Blackjack and Moonlight: A Contemporary Romance Page 3
Elise paused to take a cleansing breath. Remember, she silently recited from a long-ago yoga class, when you can control your breathing you can control everything. Except a certain judge, perhaps, but breathing was a start. Plus, she was too experienced to let other lawyers and judges see how flustered she might be. Of course now everyone in court would look at her and think, there goes the woman Blackjack…
Then she had it—a way to make Blackjack McIntyre’s formidable reputation work to her advantage.
As soon as she got to the comforting clutter of her office, she called Bart. After he answered, she said, “Hey, I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to hang around to talk to you after the hearing.”
“Ah, Ms. Carroll, the judge’s pet.” His voice held a smirk.
Elise had rehearsed this part in the elevator. “Yup, that’s me. I appear to be the flavor of the month, don’t I?” she said with a sunny voice.
“More like the joke of the day.” Bart’s attempt to be snide, clearly.
“You think so?”
“Hell, by now the entire courthouse’s laughing about you,” he crowed.
“Hey, yeah, I guess so.” Elise drew the words out as though this was a happy accident she just now appreciated.
That smile in her voice seemed to stop him. “Wait—” he sputtered.
Time to take the offensive. “In fact, I think this may not be a bad thing. Lord knows I didn’t ask for Judge McIntyre to notice me, let alone make an announcement of that sort. Still, I figure it’s got one obvious benefit.”
Bart hesitated, as though he was scared to hear the answer yet even more terrified not to know. “What’s that?”
“Our little case has a much higher profile now. It’s going to get special attention, don’t you think?”
“Uh…” The syllable told Elise that Bart knew his case was a loser.
As Elise paused to let his panic build, she imagined she could hear him slump in his chair. Time to go for the kill shot. “After all, the next judge to get the case is going to know all about me—and Blackjack McIntyre. I worry that our little case is going to get a lot of attention. Maybe—” She paused. “Maybe the new judge isn’t going to want to upset me if he—or she—thinks that would get back to their sexy new judge,” she said slowly, as if she was still working out all the ramifications.
She stopped for a couple of beats. Bart stayed silent, except for some unhealthily heavy breathing. She didn’t remember him sounding like that in law school. He should exercise more.
“Of course, that’s hardly fair to either of our clients. So I was thinking this might be a good time to talk about settlement, Bart. What do you say?” Elise swiveled her chair back and forth while she waited for him to respond.
“What’s the offer?” he asked weakly.
“The suit and countersuit are both dropped, and my client makes a small payment to defray Mr. Everton’s legal fees.”
“How much?”
The client had authorized her to go higher, but she wanted to lowball Mather. “Ten thousand.” That should cover the legal fees with a bit left over to sweeten the deal.
“I’ll ask my client.” Mather sounded defeated.
Elise tried to sound mildly regretful. “Okay, Bart. I’m going to miss all that attention as Blackjack’s gal pal, but I’ve got to put my client’s interests ahead of my own. You know?”
“Right.” He really should have a doctor listen to that chest.
“Bye, Bart.” After they’d hung up she felt buoyed by how easy it had been. Her lungs filled with a powerful mix of oxygen and competence. A strange way to get a good outcome. Still, it was an ill wind and all that.
Elise stood, ignoring her overflowing in-tray and the files lined up on the credenza. She caught sight of Kim.
“Hey, how’d it go?” Kim asked, bringing Elise a cup of coffee. “What’s he like?”
Elise didn’t want to talk about Blackjack, not yet. “Never mind about that. Did you get me a name at the bank?”
“It’s on your desk.”
Elise felt her shoulders relax. Fixing Kim’s problem would be a better use of this post-hearing energy. “Great. I’ll call him right away.”
Kim hugged herself. “Thank you so much for doing this for us.”
“Just part of the job,” Elise waved away Kim’s thanks. “How’s Donny doing?”
“The physio says another two months, and the union say they’re keeping his job open, so by May…?” Kim’s face twisted with anxious hope.
“Let me see what I can get the bank to agree to, before we celebrate. Do you guys need more money, you know, to tide you over?”
Kim shook her head, “We can manage.”
Elise hesitated. “Have you made up a budget yet?”
“We’re going to do that tonight.”
“Good.” Elise was about to say more when the phone rang. She wasn’t close enough to read the caller ID readout. She turned back to Kim. “Would you get that?”
Kim picked up the line at her desk. “Ms. Carroll’s office.” She listened. “Yes, of course. Just a moment, please.” She smiled at Elise. “It’s Geoff. He sounded like he was laughing.”
Oh, hell. Geoff was the partner on the Everton case. He had to know already. He was friendly with at least three judges she could name. No way this twenty-four-carat nugget of gossip hadn’t made it to Geoff’s ears.
“Tell him I’ll be right down,” she called as she headed for his office.
Geoff wound up a phone call as soon as she walked in. His grin looked spectacularly white against his brown skin. “Ah, there you are. Quite the day in court, I gather.”
“You can say that again.” She took her seat and crossed her legs with as much serenity as she could fake, just as though she got hit on by federal judges every day of the week.
