Fair Game Inc (2010) (3 page)

With a muffled curse, she stuffed the envelope into the pocket of her blazer. She shut the door firmly and leaned against it for emphasis. Forcing a smile onto her face, she turned back to Sandy.

"He was a looker," Sandy said with an appreciative whistle.

Thought you were mourning good old Roger. Amber forced her thoughts to be more charitable. Maybe a good looking messenger of bad news was less likely to get shot.

"Something wrong?" Her client looked up at her with concern.

"No, ah no, everything's fine. Where were we?"

"We were trying to decide what to do about Roger."

"Right." Amber sank back into her leather chair. Nonchalantly, she took the envelope from her pocket, tossed it into her right hand drawer and casually locked it. "As I was about to say, he's on to us now. Our cover is blown, and with it is the element of surprise. I'm sure Roger will be expecting a counter strike. At this point, I don't think we'll get within a mile of him."

"What are you saying? That we should call it off, and let Roger get away with--" Her mouth worked. No sound came out. "Dumping me?" she asked finally in a tiny voice. Tears glistened, threatening to tumble down her cheeks at any moment.

"At this point, I don't think there's anything else we can do." No sense making a bad situation worse. All I need is another lawsuit. The words came out more sharply than she intended. Guilt stopped her. Grayson's lawsuit wasn't entirely Sandy's fault. Maybe if she'd been more apologetic. Maybe ... who knew? "Look," she said gently. "I think you've made your point, anyway. Roger knows now that you're hurt and angry. What happens now is up to the two of you. She paused, then added reluctantly. "And I won't charge you for my time."

Sandy nodded, dabbing at a tear in the corner of her eye. "Thank you. And you're probably right. It's best not to do anything more, considering."

"Fine, then." Amber held out her hand. "Nice meeting you, Sandy."

But Sandy was staring down at her long, manicured fingernails. "I can't believe it, Roger wins again."

She rose, the epitome of grace, from the chrome and leather chair. With one last sniffle, she picked up the entire box of tissues and disappeared through the glass doors.

"But--" Amber rested her head in her hands. Better add another bottle of aspirin to that order. With a groan, she unlocked her desk drawer and looked down at the summons on its buff colored paper. Hers was an honest mistake. No way would she let Grayson Charles destroy the reputation she'd worked so hard to build.

****

Amber stormed through the courthouse doors. Briefcase in hand, she barreled down the marble corridor, heedless of anything or anyone in her path. Heads turned as she rushed past. Black robed judges stepped hastily out of her way.

The door to Courtroom 9 loomed before her more suddenly than she expected. Taking a deep breath, Amber charged through the doors. Mahogany doors swung open, hitting the back wall with a resounding boom. Inside it was hushed, as if someone had sucked all the sound out of the room. Her pumps clicked a staccato beat along the floor, disproportionately loud in the silence. She suppressed the urge to tiptoe as she strode purposely toward the front of the courtroom. No sense in letting him think she was meek in any way. If his opinion ran along those lines, Mr. Grayson Charles, attorney at law, was in for a big surprise.

"Charles versus Shaw," the judge called out. She watched as Grayson rose from his seat, looking entirely formidable in his charcoal colored suit.

I'll teach him about formidable, she thought and strode up beside him. He towered over her by more than a head. Amber offered him a look that practically smoked with hostility, daring him to look down at her. Together they approached the bench.

In a monotone, the judge read through the details of the case, pausing now and then upon a keyword. "... revenge ... bucket of ice ..." He raised his eyes over his half-glasses. His gaze swept over Amber, who glared back defiantly and fastened upon Grayson. "You're suing her for what?"

"Your Honor--" Grayson launched into a speech to rival Perry Mason, not even pausing long enough for breath for her to slip in a word in her defense.

She stared up at him, admitting reluctantly that he was intimidating in his expensive suit, his dark eyes blazing with anger, his face intent on his cause. It occurred to Amber that Grayson Charles was the kind of man you wanted as an ally not an opponent. If he'd been defending her she'd have been impressed with his performance. But instead, he was suing her, over an honest mistake that had done no one any harm. Intimidated or not, she vowed he wasn't going to win.

"As I was saying, Your Honor," Grayson shot a withering glance in Amber's direction. "Due to Miss Shaw's negligence, her failure to gather all the pertinent facts, I not only had my clothing ruined, but I lost several working hours from an urgent case."

Anger boiled up inside her, boiled over. Grayson Charles could say anything he wanted about her personally, but she would not allow him to sully her reputation as a private investigator.

She drew in a breath that burned with fury. If Mr. Charles thought he could brush off Amber Shaw so easily, he was sorely mistaken.

"Oh come now, Counselor!" Her voice carried further than she intended in the quiet chamber. "It was only water, ice-cold water at that. It couldn't have shrunk your fine wool pants. Unless of course, it shrunk something else."

A wave of snickers swept through the gallery behind her. Amber felt a deep flush work its way up her neck and over her cheeks, until she was certain even her scalp blushed in embarrassment. Had she really said that? She raised her eyes just in time to see the judge smother a smile. She didn't dare look at Grayson.

"Your Honor, I object." By the strain in his voice she could tell he'd like to do more than that.

Somehow she'd won the judge over with her impulsive comment.

"Object all you want, Counselor. This isn't the supreme court. We aren't trying a murder case here. I've got armed robbery, hit and run, embezzlement.o He brandished a handful of files. "And you want to tie up my courtroom because a woman dumped a pitcher of ice in your lap by accident?"

"With all due respect, Your Honor, Ms. Shaw has made a business of such behavior."

"While it might be questionable business practice, technically it's not illegal, Mr. Charles. You should know that."

