Counselor Undone

by Lisa Rayne

  “Don’t insult me. I don’t trade sex for professional advancements.”

  “No?”

  “No.” Her brain flashed the memory of her and Michael in the gym locker room on Saturday, but she pushed it away. That’s not what that had been about.

  He studied her for another minute. “So, it’s just a coincidence you and Remington happened to come out of the gym together Saturday morning?”

  Jordis’s jaw clenched. Knowing Eric had waited outside to see when they’d left annoyed her. “He was being a gentleman, Eric.” Her hands dropped to the desk beside her hips, her fingers grasping the edge. “He didn’t want me to come out to an empty parking lot. I was slow getting dressed. Seems I had some sore muscles and bruises from being pounded on the basketball court.” She looked pointedly at him.

  Eric made a face at her mention of bruises. “If that’s really the case, then I apologize for that . . . and for my insulting insinuation.” He stepped closer. “Let me make it up to you.”

  “Make it up to me how?” Skepticism moved in to dance with the unease still racing along her spine. Was he being sincere or was this a case of keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Her instincts shouted he was up to something.

  “Why don’t you let me buy you lunch?”

  She uncrossed her legs to stand, but he moved so his feet straddled her ankles, preventing her from rising. She stared at him blankly, incredulity making her momentarily speechless.

  “I’m serious.” He reached for her face. “I’d like us to start over.”

  Her hand went up automatically. “Eric, what are you—”

  The opening of the door sounded behind him. Eric jumped away, the action and the expression on his face making him look guilty.

  Michael Remington paused in the doorway, his hand on the doorknob. He considered Eric. “Sorry to interrupt.” He glanced at Jordis, a hard look in his eyes. “Eric, I need to borrow Jordis for a meeting. It doesn’t appear you two were in the middle of anything important.”

  “Just making plans to go out.” Eric retrieved his file off the desk and headed for the door.

  Jordis frowned at his misleading comment. She stood to correct him, but he interrupted her before she could.

  “Jordis, I’ll catch you later.” He left, but not before giving her a smug glance and a wink behind Michael’s back.

  When Eric was gone, Jordis focused on Michael. He watched her with an undecipherable look on his face.

  “Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” She moved to put her desk between them.

  “Meet me and Chase in the East Conference Room in ten minutes.”

  “Okay. What’s up?”

  “We’ll talk about it in the conference room.” He turned abruptly and walked out, the trademark Michael Remington brood gracing his face.

  The residual testosterone level in the room from the Covington-Remington back-to-back encounters surged a little high for her liking. Eric Covington’s moves had caught her off guard. Of all the behaviors she expected of him, making a pass at her wasn’t one of them. She could imagine what the scene must have looked like from Michael’s perspective.

  And Michael. What was with him? He’d seemed upset about something.

  Was she in for an unpleasant surprise when she walked into that conference room?

  She decided not to put off the inevitable. She grabbed the Gardner file and dropped it on her secretary’s desk on her way to the conference room. A ways down the hall, she noticed Alyson and Eric chatting outside Eric’s office. They stopped talking at her appearance and stared at her quietly.

  So, the gossip has started already, she thought. Feeling like a goldfish in a bowl, Jordis nodded and walked on.

  She entered the East Conference Room to find Michael at the table in rolled up shirtsleeves. The light dusting of hair over his forearms made him look masculine and capable. His olive skin mimicked the perfect tan. That she noticed all this annoyed her. She hadn’t been summoned here for the Michael Remington Admiration Society. She was here for . . . Well, she didn’t know what she was here for, but she was about to find out.

  “Jordis, have a seat.” Chase motioned her to the conference room table.

  Michael’s eyes dropped to the gold stilettos she’d donned today. His lips curved up momentarily as if he were thinking of something amusing.

  Jordis watched him. “Something wrong with my shoes?”

  “Nope.” The look he initially gave her could have melted ice in the Arctic. Then, his eyes shifted. “No boots today?”

