Matchless

by Brynley Bush

  “Mila! There you are!” he says. “Nancy said you were busy putting out a fire on the Omega case this morning, but I need you now on that intellectual property case I was telling you about on Friday. We have a ten o’clock meeting. I’m afraid I’ll have to get you up to speed as we go.”

  “No problem. But can I please get a cup of coffee first?” I plead. “My body’s going to go into shock if I don’t get some caffeine in me soon.”

  Marcus laughs. “No problem. We’ll be in my office.”

  I make myself a cup of coffee and stop by my office to pick up a legal pad and a pen before walking down the hall to Marcus’ richly appointed corner office. The door is ajar, and I can hear Marcus singing my praises.

  “My associate, Mila Kingston, will be here in just a moment. I can assure you she’s one of the best intellectual property attorneys in California.”

  I smile at his praise and nudge the door open with my hip just in time to hear a disturbingly familiar voice say, “Did you say your associate’s name is Mila?”

  I’d know that sexy drawl blindfolded in a dark room. The gorgeous male with the slightly curly dark blond hair sitting across from Marcus turns in his chair as the door opens, and I find myself face to face with the man I thought I’d never see again—Griffin. I’m sure the shocked expression on his face mirrors the one on mine.

  “Oh, hell no!” I turn abruptly on my heel to leave.

  “Mila!” My boss’ voice is shocked and reproving.

  I slowly turn back around.

  “Do you two know each other?” he asks incredulously.

  “No!” I say vehemently at the same time that Griffin says, “Yes.”

  “Well, not really,” I amend.

  “In all the ways that count,” Griffin counters, his golden eyes intense.

  “Sit down, Mila,” Marcus commands, and I cross the room and sink down miserably into the only available chair, which is unfortunately uncomfortably close to Griffin’s. This can’t be happening! I was never supposed to see him again.

  “Do you have a problem working on this case?” The way Marcus asks me leaves no question that my answer had better be a resounding no.

  “I’m just surprised to see him since he said he would be out of the country for a while,” I say innocently, staring straight at Griffin to gauge his reaction.

  Just as I expected, he shifts uneasily in his chair. I knew it was a line, but I still feel my heart twist a little nonetheless.

  Marcus looks at him in surprise. “You’re going out of the country?” he asks in confusion. “I thought you were on a leave of absence.”

  Griffin at least has the good grace to look embarrassed. He shoots me an unfathomable look before turning back to Marcus. “No, sir,” he says smoothly. “I’m afraid Mila misunderstood.”

  “Oh, I think I understood perfectly,” I say coolly.

  Marcus looks from me to Griffin, perplexed. Shaking his head, he says, “I don’t know what the hell kind of history you two have, but you’re going to have to put it aside and figure out how to work together.” Levelling his gaze at Griffin, he says, “Three years ago, Mila successfully argued the case that changed the face of how search features are trademarked and protected on corporate websites, and she’s only gotten better the longer she practices. She can see sides of the issues that most attorneys don’t even know exist. You won’t find a better intellectual property attorney anywhere. If anyone can help you, it’s Mila.”

  Turning to me he adds, “This case is of the utmost importance to me. Navy SEALs are brothers. We take care of each other. I expect you to do everything you can to help him.” It’s a command, not a request.

  I look at Griffin, stunned. “You’re a Navy SEAL?” I say, horrified.

  “You’re a lawyer?” Griffin counters, the surprise evident in his voice.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Marcus grumbles, pushing his chair back in frustration. “I’m going to get another cup of coffee. I trust you two will have this worked out by the time I get back.”

  As soon as Marcus is gone, the silence is deafening. I look over at Griffin and can’t help but notice how gorgeous he looks in his tailored black suit. Definitely suit porn. Dammit. This would be so much easier if he were just the teeniest bit less attractive. Shaking my head to clear it, I say accusingly, “I should have known you were a Navy SEAL. You’re far too arrogant to be anything else.”