Grayson's complexion darkened with anger. Standing only inches away Amber could feel the heat radiating from him. He smelled of soap and aftershave. Nice aftershave, barely noticeable, not the overpowering kind used car salesmen wore. She yanked her thoughts back to the problem at hand. What was it about Grayson Charles that could infuriate her yet entice her at the worst of times?

"What about the damage to my clothing? The time lost from my caseload?"

The judge sighed in exasperation. Removing his glasses, he wiped a hand across his eyes and glared down at them.

"Since you insist, Mr. Charles, I hereby order Ms Shaw to pay the dry cleaning bill for one pair of wool suit pants. And...."

Amber swallowed hard. Before her eyes, the judge's patience wore dangerously thin. And Grayson Charles seemed determined to provoke him.

"Seeing as Ms Shaw's prank caused irreparable damage to your schedule, I hereby order her to one month of after hours assistance at Barlow & Charles."

"Your Honor--" Their voices mingled as one. The judge pounded his gavel for silence.

"I'm a private investigator," Amber said hotly, "not a private secretary."

Grayson looked down at her with disdain. "I can't imagine what help she could possibly be to me?"

"She's a private investigator, Mr. Charles. I'm sure she can help you with your research."

The gavel slammed down once again, dismissing them. Amber snatched up her briefcase and stormed up the steps, followed closely by Grayson. She hauled the door open, letting it go without looking to see if he'd cleared the threshold. Behind her she heard a muffled curse. A strong hand seized her arm. She whirled to face him.

"I hope you're satisfied."

Anger got the better of her. "Me, satisfied? We wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't kept on about your stupid pants."

"Me?"

"Yes, you! You had to go and make him mad. Now look what's happened."

"Oh right, blame me. Well let me tell you, Ms. Shaw, none of this would have happened if you'd done your research in the first place."

Amber's fingers curled into fists at her side. She was certain her face was flushed scarlet by now. One of the drawbacks of being a redhead, she thought angrily. Grayson Charles made a big mistake messing with a redhead's temper.

"If you don't like my research skills, Mr. Charles,o she growled low in her throat, "then I guess you won't be needing my help at your firm." She yanked her arm from his grip and strode off down the corridor.

Behind her, there was silence.

"Wait a minute."

He hurried to catch up to her. She kept on walking.

"I didn't say that."

"Oh really?" She turned slowly, shooting him a glare that said 'if looks could kill, you'd already be dead'. "So the research skills you don't consider good enough, you're willing to take for free?"

"You owe me!"

"I offered to pay your dry cleaning bill."

"You owe me for my time!"

"Your time! What about mine? Do you think you're the only one trying to make a living here, Mr. Charles? Did it ever occur to you that I might have cases of my own that require my undivided attention just now?"

He looked back at her dumbfounded. "I suppose you do."

"Fine. Since you got us both into this mess, and I'm not about to defy a court order, just tell me when you'd like me to report to your law firm. And then let me get on with my evening. Unlike some people," her eyes flashed the length of his body, "I don't have the luxury of wasting time. I still have work to do tonight."

**** I still have work to do tonight. Her pompous words echoed like an endless tape loop in Grayson's mind. As if he didn't.

Grayson coasted to the curb, parking just behind the fire engine red sports car. The sight of Roger's car sent a fresh wave of anger surging inside him. In the lobby of the office building, he caught a glimpse of black leather and blue denim.

Roger levered himself away from the wall as Grayson strode through the main doors. "Brought you an espresso."

Grayson accepted the paper cup grudgingly. "I'm going to need it."

"So how'd the court case go?"

He offered his brother a boiling glare in reply. Fumbling for his keys, he unlocked the office and held it open for Roger to enter, even though it was clear he'd much prefer if Roger disappeared from the face of the earth.

"Don't tell me the great Grayson Charles actually lost a case!"

"Don't push it, Roger. I'm not the best of company tonight."

Roger's face clouded. "You didn't actually lose, Gray, did you?"

"Of course not."

"So, how much did you set her back?"

"I didn't set her back, as you so kindly put it."

"You didn't? So what did you get?"

"A month of her assistance and compensation for my dry cleaning bill."

Roger choked on his coffee.

"What so funny?"

"You mean she's coming here? To work?"

"That's what I mean. What could I say? No, I don't need the help. I do need the help. What with Nicole running off to Mexico to get married...." He drawled out the word married, making it sound like a heinous crime. "And whatever's going on with John that he's got to take a holiday in the middle of our busiest month ever, I'm completely swamped." Grayson looked up from the papers he was unloading from his portfolio. "Was there something in particular you wanted, Roger?"

His brother's laughter rippled through the quiet room. "Don't you see, it's perfect."

"What is?"

"You and Amber Shaw."

"Nothing is perfect about me and Amber Shaw in close quarters."

"I beg to differ."

"You deal with her then."

Roger smiled, the epitome of smugness. "Perhaps, I will."

Grayson paused, amazed at the pang of jealousy that tore through him. The unfamiliar emotion unsettled him. He hadn't felt that way since junior high school when both Roger and he had a crush on a certain blonde fourteen year old named Debbie. How had Amber Shaw managed to dig up feelings so long buried? She was an attractive woman with her flame red hair, porcelain skin and gray eyes. He imagined most men would think so. Not the kind of woman you'd be easily bored with, he thought with the ghost of a smile. He wouldn't want to square off against her in a debate. He'd never met a woman who could build a business from the ground up single-handedly, and yet blush so endearingly. Why hadn't he just laughed off her mistake and asked her out? If that's what Roger was thinking of doing, he had news for him. That thought shook him from his reverie. Setting the file folder down on his desk, he looked up at his brother, appraisingly.