  Trust me. The last thing I think about you doing in those boots is taking a stroll. The memory of his words, combined with the sweltering look in his eyes, made her pulse pound. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was intentionally baiting her. But why?

  She kept her face and emotions neutral. She wouldn’t think about his large hands playing idly with his stylus or about how they’d felt against her skin this weekend. She was a professional. She would behave professionally . . . for now. Then she’d head straight home and have a date with BOB while she fantasized about olive skin and gray eyes.

  Screw that boss crap. She needed to get this lingering itch scratched mechanically since she had no intention of letting him scratch it in the flesh. Eric’s accusation had reinforced what she already knew: she didn’t have the luxury of—and certainly couldn’t risk—indulging in any more hands-on activities with Mr. Remington.

  Chase took the lead in the conversation, oblivious to her mounting discomfort. Distracted by her wayward thoughts, she almost missed him say they wanted her to take his place on the Metra Pharmaceuticals case.

  She gave a mental fist pump.

  “I’ll need you to work late tonight,” Michael said. “We need to sort through the key issues of the motion and divvy up the work to get our response done quickly.”

  The imaginary fist pump died. Apprehension replaced elation. The last time a partner with a sexual attraction to her asked her to work late, the performance he’d demanded had nothing to do with her mental prowess. She’d put Michael off Saturday. Was this his way of making sure she went all the way with him? She hadn’t anticipated he’d be one of those partners who passed out assignments then expected some late night appreciation.

  Jordis looked at Chase. “I’m happy to step in. I’d like some time to get up to speed on the documents before I start strategizing on the case. Tomorrow afternoon would be better for me.”

  “You’ll be working closely with Michael. I’ll let the two of you sort out the details. I just wanted to make myself available in case you had any initial questions I might be able to answer.”

  “No questions at this time. I’ll spend some time with the file today and let you know if anything comes to mind.” Jordis finally looked at Michael. “Why don’t we convene tomorrow right after lunch? That’ll give me plenty of time to get up to speed on the facts and history of the case.”

  “I’d prefer to start tonight,” Michael responded.

  Jordis hesitated. In the silence, a buzzing phone announced one of them had a call. Michael and Chase both checked the phones clipped on their belts.

  Chase stood. “Excuse me.” He freed his phone as he stepped into the hall and closed the conference room door behind him.

  As soon as the door closed, Michael asked, “Jordis do you have plans tonight?”

  Plans? How was that any of his business? “Um, no. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m trying to figure out why you’re trying to avoid work tonight. I’d think after a key case assignment of this nature, you’d be anxious to prove yourself.”

  “Prove myself how?” The question popped out before she could check herself.

  Michael’s brow creased. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Jordis glanced at the door. Chase was still outside. She dropped her voice to a half whisper. “Is this your way of ‘handling it’?”

  “Handling what?”

  Jordis took
a deep breath. She didn’t know whether to call him on his ploy to give them an excuse to work together or simply be smart about avoiding situations that placed them alone at late hours. She really wanted this case, but it stuck in her craw that she’d gotten it because Michael Remington wanted to sleep with her. She had no doubt that’s what had given her the edge when word around the firm had Covington pegged as shoe-in for top pick.

  She wasn’t slinking quietly into another quid pro quo situation where she’d be expected to put out to advance her career. “You know, Michael, I expected different from you. Friday night when you said you’d find a way to handle things between us, this isn’t what I thought you had in mind.”

  His jaw flexed. “Why don’t you stop talking in riddles and say what you mean?”

  “Fine.” She shot from her seat, abrupt momentum forcing her chair back and nearly over. Pressing her hands flat on the conference table, she leaned towards him. “Just how are you expecting me to prove myself, Mr. Remington? With my brains or on my back?”

  His eyes flashed with sudden understanding. He rose slowly from his chair, an evil look on his face, and said in a low mocking voice, “I don’t know, Ms. Morgan. Which one are you better at?”

