Blackjack and Moonlight: A Contemporary Romance

by Braden, Magdalen

  Elise glanced back. He was still wearing the coat, and he was frowning, presumably annoyed that things weren’t going as planned. She wanted to laugh at how predictable he was.

  She unpacked the bouquet, admired the bowl, and put the flowers in pride of place on her dining room table. Maybe later she would put them in the bedroom.

  “I made a reservation for seven-thirty,” Jack said carefully. He was standing in the doorway of the living room, ready to head right out. He held his wrist like he wanted to refer to his watch but was too polite.

  Elise grinned at him and pointed. “The phone’s over there. You can cancel the reservation.”

  His frown tightened. “You’re not feeling well?”

  “On the contrary, I feel great.” She walked over to him, placing her hands on his coat lapels. “Are you sure you won’t take off this coat?”

  “No. I mean, yes. I’m sure.” He stepped back a few inches. He looked stern and unwavering—a bit like he had when he’d been prosecuting Philly’s mob boss Dino “T-Rex” Reggiano. No sense of humor, clearly. Either that, or he was about to find her in contempt of court.

  “Jack,” she soothed. “I can feed you if you’re hungry. Gusto’s delivers. It’s pretty good pizza.”

  The offer seemed to startle him, which warmed her cynical heart no end. She watched as he considered his options.

  “I would prefer to take you out to dinner. If you’ll uh, put on some clothes,” he said, studiously not noticing her breasts, which felt very perky under the thin silk of her robe. “I’ll have Gino put back our reservation at La Famiglia.”

  “I don’t need to be wined and dined. I’m happy to skip straight to dessert. And by ‘dessert,’ of course, I mean sex.”

  Elise drew her hand down the gray flannel sleeve closest to her. She let her fingertips skate along his hand, which he twitched away and hid behind his back. She glanced at his face. He looked stony enough for Mount Rushmore. She hadn’t thought Jack could get more austere—he appeared almost apoplectic with frustration. He clearly hadn’t gotten laid in a while.

  This was going to be fun.

  “That’s not why I’m here,” he insisted. He stopped trying to limit his gaze to her face. Now he was staring over her right shoulder.

  “Well, that’s why I invited you. For sex.”

  “I want to date you, not sleep with you.” He said it as though he were stating the obvious to a dim-witted defendant.

  So crusty and serious. Elise couldn’t resist teasing him. “Really? You don’t want to sleep with me? Not even a little?”

  That got his attention. He narrowed his eyes as he met her look. “Ah, the litigator’s trick. Won’t work. Of course I will want to sleep with you. But tonight, no. What I want tonight is to take you out to dinner.”

  “Funny,” Elise said, reaching down to brush her fingertips over his groin. “I could have sworn you were interested in having sex sooner rather than later—”

  He took another half step back and glared at her. “Still won’t work. That’s a physiological reaction. It doesn’t change my stated intention to take you to dinner. You said you would come on a date with me.”

  “Assuming facts not entered into evidence, Your Honor,” she objected. “All I said was okay. No one bothered to ask what I was saying okay to, and as there wasn’t an explicit offer on the table, you can’t read terms into my acceptance.”

  “Elise,” he growled.

  “Judge,” she growled back at him.

  He really was going to throw a blood clot, she thought, as his face contorted with frustration. It got almost—but not quite—ugly. She didn’t think anything could make him look ugly. Damn him. And why didn’t he want to skip straight to the sex? If she made herself any more available, she’d be draped over the couch wearing nothing but a shiny red ribbon.

  Suddenly his face cleared. His shoulders dropped a full inch and he even managed a slight smile. He folded his arms and leaned back.

  “Fair enough. You’re absolutely right. We didn’t spend enough time yesterday negotiating terms. By all means let’s do that now.”

  “I don’t want to negotiate terms. I want to take you upstairs, unwrap you like a Christmas present, and get sweaty with you in my bed.”

