Jay heaved a frustrated sigh before glancing at the game clock. He liked to be in the tunnel to welcome the players off the field after each game and he needed to make his way downstairs.
“Want me to keep digging?” Linc asked.
“Hell, yeah.”
• • •
Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. A tropical storm was headed for the coast of South Carolina later that day, but Jay’s pilot said conditions would be fine for the thirty-five-minute trip. Jay took a long swallow of coffee as he waited in the limo outside of the building that housed Bridgett’s temporary condo. He was surprised to see that she was staying only blocks from his penthouse in the Federal Hill neighborhood of Baltimore.
Jay glanced at his watch: seven thirty-nine. She was late. Women. He’d had about enough of the fairer sex to last a lifetime. Charlie had been riding a tsunami of mood swings for the past week, and Jay was pretty annoyed with anyone sporting breasts right now. He and his sister had argued until late into the night about telling their mother about Charlie’s pregnancy. She had been adamant that their mother be kept in the dark until Charlie “had plans in place,” whatever the hell that meant. When he’d pressed her about the baby’s father, she’d stormed off to her bedroom in a fit of tears.
Not only that, but it seemed the rest of the female population was dogging his every step with threats of protests. He’d been forced to endure a ten-minute dressing-down from the commissioner during the weekly owners’ conference call the day before about how women make up nearly fifty percent of the league’s fan base. The league wouldn’t sit idly by looking like it condoned sexual harassment. If any charges were substantiated against any team, the commissioner threatened, he would level sanctions against any and all teams—and their owners. The implication being that Jay would be the one sanctioned and that pissed Jay off royally.
The door swung open and a gust of wind blew into the car, followed by Bridgett. She smelled like a spring day underneath her gray Burberry raincoat and scarf. Her legs were bare beneath her skirt, and Jay caught a glimpse of her toned inner thigh when she slid across the seat. His annoyance at anyone carrying two X chromosomes faded as he grew hard at the thought of those thighs wrapped around him and her perky breasts in his hands.
His driver, Gerard, closed the door behind her. Bridgett carefully removed her scarf, folding it up and neatly placing it in her garish red briefcase. She tugged at the button of her raincoat and Jay had to resist tugging at the knot on his tie. Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d be one of those women who fantasized about sex in the back of a limousine. Or better yet, an airplane.
Jay needed to say something—anything—to get his mind going in another direction but his brain didn’t seem to be functioning all that well right now.
“Nice shoes.”
Bridgett’s long eyelashes lowered and then rose again quickly, her surprise apparent. Then suspicion must have taken over because those silver eyes narrowed to slits. “What’s wrong with my shoes?”
Nothing was wrong with her shoes. He glanced down at the plum-colored pumps that might have been conservative except for the badass silver studs up the back and the three-inch heels. Just for a moment, he regretted not bringing Linc along just for information about her shoes. But Jay had wanted as much time alone with Bridgett as he could get today. It was pivotal to his plan.
“Can’t a guy compliment a woman’s shoes without getting his head bitten off?” He gestured to the coffee carafe tucked into the armrest between the seats, but she shook her head. Too late Jay suddenly remembered she was a tea drinker and he cursed himself for not having tea in the limo. Pulling out his phone, he dialed up his pilot. “Ron, can you make sure there’s some hot tea on board for Ms. Janik.”
Gerard steered the car into the early morning Baltimore traffic as Bridgett let out a little huff. “This isn’t a date, Jay.”
Jay shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket. “You really are riled up today, woman. What’s got you so testy?”
“For starters, I don’t appreciate my client forcing me to do things against my will.”
He sat forward in his seat so that he was eye to eye with her. “Bridgett, I don’t plan to force you to do anything and, believe me, anything and everything you do with me will be by choice.”
