Counselor Undone

by Lisa Rayne

  A vacuum of sound permeated the conference room. Everyone stared at Eric, waiting for his response.

  Michael watched Eric’s jaw tense as the young man ground his rear molars together. Anger stewed beneath the guy’s cool, macho surface. Jordis had put him on the spot. He either had to retract his statement or come up with a creative answer. If he failed to answer, everyone would assume he’d based his comment on personal biases in the vein of those he’d claimed should not be a part of the debate.

  Michael looked at Jordis. She sat relaxed, a neutral but pleasant expression on her face. Her right hand found its way back to her mug, and her fingers once again traced the rim of the cup. She had the demeanor of one simply waiting for her opponent to make his next move on a chessboard. He wondered if she stayed this cool in court. The lady was no shrinking violet. She handled tough situations head on and took the direct approach to handling personal affronts. He liked that about her.

  Intrigued to see how Covington would handle the situation, Michael sat back in his chair. As he did so, he glanced back at Chase who gave him a slight tilt of the head as if to say, I told you so.

  * * *

  Eric Covington was not a happy camper. He stood watching Jordis Morgan leave the conference room chatting conversationally with a redhead. By the time the pro bono case discussion concluded, Jordis had won the day, and the single mom had new legal counsel.

  “Hey, dude, don’t feel bad,” Jonathan said to Eric as he swatted Eric on the shoulder. Jonathan’s eyes followed Eric’s down the hall to the retreating back of Jordis Morgan. “You know if you’re going to take on Ms. Morgan, you’d better have done your homework. That lady has the sharpest mind in the department. Actually, probably in the whole damn firm. Don’t let the pretty face fool you. Underneath her ladylike exterior lies the heart of a pit bull.”

  “I have the sharpest mind in the department,” Eric replied.

  “Well, it sure didn’t come off that way today, studly. Keep telling yourself that.” Jonathan laughed as he gave Eric’s shoulder another pat then headed for his office.

  Eric frowned, internally acknowledging Jonathan was right. Jordis had made him look like an idiot and in front of Remington, the future managing partner of the firm. By the time they’d finished debating the intricacies of their respective preferred pro bono cases, he’d come across as a pretentious snob. She’d made it look like he’d assumed because of her race she’d have some special affinity for an inner-city dweller and the plight of a single mother.

  He’d looked even more foolish when Jordis had pointed out the prospective plaintiff was a young white woman named Cynthia Gardner who’d gotten pregnant at the end of her senior year of high school. Rather than stand by her, her high school sweetheart chose to accept a college basketball scholarship and abandoned the teen to her own devices. After her judgmental, self-righteous parents put her out, the single mom had found it hard to support her child without state assistance and subsidized housing.

  Granted, he probably did have some preconceived notions about how Jordis had gotten her lateral position in the firm. Diversity initiatives were all the rage in major law firms across the country. No matter the firm propaganda about being more aware of subconscious biases that had excluded qualified candidates in the past, he figured women and minorities simply got special consideration. No way that leggy, supermodel type had credentials or a professional record to match his. He intended to be the star senior associate of this division, and he wasn’t going to let some woman upstage him.

  His father always said a woman had two places: behind a man or beneath him. Jordis Morgan needed to learn her place—behind him like the rest of the women in the group. Then again, he thought as he watched her feminine curves disappear down the hall, maybe she’d be better off beneath him. Getting her in his bed would certainly give them a better outlet for the sparks that flew whenever they were in the same room together.

  Eric slid his hands into his pockets and creased his brow. He looked over to find Michael Remington watching him. Chase put his hand on Remington’s shoulder and guided the partner out of the conference room.

  Eric nodded at the two partners then headed for his own office to consider his next move.

  Chapter 4

  Jordis entered her office with Vivian O’Connor on her heels.

