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with those unforgettable baby blue eyes, with that thick crop of chestnut brown hair, with that sexual energy he exuded without even trying to be sexual at all.   His jaw was square and wide, elevating his face from stern to sexy, and his smooth forehead overlooked thin eyebrows, a strong, straight nose, and warm, inviting lips.   Whenever he talked his lip seemed to curl at the tip, and dimples would appear like sudden indentations on his cheeks.  
    When the phone call ended, and he slowly replaced the phone onto its hook, an odd expression was on his face.   He looked at Nikki again.   She was certainly appealing.   She had that smooth, mocha-brown skin he always found attractive, and perfectly formed lips.   Although she was smaller than his personal preference in a woman, she still had some nice curves and the kind of large, firm breasts he could feast on all night.   And her face was a plus. It was small too, and narrow, but was all eyes; all big, brown, gorgeously expressive eyes.  
    And that was when it hit him.   She was not some random reporter like all the others that had interviewed him in the past.   He knew her.   In the barest sense of the word, he knew her.   It was those big, expressive eyes.   It was that vulnerability veiled behind that toughness.   It was that body, and those breasts.   It was Nikki .   It was Nikki Tarver.   His heart rammed against his chest.
    And instead of sitting behind his desk, he walked around the desk and took a seat in the chair beside hers.   Only he turned the chair to face her, which made her so uncomfortable that she thought her voice would quiver if she spoke.
    He was extremely well dressed, she noticed as he sat down, no slouch in his posture at all.   He wore a dark blue Italian suit, tailored to perfection against his muscular body, a pair of wing tip Ferragamo shoes, and a dark red tie that highlighted his soft skin tone.
    Mo’s eyes stayed on her as he sat down.   He was still too stunned to speak.
    Nikki noticed his distress, and she suspected she knew why he was suddenly so distressed.   But she kept it professional.   She kept going.
    “As I’m sure your office was informed, our series is all about local heroes.   It’s all about people who do all they can to help their fellow man.   Our board decided that you were one of those people, and my editor asked me to interview you.   I just need to ask a few questions,” she added, and then looked at him.   “If you’re ready?”
    His heart was still hammering.   He had thought she was completely out of his system.   It took months, and all kinds of nightmarish trials that distracted him and kept him up nights, but he thought her memory had faded to a point where it was only a vague recollection.   Not because that week he spent with her wasn’t memorable.   It was.   In every way it was.   But for his sake, for the sake of all of those men and women who came before him seeking justice, he had to get her out of his system.  
    He thought he had succeeded.  
    He thought wrong.
    But like Nikki, he, too, was a professional.   He kept it together.   “What would you like to know?” he asked her.  
    Nikki swallowed hard, prayed her voice didn’t quiver.   “From what I’ve read you are one of the few judges who almost always impose the maximum possible sentences.   Your nickname is Judge Maximum because of that harshness.   What our readers would like to know is this: if you’re so heroic, why don’t you ever show compassion for the people who come before you?”
    Mo Ryan looked at Nikki as if he could not believe she would ask such a question.   “Why don’t I what?” he asked.
    “Why don’t you show compassion for those poor men and women who come before you seeking, not only justice, but mercy as well?”
    He stared at her, his heart hammering.  
    She stared at him, her heart pounding.   But she was determined to stay on point.   “You haven’t answered my