“What sort of voodoo did you use on Blackjack anyway? He’s like a Svengali with women. Usually they fall hard for him. My sources wanted me to tell them everything I know about you.”
Elise leaned forward. “How long have I been working with you?”
He had to think about that. “Five years?”
“Seven. The point is, you’ve known me pretty much every day of my professional life. Am I even remotely the type to attract a player like McIntyre?”
He frowned. “That’s one of those trick questions, right? Like ‘Have you stopped beating your wife?’”
“No. It’s a no-fault question. I know the answer. I’m not glamorous, not exotic, not particularly eye-catching. So I have no clue why Blackjack McIntyre said what he did. All I know is that I didn’t do anything to prompt it.”
“Well, with that hair, I think you’re certainly eye-catching, but never mind that. I heard what happened in open court. What went on in chambers?” He rested his elbows on his desk, grinning again.
“Good lord, the gossip got that specific?” Elise said. “The whole scene was insane. You don’t look at someone and think, that’s the one.”
“Cynic.”
“Yes, I am. And my clients are damned glad of that,” she retorted.
“So you say he’s not in love with you?”
“Of course he isn’t. He can’t be.” Elise wasn’t stupid—hers was not the face to inspire that sort of reaction. She had good legs. No way he could have seen them from the bench, though. “At most, you might think, Wow, that person’s really gorgeous.” Which Blackjack McIntyre undoubtedly was. And she wasn’t.
“Well, what’s your theory, then? Why’d he say it?” Geoff asked.
“Hell if I know.” Elise leaned back and focused on Geoff’s array of diplomas and credentials. “He’s the hottest thing in that courthouse, which may not be saying much, but he is. And I’m not in his league. Which—” She held a hand up at Geoff’s look, “—is fine with me. I don’t need the aggravation.”
“How did you leave it with him?”
“Courthouse gossip didn’t get that part, huh?”
Geoff laughed. “No.”
“You think that’s going to be enough to stop him?”
“Of course.” It had to be.
“El, his conviction rate as US Attorney was damn near perfect. He’s scored a judgeship at a crazy young age. They’re already talking about how long it’ll be before he’s appointed to the Third Circuit. Or running for the Senate. The guy’s golden. Basically, he doesn’t lose. Hell, he got the nickname Blackjack because he paid for law school by winning in Atlantic City.”
“He counted cards?”
Geoff frowned at her. “It’s not illegal. Casinos just kick you out if you’re too good.” He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure Donald Trump is happy McIntyre doesn’t visit the Taj anymore. Rumor is, now they play golf together.”
Elise stared out the window. She wasn’t going to listen to this. No meant no. Just like that, Jack McIntyre hijacked her imagination. She could see him—dark suit, red tie and glowing smile—and tension twisted her gut. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to keep saying no. He really did look like a superhero. And he smelled absurdly good. How long could she resist the alchemy of Blackjack’s charm? “I’m screwed, aren’t I?”
“Well, he’s still a gentleman, from all I hear,” Geoff offered. “Of course, I suspect that just means he’ll find a way to be very, very persuasive.”
Ten years convincing defendants to confess and juries to convict. She pictured Blackjack’s eyes, his lips, his fingers, and she shuddered. “Hell.”
“Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?”
It took Elise a moment to get the joke. “Ah, yes, the case. Well, I think I may get the other side to settle, thanks to that man. I called Bart and mentioned how popular I’m going to be with virtually every judge in the courthouse, so perhaps his client would like to settle. I seriously lowballed him and he didn’t even squeak.”
“You think he’ll get his client to agree?”
“Yup. There’s no upside in it for him, He’s such a snake he’ll dump his client rather than continue with a case that can’t be won.”
“Nice. Go tell the client.”
Elise rose. She focused on savoring the client’s pleasure when she relayed her news. Best of all, they were in Cleveland, and surely the gossip about her and Blackjack McIntyre hadn’t made it that far. Yet.
“Oh, and Elise?” Geoff’s face had gone all “stoic partner.”
She paused at the doorway. “Mmm-hmm?”
“The partners’ retreat is in July.”
“So?”
“Well, I don’t need to tell you that the firm’s official position on this morning’s events is akin to ‘hear no evil,’ do I?” He looked stern in a way Elise had never seen before.
The image of the head partners as three willfully ignorant chimps might be amusing, but Elise knew exactly what Geoff meant. Don’t embarrass the firm by telling a sitting judge to take a flying leap. Her stomach filled with lead. “No, you don’t.”
“Do with Jack McIntyre what you will. Just make sure you’re done with him one way or the other by July. Because you want the partners to talk about what a great partner you’ll make, not how you keep showing up in the gossip columns.”
Elise nodded.
She had to get rid of Blackjack McIntyre before he ruined her career.
Chapter Three
Elise could have kissed the feet of whoever invented caller ID—those delightful LCD letters that warned her if it was safe to pick up the phone.
After the Everton hearing, she failed just once to check who was calling. When Brenda—that man’s secretary—said, “Hold for Judge McIntyre, please,” Elise hung up as though the phone had fangs. The way she figured it, she had no cases before him and never would, so there was no reason for them to speak.