  Vivian perched on the arm of one of Jordis’s guest chairs. Natural blond strands laced her long red hair, making it look like it had been set on fire by the sun. The striking color almost didn’t look real. She had green eyes and flawless fair skin sprinkled with freckles across her upper cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

  With her classic Irish beauty, Vivian had the looks to play the sexuality card to get what she wanted if she so chose, but she preferred to let her brains and her work product speak for themselves. Her lips twisted with barely contained mirth. “So, what did you think of Mr. Managing Partner finally gracing us with his presence?”

  Jordis sat down behind her desk. “Future managing partner.”

  The eye roll Vivian gave her would have done any sixteen-year-old diva proud. “Okay. So what did you think of Mr. Future Managing Partner?”

  “What’s to think?”

  “What’s to think? Are you kidding me? Every woman in that room looked like she wanted to dribble chocolate all over him and lick it off.”

  Jordis chuckled. “If you say so.”

  “If I say so?” Vivian leaned forward. “Are you telling me you found the elusive Mr. Remington to be something short of delicious?”

  “Look, he and Chase are our supervising attorneys. I’m not even going to go there. Besides, he’s not really my type.”

  Vivian gave an unladylike snort. “If that man isn’t your type, then either you don’t do white guys or you’re gay.”

  With an indulgent smile, Jordis silently shook her head.

  When Jordis failed to respond, Vivian pushed, “Well, which is it?”

  “What difference does it make?” Jordis flipped open a file folder and picked up her pen.

  Vivian ignored the dismissive action.

  “You need to get out of my office and go bill some hours.”

  “Oh, come on, Jordis. Give me something here.” Vivian slipped into the chair. “Are you going to make this a three-way competition for Mr. Remington’s affections?”

  “Three-way competition?”

  “Yeah. Everyone knows Alyson has the partner in her sights. And all Lizzie talks about is how gorgeous Michael Remington is. You’d think the child had never seen an attractive man before.”

  Only one year out of law school, the blond Lizzie was the youngest of the bunch and still had a college-sorority-girl vibe going on. Jordis half expected her to drop her books the next time she came across Michael Remington in the hall with the hope he’d stop to pick them up for her. At thirty-two, Jordis found the peppy, boy-crazy antics of the younger woman annoying.

  “Well, Lizzie is still young. I doubt the guys at her law school had quite the machismo of Mr. Remington. I suspect those twenty-something hormones of hers are pinging all over the place.” Jordis dropped her pen back on her desk. Vivian clearly wasn’t going anywhere until she’d gotten the chance to talk this thing through. “What about you? Wouldn’t it be a four-way competition?”

  Vivian laughed, leaned back and crossed her legs. “Honey, I definitely don’t do white guys!”

  That made Jordis laugh, too. “Vivian, you’re a mess!”

  The redhead simply smiled at her, a genuine smile. She’d started at the firm a few weeks before Jordis. A down-home kind of girl, Vivian lived a what-you-see-is-what-you-get lifestyle. She spoke her mind and didn’t pull punches, which was one of the many reasons Jordis liked her, but Vivian did have one major flaw. She was a diehard gossip. If office gossip existed, Vivian would ferret it out and happily divulge what she’d learned. Jordis had no intention of sharing any personal opinions with her about their gorgeous senior partner.

  “Look, Vivia
n, there is no way I’m dishing with you about Michael Remington. You aren’t going to stand around the coffee station gossiping about me. Alyson and Lizzie are welcome to him. I’ve got one thing in my sights—partnership at the end of this fiscal year.”

  Vivian gave Jordis a look that suggested she doubted whether to believe her. “If you say so.” She rose to leave. “As for gossiping about you around the coffee machine, I’d never do that to you. Anything you said to me would be strictly between us.” Vivian made her way to the door before she added, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, and fair warning, beauty queen. Alyson’s a vulture. If you decide Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Wanted floats your boat after all, watch your back. She’s not above putting a knife in it.”

  Jordis grimaced. Not because of what Vivian said about Alyson. Jordis had already figured that out. What grated her was the “beauty queen” moniker. Others called her that behind her back, and she hated it. Vivian was the only one with the guts—and the integrity—to say it to her face, and Vivian mostly did it to get a rise out of her.