  “I understand that, Elise.” He made her name sound like a Gypsy curse. “I am declining that generous offer. My counteroffer of dinner at a five-star restaurant is clearly unacceptable to you. So let’s try to find some middle ground.”

  “There is no middle ground,” she protested, retreating a bit. She crossed her arms over her chest. Clearly the poky nipples weren’t working for her.

  “That’s no way to enter into the spirit of negotiation. You said yes to something last night. What was it?”

  “I told you. Hot, steamy sex.” Elise winced. She sounded whiny, like a petulant teenager. That wasn’t the way to win this war and it wasn’t worthy of her skills. She was a better lawyer than that. She released a cleansing breath, lowered her arms and got into the spirit of negotiation, as he’d called it.

  “I take your point,” she said in a calmer voice. “Let’s see. I want sex, and you want five-star restaurants, correct?”

  Jack inclined his head slowly, guarding against some stunt she might pull. It wasn’t a stunt, though—it was a calculated risk to advance the negotiation.

  “Okay, then,” she went on. “How about we trade? One date goes your way and we eat out, the next my way, namely hot and sweaty.” She figured she could resist his evil magic charm across the dinner table if she thought of it as one-week-early foreplay. Her master plan would just take a little longer, that was all.

  “But not on the same night,” he said.

  She pursed her lips to keep from smiling. “Of course not. We’d spend all our time arguing whose half of the date had lasted longer. No, I’m talking about alternating dates. You get one, I get one. That sort of thing.”

  He appeared to consider that. “I get to go first.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s traditional to take a woman to dinner before having hot, steamy sex with her.”

  Elise laughed. “That’s so last century.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’m a last-century kind of guy.”

  “Okay, I’ll concede that point. On my dates, however, the food has to take a back seat. No cooking for me, or expecting me to cook for you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too romantic. If I let you cook for me, next thing I know, you’ll have white tablecloths and a Hungarian violinist here on one of our sex dates.”

  He put his hands in his pockets and rested his shoulder against the wall. “So what happens on one of your uh, sex dates?”

  She tilted her head. “Judge McIntyre, if you have to ask, I feel sorry for the news anchor and that biologist.”

  “Nevertheless, answer the question.”

  “Well, sex, of course. Styles, positions, locations, and frequency all to be negotiated on the specific date. I’m flexible,” she emphasized, looking up at him with a saucy grin.

  “I can well believe it.” He didn’t make it sound like a compliment.

  “And as I don’t deny that food tastes pretty good after hot, sweaty sex, the host for the sex date will either have something ready to eat, or be prepared to phone for traditional takeout food, such as Chinese, Thai, Japanese, Indian, pizza, etc. If it can be described as gourmet, it’s noncompliant with the stated intent of the sex date. Which is sex.”

  “May the host of the sex date offer the guest wine?”

  “If the host so desires,” Elise said. “I don’t mind a beer with my pizza, on occasion.”

  “Beer,” he repeated slowly, as though she’d suggested Red Bull and Slim Jims from the local convenience store. It was fun to watch Blackjack get disconcerted by something so plebeian as beer.

  Welcome to my world, bub.

  She spread her hands. “If you think I’m not highbrow enough for you, it’s not too late to change yo
ur mind.”

  “On the contrary, I’m more excited than ever,” he said in a monotone.

  “Mmm. I could tell,” she drawled.

  “One question.”

  “Yes?”

  “Who supplies the condoms?”

  Her laugh escaped before she could stop it, but she quickly clamped down on her delight. “The host of the sex date is expected to have a sufficient supply of appropriately sized contraceptives free of defects and well within their sell-by date.” She lowered her voice to add, “And if you try to get me pregnant as a sneaky soap-opera ploy to marry me, I’ll…I’ll tell Judge King.”

  “Fair enough,” he conceded. “When does this agreement begin?”

  “Well, clearly not tonight. Next Saturday?”

  In an instant, Jack was taut and alert again. That cool, intelligent half smile pierced her satisfaction. Everything about him screamed success, as though he’d planned to back her into a deal that favored his interests exclusively.

