body with the sight of her loose, untamed head of curly blond hair framing her arresting face, sliding and dipping over her delicate shoulders, disappearing down her back. He’d imagined plenty of times how it would look down, feel against his skin, clenched in his fist. It was like cornsilk, glossy and beautiful.
And the dress she wore. Damn.
The color of passion flowed over her thighs, cupped her breasts and cinched her waist. It made him think of red, pouty lips and a vermilion-satin-draped bed.
Her gaze met his and he was stunned at the intensity of her blue eyes, the color of cornflowers, the lashes thick and lush. Eyes that were usually covered with lenses from a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.
She wore gloss on her lips, accentuating the soft mouth, the pouting, kissable lips until he wanted to go to her and finally know what it was like to crush his mouth down onto hers.
He dreamed how that mouth would feel against his skin, around his aching cock, all over his body.
“Mr. St. James?” the judge said impatiently.
Jericho snapped out of his trance and said, “I have no more questions for this witness, Your Honor.”
He walked back to the prosecutor’s table and had to school his features. He sat down and closed his eyes as her warm breath flowed over his ear, sending heat arrowing into his groin.
He had no business getting a hard-on for a co-worker. It was deadly stupid, and it had to stop.
“I’m so sorry that I was late.”
He nodded once without turning around, directing his attention to what the defense attorney was asking of his witness in case he had to object. But another part of his brain still reeled over the transformation of the woman he’d worked with for three years.
It wasn’t the co-worker he was used to, but the woman who had played a nightly role in his sexual fantasies come to life. In his mind, he’d taken her every way a man could.
The defense attorney asked a leading question and Jericho objected neatly, receiving a sustain from the judge.
The defense attorney finished his questioning and the judge excused the witness.
Jericho stood and said, “The State calls Katherine Quinn to the stand.”
She stood. The displacement of air as she rose wafted over him. A subtle scent hit his nostrils, unfolding inside him like a seductive tease. Jericho turned his head just as she moved through the wooden gate railing that separated the courtroom from the gallery. She passed between the defense and the prosecution tables and it was as if time slowed.
He sensed every male eye in the room was on her as she glided across the polished wood floor, the sling backs making a soft clicking sound. The slow swing of her arms covered demurely in red knit, the crisscross of the material across her breasts, leaving her neck bare where a ruby glowed blood-red against her golden skin.
With a shock he realized that Kate’s hair reached past her shapely butt. It was gorgeous multihues of blond and gold. Slowly she raised her hand and repeated the oath. With a rustle of cloth against her legs, she sat down.
Jericho pulled his professionalism around him like a cloak and stood, buttoning the jacket of his double-breasted, blue pin-striped suit.
He approached the witness stand and said, “Hello, Ms. Quinn.”
She smiled brilliantly, showing perfect white teeth.
“Could you state your name for the record?”
“Katherine Quinn.” Her husky voice caressed his ears.
“Where are you employed?” Focus on the questions, he told himself fiercely, not on her delectable mouth.
“The crime lab for the City of San Diego,” she replied, and licked her lips as if she’d heard his thoughts.
“What is your job title, and what are your duties?”
“I’m a Criminalist III. My duties include examining, testing and analyzing tissue samples, chemical substances, physical materials and ballistics evidence. I interpret laboratory findings and tests along with collecting and preserving criminal evidence. I confer with ballistics, fingerprinting, handwriting, electronics, medical, chemical or metallurgical experts. I reconstruct crime scenes, prepar
e reports or presentations and provide expert witness testimony on evidence or laboratory techniques in trials or hearings.”
“What education do you have that qualifies you to perform these duties?” He put his hand on the edge of the witness stand and came within a hair-breadth of hers. The heat from her skin reached out to his and he instantly pulled his hand away, resolving to keep his cool.
