by Lisa Rayne
* * *
Jordis stilled. Sensing a presence at the door, she slowly glanced up. Michael Remington stood with his jacket pulled back, hands thrust in the pockets of his pants. The stance accentuated how the tailored cut of his slacks caressed his muscular thighs. Today, he’d paired a charcoal gray suit, possibly Gucci, with a soft lilac shirt and a shiny silk tie in a deeper almost royal purple. Above his square jaw and strong chin, his full lips pressed together as if he deeply pondered something. He had the look of one of those brooding, sporty types displayed in Armani or Dolce & Gabbana cologne ads.
Her breath caught in her throat. She hoped Michael thought it was because he’d startled her—which he had—but, in truth, her breathlessness was due more to an unexpected kick of hormones than a frisson of fear.
“How long have you been standing there?” She grabbed a small remote off her desk and pointed it towards her music player to quiet Mary J. Blige.
“Long enough.” He slid his fingers through his hair, giving it a tousled look.
Jordis’s eyes followed the movement. She’d seen him do the same during the team meeting. Now, like then, she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through that thick, coffee-brown mass.
Something about Michael Remington exuded sexual energy. She was uncomfortably aware of him as a man and that wasn’t good. When she’d spied him at her door, a soft mmm mmm had reverberated through her head. She’d had a similar reaction when he’d walked into the briefing meeting three days ago. He had a swagger to his walk she didn’t usually associate with men of his background. When he’d approached her in the conference room, all her girly parts had started to vibrate.
She’d convinced herself her reaction stemmed only from objective appreciation for a beautiful male specimen. Like admiring a male model in a magazine ad, you could look all you wanted, but you knew you’d never actually touch. Then she’d caught him staring at her legs during her tête-à-tête with Eric Covington. It had taken every ounce of her self-control to stay on point with Eric and keep her voice from reflecting the tremors in her belly set off by Michael Remington’s perusal.
She no longer believed what she experienced when seeing the partner qualified as simple aesthetic appreciation. Those girly parts were vibrating again, and she needed to cut it out. He was one of her supervising attorneys for Pete’s sake.
Michael walked to her desk and picked up the file folder she’d sat aside. “You know, I’m usually the last one out of the office at night. It’s after eleven o’clock . . .” His last sentence trailed off in a distracted manner.
A rough clearing of his throat caught her attention. His eyes focused on her lap while he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. A quick look down by Jordis revealed her unladylike position hiked her brown pencil skirt past mid-thigh. Heat of embarrassment climbed up her neck. Heat of another kind crept down her belly and radiated through her lower abdomen. Jordis quickly put her feet on the floor and adjusted her skirt.
Michael averted his gaze while she slid her feet into a pair of brown three-inch leather platform pumps with ankle straps. “What are you still doing here?” he finally asked.
“Chase made me lead counsel on the Gardner pro bono case.” She leaned from her chair to buckle one of her shoes. “Since I’ve got a deposition tomorrow on my trademark infringement case, I wanted to get up to speed today because I’m meeting with Miss Gardner the day after that.”
His eyes moved from the contents of the file to her face. “That’s Saturday.”
She smiled. “Yes, sir. I’m well aware of the weekly calendar.”
An odd intensity darkened his eyes. “That’s good to know . . . ma’am.”
He said it with a straight face, but Jordis sensed his facetiousness. She never would have suspected he had a sense of humor. He seemed so straight-laced and buttoned up.
“The client works weekdays and has to collect her child from daycare by a certain time every night. I didn’t want her to have to miss time at work to meet with me or have to pay someone to watch her child. She has enough challenges without it costing her money to meet with lawyers who are supposed to be helping her for free. Saturday afternoon worked best for her schedule, and this way, she can bring the child with her.”
She rose to pack up. She took the pro bono file from his grasp and placed it in her designer Michael Kors MK signature tote. When she reached for the chocolate brown suit jacket that coordinated with her skirt, Michael stepped around the desk to help her. The gesture caught her off guard. She hesitated before allowing him to assist her.
He slid the jacket onto her shoulders, and his knuckles brushed her silky white blouse. As his hands fell away, he fingered a length of her hair. Jordis started. A warm tingle sizzled from his fingertips up through her scalp. Her gaze snapped over her shoulder. His eyes met hers and held while time suspended itself.
An eternity of awareness passed between them in the mere second it took Michael to take a quick step back. He frowned. From the look on his face, he’d surprised himself as much as her.
Looking away, he shoved his hands in his pocket. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Jordis turned. An odd sensation tugged at her, stemming from the coincidence of him caressing her hair when moments earlier she’d daydreamed about what it would feel like to run her fingers through his. She tamped down the emotion. “That’s not necessary.”
The clipped tone of his offer made it less than appealing. She didn’t think he really wanted to walk her to her car.
“Yes, it is. The parking garage will be abandoned this time of night.”
“Security will—”
“I’m your security for tonight.” His jaws tightened into a don’t-argue-with-me position.
She stared at him. From the moment he’d touched her hair, his demeanor had gone short and gruff. What was his problem?