  What had she been thinking, trying to handle him? Geoff had been right. Going toe-to-toe with Blackjack McIntyre was like Bambi sparring with Godzilla.

  Then his eyelids drooped and he smiled. It was so erotic, Elise could only stare at his mouth, her jaw loose and her mind woolly. That smile was like a tractor beam locked on to its target.

  “I believe we’ve got an agreement.” He held out his hand, but when she went to shake it, he used it to pull her closer. “We’ll seal the deal, shall we?”

  His lips were softer than she’d imagined. When they got busy with a devilish assault on her senses, Elise lost track of her detachment. Oh, goodness, the man could kiss. His height, the bulk of his chest, that diabolical scent of his skin, his desire for her—hell, her desire for him—it was too much to keep track of. She slipped deeper into his embrace. When he finally released her, she was shivering with anticipation.

  “Until next Saturday.”

  He had to see himself out. She could barely move.

  She stared at the door and touched her lips. No under-delivery there. He’d never even taken off his coat. The idea of going up against all that power when he was naked was terrifying. And oh, so exciting.

  Chapter Four

  Incredible. Jack was still reeling from that kiss—much more than he’d imagined and not nearly as much as he wanted—as he strode away from her house. He walked fast, rushing as though he were late for court.

  She had to have been naked under that robe. If she’d sat down, he would’ve known for sure, it was that short. His fingers still itched with the urge to pull on the sash and see for himself.

  He was racing down Pine Street, hot and nearly out of breath. He slowed and let the evening air cool his overcooked thoughts. His game plan was to get home, have a cold shower, a drink, and then figure out what just happened. It had all been a blur with nothing making sense. Why wouldn’t she just go to dinner with him? What did she want?

  He saw it then. Elise ambushed him, paying him back for what had happened in court. She’d revealed herself as a fellow game player.

  He grinned. That was his moonlight girl. Of course she’d be a worthy opponent.

  Clearly her agenda didn’t jibe with his desire for them to fall in love, but he didn’t think he’d lost ground. He just needed to revise his strategy.

  Jack dodged a car turning onto 21st Street, his brain still churning with thoughts of Elise. That had to have been the most arousing negotiation he’d ever conducted. If he’d known contract talks were that hot, he might have picked transactional law. What a turn-on. He could still see her legs, bare all the way down to her toenails, painted to match the robe. The image made his blood race a couple more laps.

  He’d known some kick-ass women lawyers over the years. He’d even trained a few, professionally. Not one of them could make him lose his mind the way Elise Carroll could. Hell, he’d already lost his heart, and he worried she’d filch other bits of his anatomy for souvenirs.

  She was incredible.

  When he got to 19th Street he’d cooled off enough to think of something other than Elise, that robe, her breasts, their deal, and whether he regretted not taking her up on that offer of sex. He stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to change, still breathing hard. Then he remembered La Famiglia. Oh, hell. He needed to call Gino and explain about the blown reservation. He’d say his date had gotten sick.

  He was listening to the phone ringing when he suddenly realized he’d driven to her place. He was now five blocks away from his car. “Shit—”

  “La Famiglia?”

  Jack had just cursed into the ear of Gino’s hostess. He begged the woman’s pardon. After asking her to convey his regrets to Gino, Jack turned around and started walking back to his car. He shook his head. He was never this distracted. That was his character. He was cool and competent, not impassioned and mindless. Maybe his prior romantic history was as superficial as Anita King suggested, but at least he’d never felt like IQ points were leaching from his pores.

  He paused opposite Elise’s trim little row house on Fitler Square.

  He ached—shocking how powerful this urge was—to ring the doorbell, sling her over his shoulder and take her upstairs to her bed. He had never thought of doing anything so—so Neanderthal. Not his style. He tried to be attentive to the women he dated, occasionally charming, always generous in bed, even funny in a low-key sort of way. He enjoyed them, although he’d never wanted to drag out their time together.

  But then none of those women had been Elise.

