“Hold on, Elise. The judge is in chambers.”
There was a click and then Jack’s voice. “Elise. Is everything okay?”
She sighed. “Jack, I’m sorry, I’m running late. A snafu at the office and somehow it’s my job to clean it up.”
“Not to worry. Our dinner reservations were for later anyway.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“For dinner or before dinner?”
“Either. Both,” she said.
“First Friday in Old City as it’s a nice evening, and then Amada for tapas.”
“I’ve never done First Friday,” Elise admitted. Walking around art galleries in Old City? She looked down at her shoes. Not the most comfortable pair she owned, but good for about two hours on her feet before they’d be too pinchy for comfort.
“So when do you think you’ll get free?”
“I’m waiting on the copy center now, then the mail room. Six-thirty? Maybe closer to seven?” She tried to be realistic but she could never tell for sure how long anything would take. “I need to make sure it’s done right, you know.”
“I understand completely. Here’s my cell phone. Call me when you’re free and I’ll grab a cab and collect you.” She scribbled down the number he rattled off.
“Okay, I’ll call you later.” Of course she wasn’t going to let him cab over here to pick her up. Gallant, but stupid. Quicker if they agreed to meet in Old City someplace.
Thirty minutes later, Elise was still waiting for the mail room when Christine wandered in.
For the life of her, Elise could not figure Christine out. She looked like Veronica Lake with glossy hair and a killer figure, plus she was one of those rare blondes who could wear red lipstick and not look like a sloppy vampire. Nonetheless, she seemed almost oblivious of her looks and dated dweeby guys when she could have anyone. She should be dating some gorgeous guy like…
“Hey, you should come to First Friday with me,” Elise said. It was the perfect plan. Jack would fall for Christine in a heartbeat. She really was the type that guys fell in love with at first sight.
Christine flopped into one of Elise’s client chairs. “You? First Friday? Gallery openings and the wine-and-cheese crowd? I smell a judge behind this.”
Elise felt herself flush. “He won an extra date.” She wasn’t sure about two “romantic” dates in one weekend, especially if they were going to be like the evening at Dave & Buster’s.
“How did he manage to win that—playing strip moot court?” Christine pulled her hair back and wound it into a chignon before letting it go. “Hey, I like that idea. ‘May it please the court…’” Christine said in an extra-sexy voice. And then in a lower tone, “‘Counselor, that precedent was overturned last year. Take off your blouse.’ You should play that with him.”
Elise shook her head. “Nope. He says he gets enough people trying hard to please him in court. It’s not sexy for him.”
“Too bad. It sounds like fun. Anyway, how did he win an extra date?”
Elise reconsidered her shoes. Was she sure she could manage an evening wearing them? Might get painful.
“Elise?”
“Right. Well, he correctly guessed the color of my new bra and panty set. By touch.”
“Clever guy.” Christine’s eyes were wide. “I’m impressed.”
Elise glanced at Christine’s smile. Maybe introducing them would work. “So come along with us. You’ll love him. He’s very debonair,” she coaxed.
Christine hesitated, frowning.
Elise said, “Just for the First Friday part. We’re going to dinner after that.” Of course, if Jack fell for Christine, Elise could let them have the reservation. She’d grab a taxi and get out of these high heels.
“Meet the infamous Blackjack McIntyre? Yeah, okay. When are you leaving?”
The phone rang. Elise checked—the mail room. “Perfect timing.” Suddenly she felt uneasy at the idea of Jack’s reaction to her bringing someone. Too late now… “The copies must be ready. Go get your stuff. I’ll call Jack.”
Elise talked him into meeting her at a specific gallery on North 3rd Street. She neglected to mention that she was bringing Christine.
When she and Christine got there, Jack was already in the well-lit gallery. Elise paused to point him out through the plate-glass windows. He had on one of his beautifully tailored suits. Such a shame those got covered up by a generic judicial robe.
“Yummy,” Christine said.
While they watched, a gorgeous woman with a flirty cinnamon bob came over to Jack, put her hand on his sleeve, looked up at him from beneath her artfully wispy bangs, and smiled. Yummy, indeed.
