Counselor Undone (15 page)

Jordis Morgan flashed through his mind. If he let her skirts
outmaneuver him, his father would never let him live it down. He was through
taking a back seat to the leggy sextress. He had no intention of conceding this
case appointment without a fight. Time to get proactive and find out what
Jordis was made of.

He smiled for the first time since entering his parents’
home. Monday morning, the games began.

Jordis got to the office early on Monday and sat at her desk
finalizing notes from her Saturday conference with Miss Gardner. The conference
had gone well. They’d made a lot of progress and covered a lot of background
information. During the meeting, Jordis decided to help the young lady get
current and back child support in addition to helping with her landlord-tenant
issue. She figured it did no good to fix the housing issue if the young woman
continued to struggle to make ends meet and feed her child.

She made a final notation on her memo to file and let her
mind drift to the past weekend. Michael Remington had called her “milady.”
She’d been leaning against the body wash dispenser in the locker room shower as
she tried to remove her shorts when he’d let the word slip. Her shock had been
so severe she’d accidentally pulled the dispenser off the wall.

He knew who she was. She didn’t know when he’d figured it
out or why he hadn’t said something to her, but she’d spent all weekend
wondering what to do about the matter.

Confront him?

Continue to play clueless?

Neither approach boded well for her desire to second chair
the Metra Pharmaceuticals case.

She took a deep breath to calm herself. Maybe she’d jumped
to conclusions. Perhaps Michael didn’t know for sure she was the anonymous
Juliet. Maybe he hadn’t confronted her because he simply suspected and hadn’t
found a way to confirm it. She had to be careful not to tip her hand until she
knew for sure what he knew one way or the other.

A movement at the corner of her eye made her look up. Eric
Covington strode into her office dangling a file folder in one hand. He shut
the door and propped himself against it.

Curious, Jordis laid down her pen. “Eric, to what do I owe
this unexpected pleasure?”

He gave her a charming smile. “It seems I underestimated
you.” He glanced toward the file on her desk with its label color-coded to
indicate a pro bono matter. “Again.”

“Really?” Sarcasm laced her voice. “In what way?” She stood
and gathered her paperwork into a neat pile.

“You’re good. I’ll give you that. I never thought you’d be
able to play the sex card with Michael Remington. He’s known to be immune.
Alyson certainly hasn’t had any luck throwing herself at the partner. But I
guess every man has his weakness.”

Jordis step around her desk and leaned her butt against the
front edge. “Excuse you?” She crossed her arms and stretched out her legs,
crossing one foot over the other.

“No need to feign ignorance with me, Jordis. You and
Remington looked mighty cozy together on the Plaza last Friday night.” Eric
pushed himself off the door. “To think, last week, I’d actually considered apologizing
for my behavior towards you. We got off on the wrong foot. Granted, we both
want the partnership appointment at the end of the year, but I didn’t think
that meant we had to act like adversaries.”

He stopped in front of her.

“I’ve never considered you an adversary, Eric, except, of
course, when you’ve made yourself one.”

He dropped his folder on her desk, and his hands went up in
that gesture of truce he was famous for. “I know. I know.
Mea culpa.
I
tend to be very competitive. You shouldn’t take it personally.” He stepped
closer. “Especially since it seems you and I are cut from the same cloth.”

Unease shimmied all over her at his invasion of her personal
space. “I’m nothing like you.”

“No? So, you’re saying I shouldn’t be congratulating you on
your new case assignment?”

She smiled, but her demeanor remained cool. “Why, Eric, I
didn’t think you were that broken up about my assignment to the Gardner case,
but thanks for the congratulations.”

Eric chuckled and glanced casually around her office.
Something on the wall caught his attention, and he walked over to where her
diplomas and awards hung. His eyes stopped on her certificate for Order of the
Coif, the prestigious legal national honor society for the top ten percent of a
graduating law class. He frowned at the certificate. He gave her a curious look
before he glanced back at the wall and her Stanford Law School diploma. He
noted the date. “You’re two years older than me?” he asked, his voice
incredulous.

She shrugged. She’d caught his expression at her Order of
the Coif certificate. He was surprised all right, but she suspected it had less
to do with her age and more to do with his befuddlement in the face of evidence
to contradict his arrogant assumption she was less qualified than him.

His question about her age didn’t surprise her, however.
People frequently thought her younger than her true age. Most people guessed
her age at an average of five years off the mark. Many thought her eight to ten
years her junior—at least based upon looks.

With law firms’ penchant for docking lateral associates a
year or two of seniority upon transfer, she’d lost a year of seniority with
each of her firm moves, making her older than any other associate on her team.
Among his other off-base opinions, Eric apparently had assumed she was younger
than him.

Leaving his perusal of her credentials, Eric returned to
stand in front of her. “What were we discussing? Oh, yeah.” He slid his hands
into his pants pockets. “You know I wasn’t congratulating you on the Gardner
case.”

“No? Then what were you talking about?”

“I’m asking if you used your considerable feminine assets,”
his eyes scanned down her body, “to stack the deck in your favor for the Metra
Pharmaceuticals second chair assignment.”

“Don’t insult me. I don’t trade sex for professional
advancements.”

“No?”

“No.” Her brain flashed the memory of her and Michael in the
gym locker room on Saturday, but she pushed it away. That’s not what that had
been about.

He studied her for another minute. “So, it’s just a coincidence
you and Remington happened to come out of the gym together Saturday morning?”

Jordis’s jaw clenched. Knowing Eric had waited outside to
see when they’d left annoyed her. “He was being a gentleman, Eric.” Her hands
dropped to the desk beside her hips, her fingers grasping the edge. “He didn’t
want me to come out to an empty parking lot. I was slow getting dressed. Seems
I had some sore muscles and bruises from being pounded on the basketball
court.” She looked pointedly at him.

