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It makes me feel uneasy, so I stand back up and hastily throw the tissues in the garbage.
Stuffing myself back in my jeans, I zip up as I watch her. She stands there naked, the faint blush of orgasm still marking her chest and neck, her hair tangled and wild. She looks so f**king beautiful that my heart squeezes painfully.
Painfully because I can’t have her. I’m her boss. More importantly, I am not monogamous. Made a pact to myself on the day my divorce became final that I wasn’t ever going to commit to anyone again.
“This was wrong, McKayla,” I tell her quietly, but she hears the conviction in my voice. “It was my fault, and I won’t let it happen again. ”
I turn around and head for the door, needing to put physical distance between us.
Mac grabs my wrist. “Wait a minute. I don’t understand. ”
Turning on her, I stare at her hold on my wrist and she lets go.
“What’s to understand?” I ask her with frustration. “This is wrong… I’m your boss. ”
“It’s only wrong if the sex influences how you treat me,” she says reasonably.
“And what if I treat you like shit because it makes me angry to have this attraction to you? What if I give you the shittiest cases, and I mock you in front of your colleagues?”
She shoots me a huge grin, her eyes lighting up, and she has not a moment of embarrassment that she’s stark-ass naked. “Then I’ll sue you for sexual harassment. ”
Not f**king funny and reiterates why this was such a bad idea. Taking a step toward her, vibrating with anger, I tell her, “I’d chew you up and spit you out, little girl. You’d never be a match for me in court. ”
Taking a step back, I run my hand through my hair. “Besides, you just proved my point. This is sexual harassment at its finest. I’d be stupid to let this carry on. ”
“Matt… I would never hold something like that over your head, and you’ll have to trust me on that. I bet we could make this work. I’m sure once you got to know me better—”
Narrowing my eyes, I hold up my hand to cut her off. “See, that’s just it, McKayla. I don’t want to get to know you. This was a f**k… pure and simple. I’m not looking for anything more than that. But it’s out of my system now, and I’d appreciate it if we could just forget this happened. ”
“Ouch,” she says quietly, and I feel like a douche because I know that hurt.
“I think with my dick, McKayla… not with my heart. It serves me well. ”
“Well, I have to say your dick is the most pleasant thing about you,” she says sarcastically in a honey-coated voice, and I have to bite down on my cheek again not to laugh.
I’m pissed at this whole situation, but she makes me want to laugh. That’s f**ked up.
McKayla sighs with resolve. “I understand, and you’re right. This has disaster written all over it. I’ll let it go. ”
“I’m really sorry, McKayla,” I tell her and deep down inside, something squeezes in regret. I choose to ignore it.
“Sure. Another place, another time, we’d have been perfect for each other, right?”
This causes the regretful pain to become more focused… exquisite. I don’t like that feeling at all. It reminds me of hurts that I’ve felt before, and I’m through experiencing that shit.
I need to push her away.
Far, far away.
“Wrong,” I tell her firmly. “I don’t do relationships, and you deserve more than that. It would only ever be a f**k. In fact, I’ll be hitting up One Night Only soon. ”
Chapter 7
“I don’t have any further questions. Thank you, Mr. Lancaster, for your time. ” Turning to the court reporter, I add, “We’re off the record. ”
I push back from the huge conference room table that could probably seat fifty people. We are in a massive steel and glass tower that dwarfs many of the other buildings in downtown Chicago, and I take a moment to appreciate the surrounding cityscape as I look out the window and to the setting sun.
That was the fifth deposition, and while they went about as well as could be expected, I am utterly exhausted. It was a mistake to bring Mac. I know I promised her she could come, but it’s stressful trying to concentrate on this case and stop my mind from constantly thinking about her.
I was a massive ball of nerves yesterday when we flew out of JFK. I had been sitting there, waiting for Mac before our flight began to board, trying to read the newspaper. I say “trying” because I couldn’t concentrate. Looking at my watch every five minutes, scanning the crowd… waiting for that first glimpse of her.
And then there she was, and my heart slammed hard against my chest wall in response. She had her hair down in soft waves, hanging over her br**sts. She was wearing a classic black suit with a French-blue, man-styled shirt underneath. Her skirt was tasteful in length, hitting at her knee, but her heels were sky high and gave enough sexy glamour that I didn’t fail to notice every other man in a thirty-foot vicinity checking her out.
The fact that she was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her, and that other men were looking at her too, put me in a pissy mood right off the bat.
So, when she sat down beside me and her skirt rode up a few inches, causing my eyes to involuntarily check out her exposed skin, which, in turn, made my fingers itch to touch her, I was not in a good mood. She cordially asked how my weekend was, and I laced so much innuendo in my answer that she knew what I meant.
“I had an amazing weekend. One of the best ever. ”
I saw it in her eyes the minute I released those words. She took it as truth that I had a One Night Only date, and she was hurt.
And that bothered me, which pissed me off even more.
I wasn’t sure what I expected her to do. Turn away in a huff, start crying, slap me?
