by Lisa Rayne
Men tended to be attracted to women like her—smart, independent, financially secure—but ultimately, the glamour wore off. At some point, they began to expect her to be less in control and more needy. If she made advances in her career, they eventually felt threatened. It got real old real quick.
Keith had been a perfect example. The more her career advanced, the more pressure he’d exerted for them to attend his business functions at the exclusion of hers. Slowly, every bunch of flowers, gift or special dinner presaged some obligation he felt she should fulfill at his request. If she never heard the expression “with all the things I do for you” again, it would still be way too soon.
She’d never been one of those females who spent her formative years fantasizing about babies by a high school sweetheart or white picket fences or knights on white chargers. Like the heroine in that Cheetah Girls song her goddaughter used to love—what was it called? Cinderella?—she’d rather rescue herself.
She’d always been driven and career-focused. Her father had disappeared shortly after the court finalized her parents’ divorce so the vision of man as protector and provider wasn’t one she’d fostered. She’d known it was up to her to provide for herself and had pursued a law degree with single-minded determination.
Last year, she’d learned how tenuous her sense of security really was. A horny senior partner who wouldn’t take no for an answer, a late-night work session used as an ambush, and a he-said she-said scenario that left her on the losing side had nearly cost her everything. Luckily, a partner at her prior firm who’d believed her side of the story had known the hiring partner at RHM, and she’d quickly found a new job.
Talk about your double irony. This time, it wasn’t just the senior partner who was horny. She wanted him right back. She wanted him right back, but she couldn’t have him because of their work relationship. And now, she couldn’t even hold onto her fantasy suitor because he was that same untouchable senior partner.
In some ways, knowing the man who had unleashed her inner vixen under a starry winter sky was the same man who’d turned her inside out in a firm elevator and in a public garage reassured her. At least she wasn’t a complete harlot; she only lost control—and all sense of propriety—with one man.
The ring of her telephone interrupted her thoughts. Jordis lifted the phone from the arm of the couch, read the caller ID then hit Ignore.
Narisa.
She didn’t feel like talking to her cousin right now. Although, Narisa would certainly get a kick out of this current twist of fate.
Her phone beeped a notice. Looking at her phone again, she saw Narisa had sent her a text message: Stop avoiding me. You can’t still be mad about New Year’s Eve! Answer my calls, you witch!!
Jordis shook her head. That was Narisa for you. When she’d stopped by her cousin’s to chew her out for leaving her stranded that night, she’d made the mistake of telling Narisa about her run-in with the gladiator. Instead of being chagrined, Narisa had told Jordis to be thankful she’d been unavoidably detained.
Whatever. Her cousin getting laid—even by her gorgeous, professional football player new boyfriend—wasn’t exactly unavoidable. Nevertheless, in Narisa’s opinion, if not for her no-show, Jordis would have missed what Narisa considered the best part of Jordis’s evening. Not only had Narisa thought the whole story exciting and sexily romantic, but she’d also encouraged Jordis to find the man and take him up on his date offer.
Well, Jordis had found him. Now that she knew he was her boss, no way could she take him up on his offer.
She’d allowed herself to get way more comfortable with the man tonight than she should have. He was quite charming and gallant when he wasn’t in his brooding or domineering mode.
Thinking about how he’d handled Keith brought a smile to her lips. She’d thought Keith headed for an aneurysm when Michael told him to keep his hands to himself. Then, Michael had chartered the Cinderella carriage to make her feel better. His thoughtfully sentimental gesture had instantly grabbed her heart. By the time they’d finished the carriage ride, all she could think about was how much she wished they’d met under different circumstances.
His kiss at her car had practically curled her toes. Why couldn’t she remember Keith ever kissing her that way? Brandt had always claimed she’d settled when she’d agreed to marry Keith, that he’d been expedient and comfortable—someone to present the power couple image prevalent in her social circle without the emotional investment of true soul mates.
There was nothing comfortable about Michael Remington. His blatant masculinity evoked heat and desire and consistently made her edgy, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t have a liaison with him. She needed to keep her libido in check if she didn’t want to face some pretty nasty and dire professional consequences.
Time to put her focus squarely back on partnership. Playtime with Mr. Remington was over.
Well, she smiled again, except for the ball game scheduled for tomorrow.
* * *
All heads turned towards Jordis when she walked into the gym the next morning. She had her hair pulled back in a high ponytail and wore an Under Amour workout suit in red with a white stripe down the side of the pants. The pant legs, unzipped at the bottom, showed a hint of white Nike hightops with a red Swoosh. She carried her own basketball under one arm and a duffle bag strapped over the other shoulder.
That she’d come dressed to play didn’t surprise Michael, but her air of total confidence as she walked towards a court full of men did. This wasn’t the lady who wore Michael Kors suits, three-inch heels, and French manicures. Those Nikes had seen court action. She hadn’t put together some new outfit to impress the boys. She’d played ball before. Where and how well, they’d soon find out.
“Who’s the lady?” Jackson Montgomery asked Michael. Due to his wife’s advancing illness, Jackson had been holed up in the hospital so long it had taken a near act of Congress to convince him to come blow off some steam.