  “I’m not arrogant. I’m just self-assured,” he says easily, amusement warming his eyes. He sighs dramatically. “I suppose I should have known you weren’t a fugitive.” He lifts a hand to tuck a stray tendril of hair that has escaped from my professional updo behind my ear. His voice turns seductively raspy. “Although I never would have guessed when I watched you come for me in the hot tub that you were secretly a conservative, hot-shot lawyer.”

  I flush with embarrassment. I would never have had the nerve to do the things I did with Griffin if I’d known I would ever see him again, especially at work!

  He leans forward, his hand resting lightly on my arm, and looks at me intently. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low with concern.

  “I’m fine,” I say firmly, involuntarily clenching my thighs together at the inevitable jolt of electricity that courses through me at his casual touch. This is the first morning I haven’t felt tender from our night of passion, and I certainly don’t want any more reminders. I shift away. “Look, we obviously have to work together, so let’s just agree to put Friday night behind us. I’m not looking for a relationship. You clearly don’t want one either, although you could have just said so instead of faking an excuse.” I take a deep breath and exhale. “Let’s just appreciate it for what is was and move on.”

  “And what exactly was it?” he asks dangerously.

  I shrug. “A one-night stand. Sexual chemistry. The result of too many drinks and a dare. Whatever you want to call it. It was just sex.”

  “Mila, it was more than that and you know it.”

  I shake my head, denying the truth of his words. “Let’s just forget about it and start over right now as attorney and client,” I plead.

  “I have no intention of forgetting about it,” Griffin says as Marcus comes back into the office, his voice low enough that Marcus can’t hear.

  “Do we have everything worked out here?” Marcus asks.

  “Of course,” I say brightly.

  Marcus looks at Griffin, who glances at me and smiles slowly. “Yes, sir. If she’s the best, and I have no doubt that she is, then I want her.”

  Flustered, I clutch my legal pad and say, “Great. Let’s get started.”

  Marcus leans back in his chair and props his polished wingtips on his desk. Directing his conversation to me he says, “Although Griffin is one of the greatest Navy SEALs I’ve ever had the privilege to know or work with, and that’s saying a lot, he’s currently on a leave of absence to take care of some family issues and has asked for my help. Have you heard of graviola?”

  I nod. Everyone has heard of the substance derived from the guanabana tree in South America since it made headlines several months ago as having the potential to change the face of medicine more than anything has since the polio vaccine. Supposedly, the seeds may hold the key to unlocking a cure for cancer.

  “Well, you may remember seeing on the news that a research scientist in Texas who had spent his career exploring the healing properties of the flora and fauna of the Amazon rainforest had discovered a new breakthrough concerning graviola.”

  I nod again. “I do remember that. Wasn’t there some kind of scandal involving the girlfriend of the scientist’s son?”

  “That’s right,” Marcus says. “That scientist is Dr. Patrick Black, Griffin’s father.”

  Stunned, I turn to stare at Griffin. He’s leaning back in his chair, seemingly as composed and unruffled as ever, but the intensity in his eyes belies his composure.

  Marcus continues. “It’s a rather long and convoluted story. Dr. Black spent years
living with an indigenous tribe in the Amazon rainforest, and while he was there he observed a young boy who had leukemia make a complete recovery without any medical treatment other than a tea his mother made from the leaves of the guanabana. That was the beginning of his life’s work researching graviola as a cancer drug.

  “Once he returned to the States, Dr. Black and his research partner, Dr. John Penworth, tried to get the clinical trials necessary to get graviola on the market as a cancer treatment drug, but there were two major problems. First, Dr. Black wasn’t entirely convinced the leaves were the cure since several other children in the same area had also contracted leukemia as a result of a spectacularly disastrous oil spill and had not recovered at the same rate, even though they had also had the graviola tea. Of course the clinical trials could have proved or disproved that. More importantly, the pharmaceutical companies effectively stymied their research and stopped the trials to keep graviola off the market because there was no potential for them to make money off of it.”

