Sleeping With the Enemy (7 page)

Nothing ever was.
Jay hesitated
a minute. He knew he could trust Don to be discreet and Bridgett had to keep his confidences—she was his lawyer. But that didn’t mean he wanted his dirty laundry aired in front of either of them. “Hank can handle that right now, Linc. I need you to gather some data for me.”

“If it’s about Charlotte’s baby daddy, I’m still waiting on some intel from our sources in Europe,” Linc said.

Jay
pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d forgotten all about his sister in the past thirty minutes, which just demonstrated how screwed up his life was. “No, Linc, I need you to redirect your efforts to something else right now. The other thing can wait.”

“Does that mean she’s not as far along as we thought?” Linc interrupted him. “Because if we know the conception date, it’ll be easier to rule
some guys out.”

Linc made it sound as if his sister had slept with half of Europe’s male population, something Jay definitely didn’t want to think about. And no way was he asking his sister how far along she was. Not when choosing a breakfast cereal
could reduce her to tears these days. “I haven’t got an answer to that one, Linc, but we need to move on. I need you to cull through the HR files
from McManus Industries and pull out all the sexual harassment complaints. Particularly the ones involving me.”

For the first time in Jay’s memory, Linc was silent on the other end of the phone.

“Have them printed and ready for Ms. Janik by the time we arrive back in town this afternoon.”

“All of them, boss? Even the ones you settled?”

“All of them.”

Linc had the good sense
not to argue. “Sure thing, boss.”

Bridgett let out an exasperated sigh as Jay ended the call. “Am I going to need a forklift?”

Jay glanced over his shoulder at her. Despite her expensive raincoat, she looked damp and rumpled. And pissed off. Well, she could just join the damn crowd because Jay was none too happy to have to open this can of worms again. The second part of his search would
have to take place in Jay’s personal files. He didn’t dare share that information with anyone. But if his theory was correct, that was where he’d find who was behind this case.

“Your pilot says this weather system is hugging the coast and the tower won’t let him take off for another hour or so,” Don said. “There’s a diner next to the airfield. Maybe we should grab something and strategize
what our next move is going to be. I for one would like to find Jennifer Knowles.”

Jay nodded his agreement just as his stomach growled. He wanted to get back to Baltimore as quickly as possible, but it wouldn’t be fair to make Bridgett endure another bumpy flight. Not when she looked like she wanted to lop his head off with a stick. Hopefully, they sold something stronger than coffee at the
diner. They both were going to need it.

•   •   •

Bridgett glanced at herself in the tiny mirror of the diner’s ladies’ room. She looked a lot like she felt: wrung
out. The roller-coaster plane ride followed by the even more turbulent meeting had done a number on her. She should have known there was more to this story. Despite Alesha Warren blindsiding her with her accusations about Jay,
Bridgett couldn’t say she was surprised. And that disappointed her. Especially since she’d once loved the man.

Soaping up her hands, she ran them under the hot water to warm herself up. Clearly this wasn’t going to be an open-and-shut case, no matter what Jay and Hank Osbourne said. She needed to get a media specialist on board as soon as possible before things really got out of control. After
drying her hands, she shot a text off to Stuart suggesting he begin interviewing potential candidates this afternoon. With nothing left to keep her in the bathroom, she headed back out to break bread with the Antichrist.

She didn’t get very far. Jay was leaning a broad shoulder against the wall next to the men’s room. He looked sexy and almost touchable with his hair all tousled from the wind
and the rain. His suit jacket was missing and he’d rolled up his sleeves again to reveal his long, tanned hands. Hands that she knew were very capable of bringing a woman immense pleasure. The sight of him warmed her more quickly than the hot water from the tap had. She needed to get out of the close, dark confines of the hallway and back to their table, where Don would be the perfect buffer.

“Wow, is there a line for the men’s room? That has to be a first.”

He gave her a look as though he didn’t quite get the joke, but he didn’t move a muscle away from the wall.

Bridgett sighed, motioning with her hands for him to get out of the way. “You’re quite the fire hazard here, Jay. Would you mind letting me pass?”