  Jordis had the good sense to move away, but he stalked her retreating figure. He backed her into the antique buffet holding the coffee setup, leaving her nowhere to go. Refusing to be intimidated, she slid to her right.

  He reached out and pulled her back in front of him. “Where are you going, Jordis? You didn’t answer my question.” With his hand firmly on her hip, he held her imprisoned by placing his other hand on the antique close enough to her body she could feel the heat from his forearm radiate along her side.

  Shallow, labored breaths pulsed from her lungs, fed by her building temper. The woodsy scent of his cologne bombarded her senses. She couldn’t smell it without thinking of that kiss in the elevator or the feel of his hands under her coat in the Plaza parking garage.

  That her body reacted physically to him despite her fury intensified her mounting rage. The ever-present sexual tension between them affected her more than his looming presence. By the smirk on his face, he knew it. Her emotional gears shifted from angry to pissed. Two could play that game.

  She drew a finger down the line of buttons under his Armani tie and said in a sultry voice, “Lucky for you, I’m great at both.” She leaned into him, both palms flat against his high-thread-count designer shirt. She let one wander languidly against the fabric. “Which one were you planning to take advantage of?”

  Satisfaction speared through her when his hand flexed on her hip and he sucked in a sharp breath.

  It was short lived.

  He countered immediately. “Which one are you offering?” He pressed his hips against her, making the high edge of the buffet bite into her lower back.

  The twinge at her back barely registered due to the feel of his arousal throbbing against her pelvis, but it wasn’t lust in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to throttle her.

  “And are you planning to put out right here or do I have to take a number behind Covington?”

  She flinched. “Bastard!” The word burst from her mouth and her hands shoved hard against his chest. “Get off me!”

  He grabbed her wrists. “You know, sweetheart, I’ve been at this game a long time. No one calls into question my integrity without being able to back it up. Make no mistake. I want you. I want you bad. But I don’t make professional decisions with my dick. So, the next time you think you’re currying favor with me because I want to stick mine in you, remember this. I’d never risk my reputation or the future of this firm on a piece of tail, not even one as mouthwatering as you.”

  “Michael!” Chase stood in the doorway, a look on his face comprised of equal parts horror, surprise, and ire.

  Michael released Jordis’s hands abruptly, and she tottered to the side before regaining her balance. She glared at him, fists balled tightly at her sides, using all her energy not to punch him and to swallow words that would likely end her career at RHM. She turned to leave, back straight, fists still clenched.

  Before she reached the door, Michael called after her. Jordis stopped, but didn’t turn around.

  “You have all afternoon to review what you feel you need to review. I’ll expect you back here at six o’clock. Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll have something brought in.”

  She exited, shutting the door with a force only a few decibels below a slam.

  * * *

  “Dammit!” With one swipe of his hand, Michael sent the silver tray holding coffee condiments flying off the buffet onto the floor. Sugar packets fluttered listlessly to the carpet and blanketed red plastic stirrers lying in a pick-up-sticks pattern. Mini creamer cups bounced and rolled.

  Chase surveyed the mess. “Did that help?” He shook his head. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Michael stormed over to the windows, not happy that his partner had witnessed him becoming completely undone. “It’s her.”

  “Jordis? Well, duh, Sherlock.”

  “No. Juliet.”

  “Juliet? Michael, don’t you have enough to worry about with your feelings for Jordis? You really think you need to hang on to this fixation on Juliet?”

  He turned to face Chase. “She is Juliet.”

  “What? You don’t honestly believe Jordis Morgan is your mystery woman?”

  “Yeah.” His shoulders dropped. “I do.”

  “Um, Michael,” Chase crossed his arms, “you have noticed that’s not a suntan Jordis is sporting, right?”

  Michael gave his buddy the evil eye. “Don’t be a smart-ass.”

