Blackjack and Moonlight: A Contemporary Romance

  The Blackjack Quartet: Book 3

  Blackjack & Moonlight

  A Contemporary Romance

  by

  Magdalen Braden

  Copyright © 2014 Magdalen Braden. All Rights Reserved.

  Published by Harmony Road Press

  www.harmonyroad.com

  Version created Sun May 25 14:46:25 2014

  ISBN-10: 1939573017

  ISBN-13: 978-1-939573-01-8

  Cover by Laura Morrigan

  http://www.lauramorrigan.com/

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to harmonyroad.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Harmony Road Press LLC is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this story are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The author welcomes comments:

  magdalen@magdalenbraden.com

  www.magdalenbraden.com

  Contents

  About This Story

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Author’s Acknowledgements

  About This Story

  Sex v. Love—a battle in the courtroom and the bedroom!

  Hotshot litigator Elise Carroll doesn’t have time for romance—she wants to make partner at her Philadelphia law firm. Despite her mother’s urging, Elise avoids settling down by keeping her relationships short and sexy. Her idea of a perfect date? Beer and pretzels at a Phillies game.

  When Jack “Blackjack” McIntyre—Philly’s super-sexy new judge—falls for Elise in court, she’s horrified. He “claims” to be in love with her—but that can’t possibly be true. He doesn’t give up trying to wine and dine her, though, so she devises a new scheme. Like all men, surely he’ll leave after a short and sexy fling.

  Only problem—Blackjack refuses to sleep with her! They compromise—she’ll go on his romantic dates if he’ll alternate them with her “just sex” dates. Their contract works surprisingly well—until Elise can no longer find the line between love and sex.

  Can Elise get her life back where she wants it—in a partner’s office? Or will Jack McIntyre use his superpowers to win their contest of wits?

  Chapter One

  “Hey, it’s my favorite client.” Elise Carroll grinned and dropped her briefcase so she could scoop DeeDee, her secretary’s four-year-old, into her arms.

  Kim looked up from a file open on her desk, her cheeks striped by dried tears. “Can you play with her for a couple minutes?”

  Uh-oh. More domestic drama—the last thing Kim needed. “Okay, but I cannot be late for that man.” Elise walked into her office. With the door open, Kim would be able to watch her daughter from across the hall.

  “What man, Auntie Leese?” DeeDee asked, her corn-silk hair glinting under the office lights.

  Elise pointed at the magazine on her desk. “Him.”

  DeeDee reached for Philadelphia Magazine, the cover showing a handsome man in a black robe. The headline read, “Philadelphia’s Newest—and Sexiest—Judge” and beneath that, in smaller letters, “Blackjack McIntyre moves from the US Attorney’s office to his own district court.”

  “Who’s dat?” DeeDee inspected the photo.

  Elise laughed. “Just the latest guy to think a black robe makes him right all the time.” She set DeeDee down on the carpeted floor. “You want to color, sweetheart?”

  “Sure!”

  Elise pulled some paper out of the recycling bin, and after checking what was printed on it, spread it out on the floor, blank sides up. She found the crayons she kept in her desk for DeeDee’s visits.

  Kim was still crying. Elise double-checked the time. She really wanted to be early for Blackjack McIntyre’s first motion hearing. It should take him five minutes to find for her client. If she annoyed him by being late, he’d yell at her for wasting his time, which would waste her time. She had a full day at work, so she just wanted to get in, get her win, and get out.

  Still, this was Kim. Elise couldn’t ignore her pain. “What’s going on?”

  Kim handed over the file. The top sheet was a formal notice of eviction pending foreclosure. Elise flipped quickly through the rest. The arrearages notices went back months. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Elise said quietly. She glanced over at DeeDee. Still coloring, thank God.

  “I thought we could get caught up, only it never seemed to happen.” Kim was younger than Elise by a few years, maybe twenty-seven. Today Kim looked exhausted and almost middle-aged. Her husband was out on disability, Kim’s salary only went so far, and now Elise learned they were underwater in their too-large home. Elise could empathize with the family’s string of bad luck, but to let it get this close to homelessness? Why hadn’t Kim spoken up sooner?

  “The firm will handle our bankruptcy, right?” Kim asked, mopping her eyes with a tissue.

  “That’s premature.” Elise was not going to let them file until she knew it was the only option. “Okay. Here’s what I need you to do. Call the bank and ask for the legal department. Give your maiden name and say you’re my secretary. If anyone asks, I’m the lawyer hired by the Skebitsky family regarding the need to refinance their mortgage. Get me the name of someone who can deal for the bank.”

  Kim looked up, confused. “The notices say it’s too late for that.”

  Elise shook her head. “It’s never too late. If I can negotiate a refi, you can afford that house. It’s the least disruptive solution. Just get me a name.” She checked her watch. “Oh, lord, look at the time. If I don’t leave immediately I’ll be late for him.” Elise pointed at Blackjack McIntyre, scowling at her from the cover of the magazine.