Eric made a face at her mention of bruises. “If that’s
really the case, then I apologize for that . . . and for my insulting
insinuation.” He stepped closer. “Let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me how?” Skepticism moved in to dance with
the unease still racing along her spine. Was he being sincere or was this a
case of keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Her instincts shouted
he was up to something.

“Why don’t you let me buy you lunch?”

She uncrossed her legs to stand, but he moved so his feet
straddled her ankles, preventing her from rising. She stared at him blankly,
incredulity making her momentarily speechless.

“I’m serious.” He reached for her face. “I’d like us to
start over.”

Her hand went up automatically. “Eric, what are you—”

The opening of the door sounded behind him. Eric jumped
away, the action and the expression on his face making him look guilty.

Michael Remington paused in the doorway, his hand on the
doorknob. He considered Eric. “Sorry to interrupt.” He glanced at Jordis, a
hard look in his eyes. “Eric, I need to borrow Jordis for a meeting. It doesn’t
appear you two were in the middle of anything important.”

“Just making plans to go out.” Eric retrieved his file off
the desk and headed for the door.

Jordis frowned at his misleading comment. She stood to
correct him, but he interrupted her before she could.

“Jordis, I’ll catch you later.” He left, but not before
giving her a smug glance and a wink behind Michael’s back.

When Eric was gone, Jordis focused on Michael. He watched
her with an undecipherable look on his face.

“Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” She
moved to put her desk between them.

“Meet me and Chase in the East Conference Room in ten
minutes.”

“Okay. What’s up?”

“We’ll talk about it in the conference room.” He turned
abruptly and walked out, the trademark Michael Remington brood gracing his
face.

The residual testosterone level in the room from the
Covington-Remington back-to-back encounters surged a little high for her
liking. Eric Covington’s moves had caught her off guard. Of all the behaviors
she expected of him, making a pass at her wasn’t one of them. She could imagine
what the scene must have looked like from Michael’s perspective.

And Michael. What was with him? He’d seemed upset about
something.

Was she in for an unpleasant surprise when she walked into
that conference room?

She decided not to put off the inevitable. She grabbed the
Gardner file and dropped it on her secretary’s desk on her way to the
conference room. A ways down the hall, she noticed Alyson and Eric chatting
outside Eric’s office. They stopped talking at her appearance and stared at her
quietly.

So, the gossip has started already
, she thought. Feeling like a goldfish in a bowl, Jordis
nodded and walked on.

She entered the East Conference Room to find Michael at the
table in rolled up shirtsleeves. The light dusting of hair over his forearms
made him look masculine and capable. His olive skin mimicked the perfect tan.
That she noticed all this annoyed her. She hadn’t been summoned here for the
Michael Remington Admiration Society. She was here for . . . Well, she didn’t
know what she was here for, but she was about to find out.

“Jordis, have a seat.” Chase motioned her to the conference
room table.

Michael’s eyes dropped to the gold stilettos she’d donned
today. His lips curved up momentarily as if he were thinking of something
amusing.

Jordis watched him. “Something wrong with my shoes?”

“Nope.” The look he initially gave her could have melted ice
in the Arctic. Then, his eyes shifted. “No boots today?”

Trust me. The last thing I think about you doing in those
boots is taking a stroll.
The
memory of his words, combined with the sweltering look in his eyes, made her
pulse pound. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was intentionally
baiting her. But why?

She kept her face and emotions neutral. She wouldn’t think
about his large hands playing idly with his stylus or about how they’d felt
against her skin this weekend. She was a professional. She would behave professionally
. . . for now. Then she’d head straight home and have a date with BOB while she
fantasized about olive skin and gray eyes.

Screw that boss crap. She needed to get this lingering itch
scratched mechanically since she had no intention of letting him scratch it in
the flesh. Eric’s accusation had reinforced what she already knew: she didn’t
have the luxury of—and certainly couldn’t risk—indulging in any
more hands-on activities with Mr. Remington.

Chase took the lead in the conversation, oblivious to her
mounting discomfort. Distracted by her wayward thoughts, she almost missed him
say they wanted her to take his place on the Metra Pharmaceuticals case.

She gave a mental fist pump.

“I’ll need you to work late tonight,” Michael said. “We need
to sort through the key issues of the motion and divvy up the work to get our
response done quickly.”

The imaginary fist pump died. Apprehension replaced elation.
The last time a partner with a sexual attraction to her asked her to work late,
the performance he’d demanded had nothing to do with her mental prowess. She’d
put Michael off Saturday. Was this his way of making sure she went all the way
with him? She hadn’t anticipated he’d be one of those partners who passed out
assignments then expected some late night appreciation.

Jordis looked at Chase. “I’m happy to step in. I’d like some
time to get up to speed on the documents before I start strategizing on the
case. Tomorrow afternoon would be better for me.”

“You’ll be working closely with Michael. I’ll let the two of
you sort out the details. I just wanted to make myself available in case you
had any initial questions I might be able to answer.”

“No questions at this time. I’ll spend some time with the
file today and let you know if anything comes to mind.” Jordis finally looked
at Michael. “Why don’t we convene tomorrow right after lunch? That’ll give me
plenty of time to get up to speed on the facts and history of the case.”

“I’d prefer to start tonight,” Michael responded.

Jordis hesitated. In the silence, a buzzing phone announced
one of them had a call. Michael and Chase both checked the phones clipped on
their belts.

Chase stood. “Excuse me.” He freed his phone as he stepped
into the hall and closed the conference room door behind him.

As soon as the door closed, Michael asked, “Jordis do you
have plans tonight?”