He headed for the door and picked up his briefcase. “If you’re ever here this late by yourself again, make sure someone walks you to your car. The security desk is too far from the garage for them to be of much help if someone decides to make mischief.”
He waited for her to respond.
She made her way to the door, annoyed by his demeanor and his tone. “You know, I’m a big girl and—”
“Yes . . . you are.” He gave her a long, slow perusal, making it clear he appreciated all the grown parts of her. When his eyes made it back to hers, he stepped to her, placed his hand at the base of her throat, and rubbed his thumb along the line of her jaw. In her three-inch heels, she could nearly look him directly in the eyes. His voice dropped to a bedroom whisper. “But you do realize big girls get accosted all the time?”
His cologne—something woodsy and seductive—seemed familiar as it permeated Jordis’s senses and stirred her underworked sex drive. Those magnetic gray eyes held her, and her heart began to pound. Self-preservation mandated she step away from him, but she couldn’t get her legs to move. She had an inkling of what a Cobra’s prey must feel like, held paralyzed by eyes that hypnotize even knowing a fatal strike was imminent.
“I expect you to be careful. No case is worth your safety. Okay?”
She wanted to tell him to stop treating her like an idiot; that, of course, she paid attention to her safety when she left the building. That’s what she would normally have done. She didn’t like being told what to do by anyone, let alone by bossy macho types. Right now, however, she struggled to keep her concentration on something other than his lips. Their shape fascinated her. When he spoke, they were almost sensuous in movement.
As she became conscious of her thoughts, warning bells clanged loudly in her head. Having a pissing contest with her boss about safety precautions late at night seemed foolish when a whole other dynamic appeared to be at play. She needed to end this confrontation before she did something stupid, like lean up and press her lips against his.
“Okay,” she agreed in a voice softer than she intended.
His gray eyes darken
ed to the color of cumulous clouds. Her voice had come out breathy and flirty. The thought made her cringe internally. She didn’t do breathy and flirty. What was this guy doing to her?
Michael held her gaze for a long moment, his thumb rubbing seductively against her skin. When his eyes dropped to her lips and then to the pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat, she broke contact and reached down for her tote.
His expression shuttered. He mumbled, “I’ll take that.” He lifted the bag from her and merged it into his left hand with his own briefcase. “Let’s go.” He placed his free hand at the small of her back.
After the moment they’d just shared, they were both acutely aware of the location of his hand. Jordis looked over at him after a few steps. She wondered why he continued to guide her along, but she didn’t shake off his touch. The depth of color in his darkened eyes gave him a smoldering look that sent waves of adrenaline pulsing through her veins. She felt like the protagonist in one of those thrillers she liked to watch on television. She had the sense ominous music should be playing in the background, the kind that presaged getting into tight quarters—like an elevator—alone with him might be a colossal mistake.
Chapter 5
When they reached the elevator bay, Michael removed his hand from Jordis’s back to push the Down button. Although he no longer touched her, the ghost of his hand lingered along her back. He didn’t speak. He stood quietly at her side staring straight ahead. Jordis didn’t speak either, too busy trying to make sense of the odd current that had passed between them back at her office.
She thought about the look in his eyes when he’d caressed her face. He hadn’t tried to kiss her, but she’d gotten the impression he’d wanted to. But that was ridiculous, right? Michael Remington didn’t do office romances. The talk around the office made that clear.
The elevator arrived, and they stepped in together. Michael continued his silence. Jordis continued her silent musings about him. They’d known each other for only a few days. How had he managed to get under her skin with no more than a few touches and a challenging look from those hypnotic gray eyes?
Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. This pull stemmed from more than his physical appearance or a few touches. The guy intrigued her. He had from the moment he’d walked into the conference room three days ago. Since then, she’d run into him in the hall a few times and finished a research memorandum for one of his cases on appeal. Reviewing the file for that case had added to the admiration she’d already developed for his courtroom style. The man wrote one hell of a brief. His written legal work stood in equal measure with his courtroom flair.
Uh-oh. Personal curiosity, physical attraction, and professional admiration. This could not be happening. She was not developing a thing for a guy at work . . . and a white guy at that. Was she out of her mind?
Jordis glanced at Michael. She’d learned to thrive in the predominantly white school and work environment she’d been immersed in since her days at the all-girl college prep high school her mother insisted she attend, but she’d never dated outside her race. If she were going to start, now was not the time to develop an appreciation for tall, vanilla swagger. Well, given his luscious olive skin tone, maybe he was more like butter toffee swagger. Either way, a fling with a senior partner, even one—especially one—as sexy as Michael Remington was definitely not in the cards.
Nothing undermined a female lawyer’s credibility in the office quicker than talk she slept around with fellow associates. Carrying on with a senior partner? That constituted premeditated reputation suicide, a quick way to get herself labeled an opportunist set on sleeping her way to the top.
As if sensing her pensive mood, Michael slowly turned to face her. “Something wrong?” His deep baritone voice reverberated within the steel box of the elevator.