  Jack stared at the house for a long time, ignoring the misty rain spangling his hair. What was she doing in there? Laughing at her success in fending off his efforts at courtship? The idea stung, but it didn’t strike him as accurate. Elise was honest and direct. Smart and wily too, sure. While she might want to defeat him in a fair fight, she wouldn’t dance on his lifeless body afterward. No clue how he knew that, but he had no doubts on that score. She wasn’t gloating.

  Other than that, he had no earthly idea what she was thinking.

  He had to fall for the one woman he couldn’t figure out.

  Ah, Elise. He shook his head ruefully, got in his car and drove home.

  “Good news,” Elise announced when Kim came in after lunch on Tuesday. “I just got off the phone. The bank has agreed to refinance your mortgage.”

  Kim started to cry. Elise leapt up and gave her a hug.

  “Hey, it’s good news, okay?”

  “I know.” Kim snuffled. “I just didn’t think they’d say yes.”

  Elise pulled back enough to fix Kim with an arch look of shock. “Really? You doubted me?”

  “Well, I know you think Donny and I screwed up by buying too big a house,” Kim said in a little voice.

  “Hey, everyone was doing it. And you guys would have been fine if it hadn’t been for Donny’s accident. So stop beating yourself up, okay?”

  Elise gave her another hug. In truth, the house was too large and the mortgage too much of a stretch for a young couple, but she’d kept her misgivings to herself. Well, clearly not completely to herself, as Kim had picked up on them. It was just that the thought of being homeless was enough to give Elise nightmares. Literal nightmares, where she was all alone in a huge, empty room. No furniture, no TV, no games or toys. Horrible dream.

  When Kim seemed calmer, Elise sat her down to go over the details of the closing. “They won’t fold the arrearages into the new loan, but that’s okay. I’ll bring a cashier’s check and a note for you and Donny to sign.”

  “You’re going to loan us the money? No, I can’t let you do that.”

  Elise used her best imitation of Geoff’s Stern Partner face. “It’s necessary. And I can afford it. You don’t need to start paying me back until he’s returned to work. Even allowing for other bills, your payments with the new mortgage are so much smaller, you’ll be okay. Plus, when you’ve paid me off, you can keep putting aside those payments to start building a nest egg for DeeDee’s educati
on. I’ve stuck in some information about starting a Five-Twenty-Nine savings plan, okay?” She handed over the file she’d put together for Kim and Donny.

  Kim took it with a shaky hand. “I don’t know…”

  “No option. Take the loan or I won’t proceed with the closing.”

  “I begin to see why you’re not married,” Kim grumbled.

  Elise laughed. “Good. Maybe you can explain it to my mother.”

  “She just wants you to be happy.”

  Really? That Peggy wanted her to be happy, Elise could buy. That it was the only thing Peggy wanted? Elise wasn’t so sure. “My relationships with my parents are complicated. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “You could renegotiate terms with both of them, you know. Just because things didn’t work out with your judge doesn’t mean you can’t have loving relationships.” Kim stood up. “Because, honestly? I’d lose my house before I’d lose my family.”

  She was out the door before Elise could think of a response.

  On the evening of their first “romantic date,” Jack took a long look at the glossy dark green door, then inhaled and pressed the doorbell. Elise was dressed when she answered the door, which was a relief. And a disappointment. Once again the urge to take Elise upstairs hit him like a tornado. Tough. His libido could simmer down. He had a plan—and sex was not the way to this woman’s heart.

  She showed him in. “Thanks for the heads-up about appropriate attire.” She had on jeans and a long-sleeved top in a really gorgeous blue. She must have picked that color deliberately, knowing it made her eyes look like they were cobalt glass, lit from within. Clever woman.

  “I felt we’d already danced to that tune,” he said. “The Mismatched Minuet.”

  “Cute.” Elise grinned. “So where are we going, because I know it’s not Le Bec Fin, dressed down as we are.” She waved a hand at his chinos and button-down shirt.

  “You’ll see.” Her militant expression stopped him. “You don’t like surprises, do you?”