  Chase chuckled. “I’m just saying. That’s a pretty fundamental characteristic to overlook.”

  “I know, but it was dark. I was focused on her dress. Well, actually, I was focused on how she looked in that dress. I was so wrapped up in the way she made me feel I didn’t think about the possible nuances of her complexion. I just assumed . . .” He shoved his hands into his hair, paced a step and then stopped. “How ‘bout you cut me some slack, huh? What difference does it make what color she is? If we’re talking skin tone, I’m probably as dark as she is.”

  Chase’s head bobbed at the comment. “True. And you know her color doesn’t matter to me, of all people, but the info would certainly have changed the nature of our search.” A wide grin spread across his face.

  It was true Chase wasn’t one to draw color lines. Under the blond hair, blue eyes and fair skin, there was more to Chase than met the eye. At the moment, however, Michael didn’t give a crap about the man’s elevated psyche. His hands found his hips as he glared at his friend.

  Still grinning, Chase backed off. “Okay. Okay. Let’s put that aside for a minute. What makes you think she’s Juliet?”

  “It’s been driving me crazy from the moment I met her, this nagging feeling I knew her from somewhere. Then I . . .” Michael’s voice trailed off.

  “Then you what?”

  He took a deep breath. “I kissed her.”

  One side of Chase’s mouth twitched. “You kissed her?”

  Michael was glad someone found this funny. “Several times.”

  Chase stepped over the coffee service mess and leaned against the buffet. “Let me get this straight. You believe Jordis is your elusive mystery woman. You’ve kissed her . . . more than once. And then you called her a ‘piece of tail’ just now as your way of moving this budding romance to the next level?”

  Right. Stupid. Michael shook his head. “No, I—” He dropped into a conference table chair. “Ugh! That woman is driving me out of my mind. I dream about her. I start out dreaming about Juliet, but by the time the dream is over, she’s changed into Jordis.”

  “And because of this morphing dream, you believe Jordis is Juliet?”

  “It’s more than that.”

  “All right.” Chase walked over and sat down perpendicular to him. “Tell me about it.”

  He ran Cha
se through his encounters with Jordis thus far.

  Chase nodded his head then glanced at the door through which Jordis had exited. “How does Jordis feel about all this?”

  He leaned back in his chair, somewhat relieved Chase didn’t think he was nuts. “I don’t know. We haven’t discussed it.”

  “Why not? Until you verify it with her, this is all supposition on your part.”

  “If you remember, as Juliet, she didn’t want me to know her real name. Given her absolutely-not stance on a relationship with her supervising attorney, I’m doubtful she’ll be thrilled to learn the truth.” He drummed his fingers against the table. “I’ve come up with another way to check her attendance at that party New Year’s Eve.”

  “How?”

  “I realized I could remember the number on the side of the taxi she left in. I sent the information to our investigator this morning to check out.”

  “So you really can’t be sure she’s your Juliet until you get a report back from Rodriguez.”

  “I’m sure. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Whatever Rodriguez finds during his investigation will only be confirmation of what I already know in my gut.”

  Chase nodded. “Okay. Then she’s right to be concerned about the supervising attorney issue. You need to get that resolved if you’re serious about pursuing this.”

  “I can’t ask her to pass on the Metra Pharmaceuticals case because I’m attracted to her.”

  “No, but if you both want this relationship to continue, then you could mutually agree Jordis take a different case assignment or transfer to another department. She’s got as much transactional experience as litigation. She’d be great in Business and Finance. I’m sure Roy would love to have her.” Chase laughed loudly at the look on Michael’s face. “Down, boy! I didn’t mean it that way. Roy is a lot of things, but he would never step on another man’s toes, especially not a friend. Boy, you’ve got it bad!”

  He had it bad all right. When he’d walked in on Jordis with Covington this morning something vicious and green had crawled onto his back, and he hadn’t been able to shake it loose. “You don’t understand.”