Sleeping With the Enemy (2 page)

He listened as the other men filed out of his office. All the while, Jay was formulating his own game plan on how to ensure Bridgett Janik would quickly recuse herself from the case.

•   •   •

The teakettle whistled with annoyance
while Bridgett Janik carefully stirred the ingredients for chai tea into her cup. She tucked the cell phone between her ear and her shoulder and reached for the shrieking kettle.

“I’m sorry, Stuart, but I thought you actually said cheerleaders for a minute there.” Bridgett stirred her tea before blowing carefully over the rim.

“That’s because I did say cheerleaders, Buffy,” the senior
partner for her firm’s Baltimore office, Stuart Johnson, replied on the other end of the phone. He’d dubbed her “Buffy the Class Action Slayer” two years ago when she’d persuaded the judge to quash half the designated class in a large environmental case weeks before the plaintiffs had even issued subpoenas. “Good to know you didn’t leave your hearing over in Italy with all your hard-earned money.
How was the shopping spree, anyway?”

Bridgett recognized a redirect when she heard one. And Stuart’s were always among the best. It was what made him such a successful trial attorney.

“My trip to Italy was wonderful, Stuart. I slept until noon. I ate bread and pasta and I shopped like I had the money to spend. The best vacation a girl could want after eighteen months on a case. But you
already know this because your wife was there for part of my vacation.” Elizabeth, her boss’s wife, had a bit of a shoe fetish. When Bridgett had mentioned she was headed off for a shopping vacation on the Italian coast, the older woman had looked so enthralled that Bridgett had invited her along. She hadn’t minded the company because it gave her an excuse not to invite one of her interfering sisters.
“Get back to the subject of stupid cheerleaders, Stuart.”

“You say
cheerleader
as though it’s dirty somehow.” Stuart’s tone was teasing. “Naughty even.” He laughed at his words, and Bridgett let out an exasperated sigh as she carried her tea over to the large window in the living room of her condo in Boston’s trendy Back Bay area. Sunlight sparkled off the dew still glistening on the rooftops
in the early autumn morning. “What have you got against cheerleaders anyway?” he asked.

Bridgett blew on her tea. “Nothing.”

“No, your tone says otherwise. Don’t tell me you always wanted to be a cheerleader but you just weren’t chirpy enough?”

“Funny.” She took a sip, letting the chai mingle on her tongue. The Janik girls had all been cheerleaders—all except for Bridgett. She’d tried
out, begging her friend Jessica to audition as well. Given that two of her sisters had preceded her on the squad, Bridgett figured she’d be a sure thing. After all, she had the looks and the requisite pom-poms to fill out the uniform. Jessica—the one she’d had to coax into trying out—got picked instead. Stuart was correct. It was the chirpiness. The cheer sponsor and the two captains thought Bridgett
was too serious to be an effective cheerleader. Well, she was a serious person. A girl didn’t get into Harvard without being one.

Apparently, the decades-old slight went deeper than Bridgett remembered, judging by her reaction this morning. She’d have to examine that little character flaw later, though. “Focus, Stuart. You said we’re taking on a case involving cheerleaders. Can you give me
more detail than that, please?”

Stuart laughed. “Usually you only get snippy when I mention
conscious uncoupling
. I’ll have to add
cheerleader
to the list of words that make Bridgett lose her practiced cool.”

Bridgett was glad Stuart couldn’t see her bristle at the phrase
conscious uncoupling.
“Hey, Jimmy Fallon, do you want to call me back after you get finished with your monologue?”

He laughed again before sobering up. “I didn’t say we were representing the cheerleaders. We get to be the bad guys and defend the party they are suing.”

Now, that was more like it. Bridgett took another sip of tea as she considered the possibility of being retained by a school or a university against a bunch of girls in short skirts and ridiculous hair bows. “Oh, please tell me we get
to defend against a group of helicopter parents who want their daughters to all win the first-place trophy?”

That got another laugh out of Stuart. “That tune will change when it’s your little darling sobbing that some myopic judge robbed her of the blue ribbon.”

