Blackjack and Moonlight: A Contemporary Romance (19 page)

Elise plunked her elbow on the desktop and rested her forehead on the curve of her palm, pressing down hard. “Thanks for the math lesson.”

“Sweetheart, I feel like I’m watching a train wreck in slow motion. You sleep with men because—I don’t know, perhaps dating takes too much energy—and then when the men all leave, you’re home alone. Maybe that level of self-indulgence can fly in one’s twenties, but at some point you have to see you’re missing your best chance at happiness.”

“But when I tell you what makes me happy, you don’t accept that. We can’t even discuss my choices because you don’t accept what I want as a valid choice.” Elise took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. “Was there something specific you wanted to talk about?”

“Tom died.”

“Wait—Tom Weaver?” He’d been in his thirties when Peggy had followed him to Oregon, so he died in his sixties? That’s young these days. “What was it, a heart attack?”

“The obituary said he died after a lengthy illness, so I’m guessing cancer.”

“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Well, I know you never liked him, but I thought you should know anyway.”

“That’s not fair. I liked him a lot.” Elise had just kept the happier memories at bay. “I don’t think about him much now.”

“I never fell out of love with him.” There was a rustle of handkerchief and the damp noise of a wiped nose.

“What are you saying? Mom, have you been seeing him?” Elise couldn’t believe this. Tom had abandoned them less than a year after Peggy moved to Oregon to be with him. It had taken Peggy, as a single mom, a long time to create a life for herself in a place where the only person she knew had rejected her. Twenty-five years later, her mother took up with him again?

“Of course not. I saw it in the paper.”

“Well, it must have come as a shock, after all these years.”

“The obit says he was survived by two sons and a daughter.”

Elise frowned. “He just had the boys when…”

“Yes,” Peggy said with some emphasis. “They must have had a daughter after he went back to her. A daughter like you.”

“It’s all a long time ago. You have to let it go. Tom made his choice. I hope he had a happy life with his family. And you ended up with a good career and a wide circle of friends.”

Peggy snorted. “I can see I made a mistake calling you. I thought maybe you had some nice memories of Tom, and you’d care that I’d lost him—”

“You lost him over twenty years ago. It’s his wife and kids who’ve lost him now.”

“You are such a bitch, Elise. A cold, hard, withered-up bitch who couldn’t love anything more vibrant than some case file.” Her mother fired the words as though they were poison-tipped darts aimed at Elise’s heart.

“Mom—”

The silence told its own story. Peggy had hung up.

The week after the Roundtable, Jack started his first jury trial as a judge. The steep learning curve didn’t dull his longing for Elise, but the challenge of getting all the judicial procedure right distracted him.

This was the real fun of being a judge, in his opinion. Presiding over a trial meant corralling the attorneys’ zeal, preventing improper actions by all the people involved, and working harder than anyone to ensure a fair result.

After the jury had been picked and the trial hit its stride, Jack enjoyed the thrust and parry of litigation from the vantage point of the bench. Had he been as obstinate and aggressive as these lawyers? Probably.

On the second afternoon, the spectacle of witnesses, exhibits, cross-examination, and rebuttal dragged on. They were nearing the natural point to call for a recess when Jack caught a movement in the dim emptiness at the back of the courtroom. The prickle at the back of his neck told him it was Elise a split second before he could process the sight of her, cool in a crisp navy dress, sliding into one of the back benches. She looked—well, no, he’d better not think about that.

Time slowed to an excruciating pace. Jack was uncomfortably aware that Elise would probably slip away before the trial adjourned for the day, but she didn’t leave. He gave the jury the usual instructions about not discussing the case with anyone, and reminded them when they would need to be back the next morning. The jurors filed out, leaving him with the lawyers. And Elise, no longer watching him from the back row, got up to leave too.

“Your Honor, if I might object to the way counsel has her exhibits organized?” one of plaintiff’s lawyers said.

Jack’s jaw went rigid. He was so desperate to go after Elise he could barely restrain himself from agreeing to anything the lawyer wanted just to get rid of the guy. He kept it together, got everyone to accept his decision about the exhibits, and finally they were done.

As the judge, he could leave now. He looked past the lawyers, now milling around loading their trial cases, to the back of the courtroom, just in case. There she was. She’d returned. He stared at her to make sure, and she stared back. She even lifted her chin at him, as if to say, “Yeah, I’m here. What’s it to you?” He stifled his grin and kept his joy in check. Two could play at this game.

“Ms. Carroll, would you approach the bench, please?” The court reporter looked up, surprised, but Jack shook his head and she went back to packing up for the day.

Elise picked up her briefcase and walked forward to stand between the two counsel tables. Jack crooked his finger. When she was just a few feet away, he tried to read her expression. She didn’t look like she wanted to kill him, but with Elise, who knew.

“Ms. Carroll, may I see you in chambers?” He kept his voice low and dispassionate.

“Yes, Judge.” There was no change in her expression. Anyone watching them would think she was just following instructions, that he’d summoned her there.

He left the bench and went into chambers, pulling off the robe and hanging it up. He quickly pulled on his suit jacket—poor camouflage for the effect she had on him, but it would have to do.

Brenda ushered Elise in and closed the door behind her.

What should he say? He wanted to blurt out some half-assed apology, but he hadn’t rehearsed anything. He was terrified of squashing whatever impulse had prompted Elise to see him.

He expected her to sit down. Instead, she surprised him by locking the door. His heart started pounding, forcing blood straight to his groin. His erection got harder, if that was possible.

He was closer to the other door, the one behind Brenda’s desk, so he locked that as quietly as he could. That just left the door that went directly to the corridor. He pointed at it and Elise locked it. Then she turned toward him, her entire body radiating confidence and a challenge.