“We need to talk.”

“We certainly do, but I’d rather do this
sitting down, preferably with a nice hot cup of tea in front of me.”

“Privately.”

Annoyance made her snap at him. “Out of earshot of Don, you mean? I already told you that any conversations we have
from here on out are to be limited to the ongoing case. Anything else is inappropriate.”

She stepped forward to slide past him but he moved more quickly, his big body backing her into the
ladies’ room.

“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped at him again.

“I’m invoking attorney-client privilege.” His mouth turned up on one side as though he thought his quip was very amusing.

“I already told you there won’t be any
privileges
between you and me, Jay. Especially not in the ladies’ room, where someone could walk in at any moment.”

He chuckled as he closed the door
and turned the lock. “I like the way you think, Bridgett, but unfortunately we really need to talk about the case. And since there are only three other people who were foolish enough to venture out for lunch in this monsoon and all of them are male, I think we’ll get more privacy here than the hallway.”

Bridgett told herself that wasn’t disappointment swelling deep in her belly. Being ravaged
by Jay in the ladies’ room was the last thing she needed to be doing. The quicker they had their “private” conversation, the better. She considered locking herself in the stall and speaking with him through the metal divider, but that would be childish. So, she took a step farther into the corner of the room, leaning a hip against the porcelain sink protruding from the wall.

“If this is about
your string of sexual harassment complaints, save your breath,” she said. “Nothing you do anymore surprises me.”

His mouth grew hard and his eyes narrowed slightly. “None of those were legitimate.”

“That’s what they all say.”

Jay smiled then. It wasn’t a pretty one. “Women will do and say a lot of things to get ahead. I’m rich, good-looking, and I happen to appreciate what the opposite
sex has to offer. Unfortunately, a few of those women got a little too attached to my money. Or maybe it was my body; I’m not sure.”

It was all she could do not to roll her eyes at him. “It definitely wasn’t your ego.”

She’d baited him one too many times. He moved away
from the door, prowling toward her, stopping a scant few inches away from her. His body heat radiated off him, warming
her damp shoes and body.

“What’s the matter, Bridgett? Still can’t figure out what women see in me? How a woman might desire me? Love me? Or do you have to constantly remind me that you’re the one woman who did walk away from me?”

Tears stung the back of her eyes. That was the one detail he always got wrong. The walking away part. Jay was the one who’d left her all those years ago.

“Again with the ego,” she whispered, not trusting her voice as he stirred up memories of their painful past. She didn’t have faith in her eyes, either, keeping them focused on the shiny silk of his silver tie.

“Dammit, Bridgett,” he whispered. His breath fanned the top of her head before he cupped her face in his warm hands and lifted her chin. Her eyes had no choice but to stare into his and
what she saw briefly flickering within them made her breath catch at the back of her throat. “I don’t want to travel that road again.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want you.” His lips descended, hovering just over hers, making her body tremble with desire
. Damn him
.

“No attorney-client privileges, remember?” She managed to force the words past her lips. As much as her body was screaming
in protest, Bridgett was glad that her brain was still in control.

“Hmm,” he murmured. His eyes studied her face as if she held the secrets to the universe while his finger traced the line between her ear and her shoulder. “As much as I’d like to dissuade you of that dictate, we have something more important to discuss.”

Again the relief that coursed through her didn’t feel too much like
a reprieve. “Can we get to it? I’m sure my tea is getting cold.”

His steely blue eyes went soft, as did his mouth. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m afraid that whoever is behind all this has the potential to hurt you, too.”

Bridgett was having trouble concentrating when his finger was caressing her neck. His statement confused her. “I don’t understand.”

“Whoever is doing
this has access to my most private information.”

Nothing was making sense. Bridgett stared at him as she shrugged her shoulders in bewilderment.

Jay gave her a little shake. His voice was raspy when he spoke. “Bridgett, they’ll know about us. And they’ll know about Italy. And our baby.”

