Kimberly Raye - Shameless

“This is a terrible miscarriage of justice,” she declared, pivoting to face the handful of people clustered in the tiny courtroom—the bailiff, the court reporter, the police officer who’d responded to the accident call and three nosy file clerks. “Grossly unfair.” Another deep sigh, a quick flash of red, and Jimmy’s groin tightened.

The only thing unfair was Jimmy’s reaction to the brunette stomping around the defendant’s table in three-inch heels, a tight red skirt and a clingy white blouse.

This was Deb Strickland, he reminded himself. Ten percent soft, warm, female, ninety percent ballsy attitude, and the woman responsible for causing him so much grief. He rued the day he’d had the misfortune to lay down good money for an all-too-brief kiss that had started out their renewed acquaintance with such sweet promise. After she’d dunked and damned near drowned him that same fateful day, things between them had only gone downhill.

“What is unfair, Miss Strickland,” Judge Baines snapped, “is that you purposely damaged Mr. Mission’s property.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. Jimmy Mission has been hounding me for an entire year. Every time I turn around, there he is.”

“This is a small town, Miss Strickland.”

“I’m fully aware of that, but he’s not only there, he’s doing things—like parking in my spot every time he comes into town, sitting in my seat at my table during the YMCA charity barbecue last month, signing up to be my partner during the wheelbarrow race at the Senior Citizen Olympics.”

“Attended that barbecue, myself. Sounds like Jimmy was just being charitable and looking out for his own, which is more than I can say for present company.”

“This is about Cletus Wallaby, isn’t it?” When the judge’s expression hardened, Deb added, “You can’t hold that against me, Judge. Cletus Wallaby was a crooked councilman and the people of this town deserved to know it. It was my journalistic duty to expose him.”

“Cletus was born and raised here. Spent his whole life struggling to make the town better when you were just a gleam in your rich father’s eye.”

“Homegrown or not, he stole money from taxpayers and that makes him crooked.”

“He may have fudged on his expense sheets for the town, but he’s a damn good family man and a helluva fisherman, little missy, and you’d do well to remember that some folks don’t take too kindly to outsiders spreading rumors.”

“Every one of my facts was documented and proven. That’s why he was fired last year. Fact, not rumor.”

“And the fact here,” the judge snapped, obviously set in his opinion despite the proof, “is that you damaged Jimmy’s property.”

“But he was taking up half my space—”

“Try two inches,” Jimmy called out, adding fuel to the already out-of-control fire that blazed between them. “I was barely two inches beyond the line, Judge.”

She turned blazing blue eyes on him and what he’d discovered to be her most intimidating glare.

Only Jimmy wasn’t easily intimidated or put off. He could handle women, even an ornery one.

He gave her the slowest, laziest grin he could manage with just a hint of a wink, an expression he’d become notorious for since he’d first used it to con Mary Sue Grimes into the bed of his daddy’s pickup when he’d been fifteen. Jimmy didn’t really understand the effect of “The Grin” on women, just that it never failed to turn the tide his way.

She glared. “Two inches is about the size of things, from what I hear.”

“Now, Slick.” His grin widened when her gaze narrowed. “I didn’t think you listened to hearsay. If you want to check your facts, I’d be mighty happy to show you and set the record straight.”

“I just bet you would,” she snapped.

Deb Strickland didn’t, wouldn’t respond to “The Grin.” Aside from the moment they’d kissed, she hadn’t responded in any positive way to him since he’d come home to Inspiration over a year ago and found her running the town newspaper in place of her granny Lily.

He’d been surprised. Not because Deb had taken the old woman’s place at the In Touch, but because she’d grown from the scrawny young city gal who used to keep her granny company a few weeks every summer into one fine-looking woman who, folks said, kept company with every eligible man in town.

Every man, that is, except for him.

It puzzled the hell out of Jimmy, not only because of her initial response to him, but because women, all women, just plain liked him. It was a fact of life, like the sun rising and setting, his mother baking her famous Christmas cookies, his Black Angus bull walking away with first prize at the Austin County livestock show. Jimmy smiled and women smiled back. He flirted and they flirted back.

And some did more, he thought, eyeing the platter of petit fours sitting in front of him, courtesy of the court reporter, Justine something or other, and Daring Deb’s Fun Girl Fact for the week—Go get ’im with gourmet goodies! He thought about the drawer full of silk underwear—not his own—he had at home due to last week’s Seduce him with silk! He pictured his cabinet overflowing with everything from biscotti to croissants, smoked oysters to sardines, all surefire aphrodisiacs according to Loosen him up with love potions!

He glanced down at the folded newspaper and today’s words of wisdom. Nothing says come and get me like pineapple-flavored body glaze!

This was a small Texas town. Most of the women hadn’t even heard of flavored body glazes, much less seen a tube of the stuff, which was exactly the point of the column. To bring some city-savvy love advice to the single women of Inspiration.

Jimmy had nothing against women being savvy when it came to love, he just didn’t want all that savvy directed at him when he wasn’t ready to do anything about it. Most of the women he knew wouldn’t get all spruced up for a man unless he’d already handed over the ring, and Jimmy hadn’t even narrowed down the candidates, much less decided on the future Lady Mission.

He knew Deb had started the column to push him away, to draw the line between them and remind him that she wasn’t the sort of girl a guy could take home to his mama. But damned if she didn’t come back every few weeks with some short, serious article. Like the one she’d done on Cletus Wallaby who’d cost the good citizens of Inspiration major tax dollars because of his falsified expense reports, or the one she’d done to rally support for the local animal shelter.

It was those serious, caring articles that never failed to cool his anger and stir his admiration. And they also made him wonder exactly how many rumours regarding Deb’s bedroom exploits were rooted in fact and how many were pure speculation based on the sophisticated, worldly image she portrayed and the fact that this was a small town and gossip a favorite pastime. He knew she’d dated all of the twenty or so eligible men in town. What he had trouble swallowing was that she’d bedded all of them, because as turned on as she’d been by his kiss, he’d sensed her surprise, as well.

“Don’t you have better things to do than harass innocent women?” Deb’s voice drew Jimmy back to the here and now and the fire flashing in her blue eyes.

“Sure do. Today, I’m teaching a lesson to a guilty woman. You break the law, you have to pay.”

“But you parked in my spot on purpose.”

“Barely.” He shrugged. “I’m not too good at parallel parking.”

“Well, neither am I. So sue me.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, a wave of red crept up her neck and fueled her cheeks.

“That’s what I’m doing, sweetheart.”

And in a big way. He’d counted on the fact that Judge Baines, still soured over Deb’s exposure of Cletus, the judge’s longtime fishing buddy, would go for the maximum judgement allowed. Having his early weekend fishing trip put off by a Friday morning hearing didn’t help matters. Deb didn’t stand a chance, which was exactly why Jimmy had hauled her into court.