She didn’t do any of that. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at me and gave me back a swift metaphorical punch to my nuts. “What a coincidence. Me too. Gotta love that One Night Only. ”
Remember when I wanted to leap on her the other day, push her to the floor, and f**k the silliness out of her? Yeah, well, I wanted to do that again. Except this time, I wanted to f**k the truth out of her. Did she really sleep with someone else this weekend? The thought had my blood boiling and f**k if that was not a bit of nausea I felt rising as well.
But being a man, and seeing as how men are probably at least ten years emotionally less mature than women at most times, I replied, “Definitely love it. Although, they should rename it Two Nights Only. It was that good of a weekend. ”
Mac stared at me blankly for a moment, and then I saw it as clear as day. Hurt filtered back into those gorgeous green eyes. Yeah, I just hurt her again with that comment, but a bolt of joy coursed through me.
If I hurt her with the belief I was truly with someone this weekend, then there was no way she went back to ONO. No f**king way. Mac wasn’t the type to give it up to two men. She had monogamy written all over that beautiful face.
The flight was awkward, sitting beside her. Smelling her shampoo, listening to the way she breathed. I felt almost claustrophobic. When we touched down in Chicago, I couldn’t get off the plane fast enough.
Luckily, the rest of the day was spent with my mind engaged on the depositions. By the congratulatory slaps on my back just now from my co-counsel, it’s confirmed that today was a win for us. I got some stunning information out of these witnesses that would immensely bolster our case. I don’t expect tomorrow will be as easy, now that the defense attorneys got a gander at me. No, they’ll stay up all night preparing tomorrow’s witnesses so they can withstand my brutal charm.
Well, it’s really a subversive assault to mine secretive information, but I do it with a hell of a lot of charm so it’s not clear I’m taking advantage of them.
I look over at Mac and she’s flipping through what I believe is her fourth yellow pad of notes she has taken. She did an impressive job toda
y, taking such copious but detailed notes that she allowed me to fully concentrate on the conversation I was having. I say conversation, because a truly effective lawyer has a two-way engagement of words with the deponent. Depositions are not to attack and not to belittle. They are to gather information… and the best way to do that is to really listen to what the other person is saying. Yes, I ask the question, but it’s a big, open-ended question, and all I really need to do is sit back and just listen. Choose those things that interest me, and follow up.
See, it’s just a simple conversation. Just because a court reporter is taking everything down word for word, who will later type a transcript I will have, and will later use to slap the witness stupid on the stand when they lie to me… well, that’s just their problem they trusted me with their dirty laundry in the first place.
“You did a good job,” I tell Mac, and she looks at me in surprise. It’s probably five of a total of ten words I’ve said to her since we started. She just smiles at me and gives me a quiet “thank you” in return.
I stand up from the table and make small talk with my other counsel. There are a total of five plaintiffs in this lawsuit and one lawyer from each victim is in attendance. I’ve been appointed lead counsel, which means I’m the only one asking questions today, while the other lawyers sit around and look pretty. Well, of course, Mac looks pretty—stunning really—but she was hard at work right alongside me. I don’t know how many times I had to take a break to go over her notes so I could make sure I heard something right. She really has been invaluable.
We all decide to head back to the hotel, which is just a few blocks away, and have dinner there. I’m all prepared for tomorrow’s round so I’m looking forward to a good meal, a few drinks, and an early night to bed. I haven’t been sleeping well for some reason.
Well, one reason.
***
Dinner is a fiasco. There are six of us, with Mac being the only female sitting around a table of egotistical, testosterone driven lawyers liquored up and riding high on a victory today. Some of them try to include her in the conversation and, while she’s talking to someone, the others will stare at her br**sts.
Can’t say as I blame them. She changed into a dark blue dress that wraps around and fits her form perfectly. It’s cut tastefully low, showing a good bit of smooth skin at her chest but not revealing much more than a shadow of her cle**age. It’s sexier than seeing part of her boobs, wondering what’s underneath there.
And every guy, with the exception of me, is wondering.
I already know.
One guy in particular, Brian Summers from Houston, has been out-drinking everyone at the table and is openly leering across it at her. She knows it… caught him on more than one occasion, and he has enough alcohol in him that he doesn’t even know he should be embarrassed. But Mac is handling all of it like a pro. I’ve seen many women lawyers carry around a big chip on their shoulders because they don’t know how to compete in, what has traditionally been, a man’s world.
So they either become quivering balls of nervous tension that fly apart at the slightest bit of provocation, or they walk around pretending to sport big, brass balls underneath their skirts.
Not Mac though. She’s thoughtful in her words, playing into the male ego without overtly utilizing her feminine charms. Every f**king word out of her mouth is professional and brilliant, and even though those men are checking her out as a woman, they admire her professionally.
Except for Brian who is too drunk to do anything but ogle her.
Bastard.
And speaking of her professional and brilliant mouth, I’d love to have it wrapped around my c**k again.
Shaking my head, I take another sip of my whiskey. I have got to stop thinking about her like that. They say the average man thinks about sex at least every seven seconds. I think that’s an exaggeration, but damn if I don’t think about McKayla at least that often. May not have sex involved, but I think about her way too much.
Confessions of a Litigation God Page 9