• • •
The air in the limo seemed to evaporate and Bridgett had trouble squeezing a breath through the thin hole that used to be her throat. Jay’s eyes were mesmerizing and, for a moment or two, Bridgett thought she’d slipped back in time thirteen years and he was still the man she’d loved with all of her young, unscathed heart. Until she realized he was the Antichrist. Sitting back against the soft leather seat, she slowly crossed her legs, giving Jay a good look at those shoes he seemed to think were so nice—and the calves that Pilates four times a week had toned to perfection. She was pleased to see his eyes dilate slightly. Two could play at this game.
“The only thing I plan ‘to do’ with you today is question a disillusioned cheerleader and her publicity-hungry lawyer.” She held up her hand as his lips parted in what was sure to be some smooth protest. “I have no plans to break my golden rule of not getting involved with a client. Especially not with you. You can call the shots and lead Stuart around by his wallet all that you want. I’ll be at your beck and call for all things legal. But not for anything else. Never for anything else.”
His mouth settled into a straight line, which he wisely kept closed. But his eyes still held smug challenge in them, and Bridgett was forced to look away before her panties became damp. She heard him settle back against the opposite seat and click on his tablet. They were silent the rest of the way to the airport as Bridgett stared out into the rainy morning, wondering how long she could maintain the fortitude to live up to the words she’d just flung at him.
They arrived at the airport thirty minutes later. The driver pulled the limo onto the tarmac right next to the steps leading up to the sleek Gulfstream jet. Rain pelted her as Bridgett climbed the metal stairs as quickly as she could in her ridiculous shoes. She’d planned to wear her Steve Madden boots in deference to the weather but vanity won out over practicality. Looking her best around Jay gave her a sense of power. The fact that he’d complimented her shoes proved that she’d made the right choice. Until she’d been faced with the elements. Stupid.
Bridgett took off her wet coat and laid it over one of the empty seats as Jay closed and locked the door. “I thought Donovan Carter was coming with us,” she asked as her eyes darted toward the cockpit, where the pilot was running through whatever preflight checks were needed.
Jay removed his own jacket before he took the seat across from her. “He drove down last night. He had some other business this morning before our meeting.”
“Other business?” she said as she adjusted her seat belt. “Not having to do with the case, I hope. Scott is taking the lead on the investigative work. There’s no need for anyone from the Blaze to be involved.”
He didn’t bother answering her, instead adjusting his own seat belt across his lap and then rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt.
Bridgett let out a frustrated sigh. “You can’t just railroad your way through this case, Jay. That’s not how these things work.”
Jay looked up at her then, his eyes cool. “Not everything Don does involves this case. But he’s a professional. I trust him implicitly.”
Which meant that Donovan Carter was likely running around the Virginia coast and mucking things up. She made a mental note to call Scott the second she had a moment alone. “You can’t control everything and everyone.”
One corner of his mouth turned up, forming that smug smile that annoyed and aroused her so much. “Who says?”
The pilot stepped out of the cockpit then, ending any chance Bridgett had at a rebuttal. “We’re sixth in line for takeoff. Unfortunately, with this storm brewing it’s g
oing to be a bumpy flight, so keep those seat belts fastened, okay?” He pulled the cockpit door closed behind him as he took his seat at the controls.
He wasn’t kidding about the flight being bumpy. They’d been in the air for five minutes and the plane still bobbed and weaved as though it were a rowboat in the middle of the ocean. Could it really be this bad for thirty-five minutes? She thought of the emergency Xanax she kept tucked away in her purse, but she couldn’t convince her fingers to unclench from the death grip they had on the armrests to go digging for it.
“Bridgett?”
She couldn’t pry her eyes open, but the closeness of his voice indicated that Jay was leaning forward in his seat.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Which, of course, was a lie. Her stomach rolled as the plane took another quick dip. A tremulous moan escaped her lips. Jay swore and then she heard the sound of him unbuckling his seat belt. Bridgett’s eyes flew open, growing wide as he moved to the seat next to hers. “The pilot said to keep your seat belt fastened!” she admonished him.
