Blackjack and Moonlight: A Contemporary Romance

by Braden, Magdalen

  Jack couldn’t be an impartial jurist with this woman in the room. He tried to imagine seeing her only as a lawyer in his court, but already—before he even knew her name—he ached to learn if she felt the thrill he did. And no matter how the case ended, Jack couldn’t just ask her out for dinner the next night. It would look like she’d tried to influence the court.

  Crap.

  They hadn’t covered this in judge’s school.

  “Counsel, approach the bench.” He motioned to the court reporter. “This is off the record.”

  When Mather and—Jack finally looked at the papers to learn her name—Elise Carroll were huddled by the far side of the bench, Jack rolled his chair over to talk to them. He fixed his eyes on Mather, but his other senses focused on her body, just inches away. He could smell her scent. He wanted to know if her hair was as silky as it appeared. He couldn’t risk turning toward her. He’d grin at her in greeting, as though their connection went back years.

  “Counsel, I apologize. I have to recuse myself from hearing this case.”

  “That’s okay, Judge—” Mather stumbled.

  “Your Honor, why? You’ve only just gotten this case. Surely you would have known if you’d had a conflict with the parties,” Elise Carroll objected. She sounded like she wanted to choke him.

  With her irritation smoldering to his right, Jack kept his gaze on Mather, who was rocking his body back and forth, smiling in relief. Stupid rabbit.

  “I’ll notify the clerk’s office to reassign it to another judge. I will stress that although I can’t hear this case, the court to which it is assigned should rule on all pending motions promptly.”

  “Surely you can rule on the defense motion to compel before you hand the case off to another judge,” Elise Carroll said. Jack resisted the urge to see if her face was as pinched as her voice. “This case has stalled long enough.”

  Jack looked over the lawyers’ heads to the portraits of earlier judges lining the wall of the courtroom. You guys never had this problem, did you? “I’m sorry, Ms. Carroll. It would be highly improper for me to rule on your client’s motion. As I say, the next judge will be fully briefed on the status of this case.”

  “Your Honor!” Elise Carroll said in a low, fierce voice. “I request—” the way she said request, Jack could tell she meant demand, “—that you state for the record what reason you have for recusing yourself.”

  Damn.

  Because I want to date you? That didn’t sound right somehow. I have feelings for you? That was even worse.

  He had to say something. The rules for judicial conduct required him to give his reasons for disqualifying himself, however little he wanted to say it out loud. He considered denying her request, or hauling the lawyers into his chambers. Except—he did a quick scan—with only six people in the room, moving to chambers wouldn’t change much. Anything he said off the record to Mather this morning would likely be blabbed to a reporter for the Legal Intelligencer over lunch. Might as well say it in open court.

  So much for not wanting to be a punch line…

  Jack gave her—Elise, that’s a pretty name—a cool glance. “Very well, Ms. Carroll. Step back.”

  He waited for the lawyers to walk back to their respective tables. Mather shook his head to cut off his client’s fevered whispering.

  Jack nodded to the court reporter to go back on the record.

  “As you know—” Jack addressed the space between the two lawyers and used his most formal tone. “I inherited Judge Wilkins’s docket. My chambers is working hard to get all of her cases back on track after the transition. I appreciate that it is inconvenient to have yet another judge assigned after the time that has passed, but I couldn’t have foreseen this conflict before today’s hearing. Therefore, in compliance with the canon of judicial ethics, I must recuse myself from hearing this case—”

  He paused, then looked straight at Elise Carroll. This had to be the worst way to start a relationship. He hoped she’d understand.

  “—because I’m in love with counsel for the defendant.”

  What else could he have said?

  Chapter Two

  The table edge bit into Elise’s palm. It hurt, but it was also the only thing holding her up. Blackjack McIntyre had just said what? She wasn’t sure she’d heard him through the ocean roar in her ears. He’d said—her lips fell open. She slapped them shut. He couldn’t actually have said…that. Could he? If she was wrong, she’d look like an idiot. But what else could it have been?

