Page 60 of Passionate Defense

The old stadium dating all the way back to 1912 didn’t hold as many fans as the newer ballparks, but when she looked around, the close to forty thousand faithful fans who’d come to see their team win looked like ten times as many. A tug on her hand stopped her, and she followed Ethan into the row where they would sit, to the right of home plate, third row up.

“I’ve never had seats this close before.”

“Pretty awesome, huh?” He was watching her and from the huge goofy grin, enjoying what had to be a look of wonder on her face.

“She’s got that glassy-eyed look of a first timer, Vick,” Ray teased.

“Yeah, I guess we busted her Fenway cherry.”

“Victoria!” Ray scolded as his hand clamped over his wife’s mouth, although he wasn’t fast enough to stop the vulgarity from spewing out. “There are children around. For Pete’s sake, you’re a grandmother and a trial court judge. Act like one.”

At sixty, Vicky could still blush, and she did so, becomingly. Her muffled, “Oops,” was barely intelligible behind Ray’s hand before it slipped away. “I guess I let the excitement go to my head.”

“And short-circuit your brain,” Ray grumbled, still frowning.

“Sorry, Ethan, Lanie.” Then, to appease her irritated husband, she raised her right hand as if giving her oath in court. “I’ll be good for the rest of the game. I swear, so help me God.”

While Lanie and Ethan chuckled, Ray wasn’t as forgiving and merely grunted. Watching the interplay between the other couple with interest, Lanie had to wonder about their friends. Victoria had mentioned that Ray was old-fashioned...

Her elbow gently prodded Ethan’s side, catching his attention. She nodded at the couple and lifted her brows. He grinned but shrugged, obviously wondering the same. The Studors were older and had been married for decades. Something was the glue in the mix. Love, that was a given. Respect, obviously. If a law professor and a notorious defense attorney could be kinky, why not the powerful couple who sat on the other side of the bench?

When Ray leaned in and said something to his wife, she nodded, eyes demurely lowered, color still high in her cheeks.

Lanie’s gaze switched back to Ethan. “I have a hundred bucks that says that naughty wife is getting spanked tonight,” he whispered, for her ears only.

She covered her laughter with her hand and whispered back. “No way! Find another sucker to bet against the obvious.” Twisting, she pressed her lips to his ear, adding, “I’ll get the details later and fill you in.”

He grimaced and shook his head. “No, thanks. I like Ray and all, but that’s too much information.”

Finished with warm-ups, the teams exited the field and the groundskeeping crew came out to touch up the infield before the anthem. She nudged Ethan with her shoulder. “Can I borrow your glasses?”

They were actually field glasses through which she could take in everything about the 100-year-plus stadium. She could also sneak a peek into the Yankees dugout.

“These are such good seats,” she murmured as she zoomed in on Aaron Judge who chose that precise moment to bend over and tie his cleats. He had his fine ass aimed her way when Ethan muttered, “Quit drooling over the enemy.”

He tried to retrieve his glasses, and would have, if not for the strap around her neck that almost choked her.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, rubbing at the chafed spot that was undoubtedly red, as he changed his tune from grudgingly annoyed to remorseful.

“I’m okay. Just let me look once more. I’m trying to find the ad for our firm. It’s supposed to be in right field somewhere.”

As Lanie scanned the upper-deck railing, which is all they could afford, she paused, then backtracked. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. To clear her vision because he couldn’t possibly be here, she blinked then peered through the glasses again. Searching along the same path, she tried to find Morton Deevers or what had to be his doppelgänger.

Ethan’s hand, warm and strong, curled around her thigh. “What it is?”

She lowered the binoculars, her hands shaking. “It’s nothing. I just thought I saw...”

When she didn’t go on, he repeated, “Thought you saw what?”

“Deevers. I know it can’t be. He’s in prison in Texas, but I’m seeing him everywhere. I think I’m cracking up.”

“They’re hearing his appeal next month.”

“You’ve been keeping up with that?”

“Yes, because you are. On top of that, you’re overworked and overstressed.” He took the glasses from her hand and slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.“What you need is a weekend away, just the two of us.”

“That sounds wonderful. Can we go somewhere sunny and warm?”

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