“That’s Jordis Morgan,” Eric Covington volunteered. His tone revealed exactly how perturbed he felt about her presence.
Chase followed with Royal McCormick, the partner in charge of the Business and Finance practice group.
“What’s the big deal gents?” Chase asked. “The lady came to play. Since we have an uneven number of players today, Jordis will help even out the teams.”
Only five guys had made it to the court that morning. Jordis made six. They would have to play three-on-three.
“Which team gets stuck with her?” Eric asked.
“I say the former college basketball stars get the girl.” Royal slapped a hand on Eric’s shoulder and grinned.
Chase and Michael looked at each other. Generally, the group tried to divide them, feeling they had an unfair advantage having played ball together at Michigan State. Today, the group apparently figured having a woman on their team would be such a handicap they wouldn’t be much of a threat. Chase and Michael smiled at each other. Woman or no woman, they intended to wipe the floor with these guys.
Jordis stepped up to the group. “Gentlemen, how’s it going this morning?”
“Just fine, lovely lady.” McCormick advanced and shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Roy McCormick, Business and Finance.”
“Hello, Roy.” She smiled at the partner with tawny colored hair. “Jordis Morgan, Intellectual Property.” She glanced around the bunch, introduced herself to Jackson Montgomery then turned back to Roy. “So, it’s a pleasure meeting me, Roy, but not playing with me?”
“Um, well . . .” Roy looked to Michael for help.
Jordis laughed at his fumbling. “Don’t worry, Roy. I won’t hold it against you that you chose to pawn me off on the ‘former college basketball stars’.”
“You heard that, huh?” McCormick smiled at her, non-apologetic.
“Yeah, I heard.” She moved closer to Roy and smoothed the front of his shirt in a flirtatious gesture. Her eyes widened slightly in appreciati
on for the play of muscles under her hand. She left her hand resting over his heart when she looked deep into his eyes. “You sure you want to give me away, Roy, without even knowing if I can play?”
Roy licked his lips. “Darling, I’d love to take you on, but I don’t think here’s the right time or the place.”
Michael’s jaw tightened at McCormick’s double entendre, and he fought the urge to pull Jordis away from his colleague. Watching her paw Roy’s chest was breaking him out in hives.
Chase took one look at Michael’s tense posture and grabbed Jordis by the arm, pulling her away from McCormick. “Well, then, Jordis, it looks like you’re with us.”
She looked over at Michael. “That okay with you, boss?”
Michael gritted his teeth at the boss moniker. She used it to annoy him and keep distance between them, reminding him their relationship as supervisory attorney and associate made a sexual relationship taboo.
“No problem at all, Miss Morgan.” He wouldn’t let her get to him today. He motioned for her basketball, and she tossed it lightly. “Now, get those pants off so we can play some ball.”
He put extra schmooze on the “get those pants off” portion of his command. Her eyes flashed. She hadn’t missed his intentional taunt.
She eyed him as she slid her athletic pants down her legs. His eyes followed the slow, deliberate movement of her hands, and his eyes narrowed. He had a weakness for her legs. A weakness she knowingly used to taunt him back. The lady was playing with fire. Her striptease and fierce attitude lured him to an edge he doubted she was prepared to handle.
When her pants and jacket finally came off, Jordis wore black spandex biking shorts with a red Nike basketball tank edged in white and stenciled with the number 23. The tank hung to her hips, but did little to hide her shapely backside. Michael’s mouth went dry. He noticed the other men checking her out. He immediately wanted her to put her pants back on. It dawned on him having her on his team meant someone from the other team would be guarding her. Some other man would be putting his hands on her hips and backside to guard against her offensive moves on the court. The thought made him want to rescind her invitation to play.
When they lined up on the court, Michael consciously squared up against McCormick. He still had some residual angst from the flirtation that had gone on between the partner and Jordis. He wasn’t giving McCormick any excuse to get up close and personal with her. Roy would enjoy that way too much. Chase took Jackson, which left Jordis and Eric guarding each other.
Eric tossed the ball to Jordis. “Ladies first. Take the ball out.”
“Why thank you, Eric,” Jordis said with a faux smile. She let him check the ball. When he stayed back, playing her loosely, she dribbled once and immediately put up a jumper for a three-point shot.
“Ho!” McCormick exclaimed, raising his hands above his head in the universal touchdown gesture. “Nothing but net.” McCormick turned to Jackson and Covington. “Boys, did we just get played?”
Jordis winked at him, and McCormick eyed her with a little more heat.
Eric eyed her with a little more venom.
The game was about to get interesting.
Eric began to play more aggressively. Every time he touched Jordis defensively, Michael’s teeth clenched. At the rate things were going, he would need a set of partials before the game ended.
Midway through the competition, Chase, Jordis and Michael led by ten points. Jordis got the ball again. She’d taken the last four shots over Eric and his expression showed exactly how he felt about that. When she went up for a jumper this time, Eric hammered her hard. Jordis hit the ground with a grunt.
Michael moved quickly, but Chase got to her first. “Foul, Covington! What the hell was that about?”
“What? All I did was block the shot. If she can’t handle playing with the guys, she needs to get off the court.”
