Mary noted that this time Jack didn’t offer his nickname. He merely shook hands with this Crash person and eyed him appraisingly. “Colleague? You’re also a public defender, then?”

Crash shook his head, coming to stand around the side of the table where Mary wouldn’t have to crane her head to see him. “No. An ADA.” He clapped a hand on John’s shoulder. “John’s worst nightmare.”

John slid his eyes over to Mary and gave her a look so droll, so dismissive of Crash, so confident, that she almost aspirated her orange juice. She’d known that John was attractive, but didn’t he know that a look like that was panty incinerating? No, she was certain that he did not know what effect this casual confidence had on Mary as he leaned back and said something snide to Crash.

The three men began talking and Mary found herself in a brief, potent daydream. She’d once imagined John scowling his way around a courtroom, dramatically pointing at the opposing counsel, passionately advocating for the wrongfully accused. But now she realized how ridiculous that assessment had been. John wasn’t the type to strut and dramatize. No. He was too good for that, too confident in his own skills. John’s main weapon, she was sure of it, would be ultimate, careful competence. He would lead the jury by the hand, calmly, confidently, without spoon-feeding them. He’d expect them to make the right decision, to side with him, because where else would anyone in their right mind side?

She imagined his midnight tie against his white shirt, his wide shoulders and wingtips, and his presence. John wasn’t graceful, exactly. He took up too much stocky space for that. But he was incredibly self-contained, aware of his space and energy. And wasn’t that almost the same thing?

Mary desperately wanted to observe him in court. To hear the rise and fall of that two-toned voice of his. She also knew just how dangerous that could end up being. This crush of hers would eat her alive if she ever got to see him work a room like that. Even now, him leaning irreverently back on two legs of his chair, some sly remark on his lips, Mary’s feelings for him threatened to come tumbling forward. She desperately wanted to hold his hand again.

After a few minutes, Crash excused himself, his eyes lingering on Mary for a moment in a curious way, and then he was gone.

“Interesting guy,” Jack said to John. Though he’d said only two words, Mary was certain that he’d actually said a mouthful to his son, à la Naomi Trace.

“Sure,” John replied, craning his head as he looked around the restaurant. “Food’s taking a long time.”

“Seems to have his head on straight.”

John didn’t seem to be able to restrain his sigh this time. “Yup.” He popped the P.