There were buttons in a double-breasted pattern down the front of the navy dress. She started to undo each one quite deliberately. His mouth went slack. When the dress was unbuttoned, she pulled it open. She had on that cherry lace set, including those panties that did such wonderful things for her ass.

He had to remind himself to swallow, or he’d literally start drooling.

She was reaching behind to undo the bra when Jack grabbed her and pulled her against his body. “You’re trying to kill me again, aren’t you?” he said against her neck. He ground himself against her pelvis.

She laughed near his ear. “No, I just couldn’t stay away.” Her breath warmed his ear, sending chills down his spine and straight to his balls.

He shucked his jacket one arm at a time. He couldn’t stop touching her—she might leave and he didn’t think he could bear that.

His tie, shirt, shoes, trousers—gone, and finally their skin was touching again. She smelled like paradise, but she felt even better. He was desperate for this, hard and aching. His fear that she might still disappear lent a keen edge to their kisses. He couldn’t taste her enough, couldn’t fill his need for this connection. He got her bra off and her breasts, those magnificent breasts, spilled into his hands.

They stripped off their underwear and fell back into each other’s embrace. But part of his brain wrestled with the logistical problems. On the floor? Really? It was carpeted, but still…

And condoms. Crap. He didn’t have any. He pulled his lips away from Elise’s jaw. “Tell me you brought rubbers,” he growled.

Her laugh was joyous and triumphant. “My briefcase is full of them. Had to leave the courthouse to buy some. The Marshals checking for weapons at the entrance are really going to remember me.”

He grinned. That was his moonlight girl.

“Floor? Couch?” he asked.

She jumped into his arms, her legs curled around his waist. “All of the above. And if we can get your eager-beaver clerks to go home early, I’m sure we can have some fun on the bench itself. I’ve always wanted to say, ‘All rise,’ in a dirty voice.”

He lowered her to the floor, grabbed the briefcase—which really was full of condoms—and returned to her. “Elise, I’ll do all kinds of sexy things to you, I promise, but right now, I just need to be inside you.”

“Less talk, Jack, and more—ah, yes.
Yes
.”

Never, ever had sex felt this good. Like reaching a summit and coming home, all at the same time. No finesse and precious little technique, but it felt incredible. He prayed it was half as good for her.

He was physically wrung out after he climaxed. He propped his elbows on the prickly carpet to ease his weight off her. She smiled vaguely.

Despite a body drained of energy, his brain clicked back on. What the hell just happened? He’d hoped she would make the first move, but he’d been thinking of a conversation, maybe a chance to clear the air between them. He’d apologize for not talking to her about getting the Mather mess cleared up, and she’d forgive him. In his most extreme fantasies, she actually talked about how she felt about him. But this—? The sex was great, better than ever, but did it actually resolve anything?

He lifted himself from her body, her skin slick with sweat. He was pretty sure she’d orgasmed just before he did, but that didn’t mean she was done. Not his Elise. He discarded the condom in his private bathroom, one of the niftier corners of his judicial chambers. Not two months in this job, and already he was naked in his office. A career first for him, as was sex on the floor. He seemed to be racking up a lot of firsts with this woman.

He brought back a washcloth he’d wrung out. Elise sat up and flicked her hair out of her eyes. She watched him like he was a rotisserie chicken and she was starving. She even licked her lips. Not quite the way he wanted her to view him, but a huge improvement over the past two times they’d been together.

He knelt beside her and used the hot, damp cloth to stroke her shoulders and arms. She clearly wasn’t ready to talk about their relationship, but he could use sex to express how he felt. He loved her with each gentle pass. Her torso, those rosy breasts, her waist, tummy, hips, legs—he loved them all. When he got back to her sex, she was reclining on her elbows, regarding him with lidded eyes. He studied her face as he stroked her, using the texture of the cloth to tease and to pleasure.

She groaned and fell back gracefully against the carpet. “Oh, yes, please—right there!”

Eventually he couldn’t stand the tension himself and had to bring her to orgasm with his tongue and lips. He loved this woman, inscrutable and opaque to him except when she was whimpering his name, pleading for him to finish her off.

Jack was ready for round two—or was it three?—when she sagged back, boneless again. He got another condom, still amused by the jumbo box filling her briefcase.

“Thirty-six? A dozen wasn’t enough?”

“They’re cheaper in bulk.” She grinned.

“Well, you’re responsible for making sure they get used by the sell-by date.”

“We have three years. I think we can manage to use a few dozen rubbers in three years.”

He liked the sound of her thinking in terms of years, but there was a subtext there that worried him. Three years of alternating dates on the weekends wasn’t the future he had in mind.

Everything was slower and clearer this time. Elise on top, so he could look at her creamy pink skin, play with her nipples, gauge her desire. When he thought she was getting close to coming, he used the pads of his fingers to help her over the edge. Her climax triggered his own, which was a long, tight, keen release.

Minutes later, he rolled over onto his elbow to look at her. “Are we going to talk about anything?”

Her expression wasn’t encouraging. She looked calm and sexually sated, but she wasn’t smiling this time. He guessed she wasn’t eager to hash anything out.

She closed her eyes. “If you like.”

He had to try. “I’m sorry, Elise. You were right. I should have talked to you before going to the Chief Judge. You deserved the opportunity to tell me that you didn’t want my help. At the very least, we should have had the fight before I did anything.”

She rolled over to face him. “I rather thought you belonged to the ‘It’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission’ school of thought.”

“I think I’m in the ‘See the problem, solve the problem’ school.”

Elise ran a finger along the pattern of the carpeting.

He waited, but she stayed silent. Finally he had to ask, “Why did you show up like this?”