The lights were on in the Pratt conference room. The windows framed a glorious view of the Inner Harbor, replete with moored sailboats and water taxis shuffling commuters across the harbor.
Oddly, the conference room was vacant. The court reporter should have been setting up. Jackie’s brows drew close as she scanned the room for any hint of what might be going on. She balled her fists so tight her fingernails dug into her palms. The cherry table gleamed like a polished mirror. The overhead lights reflected off it like stars on a black sea. An unblemished yellow legal pad lay precisely in the middle of one side of the table. Perpendicular to the legal pad’s lines, an ebony Mont Blanc fountain pen lay.
The last time she’s seen that pen was in Paris two years ago. Spread across ivory silk sheets, Jackie had luxuriated in Gary’s adoration. The nib of the Mont Blanc had moved across her skin. Word after word of poetry and proclamations of love had decorated her entire body.
Her nipples hardened against her bra at the provocative memory. The pen’s tip tracing her areolas had hardened her then too.
Damn him to hell and back.
The spicy scent of familiar French cologne invaded her senses. Jackie turned around to face Gary Stone. She pressed herself against the conference room table to maintain space between them. Not only was he using the cologne she’d bought him, he was also wearing the yellow-paisley tie she’d given him. Didn’t his wife buy him any clothes? Surely Brandon wouldn’t jerk her around like this.
“Didn’t you get my message about the deposition being pushed back an hour and that I’d be defending it, not Kevin?” He moved a half step closer, pressing her farther into the table. His smile was alluring yet mischievous, as if he were holding back some secret.
“No. Must have missed that somehow.” Jackie resisted the urge to question him why he, and not his associate, was handling this deposition. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing she was agitated at this sudden change in plans.
“The witness is delayed,” Stone said with a slight shrug of one shoulder.
“He’s driving from DC to Baltimore for an eight a.m. deposition. The beltway is completely wide open. I saw the traffic report. Did his horse throw a shoe?” She couldn’t restrain the snide tone.
“Are you calling me a liar?” Stone’s body tensed as he leaned in. The vein at his temple pulsed.
He wasn’t a violent man, but Jackie had never seen him wound so tight. No point in pushing. He probably wanted that anyway.
“I’ll help myself to a cup of coffee. I hope you haven’t moved the kitchen. It’s so memorable.” Jackie slid out from between Stone and the table to ease toward the door.
Undoubtedly he was also recalling their first tryst in the kitchen years ago. He turned his body to let her pass but hadn’t moved completely out of the way, forcing her to sidle between him and the door frame.
As she brushed up against him, she flinched, expecting an unwanted reaction. Where fireworks had once danced, a lifeless morass now lay.
Thank God the sparks has vanished. And the pain of their breakup had faded. Finally.
Jackie permitted herself a long look into Stone’s eyes. Beneath the slick veneer of tailored suits and expensive accessories, he was thinner than she remembered. His eyes had dulled, sunken with circles underneath them. Gray streaks invaded his jet-black hair. He seemed less of a man than he was a year ago. Her throat tightened in pity.
“Gary.” She reached to touch his arm.
“I’ll see you in an hour.” Stone jerked away and stalked down the hall.
Jackie helped herself to a cup of coffee in the kitchen where she ran into Gary’s associate, Kevin.
“Hey, Kev, I thought you’d be defending the depo this morning. What’s up?”
Kevin winced while sucking in a long breath. “Sorry about that, Jackie. Gary showed up this morning and said he’d be handling it. I didn’t have time to call you and warn you. And the guy’s running late too. Gary said he’d call you and let you know. Uhm, obviously that didn’t happen, did it?”
“Obviously not. No big deal.”
“I’ve got our exhibit list drafted, which you’ll need to see before trial. Want to come down to my office and take a look? I’ve got some new pictures of Marie and the kids too.” Kevin’s eyes widened and he bounced on the balls of his feet like a puppy eager to show off his new toy.
Although nothing on the exhibit list was surprising or controversial, it took them almost an hour to finalize the list. Jackie checked her watch. 8:55. Just long enough to hit the bathroom and refill her coffee cup.
