Objection Overruled (10 page)

Jackie tried to explain the problem. For someone so incredibly competent, technology seemed to fluster her. Brandon hid his smile at her floundering performance. She didn’t seem like someone who tolerated being incompetent at anything, let alone being on display as incompetent.

He’d give her some space to spare her dignity. “I’ll just head into your office, Ms. North.” He slid by her close enough to graze her hand with his. She returned his touch with a flitter of her fingers against his. His heart leaped and his cock stirred again.

He didn’t have to wait long, but she arrived with a disconcerted look in her eyes.

He took a step toward her, but not trusting himself to keep his hands off her, maintained an arm’s-length distance between them. Even so, the magnetic attraction to her gripped his body, sending a current of energy through his chest. “Everything all right?” He wanted to take care of all her worries but wondered if she would resent him for trying to help. She didn’t seem to accept help from anyone. Her silo of a life looked sturdy enough, but out there alone in a big field, it was bound to crack at some point.

Jackie grimaced. “I hate technology. Well, I don’t hate it. I like using it. I just don’t understand it. Is it hot in here?” She fanned herself with both hands and then pulled her jacket off. With an expert toss, it landed on her desk chair. Her clingy tank top showed off toned shoulders and defined arms, not to mention full, pert breasts. He forced himself not to stare.

“I think the stuff we’re supposed to be reviewing is on paper, right? Should we get started in here or wait for that guy to finish up?” Maintain discipline, he reminded himself. Hopefully, looking at these documents would keep his mind off Jackie.

“The most records are the Kovels’. The rest of the plaintiffs’ information is essentially the same. The Kovels’ stuff is box number twelve next to the door. Can you grab it?” She pointed him in the direction of a pile of banker’s boxes three deep, four wide, and about six high.

Brandon shuffled them around and pulled box twelve out from the bottom of the pile and set it on her meticulously neat desk. He smiled. It reminded him of his own desk, which he cleaned every night before leaving work. Although he wouldn’t describe himself as OCD in any other respect, keeping a tidy workspace was the one habit his parents had instilled in him that he still held close.

Jackie lifted the lid and pulled out a two-inch-thick pile of papers. “These are the statements of trades, or,” she said as she raised her eyebrows, “should I say, the alleged trades. Let’s start with looking through those to see if anything appears out of sorts.”

Brandon began shuffling through the pile. “Jackie, this is plain vanilla stuff. There’s nothing odd in any of this. Did you seriously think I was going to find some smoking gun in here? You know this case inside and out. If there were anything amiss with the statements, you would have found it already. Beside, I’m not your expert, as much as I wish I were.”

She slouched in her chair. “Technically, the court views you as neutral. That’s why I can sit here with you and go over this stuff. No one owns you, Brandon.”

His body tightened reflexively at that. Had she noticed? Did she know what Ashe held over his head?

“Yes?” She stood and looked past him.

“Nothing,” Brandon said a little too fast.

She waved her hand at him. “No, not you.” She pointed at the door. The repairman was standing there. “You. Are you finished? Are we back up?”

“Yes, ma’am. Can you boot up your computer and confirm that you are on? Then I can pack up and be out of here.”

Jackie bent down and turned on her computer. Her skirt stretched tight across her ass as she leaned over the keyboard. “Yep, logged on.”

“I’ll unhook my stuff and let myself out.” The telephone tech gave them a wave and disappeared back to the conference room.

Trying to concentrate, Brandon picked up the next stack of papers and began his review. Within a few minutes, the door from the office suite into the hallway clicked shut. Brandon looked up at Jackie. She had pulled her silky, dark hair back into a ponytail, but missed a long swath that hung across her cheek. She stared intently at her computer screen while chewing on her lower lip.

“Jackie?”

She didn’t move but kept scrolling through screens of her computer, a furrow creasing her brow. Brandon leaned back in his chair and admired her intensity. The swell of his cock made him realize how much her strength turned him on and how pathetic he’d become not being able to work in the same room with an attractive woman without getting a hard-on.

Maybe she wanted to win more than he. Neutrality in the eyes of the court didn’t change the fact that in the end it would come down to which one of them was more convincing to the jury. There was room for only one winner in this game, which he couldn’t afford to lose. Yet he wasn’t sure that winning would be worth it if he lost this woman in the process.