“Bullshit, Covington. That was a cheap shot.” Chase shoved him out of the way. “Don’t let it happen again.”
Chase turned as Michael stepped over, watching to see if he’d need to intervene between Michael and Covington.
Lucky for Eric, Michael only had eyes for Jordis. He squatted beside her. “You all right?”
“Yeah. No harm done.” She sat up and looked over at Eric, mumbling a curse under her breath.
Michael noticed the direction of her gaze. “I’ve got Covington from here on out.”
“No. You don’t.”
Fury settled in Michael’s chest. Fury he intended to use to put Covington in his place despite Jordis’s determination to do this her way. He sensed another battle of wills coming. “Look, Jordis. That was intentional. He’s trying to make a point, and I’ve had enough of these games between you two.”
“Yeah, me too, and I’m about to put a stop to it.” She held out a hand. “Help me up, please.”
Michael gave her a tug up, and Chase moved in to huddle with them. “What’s the plan? Michael, you taking Covington?”
Chase knew him well. “Yes.”
“No,” Jordis contradicted. “Covington’s mine, Remington.”
Chase looked between the two. He gave Michael a sympathetic look, but took the decision out of Michael’s hands by asking Jordis, “What do you want us to do?”
She put out her hand. “Give me the ball and clear the field.”
“Jordis—” Michael started, but she interrupted him.
“Michael, you interfere in this, and I’ll turn that Jag parked outside into a crushed aluminum can. Let me handle Eric. Pick up your man and keep him out of my way.”
Michael’s brow creased at her reference to his Jag, but he nodded and stepped over to McCormick.
“Your lady all right, Remington?” McCormick asked.
“She’s not my lady,” Michael ground out.
McCormick chuckled. “Maybe not, but you sure want her to be.”
Michael narrowed his eyes at his partner, wondering why he’d said that.
“Dude, it’s written all over your face. I’m surprised Covington can still walk.”
“If it were up to me, he wouldn’t be able to.”
McCormick watched Jordis check the ball for Eric. “Feisty one, huh?”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
Roy eyed Jordis pensively. “She wouldn’t happen to have a sister?”
Michael stared at McCormick’s grinning face. The man was a flagrant flirt and hopeless womanizer. Michael rolled his eyes. “No. No sister. Just a younger brother.”
Royal made a tsking sound. “Pity.” When Michael gave him a discerning eye, Roy—who at an even six feet was several inches shorter than Michael—patted him on the shoulder. With laughter still in his voice, he soothed, “Easy, big guy. You can’t fault a man for appreciating the scenery.”
The men’s focus went back to the game. Eric made a move to get around Jordis, and she swatted the ball away. Throwing her whole body into the move, she knocked him on his ass in the process.
“Oh, sorry. My bad. You okay, Eric?” She offered a hand to help him up.
He stared at her hand for a few seconds before extending his to let her assist him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go again, counselor.”
This time Jordis had the ball. When Eric pressed her, she dribbled behind her back, slid past him and went for an easy layup. They kept at each other basket after basket. Eric would shove. Jordis would shove back. For every basket Eric made, Jordis made two. Every once in a while, Jordis would drill the ball to Chase or Michael for an easy shot, but for the most part, the other men accepted the rest of the game was the Jordis and Eric show.
By the final minutes of the game, Jordis had sunk nine baskets to Eric’s five and Eric’s frustration showed. His deteriorating attitude affected his performance. Jordis set up for the last shot. Eric crouched to guard her.
She kept her dribble out of his reach, adding some fancy footwork for good measure. Each time he tried for the ball, she outmaneuvered him. She toyed with him,
dribbling the ball between her legs and behind her back a few times for show.
She dribbled left then right a few feet, Eric on her heels the whole time. She spun backwards, letting him trail her but not get a drop on the ball. After she’d dribbled around him a few times, she passed the ball behind her back, headed out of the paint towards the top of the key. Stepping theatrically outside the three-point line, she pivoted towards the basket and released the ball. Her hand hovered in the air, wrist bent in homage to her follow through.
Swish, nothing but net.
“I believe that’s game, boys,” Jordis purred before going for her towel and wiping her face.
Roy fisted his hands on his hips. “Okay, give. Where did you play?”
She smiled. “Stanford. Lady Cardinal. Conference champs three years in a row. National champions my senior year.”
Nodding, Roy grinned back at her. “Ah. That explains the red jersey.”
Smile still in place, she picked up her belongings and headed for the locker room.
Behind her, Eric hung in half, hands braced against his knees while he tried to catch his breath.
McCormick stepped to Covington and patted him on the back. “Damn, son, the lady took you to school.” He glanced at Jordis’s retreating back. “And looked mighty fine doing it.” With a smirk in Remington’s direction, McCormick grabbed his bag and headed for the men’s locker room.
Chase placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I think McCormick’s in love.” Chase laughed at the predatory expression Michael gave him. He lifted his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger.” Chase bent to snatch up their duffle bags. “Just saying.”
Michael took his bag from Chase and headed for the locker room. “Did you know she could play ball like that?”
Chase walked alongside him. “Nope. That tidbit wasn’t included in her resume, boss.”