Jackie followed the hall through a back door to the ladies’ room, where she reapplied her lipstick. She psyched herself up by straightening her blouse and skirt and pulling her jacket down to show off her athletic build. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach like they did before every deposition or court appearance, despite her years of experience.
Would she ever believe in herself enough for the butterflies to go away? Thank God no one could see. At least she’d perfected the art of looking cool and confident when self-doubt often ate at her insides like a slow-growing ulcer.
Although Jackie had not been born a Baltimorean blue blood, her practice took her into the most elite circles of the city’s legal and social communities. Determined not to appear like her deadbeat dad or nut-job mom, Jackie spent years honing a persona of cool competence. But the same fears and uncertainties that racked the rest of the world bubbled inside her.
Would anyone ever love her for her competency as well as her vulnerability? Gary hadn’t. And Brandon? Jesus, why did he pop into her mind? She barely knew him. Eyes closed, she counted backward from ten to zero to clear him and all of her stupid worries out of her mind.
After coming out of the restroom, she cut through the elevator area to reenter the lobby by the receptionist’s desk. An exceptional piece of ass met her eyes. Although the charcoal-gray pinstripe suit jacket covered most if it, she saw the hard muscles poised over the long legs.
Déjà vu hit her. Not déjà vu. That was when a person
thought
she’d seen someone or something before. Jackie knew exactly to whom that sexy behind belonged. Her heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat.
“Brandon?” she croaked.
The man spun around and dropped his briefcase on the floor.
“Jackie? What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Jackie swallowed to force saliva into her dry mouth.
“I’m being deposed as the expert in the Kovel v. Ashe Investments case.” He frowned at her.
“You’re Brandon Marshfield?” Jackie’s mind was spinning. Where was that green folder Marilyn had given her?
His frown hardened. His jaw clenched. “Yeah. But I think the better question is who the hell are you?”
Chapter Five
Jackie eyed Brandon suspiciously. A week ago they’d shared an intimate evening. In a few minutes, he would face off as her adversary. Could she compartmentalize the inexplicable connection with this guy from her duty to examine, and eventually discredit, him?
Gary Stone strode into the lobby. He glared at the receptionist who stared openmouthed at Jackie while the phone rang unanswered. “Don’t I pay you to answer the phone?”
Turning to Brandon, Stone smiled, then extended his hand. “Mr. Marshfield, I’m Gary Stone. Nice to meet you. I see you’ve met opposing counsel.”
“Actually, she was just introducing herself,” Brandon replied, his gaze resting on her.
“I’m Jackie North, Mr. Marshfield. I represent the Kovels and other plaintiffs in the case at hand. I will be taking your deposition this morning. Mr. Stone, is the court reporter ready?” Although she presented calm, cool assurance on the outside, sweat trickled down her sides. It would be best to keep the jacket on today.
Stone led the group to the conference room. As they walked down the hall, Jackie’s mind raced through what her legal and ethical obligations were regarding disclosing the fact that she knew Brandon. Knew him? Christ, she’d fucked him. Six times!
Oh God, why is this happening to me?
Ethics, North. Think.
Gary had provided the basic information with his motion to substitute the witness, including the résumé of the new expert. She’d looked through it, but no bells or whistles had gone off in her head. Could she truly have not asked his name the other night?
The group arrived at the Pratt conference room. The court reporter had set up his equipment close to the door. The video recorder was trained on the far end of the conference room table, where Brandon took a seat. Jackie and Stone sat opposite each other. She studied Stone, who appeared oblivious to the king-size firework that had exploded between Brandon and her. The fact that she knew Brandon was Gary’s problem. But how many other experts did she know in town? About ninety percent. She hadn’t had sex with any of them, though.
She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d push through the deposition, and then when she got back to her office, she’d research exactly what her obligation was.
Jackie pulled out her notes of the questions she intended to ask. Confident with her examination of the first expert, she’d recycled her set of questions. She wished she’d delved into the details of the witness’s professional and personal life, though. With the last-minute witness change, trial prep, and the pro bono case for the local animal shelter, she put the witness details on the back burner. Besides, she knew the case inside and out, and this wasn’t her first run at the bull. Plus, there was no way this guy could get up to speed in the short time frame since the first expert fell ill. The one glance she’d given the résumé Gary had disclosed with his motion told her it would be a cupcake deposition.
