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  Cousin or no, Stephen ravished Kimora’s hourglass figure with his gaze and he even had the nerve to lick his lips.

  “You could say that.”

  Another lick. “So what brings you here?”

  “Says her friend’s in jail,” the Korean woman droned.

  Kimora squashed her irritation. “Roberta Russell. Her last name used to be Washington. You probably remember her from high school.”

  “Birdie?”

  “That’s her.” Kimora crossed her arms.

  Genuine surprise colored Stephen’s face. “Come on back to my office.” He moved around her to lead the way. “Maura, hold my calls.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Kimora watched the woman’s judgmental eyes rake over her again and she couldn’t help but flip the woman off before she followed Stephen. “Nice place you got here,” she praised, hiding her sarcasm.

  Stephen opened and held his office door. “It pays the bills.”

  She glanced up as she crossed the threshold and spotted the mistletoe.

  Stephen’s gaze followed hers, and then he smiled back down at her.

  “It’s not going to happen,” she warned. There were still some things she wouldn’t do.

  “No, no.” His face darkened with embarrassment. “Of course not. I would never—”

  “Neither would I.” She smiled and waltzed farther into the room.

  “Please…take a seat,” he offered.

  Kimora hesitated. The place looked as if a tornado had ripped through it, and she questioned whether she should trust her weight in one of the chairs.

  “Don’t worry. It’s sturdy,” he said as if reading her mind. He took his place behind the desk. “So Birdie is in jail. What on earth did she do?”

  “Punched out one of her sister’s front teeth after she caught her in bed with her ex-husband.”

  Stephen whistled and leaned back in his chair. “You’re kiddin’ me.”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I was.” Kimora’s smile tightened. “Can you help?”

  Roberta sighed and leaned against the holding cell’s iron bars. Her muddled and blurry thoughts were stuck on instant replay of last night’s fight with her ex-husband—and her soon to be demised sister.

  Though she’d clearly been the winner of the short fight, victory now left a bitter and foul taste in her mouth.

  “I can’t believe I fell for that man’s bull again.” She dropped her head and cradled it.

  She and Kenneth had recently inked their divorce papers. The final straw that led to their breakup was because he had been sleeping with their next-door neighbor. She—and everyone in her cul-de-sac—found out about the affair when Mr. Winslet had chased Kenneth out of the Winslets’ residence in his birthday suit. As fate would have it, she and the other stay-at-home moms had been returning home from PTA meetings that Kenneth had claimed to be too busy to attend.

  There was nothing like public humiliation.

  But there she’d been, just last week, falling for his lies about wanting to return home to be a better husband and father. He’d cried real tears while proclaiming he could never love another woman…and all the while he’d been banging her little sister, Jackie.

  “When will I ever learn?”

  “Roberta Russell!” a woman guard shouted. “Merry Christmas! You just made bail.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Roberta murmured, standing. She needed to get home to her babies.

  It took a few minutes to complete processing, but by the time she stepped out of the precinct she was ravenous for the taste of freedom.

  “Birdie!” Kimora raced over and wrapped her arms around her. “I came as fast as I could.”

  Roberta peeled herself out of Kimora’s arms and knuckled a tear away before it could be seen. “Thanks for havin’ my back, girl. I owe you one.”

  Assistant District Attorney Courtney Brown read the text message from Kimora and shook her head in relief. The cryptic messages she’d received all morning from Kimora still didn’t tell her why Birdie was in jail. At least she’s out now.

  One of the many reasons Courtney didn’t race to her girl’s aid was that she was due in court. Her whole team was just itching for the jury to find Wyclef Onwu guilty for the rape and murder of eleven-year-old Tina Else.

  Originally she’d anticipated a slam-dunk case. However, Mr. Slime had hired another Mr. Slime, and from out of nowhere the State’s case had fallen apart at the seams. Still, Courtney remained convinced they had the right man—he was just slippery, that’s all.