“Brandon?” Jackie looked at him with wide eyes under her disheveled hair. “Did you need something?”

“There’s nothing in these statements. If there is anything relevant to my testimony, it will most likely be in the documents Stone is sending over tomorrow.”

Jackie dropped into her chair and mirrored his posture, leaning back. “Like something in the Boyers Report? Are you sure that report exonerates Ashe?” She gave him a sly look that in any other context could be construed as an invitation to have his way with her.

He narrowed his eyes and contemplated how much he should tell her or whether he even
could
tell her what he knew. He’d better be discreet, at least for the time being. “I believe that’s what I said during today’s deposition. Are you questioning my word?”

Her smile widened, and her eyes twinkled. She opened her mouth, but paused as if she was reconsidering, or maybe recalculating, her comeback. A sharp knock came from the reception area outside of Jackie’s office. She stood up and smoothed her skirt. “That’s probably the food. Be right back.”

A strong odor of garlic preceded Jackie, who returned with a large white shopping bag in each hand. “Hope you’re not too hungry, Mr. Marshfield, because I’m starving, and I’m holding the bags.”

Brandon rose and closed the distance. “I think I could take you, North. If my memory serves me correct, I have taken you. Multiple times.”

Jackie elbowed her way around him, nudging him with her shoulder. “Only because I let you. It’s not polite to outmuscle a man on his own sailboat.” She set the bags on her desk.

“If I wasn’t so desperate to get to that osso bucco, I’d throw the gauntlet down.” Brandon began poking through the bags. “Good God, there’s enough food here for a small African nation.” He pulled out a foil-wrapped loaf of bread and two enormous salads in plastic takeaway trays.

“Ha!” Jackie removed two Styrofoam containers. “I got the veal.” She then pulled a bottle from the bag. “And, thank you, Marilyn Morris, a bottle of Amarone wine. It is
the
wine with osso bucco, you know.”

Brandon took the bottle from Jackie and examined the label. He’d never had this particular type of Italian wine before. He’d need to study to keep up with Jackie. “Marilyn takes good care of you. I like that. You need someone to do that.” He handed it back to Jackie.

“I don’t need taking care of.” Jackie bristled as she grabbed the bottle.

Brandon wrapped his hands around hers. “Anyone who’s been within a hundred feet of you for ten minutes is keenly aware that you do not need taking care of. That doesn’t mean it isn’t nice to experience it once in a while. We all need support and help from time to time. That’s completely natural.”

She pulled her hand from his and began to rummage through her desk drawer. She pulled out a corkscrew and expertly extracted the cork. After getting their food set up on opposite sides of the desk, Jackie tucked in to her meal in silence. The chill coming from her sent a shiver through him.

“Did I say something wrong?” Brandon asked over his untouched meal.

“No. I’m fine. If you’re through with the Kovels, maybe you can start on the next box. It’s marked Piantella.” She continued to eat and surf through her e-mails at the same time and barely glanced in his direction when she spoke.

Brandon wasn’t going to let her get away with shutting down. He’d obviously touched a nerve—an incredibly raw nerve. Poking at it wouldn’t help. He’d hit the next box and let her relax before trying to get her to open up again. He then remembered that trying to get Jackie North to open up to him shouldn’t even be on his agenda.

Every day, he handled millions of dollars as a stockbroker for his clients. One wrong trade could spell disaster. Typically, walking the edge of a razor like that got his adrenaline going. With this case, though, trying to please Ashe while not alienating Jackie twisted his guts in knots. Resigned to the situation, he opened the Piantella box and began sifting through the reams of statements.

“Brandon, are you going to eat that cannoli?” Jackie had his dessert in a pincer grip and was inching it across the table toward her. Maybe she just needed her sweet tooth soothed. She had confessed to him that sugar was her not so secret obsession.

“No, please, be my guest.” He waved the decadent treat away even though he would have loved a bite. “Jackie, do you have a calendar from two years ago?”

Caught in midbite, she looked up him, startled. She stuffed the rest of the cannoli in her mouth and swallowed hard. “Online, I’m sure. What day?” She tapped away at her keyboard.