Marshfield had a bachelor’s degree in finance from the University of Virginia. It was a good school, but his GPA was mediocre as best. He did have his own company in Washington, DC, doing financial advising. But so did a thousand other business majors who thought they were too good for retail banking but knew they weren’t sharp enough for an investment-banking job in New York. Nothing popped on his résumé. He’d never been an expert before. He was young too—at twenty-nine, he was three years younger than she.
Last week, she’d figured he was midthirties. No twentysomething was ever as attentive as he was in bed.
Oh God, that night.
His warm eyes taking her in—
His big, calloused hands holding her tight on the dance floor—
His strong body lying beside her—
His thick, hard cock sliding inside her—
All of those memories flooded her head. Wetness between her legs saturated her underwear.
“Ms. North?” The court reporter’s voice snapped her out of the fog.
“Right, just one second.” To stall, she opened the green folder. A five-by-seven glossy photo of Brandon showed him with an emaciated blonde who looked like the woman on the Capital Confidential “news” show. Underneath, a quarter-inch stack of photocopied articles lay. Jackie riffled through the papers but couldn’t believe her eyes.
Holy shit, every photo and news clipping screamed rich and famous, or at least known for cavorting with the rich and famous. From the looks of the articles, he dominated the DC financial and social scenes. With no time to read the articles, she closed the folder and took a deep breath.
Jackie began with the usual preliminaries such as not talking over each other for the court reporter’s purposes. Brandon remained stoic as he stared icily at her. The fiery intensity with which he’d made love to her now shimmered in his eye like the heartless menace of a tiger stalking its prey.
To say she was confused was an understatement. She reached her mind back to that night they shared. Had he said anything about finances? No, she was almost sure. They’d talked of books; he was extremely well read. They’d pondered extraterrestrial life; how had they gotten on that subject? He’d told her with mist in his eyes that his mom was his personal hero.
He’d been so open. Except for their lovemaking, they’d talked nonstop. Finally, she’d found a man who she thought could understand her and maybe even accept her, or so she’d dreamed. Now, he played for her enemy, and her job was to cut him down. She doubted that he’d ever talk to her again after the grilling she would give him.
Forcing herself to concentrate, Jackie moved on to her standard questions for the record such as name, address, education, and occupation. His answers were curt. There’d be no relaxing this witness.
“Mr. Marshfield, have you ever served as an expert witness?” She swallowed.
“No.”
“Do you have a degree in accounting?”
“No.”
Jackie trudged through her questions to establish Brandon’s credentials. Every time she looked at him, his gaze bore into her. His mouth twitched after each short answer as if he was hiding a smirk. She hadn’t reached the meaty part of the case, yet they had already assumed their positions of circling and waiting for the other to make the next move.
This was not her preference. Typically, she took the nice-girl approach. She’d put the witness at ease by taking off her jacket and asking a round of easy and harmless questions. The strategy lulled the witness into thinking of her as nonthreatening, at least, and their friend at best. Once accomplished, she’d sprinkle in her most damning questions. The witnesses rarely noticed, responding eagerly like lambs to the slaughter.
When that strategy didn’t work, she abandoned her good-girl facade without hesitation and delved ruthlessly into the heart of the case. She and Brandon now stood on opposite sides of the line of politeness and restraint. If she stayed where she was, she’d risk her case. And, what would happen if she crossed the line and attacked? Would he understand that she had no choice? Or would he hate her?
To buy time, Jackie flipped pages of her legal pad and sifted through the box of documents and exhibits on the floor next to her. She forced herself to think of her clients. Leo Kovel owned the corner drugstore in the neighborhood where she’d grown up. Every time she had a sore throat or ear infection, dear Mr. Kovel filled the prescription and threw in a Hershey bar for her. When he’d retired, he sold his business to one of the national megachains for a small fortune. One of the Kovels’ retired friends persuaded them to invest their five-million dollars with Ashe.