Bridgett jerked forward at his words, but Jay caught her body against his much larger one. He wrapped his arms around her and all he wanted to do was hold her next to him so that the ugly truth of his life wouldn’t touch her. But Bridgett being Bridgett, that wasn’t going to happen. She pushed away from him angrily. Her cool demeanor was long gone as she glared at him with flushed
skin and silver eyes that were as dark and damp as the rain clouds outside.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

This was going to be the tricky part. He didn’t want to explain himself to her. Hell, he shouldn’t have to. Jay didn’t explain himself to anyone. Ever. Lloyd Davis may have left him with a meager legacy but his stepfather’s practice of never giving his enemies anything
to hang him by was one business tactic Jay practiced day in and day out. That and knowing as much about his enemies as he possibly could, in case he needed that information to use against them at a later date. Unfortunately, someone else had turned the tables on Jay.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to say anything to Bridgett. Judging by the stormy look on her face, she was using her brilliant
mind to work it all out for herself. “Is this some J. Edgar Hoover thing? Are you keeping files on people? On
me
?”

Jay didn’t bother refuting her. He wasn’t the type of man who felt guilty about his business tactics. It was called survival of the fittest. The millions in his bank account could attest to the success of his philosophy, not to mention his tactics.

When he didn’t answer right
away, Bridgett’s face crumpled. Jay refused to acknowledge whatever that feeling might be gnawing in his belly. At least he’d warned her of the possibility that she might be dragged through the muck in this rather than let her find out the hard way.

She flung herself at him, her fists pummeling his chest. “You son of a bitch,” she cried. “What were you planning to do? Blackmail
me
?” One of
her fists made contact with his jaw, but her punch lacked the power of anything his sparring partners had ever hit him with. In an effort to calm her down, Jay captured her hands in his own.

“Stop it!” Jay yanked her hands over her head, bringing her body flush with his. Instead of sinking into him as she had the past few days, she recoiled visibly, her body stiff in his arms. “It was a long
time ago,” he said. “I hated you, remember?” Hell, he’d hated everybody back then. His stepfather. His mother. But especially Bridgett, for not believing in him. For not loving him enough.

Bridgett’s mouth had stopped trembling. “Not as much as I hate you right now.”

Her words cracked through the air and Jay sucked in a breath.

“Let me go,” she demanded.

Jay hesitated briefly and
she tugged at her hands before he finally released his grip. Bridgett took a step back, smoothing down her skirt while she dragged in a ragged breath. “It doesn’t matter now anyway. It’s not like the information can harm anyone any longer. I no longer work for
Catholic Charities. My parents . . . my parents will be disappointed that I never told them.” She swiped at a stray tear that trickled
down her cheek. “But in the end, it all worked out for the best.” Bridgett jerked up her chin, practically daring him to refute her.

The implication of her words sank in and Jay refused to flinch. He’d realized quickly how little he’d meant to her. He refused to let it bother him now. “Yes, it definitely did,” he said smoothly. “But, still, I’d prefer that information be kept private.”

“Well, you should have thought of that years ago!” She pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Believe me, I’m not thrilled about being linked to you in some tabloid headline. Although, it’s a sure way to get me off the case.”

Her phone buzzed inside her purse.

“Perfect timing. It’s Stuart.” Her fingers trembled as she pulled the phone out. “This ought to be a fun conversation.”

Jay
wrapped his fingers around the hand holding the phone, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Don’t.”

She arched an eyebrow at him.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make sure this doesn’t come out.”

Bridgett hesitated a moment, the phone still vibrating between their hands. “Jay,” she said softly. “It’s better for everyone if we keep our distance.”

Jay knew she was right. But he’d made worse
decisions in his career and still come out on top. He couldn’t let her go. Not yet. “Twenty-four hours. Give me the same courtesy you gave Alesha Warren.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and he figured that she probably liked the conniving lawyer for the Sparks cheerleader better than him right now, but he could deal with that. Her phone stopped ringing and Jay reluctantly pulled his hand away.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll work this out. Trus—”

Bridgett’s hand shot up to shush him. “Whatever you do, don’t ask me to trust you. Ever.”