  Vivian noticed Jordis’s grimace and chuckled on her way out the door.

  * * *

  In Michael’s office, Chase leaned against the closed office door with his arms crossed over his chest.

  Michael lounged on the office sofa. “Okay, start talking.” He placed his feet on the mahogany sofa table and crossed them at the ankles. “Are associate meetings always like that?”

  “See what you’ve been missing?” Chase grinned.

  Michael shook his head. “What’s the deal with this Covington character?”

  “He’s a real piece of work isn’t he?”

  “He’s an arrogant, sexist prick is what he is.”

  Chase laughed. “Yeah, that too.” Pushing off the door, he moved to the armchair perpendicular to the sofa.

  “So, remind me how we ended up with Mr. Personality?”

  “He’s the nephew of Stormy Willis over in Business and Finance. He’s been at the firm since he was a first year associate but only switched to IP litigation about three years ago. Apparently, he went to a top tier law school, finished in the top third of his class, and has an impressive courtroom record. And, of course, no one is more impressed with his credentials than Covington himself.”

  “Clearly. Do he and Morgan go at it like that every week?”

  “No. You just got lucky today.”

  Michael snorted.

  “Seriously,” Chase continued. “Eric is a smartass to pretty much everyone in the group. As you witnessed, he tends to act more patronizing with the women. He’s tested Jordis for weeks. Until today, he hadn’t pushed her too hard so she’s responded with enough fire to check him but hadn’t engaged any heavy artillery. For some reason, Covington decided to grandstand today to make a point. Perhaps he was trying to impress you.”

  Michael snorted again. “Yeah, right. He certainly failed at that.”

  Chase nodded. “Well, I’ve been waiting for the day Jordis decided to take off the kid gloves. I always suspected in head-to-head combat, I should bet on the lady.”

  Michael gave an appreciative whistle. “Man, she’s one cool customer. Is she always that smooth?”

  “I’ve never seen her lose her temper, but rumor has it she’s not a lady you want to cross. From what I could find out about her, when she goes after an opponent she does it with a smile and the finesse you witnessed earlier. Apparently, they don’t realize they’ve been sliced and diced until they’re lying bleeding on the floor.”

  Chase rose and wandered to Michael’s desk. He looked down at the two photos clipped to the resumes Michael had abandoned earlier. He grabbed them and turned back to Michael. “I guess you have a better understanding now of your possible replacements for me.” He tossed the dossiers onto the coffee table, one of Eric Covington and one of Jordis Morgan.

  “Yeah.” Michael placed his feet on the floor. “I certainly like Jordis’s fire. Not to mention she clearly does her homework. She spouted the relevant facts of the Gardner file without once looking at any notes. That’s impressive.”

  “The entire group is really bright, but yeah, Jordis stands out when it comes to the details. She’s helped me a couple of times with some motions and a few deposition preps. She has a real knack for reviewing large quantities of information and finding patterns and connections others miss.”

  Michael aligned the photographs side-by-side. “And if I were grading them on their arguments today, Covington wouldn’t make the cut.”

  “Well, then, I guess you have your answer.” Chase sat back down. “Jordis would certainly be my choice for my replacement.”

  Michael wasn’t so sure. He had no doubt the lady lawyer would perform beautifully as his second chair, but the sexual effect she’d had on him today gave him pause. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a hard-on in a business setting. In fact, he didn’t think he ever had. If she had that effect on him in a full conference room when they weren’t interacting directly, what would happen if they worked closely together for an extended period of time?

  Chase probed into his silence. “Michael?”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “Maybe? What maybe? A mind like a steel trap, exceptional debating skills, and extensive courtroom experience. What’s your maybe?”

  “I don’t know.” Michael blew out a breath. “Nothing. You’re right. Jordis is the clear choice.” It wouldn’t be fair to select Covington over her because Michael couldn’t keep his libido under control. He’d simply make sure to keep his focus on the case and off those long shapely legs. His mind drifted at the thought.