  “Right. Because under federal law natural products are not patentable,” I interject.

  “Exactly,” Marcus says, nodding. “In fact, a cheap natural drug would have hurt the big pharmaceutical companies and cut into the millions of dollars of profit they make each year off of chemotherapy drugs. They had no incentive to fund research for the natural product and were unable to create a synthetic drug that mimicked it, so they were determined to keep it off the market. Graviola research was shelved. It remained available as a ‘natural alternative medicine,’ but lobbyists made sure there were so many warnings associated with it that only the most desperate souls are willing to try it.”

  I write furiously, diligently taking notes even though I have no idea where this is going or what any of this has to do with Griffin.

  “All of that changed a few months ago when a writer named Emmaline Hart, who as you pointed out was Beckett Black’s girlfriend and incidentally is now his fiancé, began writing Dr. Patrick Black’s memoir. Based on some things both father and son told her, she put two and two together and figured out it was the seeds of the guanabana fruit, not the leaves from the tree, that had the cancer fighting agents. Apparently unbeknownst to anyone, the young boy’s older brother fed him copious amounts of the fruit because the little boy loved it, and because he was so little he swallowed as many seeds as he did bites of fruit. However, before Dr. Black could get new trials lined up to test the efficacy of the seeds, the information was leaked to the press. Now here’s where it gets tricky, so pay close attention.”

  Both Griffin and I sit up a little straighter. Marcus has a very commanding presence. I have to fight back a smile at the fact that he can make even Griffin stand at attention.

  Marcus continues, “Dr. Black’s research partner, John Penworth, had a daughter named Camille who was quite the social climber.”

  Griffin’s hands fist almost imperceptibly in the chair next to me.

  “She had always imagined herself linked to the discovery of a cancer cure and to Beckett. However, her plans fell apart when both the research fell through and Beckett wasn’t interested in either a romance or a business partnership. To make matters worse, before her father passed away he invested all of his money in Coker Pharmaceuticals, leaving her virtually penniless.”

  I nod. I’m familiar with Coker Pharmaceuticals. It’s one of the biggest American pharmaceutical companies with lots of power and clout.

  “When her father died, Camille learned that her father had been living a double life. He had a second family, and she had a half-brother named Gavin. Once she got over the initial shock, she and Gavin decided to join forces and try to salvage their inheritance. Camille managed to get elected to Coker Pharmaceutical’s Board of Directors. Coker, like most pharmaceutical companies, was hot and heavy in the race to create new cancer drugs. Camille believed Coker was getting close to formulating their own new cancer treatment drug when she learned about the new development regarding graviola.

  “She set up the whole press leak to make it look like Emma had violated the confidentiality agreement and leaked the news, in part hoping that Beckett would break up with Emma and be with her, but also because she wanted to force Beckett’s hand and make him join forces professionally with her and Coker Industries. As a board member, she had the leverage to get the clinical trials done, particularly if the other pharmaceutical companies once again tried to shut down the research.

  “Her motives were twofold. If Coker was able to use Dr. Black’s new information regarding the guanabana seeds to make a drug that mimicked it, she stood to make a fortune. On the other hand, if the Blacks took their research elsewhere and were able to get their graviola-based drug to market before the one Coker had been working on went to market, or worse, if they got FDA approval for the natural product, Coker’s drug would have been worthless. Are you following this?”

  I nod, although it sounds like a soap opera instead of a trademark case. “Camille wanted to stop the Blacks from proving the natural guanabana was the cancer fighting drug and instead use the research to synthesize a drug that Coker and she would make a fortune off of,” I summarize.

  “Precisely,” Marcus says. He takes a gulp of coffee and continues. “The Blacks had no intention of using their research to benefit a pharmaceutical company. When Beckett refused to join forces with Camille and Coker on the basis of medicine being about saving lives instead of making money, Camille and Gavin decided to take matters into their own hands and steal the research.”