  That perfect face gave off no clues—his unsmiling stare was thoroughly judicial. Not exactly mad-for-you goo-goo eyes. It wasn’t the puckish look of a man playing a practical joke, either. It was the level gaze of a man who wasn’t kidding.

  Elise knew then that she’d heard correctly the first time. Blackjack McIntyre had just declared his—oh, God, this was a nightmare.

  Alarms clanged in her brain and she blinked twice. Only a surge of rage made her choose fight over flight. She let go of the table and grabbed onto that anger, letting it stiffen her knees and stretch her spine.

  “With all due respect, Judge McIntyre, I want it on the record that we’ve never met each other before today,” Elise insisted, her voice miraculously rock-solid.

  “True.” He sounded almost bored.

  “Then how can you claim to have an ethical duty to recuse yourself on the basis of—?” Elise couldn’t actually say the words.

  “My feelings for you?” he finished for her blandly. She’d faced appellate court judges who were more animated. “Have you never heard of love at first sight, Ms. Carroll?”

  Love at first—? No way. Not in a courtroom, certainly. In fact, not anywhere. Elise wasn’t even sure she believed couples who’d been together for years were really “in love.” Whatever love was, it wasn’t the flu. You didn’t catch it just by meeting someone.

  Blackjack McIntyre was messing with her. Something about that damned magazine cover perhaps. And she couldn’t retaliate. This was too freaking much.

  Her fists clenched.

  She regarded him with queasy loathing. Of course he was like granite. He looked like he’d never been wrong, ever, in his life. And now she had to point out how wrong he was? She could feel the steam squealing in her head.

  Forget the case. Forget Everton and that worm, Mather, snickering at her discomfort. Forget everyone who had ever told her that no matter what the judge says, the only appropriate reply is “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  This was war.

  She resisted the urge to put her hands on her hips. Drawing on a decade of courtroom etiquette, she ground out a victory over her instinct to scream at him.

  “Love at first sight is about as real as the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus.” She added, “Your Honor.” Hardly deferential. At least her sarcasm wouldn’t show up on the transcript.

  Was that a wisp of the telegenic Jack McIntyre grin lighting up the room? Elise felt her cheeks flush as he bestowed that smile on her, the one that had beguiled everyone while he was US Attorney. An instant later his face was impassive again.

  “Nonetheless, Ms. Carroll, I cannot preside over a case when I have romantic feelings for one of the attorneys.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” Mather piped up from the plaintiff’s table. What an obsequious toad. Elise ignored him and continued to glare at Blackjack McIntyre.

  Her white-hot rage had no effect on him. He regarded her impersonally, like they were strangers. Or estranged.

  The judge didn’t move a muscle. Still staring at her, he said, “You’re welcome, Mr. Mather. A word of advice, if you will permit me. Just because I can’t rule on Ms. Carroll’s motion doesn’t make it any less meritorious. I would urge you and your client to produce his tax returns, if only to spare him the cost of your pointless arguments that he doesn’t have to.”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Mather muttered.

  Blackjack finally looked away from her. Elise went limp, like a tuggy toy the dog suddenly lost i
nterest in.

  “I believe we’re adjourned.” He rose and began to walk away without another word.

  They were done? Nothing was settled. Drop this disaster in her lap and then walk away? Unacceptable.

  “Your Honor—” Elise wanted to wrap one of those vaudeville canes around his neck so she could haul him back onstage.

  He turned toward her. When his eyes, still rock-cold, met hers, she couldn’t think what she’d been about to say. She felt like Alice in Wonderland. Any minute now, the Red Queen was going to sweep in and chop off her head. Her look implored him to do something, fix this, say it had all been a joke. Something.

  “Ah, yes, Ms. Carroll,” he said slowly, as if he’d forgotten she existed. “If you’d spare me a moment in chambers?” He could freeze beer with that voice.