Well, if that wasn’t the kettle calling the pot black.
Good to know they shared the same sentiment. Still, her words
pissed him off. “I’m paying you and your firm enough money to defend my team in this case. Last time I checked, a lawyer didn’t
always have to trust her client to earn her pay.”

Bridgett had the good grace not to defend her profession. “Then let’s get to that part, shall we?” She eyed him and then the door. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a minute alone in here to freshen up.”

He did mind. Jay minded a lot. Anger and anxiety swelled in his gut when he got next to this woman, but he still hated to let her out of his
sight. The image of her walking away from him years ago still speared him in his chest and he loathed that feeling. He swore he’d never be vulnerable to her again. And yet, he was annoyed at himself for having upset her so a few minutes ago. The vortex of emotions flying around in his head was giving him a headache.

“Fine.” His hand squeezed the back of his neck. “We’ll eat and then head back
to Baltimore.”

•   •   •

“I’m sorry, Mr. McManus, but it doesn’t look like we’re going to get out of here tonight,” Jay’s pilot told them when they’d returned to the small airport two hours later. “The National Weather Service has gone ahead and declared this one a superstorm. It was supposed to make landfall in South Carolina. Instead, it turned north and has been hugging the coastline,
picking up strength in the warm waters along shore as it moves. Things are going to be dicey here for the next several hours.”

Jay swore as he pulled out his phone. Don had dropped them off and then taken off to follow a lead on Jennifer Knowles. Both he and Jay believed the former Sparks cheerleader was being used as the front for this lawsuit, but Bridgett still hadn’t completely bought
into their theory. To be honest, she was having trouble thinking clearly about anything today. All she wanted was to be back in Baltimore—no, make that Boston—sitting by the fire and sipping a glass of wine.

“Don is on the other side of the bridge already,” Jay said.
“They’re closing it to traffic in ten minutes and he doesn’t think he’ll get through the gridlock to get back before then. The
state police are clearing all the roads.”

A lick of panic raced up Bridgett’s spine. “So you’re saying that we can’t even drive back?”

Jay shook his head just as a gust of wind shook the metal hangar, sliding several of the smaller planes that weren’t tied down. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her arm, pulling her in next to him. “Obviously, we can’t stay here.” He yelled
toward the pilot, who was furiously helping to tie down the planes. “Ron! We’re going to find a place to hole up for the night.”

“I’m staying here with the plane, Mr. McManus,” Ron said.

“It’s only a plane, Ron. No need to be a hero.”

Ron grinned at Jay. “You forget I flew planes on an aircraft carrier. This”—he gestured toward the hangar’s ceiling, which was currently being pelted
by the heavy rain—“is nothing.”

With a shake of his head, Jay mumbled something about the Navy as he ushered Bridgett into the office located at the front of the hanger. A woman was pulling on her jacket when they stepped inside.

“We’re closed for the day,” she started to say, but then her eyes took in Jay and her face softened. Bridgett worked not to roll her eyes at the obvious adoration
that took over the other woman’s face. “Can I help you?”

Jay flashed his rakish grin at the woman. “It seems we’re stranded here for the night. Is there a rental car office nearby?”

“There is, but they closed about an hour ago. As soon as the weather service upgraded the storm.”

Bridgett swayed a little on her heels, but Jay’s hand on her arm kept her upright. She tried to find the
positives in the situation: At least they were safe from the driving rain. Glancing over at Jay, she worked to draw some steadiness of her own from his cool demeanor.

“What about a taxi?” he asked. “We need to get to a hotel.”

The woman glanced between Bridgett and Jay, a chagrined
look on her face. “The only motel we have on this part of the beach is the Super Eight down the road. Everything
else is on the other side of the bridge.”

“Is it on your way?” Jay asked.

With a resigned sigh, the woman nodded to Jay. “It’s not much out of the way.” She glanced at Bridgett. “It’s not the Ritz, mind you.”

“As long as it’s warm and dry, we’ll be fine,” Jay reassured her.

He and Bridgett followed the woman out to her car as darkness settled over the area nearly four hours early.
The motel was two miles down the road, but it took almost twenty minutes to navigate through the torrential rain. Its parking lot was packed and worry seeped into Bridgett’s damp bones that they might not find a room.