Brandon ran his finger down the column of dates showing trades at La Borsa Valori Italiana, the Italian stock exchange located in Rome. “March 24th.”

Jackie clicked through a few screens. “That was a Saturday. Why?”

“That’s the date on these trades listed as being made at La Borsa Valori. No stock exchange trades on a Saturday. Something’s wrong with these statements. Maybe the trades were made and the statement is wrong. You’re going to need to find the original trade records for these and trace exactly when the sales were made.”

Jackie sighed and slumped down in her chair. “Easier said than done. For an establishment trading in millions of dollars, the record keeping was notoriously skimpy. I’d be embarrassed to run my business like Ashe was running the financial advising arm of his firm. I’ve looked for and even asked Ashe where the records are, and there’s just nothing.”

Brandon had seen the books and knew Jackie was right. Ashe had taken the approach that if it wasn’t documented, no one could prove that it didn’t happen the way he said it did. Once a snake, always a snake.

“Brandon, what are you going to say when I examine you on the witness stand about this?”

Brandon shrugged. “The same thing I just told you. The statements are incorrect. It doesn’t mean the trade wasn’t made correctly. It shows Ashe was sloppy, but it doesn’t prove he was defrauding anyone. Jackie, you need to follow the money. Tomorrow’s production is going to be huge for you. You’re going to have to think like a crook. How would you hide money?”

“That’s the twenty-million-dollar question in this case, especially since I think like a lawyer, not a crook.” She chewed on her thumb. “Maybe you’ll be able to help. You’re coming over, right? That was our original agreement. I can text you when the documents arrive. Hopefully, they’ll be electronic.”

Brandon ran his hands through his hair. He wanted to see her, of course, but being around her brought his repulsion over his affiliation with Ashe too close to the surface. She fought with passion for the truth. He hid from his past. How could she respect him when she found out? And he knew she would.

“Yeah, that was our agreement.” His cell rang. He checked the number. It was Ashe. “I better take this.” He walked out into the hall and closed Jackie’s office door behind him.

“Brandon Marshfield.” He kept his voice steady.

“Where the hell are you? You were supposed to come over to Dad’s condo to discuss the case. I talked to Stone, and he said you kicked that bitch’s ass. We’re dying to hear the details. Get over here.”

Chapter Nine

Revved up from the encounter with Brandon and the late hours in the office, Jackie spent most of the night tossing and turning in bed. By the time she fell asleep and reentered her recurring dream of flying, naked but invisible, the alarm clock went off. Jackie dragged herself to the kitchen, where she doubled her usual two cups of coffee, hoping for a little buzz to get through the day.

Unfortunately, the third cup of extradark black coffee didn’t alleviate the fuzzy tingling in her brain. With her caffeine fix on board, Jackie retraced her path back to her bedroom. She stretched up to turn on the TV, which was on an upper shelf of her bookcase. A spasm shot through her lower back, and a groan escaped. She cursed herself for losing the remote; she never used to lose anything.

And she never had a sore back when she got in a daily five-mile run. Exercise faded into a distant memory. She sighed. She must be officially old. No, wait. Not just old. Old and single. All she needed was a half-dozen cats to complete the picture. Was Brandon a cat lover? She pictured him with three orange tabbies circling around his bare ankles. Her thoughts wandered north to his tanned and rock-hard legs with those sculpted quads. She closed her eyes and let her imagination continue farther north…

She shuddered, snapped open her eyes, and ordered herself to stop. There was too much business to take care of today to get lost in a fantasy.

The television weatherman called for another humid and hazy day in downtown Baltimore. She’d be running all over town today. First, there was the meeting with her friend who was now with the civil division of the US Attorney’s office. They had to finalize a presentation for the Baltimore Bar Association next month. She reminded herself not to volunteer as a speaker in the next hundred years. What an unproductive pain in the ass, but she knew her friend appreciated it.

After that, she’d have to hustle across downtown to the Maryland Circuit Court for a small matter she was handling for another friend. Why were her friends so needy right now? The court appearance meant a suit was required and hose if she wore a skirt. Unfortunately Maryland’s court rules lagged half a century behind modern fashion.