Warmth poured from his gaze. The look in his eyes made her senses prickle with apprehension. “No.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Her pitchy tone belied her calm outward appearance.
His eyes cruised heatedly down the length of her body, and she hoped that wasn’t the answer to her question.
“Like you’re considering . . . the possibilities?”
He took a step in her direction, as if propelled by a force outside himself. His movement caused a waft of his cologne to drift over her, and she was once again struck by the thought the fragrance was familiar. That prickly feeling intensified.
She took a measured step backwards.
Michael continued to advance, and she continued her slow backstep until the wall of the elevator interrupted her retreat. Michael’s eyes focused on her mouth. He reached for her and slid his thumb across her bottom lip. Jordis closed her eyes against the influx of arousal coursing through her.
“Michael,” she whispered before she opened her eyes, “this isn’t a good idea.”
“I know,” he replied right before he touched his mouth to hers.
Jordis stilled herself, bracing for a forceful, passionate kiss, but Michael took her mouth nice and slow. His gentle lips tested, searched. The unexpected tenderness short-circuited her defenses. Unprepared for the sweetness of his mouth or the seductive current flowing from the fingertips he brushed along her neck and jaw, she melted.
When he slid his tongue along the seam of her lips, it felt like the most natural thing in the world for her to open to him. He murmured softly in response. A distance thud signaled he’d dropped their briefcases. She wrapped her arms around his neck without conscious thought. He accepted her embrace as an invitation to take the kiss deeper and his exploration further.
The hand at her jawline slid down her neck and kept southbound until his palm slid inside her jacket to rub a beaded nipple through her blouse. Michael’s other hand slid around her waist to rest at the small of her back. He pulled her hips tight against him. Heat pooled between Jordis’s thighs and simmered under her skin. She had the sudden urge to remove her jacket . . . and her blouse . . . and everything else to release the blaze engulfing her. More importantly, she had an urge to remove the jacket, shirt and—oh, yeah—just about everything else off Mr. Future Managing Partner to see if he looked half as good without his clothes as he did in them.
Michael must have been thinking along similar lines because a sudden burst of cool air blew across her chest. He’d undone the top two buttons of her blouse without her noticing. Where his hand played along the curve of breast displayed above her demi bra, her skin flared hot. Everywhere else, she had goose bumps.
She moaned. His manhood went from semi-erect to rock hard instantly. He broke their kiss, emitting a sound between a growl and a groan, and transferred his touch from her breast to the wall above her head. The hand at her back slid to rest on the side of her waist. The relaxed hold removed her core from direct contact with his arousal, but she knew his physical state. She’d felt the evidence of his virility the instant it rose.
Michael looked into her eyes, fighting some battle with himself. She stared back at him, knowing she could halt the ardor happening between them with one word. Yet, that word wouldn’t come to her lips. She came to the uncomfortable realization a part of her didn’t want the encounter to stop.
* * *
Michael watched as Jordis’s eye color shifted to a deep forest green and her pupils dilated. Her lips parted a half second later, and the thoughts he’d been warring with fled his mind. He pressed himself against her, bending his knees slightly so his shaft fit in that perfect spot at the juncture of her thighs. He rested there, relishing the feel of her against him. He wanted her desperately. The sexual current between them sparked intense, volatile, but he wanted more from her than just sex. He wished he could absorb her through his skin until he knew her completely inside and out.
He’d watched her all week. Sharp and always on point when analyzing a legal issue, her intelligence made the outer package that much more attractive. She always appeared to be in a good mood, her behavio
r surprisingly courteous and polite to everyone including the support and janitorial staff, but she accepted no foolishness or disrespect.
The interesting dichotomy of the woman fascinated him. Add to that her sensitivity in putting the needs of a down-on-her-luck single mom ahead of her drive to bill hours or whatever weekend plans she could have made, and he was in a whole mess of trouble. He’d been drawn to her looks and legal acumen on a conscious level, but a connection this strong had to come from someplace deeper. How could he fight an attraction that was turning out to be so much more than physical, especially if he allowed his physical needs to dominate his interactions with her?
The voice of his mystery woman resounded in his head: Something tells me that after tonight, we’d be hard pressed to rewind to getting-to-know-you drinks or dinner and a movie. Perhaps she’d imparted a lesson he needed to heed. Wasn’t he about to make the same mistake?
Michael fought his urge to devour Jordis. Indecision flitted through her eyes. They needed to downshift.
She wrapped a finger through the belt loops on either side of his pants to steady herself. Her grasp shifted him slightly, causing his erection to rub against the V shielding the pleasure point beneath her pubic bones. A look of intimate bliss flitted across her face. Her eyes closed, and her head fell back against the wall. An odd sound squeezed from her throat. The sound whipped him mentally back onto a night-shrouded balcony where another woman had made a similar sound.
Juliet?
Jordis’s eyes flitted open.
Had he said that name out loud? Michael was searching her face for some clue she’d heard and recognized the name when the elevator bounced to a stop with an annoying ping.