  Elise goggled. If that was the way he talked to women he claimed to have, uh, feelings for, it was amazing he got any dates at all. True, his frosty manner went with the whole black-hair-and-chiseled-jaw superhero thing. Clark Kent and Superman fused into a hotshot prosecutor-turned-federal-judge. He’d picked the wrong woman if he thought those looks would win her over.

  He nodded at her and left the bench.

  Elise turned toward Mather, who’d already packed up and was scampering out the back with his client in tow. She gathered her notes, debating if she could pretend she hadn’t heard the judge’s order-disguised-as-a-question and follow Mather.

  She heard a discreet cough. Tony, Judge Wilkins’s—no, he was Blackjack’s deputy now—was standing by the door to the right of the bench, holding it open for her. He had a solemn look on his face, but the way his lips were twitching, she could tell he was having the time of his life. In his years with Judge Wilkins, he’d undoubtedly never seen anything like this. Of course, Judge Wilkins was a grandmother several times over. Elise guessed things were a bit livelier with a cover model like Blackjack on the bench.

  She shoved her notes and the motion papers in her bag, squared her shoulders and followed Tony along the hallway to judge’s chambers. When she got there, Blackjack—she really had to stop thinking of him like that—Judge McIntyre was hanging up his robe.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked her. “Brenda might have some cookies…?”

  “No.” She held her briefcase with both hands as if it were a shield. If anything, he looked even taller without the black robe. She added hastily, “But thank you.”

  She forced her shoulders to relax. “Could you explain to me what just happened in there? Because we both know that you don’t—that you aren’t—”

  “In love with you? I suspect I am. In any event I would like to explore the possibility of a personal relationship. Clearly I can’t do that as long as you appear before me as counsel.”

  Possibility? There was no possibility here. He had to be insane. She looked up. He was gazing at her steadily, calm and relaxed. He signaled that she should sit.

  Elise wanted to stay standing—she’d look more formal and it was a better exit strategy—but she really needed to get off her gummy-worm legs. She sank into the chair. Judge McIntyre had donned his suit coat, adjusted the cuffs and smoothed his tie. He sat in the other armchair. He was the picture of urbane confidence.

  Then he smiled at her. Really smiled. Even his eyes crinkled.

  Oh, God. He was so freaking gorgeous. Warm and friendly and—where had Judge Freeze-Dried gone? If he’d smiled at her like that in court, her backbone would have given out.

  She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d seen the coverage of his prosecutions. Hell, he’d been the darling of the media all the time he’d been the US Attorney. Nothing—not the local news coverage, the photos in the newspaper, the quick TV interviews in front of the courthouse—none of it prepared Elise for the sheer power of his smile in person. She prided herself on her immunity to a shimmering-white smile and laughing eyes. On Blackjack, though, that hot man magic was other-worldly. She could feel it weakening her resolve. Which just made her madder.

  She sat up straight. “You simply can’t be in—” She refused to utter the L-word. Bad tactics to give his delusion validity. “You don’t know me.”

  He nodded. “Obviously I’d like to change that. Dinner this evening, perhaps?”

  “No.” She shook her head for emphasis. She had work to do, a deposition to prep for, hours to bill, a partnership to snag. Kim’s home to save. She didn’t have time for some man to push romance at her like it was the secret to happiness.

  He cocked his chin. He considered her as though she were an intriguing exhibit in the Natural History Museum. “I’m sorry. Are you in a relationship? You don’t wear a ring, so I’m afraid I assumed—”

  She pounced on that. “See? You don’t know anything about me, including my status, my sexual orientation, anything. For all you know, I don’t even believe in ‘true love.’ We’re strangers to each other and I think things should stay that way.” Please let that be enough to stop him sending out those hot-guy lures. His effect on her—insidious and disarming—was scary. She might be immune to masculine good looks, but Blackjack possessed a particularly potent strain. She made a move to stand up.

  He rose elegantly. He seemed to do everything elegantly. Elise could easily hate this man.

  “I can’t agree, of course,” he murmured. “I’d hoped to learn a bit about you before asking you out. The rules for judicial conduct rather interfered with that plan. I apologize for taking things out of order.”