  Wendy Cox, Courtney’s legal assistant, poked her head into the office. “The jury is still out.”

  Courtney gritted her teeth but gave Wendy a quick nod. Three days of deliberation was not a good sign.

  District Attorney Patrick Holloway burst into Courtney’s office without knocking. “Three days of deliberation is not a good sign.”

  Her eyes snapped up and irritation showed on her face. “I know.” She hated how he always said the very thing that was on her mind.

  “If we lose this one, the mayor will have my head.”

  “So you’ve told me.” She crossed her arms. “Just as you’ve told me you’ll drag me down with you if we lose.” She stood from her chair and straightened out her jacket. “Threatening me every hour on the hour doesn’t have me shaking in my shoes, so you can stop.”

  Red flames flared up Patrick’s neck, and his own irritation polished his blue eyes to arctic daggers. “You’re skating on thin ice with me.”

  “Ditto.”

  One punch. That’s all she wanted—that’s all she needed. Three years she had been working with this pompous son of a bitch, and for three years he’d been riding her last nerve.

  Patrick shook his head as he turned back for the door. “I should have gotten rid of you years ago.”

  “I’m the best damn attorney you got, and you know it,” she barked at his back.

  He stopped and faced her again, but whatever he was going to say apparently crashed against the hard, grim line of his clamped teeth.

  Courtney and Patrick were staring each other down in an intense stalemate when Wendy rushed back into the office without knocking to blurt the latest news. “They’re in.”

  Courtney’s heart plummeted to her stomach. She thrust up her chin and flashed Patrick a thin smile. “Let’s go see what we’re going to get for Christmas—a conviction or a new job.”

  Chapter 2

  Twenty minutes later Roberta exchanged one jail cell for another when she pulled up to her double-mortgaged Colonial-revival home. On the outside it was picture-perfect: fresh paint, streak-free glass windows and grass cut to homeowners’ association’s regulation.

  Inside her mother was lurking, undoubtedly ready to wag her finger and run down a list of what she should’ve, could’ve done. One thing for sure, it would be interesting to see if her mother would defend Jackie, as she always did. Actually, Birdie was curious to learn how Jackie had gone about explaining why she was in bed with Kenneth.

  “Mommy’s home!” Matthew, Kenneth’s “mini me,” jetted toward her with chocolate glop smeared across his face and hands.

  Within seconds it was all over Roberta’s clothes. “Does this mean you’re no longer a bad guy, Mommy?” he asked, staring up at her wide-eyed.

  The question broke her heart and choked off her air supply. She placed her purse on a nearby table and lowered herself to one knee. “Mommy was never a bad guy, honey.” She pulled him closer, ignoring the chocolate.

  Matthew frowned. “Then why did the police take you to jail?”

  Birdie opened her mouth, but then her mother’s sharp voice cut her off.

  “Yes, Roberta. Why don’t you tell your children why you were dragged away from home in handcuffs?”

  Birdie’s gaze snapped up to similar but harder, colder eyes. “Do you mind?”

  Lauren Washington carefully folded her arms and flashed a thin, chiseled smile. “Not at all.”

  It was t
imes like these when Birdie felt a kindred spirit to Psycho’s Norman Bates—all she needed was a good butcher knife.

  Her older baby, Terrence, stood like a small shadow behind his grandmother.

  “Honey, we’ll talk about this later,” Roberta said, affectionately rubbing Matthew’s back and smiling. “Right now I need to talk privately to your grandmother. Can you and your brother go up to your room for a few minutes?”

  Matthew looked as though he wanted to argue.

  “Please?” she added, hoping to cut him off before he started.

  Terrence stepped from around his grandmother’s protective stance and lifted a hand. “C’mon, Matt. Let’s go play race cars.”

  Matthew’s small shoulders deflated as he turned toward his brother.

  Roberta watched them as they exited the foyer and crept up the staircase. When they were finally out of sight, her gaze slashed toward her mother, but she remained silent until she heard the boys’ bedroom door snap closed.