  Kim grinned. “I can’t wait to hear all about it. Details, I want all the details. Is he as good-looking as in his press conferences?”

  “Not you too.” Elise threw the magazine onto Kim’s desk. Jack McIntyre’s blue-black hair and chiseled jaw mocked her from the cover. Superman in a judicial robe. “I don’t plan to be there long enough to look at him. Five minutes, tops. He grants my motion, and I’m out of there.”

  “Oh, please. You know he’s seriously hunky. And the article says he’s not dating anyone at the moment.”

  “Well, based on the women he’s been seen with, I’m not his type. Good thing because I have no interest in dating him or anyone else right now. I want to focus on making partner. And you’d better focus on getting your daughter to day care.”

  Another check of the watch. Shit. There’d better be a cab downstairs or she’d be late.

  On her way
back into her office, Elise looked at the papers on the floor. DeeDee had drawn a figure in black. Either it was the Honorable Jack McIntyre or a vampire bat. Hard to tell.

  Despite running through the federal courthouse lobby in a very unlawyer-like manner, Elise was late for “Philly’s Newest—and Sexiest—Judge.” Why did the man have to land on that magazine cover? That was what had made her late—Kim’s fascination with his reputation as US Attorney, his prosecution record, his high-profile society girlfriends. Elise had never met him and already she was pissed off at him.

  She managed to insert herself in front of several lawyers waiting for the elevator. When the doors pinged open on the tenth floor, she was out and jogging around the corner, her shoes clattering on the marble floors.

  With relief, she saw Bart Mather waiting alone in the hallway.

  “Hi, Bart. Where’s your client?” she asked, slowing to a walk.

  Bart looked her over, then went back to his BlackBerry. “He just texted. He’s held up in the security line downstairs. I’ve let Tony know.”

  Some things were the same, then. Blackjack had inherited Tony, Judge Wilkins’s deputy, along with Courtroom 10A. Tony never let the parties into the courtroom until everyone was present. He’d have noticed that Elise was late. If she was lucky, he wouldn’t tell the judge.

  “Anyone from Keri-Age showing up?” Bart asked.

  “From Cleveland? Not for a motion Blackjack will grant in five minutes.”

  “He’ll rule for my client. As I’ve shown in the briefs, you’re overreaching in your discovery requests—”

  Elise held up a hand. “Save it for the judge.”

  Bart scowled. Not for the first time, Elise wondered why she’d ever gone out with him in law school. Oh, right. He had tickets for a Red Sox postseason game. Yet another shining example of her taste in men.

  “You know—” His nasal voice interrupted her thoughts. “That’s the precise look you gave me when we broke up.”

  Broke up? They went out once. “You make it sound like we were actually dating,” she protested.

  Bart smoothed the hair on the top of his head. He’d been sensitive about his receding hairline ten years ago. Now it was a baby comb-over. What was it with guys and their hair?

  “I thought we were dating,” he muttered. Then he straightened at the sight of his client, a dweeby guy in an ill-fitting sports jacket walking slowly down the hall. Bart couldn’t resist a final dig. “You know, Elise, someday you’ll be the one with your heart on the line. I hope the guy treats you the way you treated me.”

  She ignored him. “I’ll tell Tony we’re ready.”

  Waiting in the shadows between the door to the hallway and the bench—his bench in his courtroom—Jack McIntyre tugged at the knot of his tie, red, the only color that would show above the black robe. Appointing him to the judiciary was evidence that Washington politicians were insane—jurists were supposed to be older and more seasoned. Jack felt absurdly young, like the actor picked for his popularity rather than real acting experience.

  Fear he’d flub his part squeezed his windpipe. Despite a dozen years commanding witnesses and persuading juries in the federal courthouse, wearing a judicial robe made him feel as if he were twenty-five again and about to try his first solo case.

  To calm his nerves, he imagined himself owning the space. He visualized walking over to the bench, taking control of the entire courtroom.

  Not an inspiring set design, unfortunately. The courtrooms in Philadelphia were all wood tones. Brown ceiling, brown walls, brown furniture. It was like being trapped inside a walnut. The carpet wasn’t brown, but by the time your eyes got down there, your retinas no longer registered any other color. The courtrooms even smelled brown—the dull, lifeless smell of windowless rooms.

  Great. Now he needed to cheer himself up as well as relax.

  Think of something bright. There were some gold accents in the US seal on the wall above the bench. As a lawyer, Jack had often focused on the eagle clutching arrows in one claw and an olive branch in the other. As the judge he wouldn’t see that unless he swiveled around and looked up. Instead, he’d just have some lawyers to look at. With his luck, they’d be wearing head-to-toe brown and he’d start laughing.

  Maybe he’d picture them naked. That was supposed to relax public speakers.

  “All rise!” Tony delivered his only line with deep panache, audible even in the wings.

  Jack’s cue. Enter stage right: The Judge. He swallowed back his nerves.