  Declaring his so-called feelings before they’d even been introduced did seem back-to-front. Elise was more worried about this idea of him checking her out. Ominous to think how he’d go about that.

  “How were you planning to learn about me?” she asked. He’d been the US Attorney for years. He was bound to have lots of ways to investigate people. Thank God her past wasn’t too scandalous.

  “I was going to ask my fellow judges.” He flashed a caught-in-the-act grin.

  Elise studied the carpet. She could imagine that judicial lunch table discussion all too well. “Please don’t,” she begged.

  He moved toward her. He smelled nice, something slightly spicy. The scent of a man’s skin just out of the shower. Damn him for putting that image in her head. She clenched her teeth and took a step closer to the door. She clutched the back of the chair, keeping it between her and the judge. She looked down—it was too heavy to lift for that lion tamer move.

  “You know they’re going to tell me anyway,” he pointed out. “This story is undoubtedly already making the rounds.”

  Elise closed her eyes. The horror kept mounting. And it was only Monday. She had a deposition tomorrow with Jerry Slezak representing the other side. He was going to rib her unmercifully. She could hear his braying-donkey laugh already.

  Well, she wasn’t going to give Jack McIntyre the satisfaction of knowing he’d just made her professional life uncomfortable. She let go of the chair, picked up her briefcase and held out her hand.

  “It’s been very interesting meeting you, Judge McIntyre. Congratulations on your elevation to the bench. I’m sure it’s my loss that I won’t be appearing again in your courtroom.” There. Neatly done.

  He just laughed. “Oh, I’m certain we’ll meet again soon.” They shook hands. He released her immediately. Good. She was relieved, of course she was, that he didn’t try to use their handshake as an opportunity to touch her a bit longer. She ignored the lingering feel of his warm fingers on her skin.

  He edged a tiny bit closer. His scent pulled at her—it wasn’t just an aftershave, it was his pheromones, wasn’t it? No woman could be immune to that smell. She bet female defendants lined up to confess when Blackjack walked in the room.

  Elise steeled herself. That was his Blackjack superpower. She couldn’t get involved with anyone like that—it would be like putting jet fuel in a compact car. She went for the let’s-have-a-few-dates-and-some-fun guys, not legal celebrities who owned their own tuxedos. She had to leave before his good look
s and charm worked their evil magic on her. Once she was gone, his delusion would lift, he’d shake his head at his own zany notion, and find a lanky brunette to take to the next charity ball.

  Judge McIntyre—Elise thought it sensible to use his formal title even in her head—opened the door for her. She ignored his murmured words of farewell as she passed him. She ignored Brenda and the two law clerks hovering in the outer office. She ignored the head poking out of Judge Richards’ chambers at the end of the hall. She kept her head up and her game face on as she left the building.

  Elise couldn’t breathe freely until she was outside.

  It had stopped raining. The cool air had a loamy tang, a whiff of Philadelphia’s spring just starting. The trees in front of the Rohm and Haas building had begun to bud out. New growth, fresh starts. Next she’d hear birds chirping a happy song.

  How annoying.

  Elise ignored a cab that slowed to a crawl in invitation. She needed the walk.

  By the time she’d passed City Hall and turned toward the Art Museum, she’d regained some perspective. Maybe everyone knew that Blackjack McIntyre was a practical joker. Maybe it was Rag-On-Elise Day and no one had told her. What mattered was that she had behaved professionally.

  Sure she would take some ribbing from, well, everyone, but then it would die down. McIntyre had to look worse in those stories than she would, right? He’s the one who’d made a fool of himself, declaring his—his romantic interest in a total stranger.

  Except…when she tried to imagine someone laughing at Jack McIntyre, she couldn’t make the picture gel. He was a lot of things, but unintentionally funny wasn’t one of them. Youngest US Attorney in the Eastern District, and now youngest district court judge? Great-looking and boasting a ridiculously high conviction rate? He was more legendary than ludicrous.