“A quarter of what?”
“ ‘A quarter of what?’ ” He tossed back his head and laughed. Fancy Pants danced aside. “Jesus, that’s good. A quarter of what?” He unfastened the chain that had secured the mare to a metal ring in the wall, and then joined Alex outside the stall, carefully closing the gate behind him. “You don’t know much about horses, do you?”
“Obviously not,” she replied tightly.
Her embarrassment seemed to amuse him for only a moment. Then, frowning, he asked, “Was coming out here your idea?”
“Junior invited me.”
“Ah, that figures.”
“Why should it figure?”
“He’s always hot on the trail of the newest available broad.”
Blood surged through Alex’s veins. “I am not available to Junior, or to anybody else. Neither am I a broad.”
He subjected her to a slow and ridiculing once-over. “No, I guess you’re not. Too much lawyer and not enough woman. Don’t you ever relax?”
“Not when I’m working on a case.”
“And that’s what you were doing over drinks?” he asked scornfully. “Working on your case?”
“That’s right.”
“They’ve sure got funny methods of investigation in the Travis County D.A.’s office.” He turned his back on her and swaggered toward the opposite end of the building.
“Wait! I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Subpoena me,” he tossed over his shoulder.
“Reede!” Impulsively, she struck out after him and grabbed the sleeve of his leather jacket. He stopped, glanced down where her fingers were curled into the age-softened leather, then came around slowly and stared at her with eyes as green and sharp as jungle spears.
She let go of his sleeve and fell back a step. She wasn’t frightened; rather, she was shocked at herself. She hadn’t intended to call his name like that, and she certainly hadn’t intended to touch him, especially after what had happened in the stall.
Wetting her lips nervously, she said, “I want to talk to you. Please. Off the record. To satisfy my own curiosity.”
“I know the technique, Counselor. I’ve used it myself. You play chummy with the suspect, hoping that he’ll drop his guard and tell you something he’s trying to hide.”
“It’s not like that. I just want to talk.”
“About what?”
“About the Mintons.”
“What about them?”
Standing with his feet widespread, pelvis tipped slightly forward, he slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, which pulled his jacket open across his chest. The stance was intimidatingly manly. It aroused her as much as it annoyed her. Alex tried to suppress both responses. “Would you say that Angus and Sarah Jo have a happy marriage?”
He blinked and coughed. “What?”
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m asking for your opinion, not an analysis.”
“What the hell difference does it make?”
“Sarah Jo’s not the kind of woman I would have expected Angus to marry.”
“Opposites attract.”