He shot her another of those “I am invincible” smiles and clicked the seat belt around him. Reaching into a cabinet between their two seats, he pulled out a silver flask and offered it to her. “Here. Drink this. It’ll help.”
Bridgett slammed her eyelids shut as the plane took another sharp dip. “No.” She shook her head. “I have a Xanax in my purse.” Still, she made no move to reach for it.
“I think you’re supposed to take them preflight for it to be effective.”
She cracked one eye open and glared at the smug jerk. He peeled her hand off the armrest and wrapped her fingers around the flask.
“Besides,” he said. “The Xanax will string you out for the entire day. A swig of this will get you through the rest of the flight with very few aftereffects.”
Said the Big Bad Wolf to Little Red Riding Hood. Except he had a point. The metal was cool on her lips as she took a swallow from the flask. She tried not to be a girly girl and cough when the whiskey burned her throat on its way down. The plane lurched up and Bridgett guzzled another swallow before handing the flask back to Jay. Her gaze locked on his as he took a long drink from the flask himself. Closing her eyes again, her fingers dug into the armrest.
She gasped as the plane dipped furiously once again and Jay’s big hand covered hers.
“You never did answer my question about why you were crying the other day,” he said. He was trying to distract her; she knew that. Still, she wasn’t grateful enough to give him the truth.
“I did answer your question. I told you it was none of your business.”
She heard him laugh softly. “You’re not the same woman you were before.”
Bridgett opened her eyes. “I’m pretty sure I already told you that, too.”
She wasn’t positive, but she thought she saw a look of regret quickly pass over his features. Bridgett closed her eyes again so that she wouldn’t have to ponder what might have been. Jay kept his strong hand covering her much smaller one. She hated to admit that even after all these years—after all that had happened between them—she still found it comforting. It was all she could do to not flip her own hand over and intertwine her fingers with his. But then she remembered that he was the enemy—the Antichrist. She may have been forced into representing him on this case, but that didn’t mean she was falling into his absurd plans for some sort of affair—no matter how badly her body seemed to want to. That road only led to heartache for her. Jay didn’t have a heart. Eventually, the plane settled into a less choppy altitude and Bridgett let whiskey and the warm weight of Jay’s hand over hers soothe her. The way her life was going right now, it might be the only few moments of relaxation she’d have all day.
Six
The weather wasn’t much better in Virginia Beach, although Jay was glad to be battling it on the ground versus in the air. Don met them on the tarmac, shuffling him and Bridgett to the rental car under cover of a huge golf umbrella. Bridgett appeared to have endured the bumpy plane trip reasonably well. After she’d downed a few swigs of Scotch, she’d closed her eyes and seemed to meditate for the remainder of the flight, drawing from a reserve of inner strength he hadn’t known she possessed.
It was true—she had changed. The sweet-natured, bright-eyed activist was gone. Jay’s chest grew tight as he realized that perhaps that woman had never existed. Perhaps that version of Bridgett was all just a lie, like the rest of that long-ago summer. But her body had only improved with age and Jay was willing to ignore the twinges in the area where his heart used to be just to get her beneath him again. If there’d been one takeaway from that summer for Jay, it was to keep his heart out of the bedroom. He could have a sexual relationship with Bridgett and not get emotionally involved. After all, he’d been doing the same thing with other women for years.
“Ron is going to rent some hangar space while he waits for you to get back,” Don was saying. “The storm took a turn this morning and is projected to make landfall somewhere along the North Carolina coast later today.”
Bridgett’s eyes grew wide. “Will we be able to fly back?” It was hard to tell whether she was more panicked about getting back in the plane or potentially being stranded at the airport.
“We’ll drive back if we have to,” Jay said as he slid into the front seat. Don got behind the wheel and drove them out of the airpark. What he really wanted was a few minutes alone with the Blaze security chief so Don wouldn’t have to brief him in front of Bridgett, but the timing couldn’t be helped. “What did you learn?” he asked quietly.
