Lawyer Up (22 page)

PAT-TASTIC

Pat heaved a sigh of relief. The long morning was finally over. Playing her new femme fatale role had been exciting, but she was exhausted. She could hardly believe she had pulled it off. The long walk into the courtroom in front of everyone had been the most nerve-wracking thing she had ever done, her palms sweating and heart pounding. Over and over she had told herself,
I'm just playing a part. I'm seductive, confident Catherine Banning of
The Thomas Crown Affair. It was one of her favorite movies.

As Pat walked out with her co-counsel, she accepted their enthusiastic compliments, carefully deflecting their inquisitive questions about her changed appearance. No point in sharing all her secrets.

“Dah-ling. You were fabulous!”

Pat turned toward Creole's voice and saw him lounging against the hallway wall. “What are you doing here?” she happily exclaimed.

“I couldn't miss your big debut—not a chance, sweetie.” Creole sketched a courtly bow as if he were a French aristocrat. “As your loyal servant, let me proclaim that Pat-ocrat is dead and buried. Long live Pat-
tastic
!”

Then surprisingly, Creole pulled her quickly into his arms for a hug that felt suspiciously like more than just friendship. “Just go along with it,” he whispered in her ear as his hand swirled on her lower back in a sensuous caress. “Stockard's right behind you, watching us,” he breathed, assuming the manner of a lover whispering endearments.

“What?” Pat tried to pull away.

Creole's hands tightened possessively as he continued to murmur, “Stockard wants you bad. It's written all over his face. Play your cards right and you can land the case…and him.”

“But,” she whispered back, “if he thinks I already have a lover—”

“Judge Stockard is a powerful, testosterone-fueled manly man. A little competition will just make him that much more interested in you. Trust me, girl. He…wants…you.”

“Ummm,” she responded, unsure.

“
Cher
, I know men, so listen to what I say. And after I help you nail this one, we'll work on getting me one too.”

Pat snorted, but he was right about one thing—Creole understood men a lot better than she did. “Do you really think it's possible?”

Creole tried once again to convince her. “Listen…to…me. The judge has the hots for you. I'll eat my words if I'm not right. Hell, girlfriend, I'll even eat your cookin'.” He laughed.

“Nice!”

“
Non
, seriously. I watched Stockard ogle you the entire morning. He couldn't take his eyes off you. Even followed you out to the lobby at lunch.”

Pulling back, Creole muttered, “Now we're going to turn and slowly walk away. Don't look back, but do wiggle that ass. Let him see the goods.”

Pat laughed out loud. “You're too much! Really.” But she made sure to saunter and sway her hips just a little with each step. Might as well give it her best effort, she thought. A big smile bloomed on her face as Pat suddenly realized how much she had enjoyed being the center of attention for once among her associates and friends—and Stockard most of all.

WRIT OF SEQUESTRATION

Judge Stockard was about to reconvene the afternoon session when Morgan called, “Your Honor! Before we begin, may I approach on something unrelated to the case?”

He nodded, although he wondered if this would be the escapade that would go too far, that would finally force him to slap Morgan down. He preferred to avoid such distasteful embroilment, but he sensed such a confrontation was inevitable. To prevent any semblance of impropriety, he gestured for Patricia to join them. Stockard saw Morgan frown when he included the other woman, but she quickly recovered, sauntering seductively toward him.

“Your Honor,” she murmured kitten-like, “I know this is a little unorthodox, but I simply had to have the chance to tell you how much I've appreciated your eloquent elucidation on various points of law. As a young attorney—one might even say a
virgin
in this particular area of civil law—it has been so helpful. I'm in your debt.”

Under her breath Patricia muttered, “A virgin? That's a laugh!”

“Ms. Laroque. Was there something you wanted to add?” the judge inquired blandly. He couldn't resist pushing her buttons. His residual playboy instincts wanted to arouse the passionate fire he sensed within her. Silently, however, he concurred that Morgan was anything but a virgin.

“No, sorry, Your Honor,” Patricia replied quietly.

Morgan glanced icily at her competitor before she continued to purr, “Judge Stockard, I really feel that I could learn so much from you, and…I was wondering if you might consider a little private tutelage with me… After the case is done, of course. I would really be so grateful. Work so very hard to…
please
you.”

“On your knees?” Stockard interjected, having had enough of the woman's outrageous behavior. It was time to give a little back.

Morgan looked blankly at him, appearing staggered that he had taken her up on the implied offer, but she quickly recovered to smile encouragingly up at him. “
However
you think best, Judge Stockard.”

