pulled her closer and deepened it.
Hot and wet and she tasted of cinnamon and sugar. Need and desire moved through him and he rocked into her gently. When her arms came up and over his shoulders, he tightened his arms around her waist and moaned. Her tongue swirled against his and she suckled it into her mouth. Spencer could feel his blood heating and everything going on around them simply faded out.
“You two wanna come up for air? I doona think this is the place for what you’re currently doing to each other. I’m pretty sure that it’s illegal in all fifty states.”
“Go away, Uncle Paddy. I’m busy,” Cait said to her uncle, then she went back to kissing him. Spencer didn’t mind.
He heard the man chuckle as Cait pulled away slightly. He didn’t let her go because he wasn’t sure he could stand if he didn’t have her support.
“The police are going to the school now. It’s an anonymous tip; dinna think you wanted it bandied about that the information came from a six-year-old,” Paddy said.
“Good. Thanks, Mr. O’Malley. I appreciate your discretion on this. You’re right about my daughter.” He looked over at the man and noticed an odd look on his face. Spencer was about to ask when Paddy laughed at him.
“Boy, you play tonsil tag with my Caddy-did like that, you can damn well call me Paddy, don’t you think?”
Spencer flushed, but was saved from further embarrassment by the bailiff calling Cait to the courtroom.
~CHAPTER 8~
“Do you swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” The bailiff was smiling at her. She knew he had seen her kissing Grant in the hall. It didn’t embarrass her so much as made her want more. Spencer was fast becoming addictive.
“I do.”
“Please state your full name and your occupation for the clerk, please.”
“Caitlynne Alexander O’Malley, detective third grade, homicide, Chicago PD. I’m also carrying and I have my badge.” The bailiff nodded. Cait had filed a request when she came in, so he had probably been made aware of it.
“Homicide? I didn’t hear anyone was killed. Why didn’t someone tell me that the venue had changed?” Judge demanded of his bailiff.
“No, Your Honor, I’m here as a witness for the prosecution. Not as a detective. I apologize for the misunderstanding,” Cait quickly explained.
“You related to that old Irishman O’Malley that was in here earlier this morning, Detective?”
“Yes, sir. He’s my uncle, Patrick O’Malley. He’s running an errand for me, sir. He’ll be back soon.”
“He’s a good man. You come from good stock. Let’s get this show started.
Counselor, start.”
“Miss O’Malley, it says here you are on administrative leave; is that true?” Phillip Clamp asked her.
“It’s Detective, and no.”
“You’re not on leave? I thought the file said that you were...let me find it.
Yes, you’re on leave until your doctor releases you.”
“Yes.”
He looked up at her, confusion written all over his face. Cait just stared back at him. She had learned from enough court appearances that you never volunteered information to a lawyer, not even your own. Ever.
“Yes, you’re on administrative leave?”
“No,” she answered. Now it was just plain fun. Messing with an attorney, any attorney, was a point in her favor, she thought.
“Miss O’Malley, you need to be—”
“It’s Detective O’Malley. I would very much appreciate if you would remember that, Counselor. I worked very hard for that title.” She knew she should not have snapped, but she was getting aggravated, as well, at his refusal to acknowledge her status.
“Your Honor, Detective O’Malley is being very uncooperative. Is there anything you can do to help me with this?”
Cait snorted, but didn’t open her mouth.
“Detective, could you please tell the counselor what he wants to know? He seems to be under the misunderstanding that you are supposed to read his mind.”
“No,
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