Watching the redhead flirt with Jack, Elise grimaced at the flash of irritation heating her gut. The whole idea was to get Jack off her back. Who cared if it was Christine or some strange forty-year-old? “Yeah, I know. Yummy. C’mon, let’s go in.”
Elise walked straight over to Jack, who smiled that stunning Blackjack smile at her. His smile dimmed to polite interest when she introduced Christine. The redhead sized up the competition—Christine in particular—and disappeared into the crowd.
Jack was too good a politician to reveal his reaction to having Christine sprung on him. His courteous demeanor could mask anything from lust to fury. Still, they seemed happy making small talk, so Elise murmured something about getting some wine and left them to it.
Her unease at having seen the redhead with Jack lingered. She could still see the harpy’s painted talons on Jack’s sleeve and her come-to-me smile. All sexually suggestive. Had the woman recognized him from TV, or did she routinely hit on good-looking men?
This angry anxiety was uncharted territory for Elise. She checked over her shoulder. Jack and Christine were still chatting. They looked good together, like gold and onyx. Hopefully they were hitting it off.
Elise resumed her inspection of the artwork, which seemed to be mixed-media. Large canvasses with strips of polished chrome bisecting acrylic paint. She didn’t like them much, but the pieces had an in-your-face energy.
“What do you think?” Jack murmured in her ear.
Elise’s entire body contracted with desire at the sound of his voice.
Just physiology, silly.
Simply her body’s memory of their night together. She inhaled his scent as she struggled to keep her voice level. “A bit strident for my taste.”
She could feel his breath alongside her head. His shoulders were close behind her—not touching, but his body heat warmed her.
“There’s so much energy,” he remarked. “You can almost feel the thrust of the artist’s passion.”
Elise smothered a laugh, turning it into a cough. “It’s so hard, though. There’s no softness here. Isn’t it better when there’s something warm and cushioning to receive that strength and energy?”
Jack was making a noise in her ear, a growl or maybe a purr. It made her insides puddle. Elise realized she’d been staring at the same painting—swathes of yellow and red with a huge line of shiny chrome across the top—for ten minutes. Time and careful consideration were not making a difference. It was ugly.
Where was Christine? Elise looked around. Christine was chatting with a lanky dude who looked half asleep or all stoned.
“Your friend is very beautiful,” Jack said.
She turned to grin at him. “Isn’t she? And such a great lawyer. She’s mostly in the bankruptcy courthouse, but that’s not too far away.”
His eyes glinted dangerously. “Not too far away for what?”
Elise didn’t like the frosty steel in his voice. “Oh, I was just thinking you could ask her to lunch some time.”
“Where did you get the impression that I wanted or needed you to fix me up with your friend?” His voice got so quiet—not a whisper, but low—that she strained to hear him over the noise in the gallery.
“I really can’t think why you’re annoyed. You’re single. She’s single. I thought she might be your type.”
“I’m unmarried. I am not, however, available.”
Elise crossed her arms. “That’s just semantics. What you want me to acknowledge is that I have some prior claim on you and I’m not going to do it. You signed on for the package deal, and that includes my efforts to present you with uh, alternatives.”
“Elise. I hesitate to reduce this to the level of first-year contract law, but I think you can see that bringing an additional woman—specifically one you hope I’ll be attracted to—on one of our romantic dates violates the implied covenant of good faith and fair dealing.”
Damn him. No one had ever made her as crazy mad as he did just by being right. She was about to blast him with her temper when she caught the look on his face. His eyes were bright and a small, secret smile tweaked the corners of his mouth.
He was amused. She frowned. Worse, he was charmed. Hell. She hadn’t foreseen this result. He was supposed to get bored with her, not think her delightful. And fighting with him wasn’t going to drive him away. If anything, he seemed to relish their skirmishes.
Time for a tactical retreat. She relaxed her fists, then reached up and patted him on the cheek. She tried to make the gesture as amicable as possible.
“You’re right. I was wrong. I’ll let Christine know we’re going, okay?” She turned to look for Christine’s bright blonde hair.
Jack grabbed her arm. “I swear, when I keel over from apoplexy, you’d better feel guilty.”
“Look on the bright side, Judge—death
would
vitiate our contract.”