His gaze switched to Patricia then, the real target of his barb. She looked blusteringly outraged, but her eyes gave him a gut-clenching jolt. They looked…fiery and passionate. He could not look away from them.

“This is outrageous!” Patricia exclaimed. “It only confirms everything I've heard about you.… Suggesting that a woman get on her knees to give you a—”

“I was merely alerting Ms. Morgan to the fact that most of my law books on this particular subject are on the lowest shelves,” he smoothly interrupted.

“What!” Patricia spluttered. “You're trying to tell me—”

Morgan cut her off this time, smiling like she'd already won. “Of course, Your Honor. I knew exactly what you meant. I think we are in complete accord on this subject, and I look forward to winning this case so we can get started.” She flipped her long, blond tresses and strutted back to her seat, ignoring Pat.

The judge nodded for Patricia to return to her place, trying but failing to look away from her enticing form. Wistfully, Stockard watched her glide away.

Once she was seated, he dragged his eyes away to observe the room filled with rapt spectators and winced. He realized then how quiet it had become—everyone from the court reporter to the guard at the back door had been watching the three of them. They were all supremely interested in the rivalry between the women and their interest in him. He sighed. This was going to get around if he wasn't careful. It was time for redirection.

Blam!
“Court will now come to order,” he declared.

From then on, Stockard tried to move the case along quicker. It had been fun for a while watching the two women compete for his attention, but he'd tired of the whole catfight. Patricia had won the sex wars hands down. He wanted to find out if it was all an act or if she might actually be interested in him. For round two of the game they were apparently playing, he'd have to wait until the case was settled, and the pace at which the trial was progressing was too damn slow. He sighed as questioning dragged on and on.

“No further questions,” noted Morgan. Then in her best sex-kitten voice, she purred, “Your Honor.”

Stockard had to stifle a grimace before directing, “Ms. Laroque, you may cross-examine.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Patricia replied, rising gracefully from her seat.

The judge watched spellbound as she glided over to the witness, pondering again whether Patricia was involved with that tall man he'd seen holding her so tightly at lunch. Emmit sighed audibly. Like a youth in love, he'd rushed out to try to speak with Patricia at lunch, feeling absurd when he saw the other man's hand caressing her lower back. He wanted it to be his hand touching her body, and he was annoyed that the guy was younger than him, probably even younger than Patricia.

He would find out one way or another if Patricia was a free woman. She certainly seemed to be coming on to him with her flirtatious tone and all those sensuous smiles sent his way. It was so unlike the old Pat-ocrat, even different from the woman he'd met in the elevator. It was as if she were an entirely new woman—one that he was becoming ridiculously eager to get to know.

Shaking his head slightly, Stockard tried to concentrate on the case. It was again her turn to question the next witness, and he watched mesmerized, ignoring Morgan's stabbing glare, as Patricia took command of the courtroom. He had always admired her impressive legal skills and obvious intellect, but now she radiated a feminine sex appeal too, which drew him irresistibly. If any of Patricia's flirtations toward him were in fact real, he would gladly accept any tidbit she offered and use that chance to get to know the real person inside.

Patricia was now done with the witness. “That's all, Your Honor.”

She strutted and swayed back to the defendant's table, but before reaching her chair, Patricia dropped her pen on the floor. It irritated Stockard that several men jumped to their feet to assist her—
hell
, he'd almost jumped up as well. He settled down when she waved them off. Then Patricia gave him a quick, naughty smile over her shoulder, and he realized that she'd dropped the pen on purpose.

She placed a steadying hand on the table and then leaned down to pick it up—way, way down—giving him a glorious view of her ass in the tight silk skirt. It was the oldest trick in the book, he gloated silently, and she'd done it just for him. Whether Patricia was just playing him or whether she wanted to entice, Stockard didn't know, but he hoped the latter had spurred her playful behavior.

As she slowly straightened, hand still on the table, she lifted a foot to reveal the shoe's red sole hidden underneath the ubiquitous black pumps that all the court ladies wore. Then he saw—really noticed—the shoes that graced her feet. Bright scarlet soles, the color of sex! Four-inch spiked heels! A thin, black strap around her ankle that hinted at high-class bondage. And, finally, a black leather bow, not covering her toes, which would have looked cute, but instead naughtily adorning the back of her heel.

It made Stockard itch to caress her foot. It made him think of a large bed and her on it. It made him want to dress her in a lot more wicked black leather.

