“Hold on.” He thought it better to stop her before she said something he’d regret. “I said I was sorry, and I meant it, but maybe I should be more specific.” To ensure that she’d stay put until he was finished, he wrapped his fingers around the lapel of her plum-colored jacket. “I’m not sorry I kissed you, any more than I’m going to be sorry the next time I kiss you. I am sorry for the way I acted after you put on the brakes.”

She lifted a brow. “The way you acted,” she repeated. “You mean like a jerk.”

It gave her a great deal of pleasure to see a muscle twitch in his jaw. “Okay.”

A smart attorney knew when to accept a compromise. Lips pursed, she studied the flowers. “Are these a bribe, Muldoon?”

The way she said his name, with just a hint of a sneer, told him he’d gotten over the first hurdle. “Yeah.”

“All right, I’ll take them.”

“Gee, thanks.” Now that his hands were free, he tucked his thumbs in his front pockets. “I slipped in the courtroom about an hour ago and watched you.”

“Oh?” She couldn’t tell him how glad she was she hadn’t seen him. “And?”

“Not bad. Turning a vandalism charge around on the other guy—”

“The plaintiff,” she explained. “My client was justifiably frustrated after he’d exhausted all reasonable attempts to have his landlord live up to the terms of his lease.”

“And spray painting The Landlord from Hell all over the guy’s brownstone on the Upper West Side was his way of relieving that frustration.”

“He certainly made his point. My client had paid his rent on time and in good faith, and the landlord consistently refused to acknowledge each and every request for repair and maintenance. Under the terms of the lease—”

“Hey, babe.” Zack raised a hand, palm out. “You don’t have to sell me. By the time you got through, I was pulling for him. There were murmurs in the visitors’ gallery about lynching the landlord.” His mouth was sober enough, but his eyes danced with humor. The contrast was all but irresistible.

Her smile was quick and wicked. “I love justice.”

Reaching out, he toyed with the tiny gold links circling her neck. “Maybe you’d like to celebrate your victory for the underdog. Want to go for a walk?”

Mistake. The word popped full-blown into her mind, but she could smell the spicy flowers, and the evening was beautifully balmy. “I guess I would, as long as it’s to my apartment. I should put these in water.”

“Let me take that.” He’d tugged the briefcase out of her hand before she could object. Then—she should have expected it—he took her arm. “What do you carry in here, bricks?”