When she started, her voice was breathless, but it firmed as she spoke. “I hold a Bachelor of Science in Biochemistry and Chemistry from the University of California at San Diego and a Masters of Forensic Science from George Washington University. I also continue to participate in on-going training.”
“Approximately how many times have you testified regarding DNA profiling in court?”
“Hundreds.”
“Can you explain to the court what DNA is?”
“DNA, or the scientific term deoxyribonucleic acid, is a very long, complex molecule that is located in the nucleus of each cell in the human body.”
She continued and he had to admire the way she expertly described a complicated process for the easy comprehension of the jury.
As she continued, Jericho noted how she made eye contact with the jury and periodically him and the defense attorney.
“How does this scientific information result in DNA fingerprinting?” Jericho said, moving closer to the jury and making eye contact with each member. He was gratified to see that they were riveted to Kate’s description and her testimony. It was imperative that she keep the explanations simple.
She smiled easily and launched into her response. “The chemical structure of everyone’s DNA is the same. The only difference between people is the order of the base pairs. There are so many millions of base pairs in each person’s DNA that every person has a different sequence.”
“And this allows you to perform DNA fingerprinting?” Jericho prompted.
“No. These patterns do not, however, give an individual ‘fingerprint,’ but they are able to determine whether two DNA samples are from the same person, related people or nonrelated people. Scientists use a small number of sequences of DNA that are known to vary among individuals a great deal, and analyze those to get a certain probability of a match.”
“Are there tests available to detect an individual’s genetic type?”
“Yes.”
“What test was used in the case?”
“Restriction fragment length polymorphism or R.F.L.P. Scientists can analyze the genetic patterns which appear in a person’s DNA.”
“Is this test used in other fields?”
“Yes, in medical diagnostics, paternity testing or for the identification of missing persons.”
“Can you explain briefly how the test is conducted?” When Kate finished with the brief explanation, he checked the jury again and was gratified to see they still hung on her every word.
“Are controls performed to ensure that a reliable and accurate result is obtained?”
“Yes.”
“Can you describe the safeguards and controls used to ensure the integrity of the test?”
“Procedures are in place for careful collection of samples, a documented chain of custody, and strict guidelines for handling of DNA samples in the lab.”
“Did you conduct a DNA test on the crime scene and reference samples in this case?”
“Yes.”
“What were the results of the test?”
“In my opinion, the genetic profile of the crime scene blood sample and the known blood sample, identified as belonging to Duncan Carver, the defendant, are a match.”
Jericho gave the jury time to absorb her words. This, after all, was the punch line. “What is the chance that this same genetic profile would be found in a random member of the population?”
“The probability is one out of twenty billion that Mr. Carver’s DNA sample matches anyone else in the population.”
“Are there samples that can be retested should someone wish to dispute the accuracy of the result?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Ms. Quinn.” Jericho turned toward the judge. “I have no more questions for this witness.” He walked back to his table.
Stan Marker, the defense attorney, didn’t look pleased. The interested look of the jury and the extent of Kate’s testimony damaged his case.
Kate watched as Stan stood and approached her. He smiled at her as if he was her best friend. Kate knew otherwise; she’d had experience with Stan before. The word smarmy came to mind along with the word letch.
“Based on the testimony you gave, it seems that you’re sure the defendant is guilty. Would you like to see him convicted?”
Kate showed no reaction to Stan’s question. She looked at Jericho and knew why he didn’t object to the obvious leading question. He knew that Kate could handle it. “I have no opinion one way or the other. I am here to present the facts and will abide by the court’s decision.”
Stan didn’t say anything for a moment. It was a defense attorney’s trick called the silent treatment. He was hoping she would embellish her answer and give him ammunition to fire more leading questions.
When she didn’t respond, but waited patiently for his next question, he changed tacks. “Your résumé seems to be lacking, Ms. Quinn, in that, you don’t have a Ph.D.”
“That is true, but I’ve worked in this field for six years and have conducted and analyzed thousands of DNA samples.”