Patricia's shoes simply screamed “fuck me,” and instantly that's what he was doing to her—in his mind. She was naked on her back on his judge's bench. Her wonderfully sinful shoes were all that she wore, the red soles aimed high in the air as her feet flailed about to the rhythm of his forceful rutting. He could almost hear Patricia moaning and begging, feel her hot, wet pussy clenching around his throbbing dick. Although Stockard hardly knew her, he guessed they would be great together—in bed
and
out of it!

“Your Honor?”

What?
Like that, he was back in the courtroom, his mind a chaotic jumble.

Shit. I have to get my head in gear.
Everyone was staring at him, and obviously a question had been asked, perhaps repeatedly. He wasn't even sure who had spoken.

Not looking at anyone in particular, he voiced, “You may repeat the question.”

Stockard forced himself to listen to Morgan, but he felt so mortified about his inappropriate mid-trial fantasy that he couldn't help a quick glance over at Patricia. She couldn't possibly know what he had been thinking, but he still felt exposed, like it was written across his face—where they had been and what they'd been doing in his mind. He was firmly back in the real world now, but he felt compulsively driven to get Patricia alone—just to spend some time with her. To do anything…do everything!

Morgan rose to her feet. “Your Honor, at this time, we would like to respectfully request a motion for a writ of sequestration in order to protect the moveable property at the site.”

Emmit grimaced when once again Morgan simpered and leaned forward in that brazen way. He could see that Patricia noticed it too, and he hoped that she didn't think he welcomed, even desired, Morgan's advances.

“Your Honor,” Patricia interjected hotly. “The nuns who run the St. Francis Society are not going to steal anything, and opposing counsel knows it. This is just a diversion.”

Patricia looked incensed, and Emmit realized that whatever chance he had with her was disappearing with each phase of this no-win case. Sighing internally, he made the only decree that the law and his honor prescribed. “It is the belief of this court that this request is within defendant's rights, and therefore, the motion is approved and—”

“But, Your Honor!” Patricia yelled, rising to stand. “Certainly you're not swayed by Candi Cane's fatuous justification. It wasn't even a reasonable argument, just a display of…
assets
.”

Over the other woman's livid gasp and snickers from the court observers, the judge loudly commanded, “Sit down, Ms. Laroque. May I remind you that you are in a court of law. You will restrain your comments to an appropriate line of discourse, and for that matter, you will address your co-counsel in the formal time-honored tradition.”

Stockard sat back in his chair while he watched Patricia spit fire with her eyes. It had been regrettably necessary to censure her but—
wow!
—Patricia angry was amazing. The passion burning there lit her up, as he had thought it would, and made her seem more vibrant, more enticing. Like everything else about the new Patricia, it made him think of sex.

However, Stockard still had no choice but to grant the petition in Morgan's favor. He hated the fact that it would make the conniving woman think she had some sort of pull on him, but legally, the plaintiff had the right.

“The civil law is clear on this point. Regardless of whether there are any grounds to believe the defendant will remove anything from the property in question, the bare fact that it is within the defendant's power entitles the plaintiff to the writ. Therefore, plaintiff's motion for a writ of sequestration is awarded to be implemented immediately.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

Again, Patricia jumped to her feet, visibly outraged. “Judge Stockard, on behalf of my client, I repeat my objections to this unwarranted decree. If you would take your eyes off opposing counsel's chest for one minute, you'd realize that you're being manipu—”

“Enough!” Stockard thundered, slamming down the gavel loudly. For the first time in his life, he'd lost control of his courtroom, and it was all his fault for letting his arousal jumble his brain. The loud whispers and twitters from the spectators only made it worse.

“Order in the Court.” He slammed the gavel a second time, and the laughter ceased instantly.

Finally, he shifted his eyes to look at Patricia. Her stark dismay and shock at her outburst was written clearly on her face. Worse, she still looked angry, and what he was about to do wouldn't help. “You, Ms. Laroque, in my chambers now! We're going to have a conversation about appropriate conduct in my courtroom. Court is adjourn—”

“You're kidding, right?” she snorted.

He gave Patricia a severe glare. “You're very close to being held in contempt. Do you understand me?”

Quietly, she responded, “Yes, Your Honor.” She lowered her gaze.

Emmit hated seeing her deflate before his eyes.
Really
hated it. Concluding the day's hearing, he dreaded the impending reprimand he must administer. And the day had started out so magnificently.

Damn!