Jack’s head was still reeling as he watched Elise walk over to her friend. How could she think he’d fall for someone like that? He could admire the woman’s good looks, but they did nothing for him. Statuesque and blonde was like sun glare compared to his moonlight girl.
He’d scuttled his original plan to wander through more galleries when Elise rejoined him. Instead, he took her hand—she wasn’t escaping this date—and headed straight to Amada. He kept their conversation light, mostly local legal gossip. They were early for their reservation, but he was a regular there, so he and Elise didn’t wait long for a table.
“It’s a tapas menu,” Jack said after the waitress took their drink orders. “We share everything, so it’s nice to get a mix of items. Would you like me to suggest some dishes?”
Elise leaned back at his offer. “That would be lovely. Order whatever you think would be good.”
“You’re really not much of a foodie, are you?”
“I like to eat but I also like not having to think about it, plan for it, prepare it, or worry about it.”
He studied the menu as he considered this. The rituals of food—another thing they didn’t have in common. He’d spent a considerable time planning tomorrow’s menu, and would be quite happy to spend the day shopping and cooking. It relaxed him. Not something he was going to tell her, though.
Her lack of interest in food gave him an idea for one of their sex dates, though. He filed it away and got back to the question he’d wanted to ask as soon as they’d left the gallery. “Why did you bring your friend along tonight?”
She looked at him for a long moment. “I already confessed to that breach of the contract,” she said slowly. She seemed guarded, like she expected him to raise all those contractual objections again.
“I’m not talking about the rules. I want to know your reasoning. Why did you think I’d want to date another woman, or specifically your friend Kristin?”
Elise looked sulky. “Christine. Christine Pennington. She’s my best friend at the firm.”
“I thought dating your best friend’s boyfriend was a serious offense in the world of women’s relationships.” Jack watched her carefully as she played with her napkin, folding it up and then smoothing it out again. She fascinated him. Figuring out how her mind worked was like unraveling yarn.
“That prohibition would only apply if you were my boyfriend.”
“The fact that we’re sleeping together doesn’t qualify?”
She looked up at him, startled. “Interesting. I hadn’t considered that perspective.” She took a sip of her drink. “I’ll admit it, Jack—I mostly think of you as a problem to be solved. Having you fall in love with Christine is a tidy solution.”
Jack’s head jerked back. He’d lost sight of how wide the distance was between his goal and Elise’s. He wanted to marry her. She wanted to get rid of him.
She held up a hand. “Wait. Before you jump down my throat, you should know that in the world of women’s relationships, as you put it, I was really paying you a huge compliment. I would never palm shoddy goods off on my best friend.”
And the insults just keep coming…
Jack concentrated on the table settings. He hardly knew how to begin parsing this logic. He shifted his cutlery slightly, arranging it so the handles were in a tidy row.
Finally he looked up. “Thank you for the compliment. I think.”
She was angled away from him, gazing over at the street door. “But you’re right. I should have thought about what would happen if you and Christine had hit it off, especially now that you and I’ve had sex.” She looked so solemn that he found himself softening. He’d been very angry back at the gallery. Relaxed now, he could see the humor in the situation. Wooing this woman was a roller coaster ride, that was for sure.
“Okay. Help me out here,” he said. “I get it that you don’t want me courting you, to use an old-fashioned expression.”
She nodded cheerfully. “Just sex.”
He sighed. She wasn’t capable of thinking one thing but saying another. He trusted her—which was good, but bad as well because it meant she wasn’t playing games. He had to believe she really didn’t want a romantic relationship with him. He mentally dismissed that last point—it didn’t serve his purposes at all. It wasn’t his job to remove himself from her sight. She knew how to do that all on her own.
“As you say. Just sex. So why bring along a honey trap?”
“What’s a honey trap?”
“In spy craft, it’s a sexy woman used to seduce a field agent into divulging secrets. In this case, your friend was supposed to be a distraction. What I can’t understand is why you even thought it might work. Can you really imagine I have energy for anyone other than you?”
She frowned. “It wasn’t supposed to be a case of me plus Christine. More like you’d fall madly in love with her and leave me alone.”