Holly—the woman had introduced herself to Jay during the drive over, highlighting the fact that she was divorced—let them out at the front door of the motel’s lobby; if it could
be called a lobby. The smell of burned coffee assaulted Bridgett’s nostrils as they walked into a narrow room that boasted two worn chairs, a metal rack featuring brochures of local attractions, and a reception desk. The Weather Channel blared over a television situated on the Formica desk. Bridgett caught a glimpse of the radar image on the screen.

“Wow,” she said. “It’s headed right for
us.”

Jay acknowledged her with a grunt as he tapped his finger on the bell. An Indian woman dressed in a richly colored sari emerged from the back room. “Oh,” she said, her bangles jingling as she clapped her hands together. “I didn’t hear you come in. This weather, it’s so crazy. But you are here and you are wet.” She handed each one of them a small towel. “Can I get you some coffee?”

Bridgett’s stomach rolled at the thought. “No coffee, thank you,” Jay said to the woman.

“Then what can I do for you?” she asked innocently, as if there might some other reason the two of them were standing in the lobby soaking wet.

“We need a room for the night.” Jay reached into his pocket, presumably for his wallet.

“Rooms,” Bridgett added. He shot her an annoyed look.

The woman
in the sari made some sort of tsking sound. “Are you a Super Eight Club member?”

Jay plunked his platinum card onto the counter. “No, but this should do the trick.”

The woman frowned. “I have to save my last room for a club member.”

“You only have one room left?” Bridgett nearly cried. As much as she wanted to get away from Jay, fate kept throwing them together.

“Yes.” The woman
nodded.

“Surely you can make an exception,” Jay asked. “We’re stranded here.”

The woman behind the desk contemplated him before shaking her head slowly. “No, it is company policy, sir.”

Bridgett glanced around the room as Jay glared at the desk clerk. “Seriously?” Jay’s voice shook the walls as soundly as the wind howling outdoors.

Spying what she was looking for, Bridgett pulled
a membership form from the brochures in the rack and slapped it down on the counter. She retrieved her Montblanc from her bag and began filling out the paperwork. When she was finished, she tore off the temporary card and handed it to the woman. “I’ll take that room, please.”

Jay looked at Bridgett with a mix of surprise and admiration as the desk clerk clapped her hands again. “This is perfect.
Welcome to the Super Eight Club. You can now have the room.” She reached for Jay’s credit card. “But your points won’t accrue this visit because technically, you aren’t in the system yet.”

Bridgett tuned the woman out as she explained, in great detail, the terms of the club. The only detail floating around in Bridgett’s brain was that she was about to share a room with the Antichrist. The
lights flickered briefly and Bridgett’s thoughts took a whole new twist.

The desk clerk handed Jay the keys. “If the power does go out,” she was saying, “my son, Jagdish, he will bring you a candle.”

“You don’t have a generator?” Jay asked, his voice incredulous.

“Oh yes.” She nodded before waving her arms about the room. “For the office. We will stay up all night and keep you informed
in case of an emergency.” Funny, but Bridgett didn’t find the desk clerk’s pleasant nature all that reassuring.

They had to go back out into the rain to find their room. Fortunately for them it was located just beyond the office on the motel’s bottom level. Jay opened the door and turned on the lights, only to have them flicker off and back on again. He slammed the door against the wind and
the rain as Bridgett walked over to one of the pair of double beds, shooting up a silent prayer of thanks that there were two.

“At least we won’t have the roof blow off over our heads,” she said, pulling off her soggy raincoat.

“No, but there’s a reason she didn’t rent this unit. It’s at the bottom of a hill. We could be ankle deep in water by morning.”

Bridgett glanced over at Jay,
who was drying his hair with the hand towel the desk clerk had given him. “Thanks for the reassurance. I hadn’t considered flooding.”

He chuckled. “You would have figured it out. Nice work on the club membership, by the way.” He rummaged through the sparse closet.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“An umbrella. Don took the one in the car with him.”