  “Why do you insist on making me look bad in front of them?”

  “Stop being so dramatic, Birdie,” Lauren said, turning. “You don’t need any help in that department.” She strolled toward the kitchen. “Or are you saying that I had something to do with the cops showing up here last night and dragging you to jail?”

  “Fine! I guess I should be the one to apologize for overreacting when I found my baby sister in bed with my ex-husband.”

  Lauren rounded on her, her eyes razor sharp. “You mean the husband that you drove away because you were ignoring him?”

  “What?”

  “C’mon, Birdie,” Lauren said, exasperated. “How many times have I told you when you were growing up that blind, crippled or crazy, a man is a man—and he’s going to behave like one? You and Kenneth had been having problems for a while. Do you honestly think that someone as handsome as Kenneth was going to abstain from sex that long? He has needs! And let’s face it—” her eyes raked Roberta’s full figure “—you’ve let yourself go.”

  The district attorney’s office didn’t lose its case—but it didn’t win it, either. As the judge rapped his gavel to bring order to the court, Courtney’s temples pulsed with a burgeoning migraine.

  “A hung jury,” Courtney whispered. She didn’t see that coming. She sighed, massaged the worry lines from her forehead and glanced at the defendant’s table. The slimeballs were congratulating each other.

  Behind her, the victim’s mother wailed and the father swore obscenities. Her stomach soured as she thought of meaningless words she could offer as comfort. Hang in there. We’ll get him next time. She rolled her eyes as court adjourned.

  Courtney stood and drew a deep breath before turning, but all that was behind her was two empty seats. Her eyes zoomed to the door in time to catch the Elses storm out.

  Patrick elbowed her arm. “Hang in there, Ms. Brown. Technically it’s not a loss. We’ll get him next time.”

  Swallowing her irritation, she snatched up her briefcase. “We should have gotten him this time!” She stomped out of the courtroom. By the time she stood before a bank of reporters Courtney had her camera-ready smile in place. She reassured the citizens of Fulton County that the district attorney’s office didn’t view today as a defeat and vowed that justice would prevail in the end.

  After catching her paltry speech on the six-o’clock news, Courtney powered off the television by remote and sulked her way to the kitchen for a bottle of wine. As she walked past the dining room, her eyes skimmed over the boxes of Christmas decorations she’d dragged down from the attic.

  The way things were looking now, it would be Christmas Day before she bothered putting anything up. It was just as well. Christmas was just another day, as far as she was concerned. A paid day off.

  Christmas was for families—and Courtney didn’t have any family members left. She’d never known her father—her mother had taken his identity to the grave with her six short years ago. As far as Courtney knew, she had no brothers or sisters. Her mother’s parents died when she was three, and the last of her mother’s three sisters drowned in a boating accident just eight months ago.

  So Courtney was alone.

  She popped the cork to her favorite Pinot Grigio and then filled her wineglass to the rim. After one sip, her pity party was over. She had a ton of things to do. Turning and pulling open the freezer, she grabbed a Lean Cuisine and proceeded to nuke it.

  Her mind raced with ideas of how to handle Onwu’s second trial. Whom they should subpoena and whom they should steer the hell clear of. When the microwave beeped, she carefully took the plastic tray out and placed it onto a cool plate. Grabbing her “gourmet” dinner and her wine, Courtney headed to the living room, where her briefcase awaited.

  The doorbell rang.

  She groaned and wondered who was at the door. “Just a minute.”

  The visitor apparently grew impatient and punched the bell button until a musical solo jingled throughout the house.

  “I said just a minute!” Courtney set her food and drink down on the coffee table and raced to the door.

  The bell continued to ring.

  “What the hell is your problem?” she asked, snatching open the door.

  Birdie stood on the other side with a river of tears pouring down her round face. “I hate her!” she croaked.

  Instantly Courtney’s tough-attorney act melted away and she crossed the threshold to pull her best friend into her arms. “Oh, Birdie. What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Inwardly Courtney scolded herself for forgetting about Birdie’s plight.