  “Not to mention, all that comes in a package perfectly designed to make a man want to come home to her every night.”

  It took a few seconds for the comment to register with Michael. He looked up with a frown to find Chase watching him with a knowing half smile. “Hey, what happened to all that ‘no woman can replace my Grace’ business?”

  “I’m widowed, not dead. My eyes work just fine. As do yours apparently.” Chase gave a look that dared Michael to challenge him.

  Michael’s expression veiled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, puh-leez.” Chase pushed to his feet. “You forget to whom you’re speaking. You can drop the poker face. I know you too well. I saw you checking her out . . . more than once.”

  Michael looked at Chase without responding.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Chase headed for the door. Before he opened it, he turned back towards Michael. “You know, it looks like Ms. Morgan is going to shake things up around here in more ways than one.” Smiling, he added, “Perhaps the cure for your infatuation with the New Year’s Eve mystery woman is in the office around the corner and down the hall.”

  Michael flipped him the bird. Chase laughed and exited the office. Michael could still hear him laughing after the heavy mahogany door clicked shut.

  To his frustration, Michael spent the rest of the afternoon trying to dissect the weaknesses in the Dexter Drug motion for summary judgment without success. Caramel skin, hazel eyes, and gams the stuff of erotic fantasies kept traipsing across his concentration. He wanted to talk to her again. That niggling feeling he’d met her before still bothered him. He felt uptight and on edge, and Jordis Morgan was the cause. She drew him on a biological level even though his intellect kept sending his impulses the exact opposite message.

  He pushed up abruptly from his desk and grabbed his duffle bag. Maybe a good, hard workout would take his mind off the distracting Ms. Morgan. He needed to talk to her about stepping into the Metra Pharmaceuticals case, but he wasn’t ready to do that yet. He would put it off for a few days. He needed time to get his head on straight, maybe even get laid. He suspected his drought in the area of sexual relations fueled a lot of his lusty enthusiasm for Ms. Morgan.

  He hit the weights hard then took a two-mile run around the track. By the time he finished, he was loose, sweaty and relaxed. A quick shower
made him feel like a new man. Under the heat of the blow dryer, he ran his fingers through the cropped hair at the top of his head. He’d only recently gotten his hair cut this way. He’d worn it long through the first part of winter, like he had in college. Back then, it got him more play with the ladies. Now, the longer hair didn’t gel with his professional, killer litigator persona. He tended to keep his style short and neat when he had to appear in court, like he had this week.

  After he returned to work, the rest of the workday progressed with productive efficiency. The following day, however, he found himself drifting into the same unfocused predicament. He also found himself in the weight room and on the track the following day and each of the two days after that. The sight of Jordis in the hall or during the briefest interaction aggravated his restlessness. Now that he’d met her, he felt as if he ran into her constantly. It was like buying a new car. Once you decided on a particular model, the number of similar cars on the road seemed to multiply by a thousand.

  Pondering his new daily two-hour workouts and the woman who drove him to them, Michael strode towards the elevator Thursday night. The faint sound of music interrupted his thoughts. He lifted his wrist and noted eleven fifteen on the face of his TAG Heuer watch. When he rounded the corner, he saw light streaming from Jordis’s office. Why he’d passed this way tonight instead of taking his usual route to the elevator—which took him in the opposite direction—he didn’t really want to analyze at the moment nor the rush of exhilaration at the sight of her.

  She sat at her desk listening to a tune with a relaxed groove while she reviewed the documentation in an open file folder. Her bare feet rested on the edge of her desk, bopping in time with the music. She held the file propped on her knees. With her other hand, she cradled a refillable twenty-ounce travel mug she sipped from absently every few minutes.

  He sat his briefcase at his feet and leaned against her doorjamb. Those long legs enthralled him as much as the first time he’d seen them. He noticed her toes were painted in a French pedicure to match her fingers and even her bare feet looked sexy. Every once in a while, she sang along under her breath with the female vocalist about working what you’ve got. She hadn’t noticed him. He wondered how long it would take. Until she did, he contented himself with watching her.