  As he walked over to the massive dark leather chair, he kept his eyes on the empty wood benches at the back of the room, not looking directly at the three people standing before him. They were waiting for him to sit so they could sit. Despite a year of politicians and the vetting process and the FBI background check and judge’s school, Jack hadn’t gotten used to the idea that people had to stand for him. He was supposed to convey dignity and authority, not make people smirk. “Blackjack’s a judge now” shouldn’t be a punch line.

  Jack signaled to his law clerk. “Okay, Mr. Alexander, what have we got this morning?” he said quietly. The young man bounced out of his seat. Even standing, his head and shoulders were all Jack could see above the ledge at the front of the bench.

  The clerk leaned in to whisper. “Defendant’s motion to compel in Everton v. Keri-Age Inc., Judge. Wrongful termination suit with a breach-of-contract countersuit. With all due respect, plaintiff’s case is a dog. Judge Wilkins told the parties to settle it last fall. Instead, they’re still fighting over discovery.”

  Turning toward plaintiff’s counsel, Jack adopted a particularly impatient expression. “Mr. Mather, why are we here?” Bart Mather was a hack lawyer who took pretty much any case that walked through the door. Jack looked at his grubby complexion and rumpled suit. Mather’s scalp was shiny with sweat, making him look panicked. No surprise there—the guy always seemed jumpy, as though his license was about to be revoked.

  “Good morning, Your Honor,” Mather began. “My client, Mr. Everton, has sued his former employer for wrongful termination, and—”

  “I’m aware of that,” Jack interrupted. “Why are we here today? I believe Judge Wilkins made it clear last September that this case should settle promptly and go away. And yet, six months later, it’s barely budged. Tectonic plates move faster.”

  Jack sensed the lawyer for the defendant standing to address him. “Your Honor, if I may explain.” Her voice, starched to crispness, started to argue the motion. “Under Rule 26, defendant’s motion to compel must be granted. Mr. Mather has failed to cite any case law to show why his client doesn’t need to produce his tax returns for the years in question. One can only infer that the plaintiff knows that he’s suffered no financial damages since he changed jobs. As that is an essential component of his case in chief—”

  Jack turned toward the defense table. He was ready to interrupt her too, thus keeping his judicial impatience balanced. Only—something about the businesslike woman standing behind the table stopped his rebuke. He could hear her talking, but her argument faded into the background.

  Why was she so familiar? He’d never met her before. He didn’t even know her name, yet he couldn’t stop looking at her long enough to find it in the bench memo. She wasn’t particularly beautiful—although she had petal-smooth skin and hair like moonlight—so it couldn’t be her looks that stopped him. Somehow this woman set his nerves on fire. Jack could hear a rush, as though he was speeding through a long tunnel.

  She stopped speaking. He kept looking at her. The courtroom got very quiet.

  He had no explanation for the way his body was reacting. Chills crawled up his arms. His heart raced ahead of his sluggish thoughts. His hands tingled. His mouth felt coated in chalk dust, only he didn’t reach for the glass of water in front of him.

  Being in the same room with her felt as though they’d only parted minutes ago. Or maybe it had been years and he’d lost hope he would ever see her again. The sight of h
er answered a question in his heart. It made no sense, but Jack had been waiting for her.

  This lawyer—her eyes sparking with emotion, her creamy complexion and enchanting rose-pink mouth pressed tight shut, and that pale hair glinting under the courtroom lights—was his future.

  People started fidgeting. Jack ignored them.

  His brain struggled to make sense of what was happening. Nothing. The sense of finding a lost treasure had ripped away his ability to think straight and made his heart pound. What a wonderful feeling, thrilling and fizzy. Like iced champagne at a picnic, diamond-spray on a rocky shore, a roller coaster ride in the fog. Getting affirmed by the Supreme Court couldn’t possibly be more exciting.

  She shifted from one foot to the other, then smoothed her blue dress. She stole a glance at Mather. She seemed uncertain what was happening or maybe she wasn’t sure what she should be doing.

  “Your Honor?” she prompted.

  She looked intelligent…and, Jack noticed then, very annoyed.

  Suddenly, as if a camera had panned back to include the whole room, Jack could see that Jamie Alexander had turned to look up at him from the clerk’s seat, and even the court reporter was staring. Everyone was waiting for him to say something.

  He frowned. They looked away. He looked back at her.

  This wasn’t in the script. She was a lawyer in his courtroom. He could hardly talk to her in any personal way even after the hearing was over. It would be a gross violation of his role as the judge. Plus, it would also put her in an invidious position. Everyone would assume she’d approached him ex parte to get him to grant her motion.

  The irony was, Jack had been prepared to rule in her favor once he’d impressed on both sides this case needed to settle. He could order them into chambers for an impromptu settlement conference but what if he couldn’t get them to agree to a dollar amount? Mather was capable of stringing his client along just to jack up his fees and inflate the amount the defendant would pay to make the case go away. On the other hand, some defendants chose to fight rather than settle. It could take months or even years before Everton was off his docket and he’d be free to ask her out on a date. By then, another of her cases might be assigned to him, and another after that. He’d feel the same way about her every single time.