  “My mother is an evil bitch!” Birdie croaked into her friend’s shoulder. “She gave my sister the stamp of approval for sleeping with my ex-husband and then…she called me fat!”

  “What?”

  “I know. I mean, sure I’ve gained a few pounds but—”

  “Not that! What do you mean Jackie is sleeping with Kenneth?”

  Birdie’s face scrunched up again before she released a mighty wail. “It’s awful. My own sister!”

  Courtney glanced around. “Come on in. There’s no need to alert the media that your sister is a slut.”

  Birdie obeyed, nodding and sniffling. “I should have shot them instead of punching out her tooth.”

  “That’s why you were arrested?” Courtney asked, closing the door behind them. She would have paid good money to see Jackie get her butt kicked. Lord knows this wasn’t the first time Birdie’s little sister had stolen something that didn’t belong to her.

  “Coco, I don’t know what came over me.” Birdie wiped her eyes. “One minute I was standing in the doorway, and the next I was Muhammad Ali on Joe Frazier.”

  “No!” Courtney’s eyes rounded with astonishment but a smile curved her lips.

  Birdie bobbed her head as she walked into the living room and dropped down into one of Courtney’s posh armchairs. “Kimora came through in a pinch, though it’s always scary to be indebted to her.”

  Coco snickered. “She’ll probably make you go to that ridiculous orgy party.”

  “The key party. She’s already hinted at it. But, girl, there’s no way I’ll ever go to something like that.”

  When Kimora strolled through the doors of Club Sexy, she was operating on two hours of sleep. However, being a professional party planner and club owner she took sleep deprivation as a way of life—and she loved it.

  What other job would let her remain a perpetual teenager, pay her an insane amount of money and allow her to hobnob and sleep (though very little sleeping was involved) with the hottest celebrities?

  Sable walked by with a tray of drinks. “Elijah was here looking for you,” she informed Kimora.

  Kimora, dressed head to toe in shimmering silver, froze in her tracks, while her heart raced faster than the music.

  “Are you all right?” Sable asked, crossing back with her empty tray and counting her tips. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Kimora blinked out of her tr
ance and followed Sable like a lost puppy. “Elijah was here? What did he say?”

  Sable hurried her steps and glanced over her shoulder with a wicked grin. “I heard how he had you dick crazy, but damn, girl, is it dipped in gold?”

  Kimora smiled slyly.

  “Hot damn,” Sable hooted. “Puff, puff, pass.”

  “I like you, but don’t make me cut you,” Kimora said, laughing, as they stopped at the bar. She had the feeling that she shared Elijah with too many women as it was.

  “Two Heinekens,” Sable ordered from the bartender and then turned toward her boss. “He said just to tell you that he stopped by.”

  Kimora forced herself not to show her disappointment, but she wasn’t sure if she was successful.

  “I did, however, take the liberty of inviting him to your singles’ key party on Christmas Eve.”

  “And what did he say?” Hope flooded every pore of Kimora’s body. It had been more than ten months since she’d seen Elijah, and her body hummed with anticipation.

  Meanwhile, Sable shrugged as she placed her two beers onto her tray. “He just said he’d think about swinging by—and that was it.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Kimora smiled.

  Chapter 3

  Every year, Birdie, Kimora and Courtney hooked up three days before Christmas for one last shopping spree. Finding great deals in the next-to-bare shelves and picking over bins was the great challenge for every shopaholic.

  “You know Elijah’s butt has to be married,” Coco said, rolling her eyes and picking up a pair of stylish black pumps in the middle of her favorite shoe store. “He has to be. It’s the only thing that explains his disappearing acts and the fact that you don’t know where he lives or even have his phone number. He just pops up every once in a while, takes you for a tumble in bed and poofs into a cloud of smoke.”

  “Humph!” Birdie shook her head. Given her current situation, Kimora sleeping around with a married man caused her pinched expression to sour.