  Griffin raises a finger to interrupt. “Just to clarify,” he interjects. “Camille had Gavin steal the research from Emma’s house the same night she tried to talk Beckett into joining forces with her. I guess she was hedging her bets.”

  “They broke into her house and stole the information?” I ask, disbelieving. I feel like I’m working at the DA’s office again.

  “They tried to,” he says grimly. “It was actually worse than that. Emma didn’t know Gavin was Camille’s half-brother and she had sort of befriended him. He came into her house pretending to be a concerned friend and then tried to steal the information while he was there. When she got suspicious of the way he was acting, he demanded she hand the research over to him, and when she refused, he tried to kill her.”

  “Holy shit,” I breathe. “Sorry,” I stammer, looking over at my boss. He simply looks bemused.

  “Actually,” he says, “Griffin saved her life.”

  My head swivels from Marcus to Griffin, who shrugs nonchalantly. “I just happened to be there to help clean up the mess afterward. Beckett saved her life. And probably Gavin’s. I would have killed him if I’d gotten there first.”

  The look in his eyes is chilling.

  “So what happened?” I ask, impatient to hear the end of the story.

  Marcus takes over the storytelling again. “Thanks to Griffin’s foresight, Beckett had a wire on and recorded what was essentially Camille’s confession. She and Gavin were arrested, and thanks to the news leak and the public attention it drew, the National Cancer Institute, with the backing of an anonymous donor, established a multi-million dollar grant to reopen research on graviola and the guanabana seeds. That research is being spear-headed by Griffin’s dad and brother.”

  I look from Marcus to Griffin. “Okay,” I say slowly. “Sounds like it’s resolved. What exactly do you need me for?”

  Marcus and Griffin exchange a look. “Go ahead,” Marcus says to Griffin. “You tell her. It’s your story.”

  Chapter Six

  Griffin leans back in the tastefully upholstered wingback chair, one ankle casually propped on the opposite knee.

  “Although Beckett did have a wire on and was able to record everything Camille said, unfortunately she didn’t say anything incriminating,” he explains. “While she admitted to wanting Beckett to work with her and for them to develop the drug together with Coker¸ she didn’t say anything that would incriminate her in the theft of Emma’s research or breaking i
nto her house. Without any solid evidence, there wasn’t a case against her. It helped her case that she was more than happy to throw Gavin under the bus and make it look like it had all been his idea and she’d had nothing to do with it.”

  “So she walked,” I confirm.

  “Scott free,” he agrees grimly. “Camille is back at work at Coker Pharmaceutical, undoubtedly preparing her next strike.”

  “I don’t think we could get a restraining order without more concrete evidence,” I say regretfully.

  Griffin flashes a cold smile that reveals his even white teeth but doesn’t reach his eyes, and I shiver a little. The iron-willed Navy SEAL beneath the easy-going façade is a man you don’t want to piss off.

  “Oh, I’m not worried about protecting my family from Camille,” he says with steely confidence. “I can handle that.”

  Of course. Navy SEALs are trained killers. They can sneak into hostile countries and take out terrorist leaders. I’m sure a greedy socialite isn’t much of a threat.

  “Then what do you want from me?” I ask. The suggestive look he flashes me has me scrambling to clarify. “From a legal perspective, I mean.”

  “I want to protect the research,” Griffin says. “I want to make sure that neither Coker or Camille ever gets their hands on my father’s and brother’s research.”

  I nod thoughtfully, my mind racing. The pieces are falling into place.

  “The anonymous donor,” I say slowly. “The one funding your father’s research. Do you know who it is?”

  Marcus shoots Griffin a triumphant look and says, “I told you.”

  While I appreciate the vote of confidence, I don’t like feeling like a trick pony. I must look as irritated as I feel because Marcus says soothingly, “Calm down, Mila. I just wanted him to see that you’re as astute as I’ve told him you are. You have to admit that you are young for the level of responsibility I’m entrusting to you. I want Griffin to have the same confidence in you that I do.”