She sat, rigid, staring at the black plastic desk phone. He called back, of course, but she recognized the number and let Kim answer it. “I’m not in,” she called as the phone rang through to Kim’s desk. After Kim took a message, Elise went out to explain.
“You’ve heard about court this morning? Yeah, well, I’m not taking calls from Judge McIntyre. Just take a message or let it go to voice mail.”
The first voice mail, left Tuesday morning, was businesslike. “Ms. Carroll, this is Jack McIntyre. When you get a chance, perhaps we can continue our discussion from yesterday.” His voice had a resonant power, its effect amplified by the intimacy of his speaking just to her. At the end of his message, Elise noticed her fingers clenched around the arm of her chair. They looked alien, as though they were a sign of someone else’s panic.
The one on Wednesday got a bit more personal. “You may be interested to know that you’re quite well respected among the judges. I’ve been congratulated more than once on my good taste. There were more specific comments, of course. You really should call to hear them.” Elise was pleased to see that she’d evolved—the only sign of her stress was the carcass of a pen that died in her grip. It was one of the firm’s cheap ballpoints, bought in bulk.
Blackjack’s message on Thursday was even more seductive. “How about a deal? We go to dinner, just once. At the end of the meal, you can tell me to go away and I will. That’s fair, right?” No way was Elise falling for that trick. Not when he could employ all his smoldering Blackjack weaponry on her with only a table between them. Good lord, he’d be close enough to touch. Close enough to smell. She shuddered at the thought.
On Friday, Blackjack threw down the gauntlet. “I admire your consistency. You’re an excellent lawyer. Spend some time with me and use those legal skills to prove there’s nothing between us.” She could tell he’d been laughing at her when he left that one. Laughter added a taste of liqueur to his rich chocolate voice and made her head spin. Best not to drive after listening to his messages.
Last thing on Friday, Bart Mather called to say his client was willing to settle for $13,500, which thrilled her client and almost neutralized the nightmare quality of Monday’s court appearance.
Still, Blackjack’s threat—or had it been a promise?—about not giving up couldn’t be banished from its spot at the front of her brain.
On Saturday, Elise went into the office to draw up the settlement papers for Everton. She half expected that man to call from a number she wouldn’t recognize, forcing her to pick up. As a result, a straightforward drafting job took longer than usual, what with her looking at the phone every few minutes, half afraid, half hoping it would ring. Revolting man, that he could reduce her to such teenage behavior.
Back at home, she checked the phone for messages even before she’d hung up her coat. Nothing. How absurd to feel a hollow pang of disappointment. She was like those sentry guards who longed for an invader just to make all the DEFCON nonsense worthwhile.
When her home phone stubbornly didn’t ring on Sunday either, and the clock ticked off every hour with no deliveries of flowers or gifts, Elise realized she was officially over the edge. She’d been so busy guessing what his next move would be she’d missed that this had been his next move. Psychologically astute, her judge. Without a word, he’d permeated her Sunday routine. Insidious man.
She needed reinforcements. She called Christine, her best friend at the firm, and told her to come over for The Good Wife.
When they were settled on the couch with beers and the TV muted as crazy teams screamed at each other on The Amazing Race, Elise got to the point.
“You’ve got to back me up with this Blackjack nonsense. I need someone on my side.”
“You didn’t like my advice on Monday.”
Elise scowled. “That’s because you told me to date him, not how to get rid of him.”
“You’re not seeing a
nyone else and I think the two of you might be good for each other.”
“Tell me again how dating a delusional judge helps me?”
Christine laughed. “That’s ‘Philly’s Newest—and Sexiest’ delusional judge, don’t forget.”
Elise glanced at the magazine on her coffee table. Why hadn’t she thrown it in the recycling bin yet?
Christine went on, “Well, it would be something to tell your mother.”
“Don’t remind me. I try to tell my mother as little as possible, but she calls Kim regularly for updates.”
Christine made a show of inspecting her fingernails. “She’s called me.”
“No effing way. When?”
“Uh, the most recent call was, I don’t know, last month? No, wait, it was January. She called to wish me a happy New Year. And to talk about your love life.”
Elise stared at her cozy living room, only slightly tidier than her office. She loved her house, bought with her own money, decorated to her taste. She loved her solitude. Sure, hooking up with a guy for a few months satisfied her physically. For her, though, true happiness was this quiet house and the time alone to enjoy it.
Now, her home already felt invaded by Blackjack McIntyre, by his energy and intelligence, his schemes and intentions. And that was without his setting foot in the place. Adding her mother’s voice echoing around the room, wanting to know if Elise was seeing anyone, was too much to bear.
“This isn’t fair. I don’t apologize for not being interested in romance.”
“You like men,” Christine pointed out.
Elise eyed the cover of Philadelphia Magazine with distaste. “I like my relationships short and sexy. The men are just a means to an end.”
Christine laughed. “That’s what vibrators are for.”
“Maybe you think it’s thrilling to have a judge start drooling in desire, but it’s like being offered a buffet of all the foods I’m allergic to. He’s going to want to talk about feelings. I haven’t done that with a guy since high school and I’ve no desire to try it again.”