Don’s eyes drifted to the rearview mirror briefly, but Jay nodded for him to speak. “Alesha Warren is divorced with two kids. Dad is on the list of deadbeats who don’t pay child support. It’s her own shingle out in front of her law firm. She’s well respected among the legal community down here, mostly as a public defender. It’s likely her stipend from the county for being a PD that’s covering the costs for this case, because her credit cards are all entirely maxed out.”
“You’re digging up trash on the opposing counsel?” Bridgett asked from the backseat.
Jay looked over his shoulder at her. She looked a little rumpled from the weather and the flight, but her face was incredulous.
“Yes,” he said. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Her eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t. I had Scott looking into her, too.” She let out a huff. “You were supposed to be coordinating with him.”
Don smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “It was my intention to send him a detailed e-mail, but I decided to wait since you’d be here.”
She leaned back against the seat with another little huff. “Fine. You can fill me in just as easily as he can.”
“Well, then, you better brace yourself back there, because here comes the stinger,” Don said as he pulled the car onto the highway. “Jennifer Knowles is Alesha’s sister-in-law. If she can’t get the money from the daddy, I’m guessing Alesha figured here was another way to get the money owed to her kids.”
All three were silent in the car for a moment before Bridgett spoke. “That’s quite a leap. It would be difficult to prove that kind of intent in court. It’s not unusual for a family member to represent another family member. I mean, a case could be made that I’m doing exactly the same thing.”
“Even if the two women haven’t spoken to one another in over five years?” Don asked.
“If you’re going to sue someone, why use an attorney you don’t like?” Jay asked. “Unless Alesha Warren was the one who came up with the idea in the first place and somehow co-opted her former sister-in-law to play along.” He didn’t bother to stop the slow grin that was spreading over his face. With luck, this case would never make it to the courtroom.
“That’s still all just conjecture, but it certainly gives us a place to start,” Bridgett said from the backseat
.
The rain was falling harder by the time they arrived at a small office park. Don pulled up outside a brown brick building and the three of them hustled quickly into the lobby. Before they could board the elevator, though, Bridgett reached an arm out to stop them.
“You are not to say anything beyond ‘hello’ and ‘nice to meet you,’” she said to Jay. “Other than that, you’re to let me do all the talking. That’s what you hired me for. Is that clear?”
Don coughed softly as Jay rocked back on his heels at the fierceness of her tone. “I’m just supposed to sit there?”
“I’d prefer you sit in the car, but since the odds of that happening are nil, I’ll take what I can get.”
This time Don didn’t bother hiding his laugh with a cough and Jay scowled at him over Bridgett’s head. “What about Don? Does he get to talk?”
She turned to Don with a serene smile on her face. “Don gets to charm them with his panty-melting grin,” she said. “But make sure you keep your gun out of view. It can be a bit intimidating.”
After punching the elevator button, she peered into the mirrored doors, patting a stray hair into place. Don exchanged a surprised look with Jay before adjusting his suit jacket to accommodate his holster. When they arrived at the lawyer’s office, Bridgett walked in like she owned the place. She cooed to the receptionist about how elegant the space was as if they were in Trump Tower and not some rental office space in an incubator building with furniture from Ikea. Bridgett raved about the tea she was offered despite the fact it was from a yellow box. She was laying it on thick and the staff was eating it up—until they got to Alesha Warren. A woman in her late thirties, she had flawless caramel skin and sleek, long black hair. Her long nails were bloodred, one of them adorned with a shiny stone. Ms. Warren wore her navy power suit well, but it was clearly not of the same quality as Bridgett’s soft plum-colored skirt and jacket.
Jay sized up the woman in an instant. Despite the bravado on her face, there was a hint of desperation in her eyes and around her tight smile. For the first time since he’d woken up this morning, he allowed himself to relax. Bridgett may be playing the charming sorority girl from Legally Blonde, but he knew from past experience that she could do an abrupt about-face when the need arose.
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