It was after six in the evening—paperwork filing had kept her there late—so the entire building had already cleared out, and she was alone. The elevator stopped on the third floor and Pat backed up to let on more passengers. When the doors slid open, she stifled a gasp as her eyes met Judge Stockard’s lush chocolaty-brown ones. He nodded to her and stepped inside. “Good evening, Ms. Laroque,” he said, hitting the button for the ground floor. The elevator lurched downward. “Good evening, Your Honor.” Pat fought the impulse to shuffle away from Stockard, a knee-jerk reaction to the even stronger urge to drift toward him. What is it about this man that affects me so? She didn’t like the yearning feeling and didn’t want it controlling her. Only one more minute and the doors will open and I can get away. She took a preparatory step toward the front. Then she stumbled when the entire elevator jerked to an abrupt stop.