He frowned and leaned in, trying to either distract her or to intimidate her.
“Isn’t it true that an advanced degree would enhance your abilities to do your job?”
Kate waited a beat, letting the irritation drain out of her. She wasn’t going to let him rattle her. “Most Ph.D.’s are theoretical and abstract. I don’t see where it would enhance my job. Specialized hands-on courses in, say, Advanced DNA Methods or DNA-PCR STR Analysis and Typing are more beneficial.”
“I see.” He moved away from the stand, formulating his next question. “Isn’t it possible that a sample collected in a careless or sloppy manner can create a potential for contamination?”
“Yes, it is possible. However, in my experience, given the many controls performed, such contamination would be detected.”
“I have no more questions for this witness,” Stan said as he turned to the judge. He walked back to his table.
The judge turned toward Jericho. “Mr. St. James, would you like to redirect?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“The witness may step down.”
Kate rose and was very careful not to look at Jericho, Stan or the defendant as she made her way back to her seat. To do so could indicate to the jury that she had a biased opinion.
“The State rests,” Jericho said.
The judge nodded and addressed Stan. “We’ll begin with the defense’s case tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp.” The judge banged his gavel. “Court is adjourned.”
Everyone stood as the judge left. Kate walked toward the door to the outside hall. “Kate,” Stan called as he came up to her. “You were like a rock on the stand. Couldn’t move you.”
“Just telling the truth.”
He nodded, his eyes caressing her body, making her skin crawl. “Nice dress. I had no idea you were so beautiful. Say the word and I’ll be your love slave,” Stan said, but Kate was barely paying attention.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jericho collected his papers. He never even glanced her way. Her heart sank. He was just not interested in her. Not even with her new dress or her altered look. He shut his briefcase and walked toward them.
She was going to have to tell Sienna Parker and Lana Dempsey that she’d failed miserably. Over drinks, the three best friends had discussed the man Sienna had walked into the club with and Lana had dared Sienna to go after him after Sienna insinuated that Lana was afraid to go after her co-worker, Sean O’Neill. Then they’d turned on her. Both of them knowing that Kate had the hots for Jericho.
Kate
was tired of the nickname “Sister Kate” and she’d grabbed at the dare with both hands.
She looked away in disappointment.
“Makes me want to get into your genes,” Stan persisted, laughing at his pun.
Kate opened her mouth to tell the letch off but Jericho’s deep, mesmerizing voice interrupted her.
“Watch your mouth, Stan, or I’ll bring you up on charges for sexual harassment,” Jericho threatened. He was suddenly looming over the little creep’s shoulder.
Kate gasped at his sudden presence and Stan flushed.
“Sorry, Kate. Just trying to make a very lame joke.”
Jericho dismissed Stan and turned to her. “Kate, could I see you in my office?”
“I should get back to the lab.” The disappointment was too much to bear. She just couldn’t sit across a desk from him and pretend as though his ambivalence didn’t affect her.
“It’ll only take a few moments.”
Stan took the opportunity to leave and Kate faced off with Jericho. Why did the full force of the man make her heart beat like a hummingbird trapped in her chest?
Taking a measured breath, Kate shoved her hair behind her shoulders. She wasn’t into self-deception. Nor would she insult her own intelligence by writing off her scrutiny of the deputy district attorney to her scientist’s honed observation skills. It hadn’t been the scientist in her who’d noted that D.D.A. Jericho St. James’s fine, aesthetic face, slash of cheekbones and sculpted mouth made him almost ridiculously handsome. And it hadn’t been the scientist who’d jolted when his fiercely intelligent caramel eyes locked with hers, nor whose nerves faintly hummed when the glow from the overhead lights picked up warm threads of tawny highlights in brown hair as thick as melted chocolate.
“There wasn’t any need to protect me, Mr. D.D.A. Stan’s unarmed.”
“Unarmed?”
“Yeah, can’t cross wits with the witless.”