Bridgett paused with her teacup poised at her lips. She wondered if Stuart was right. But then, she’d never know, would she?
Somehow she doubted that, even if she had a child, she’d want him or her not to think they had to be winners all the time. How would that prepare them for life? Life could be cruel. Bridgett knew that firsthand. There was no use sugarcoating it. The point was moot, however, and Bridgett swallowed her tea around the lump in her throat.

“Actually, these are NFL cheerleaders,” Stuart explained.

“The NFL has cheerleaders?” Of course there were the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. They were practically icons. But, Bridget wondered, did the other teams have actual cheerleaders? She’d never really noticed.

Stuart was silent for a moment on the other end of the line.
“You can’t be serious. Don’t you go to your brother’s football games?”

Bridgett’s younger brother, the baby of the Janik
family, was Brody Janik, a Pro Bowl tight end for the Baltimore Blaze and certified heartthrob to women around the globe. He was as much of an icon as the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. In fact, her brother’s new sister-in-law had once been on the Dallas squad. “Sure I go to his games, but I don’t go to watch the cheerleaders.” She mainly went out of family obligation and because Brody was the
one member of the Janik clan who understood Bridgett for who she was. The rest of the Janiks wanted to make her over to be more like them: settled. “I didn’t think the Blaze had cheerleaders.”

“They do,” Stuart said just as an ominous feeling settled in the pit of Bridgett’s stomach. “And they’re suing team management for alleged workplace violations.”

“Oh no,” Bridgett whispered.

“Oh yes,” Stuart said. “And the Blaze have hired us to handle their defense. And you, Buffy, are the perfect person to take the lead. Not only are you a woman—although it would have helped tremendously if you’d been a cheerleader at one time—but you’re also Brody Janik’s sister. Score one for us in the headlines when this goes public later today.”

With a less than steady hand, Bridgett set
her tea down on the antique marble side table she’d bought in Florence a few years back. Stuart wanted her to defend the Baltimore Blaze in a class action suit? Against cheerleaders? If that wasn’t too insulting, she factored in the team’s new owner: Jay McManus. The man was insufferable, arrogant, obscenely wealthy, and sex on a stick. And he made her stomach crawl every time she got within fifty
feet of him. She did everything she could to keep her distance from the man at all costs. Working for him on his defense would violate her own personal restraining order and Bridgett couldn’t go there.

“I’m sure it’s a conflict of interest somehow,” she said, adding a silent prayer after the words left her mouth.

“Come on, Bridgett. Second year law school. There’s no
conflict here even
if the Sparks were suing your brother directly.”

Bridgett softly banged her head against the warm window, scaring a pigeon hanging out on the other side. Of course Stuart would have thought this through. He didn’t make a move without carefully considering all the options. She tried another tactic. “I don’t know. I’ve been in Baltimore for over two years on the Pressler case. I’d like to hang
out close to home for my next case.”

“Hang out at home? Bridgett, before you left for Italy, you begged me to staff you on a case that was anywhere BUT Boston. Remember the nagging family whose radar you are trying to fly under? Brody’s been married for six months. You’re the only single one left. They’re gunning for you, Buffy. But hey, if you want to deal with that, I’ve got an open-and-shut
discrimination case filed by some fast-food workers in Worcester you can first-chair.”

There’s no such thing as an open-and-shut case that involved discrimination.
With another headbang against the window, she cursed her entire family, including her not-so-favorite brother, Brody, and her sweet old Grandpa Gus, who had conspired together to marry her off to the first available orthodontist
they could find. She’d be a sitting duck if she stayed in Boston.

“How long?” she said, her tone resigned.

“That’s the can-do spirit,” Stuart said. “I won’t know the particulars until we pick up the filing at the courthouse. I sent Dan over there to get it.”

Bridgett sighed. Dan Lewis had been her associate on the Pressler case. At least he was a good lawyer.

“That blogger who
writes the
Girlfriends’ Guide to the NFL
made a vague reference to the case late last night—that’s what put it on Hank Osbourne’s radar. Since then, the media have run with it.” Stuart’s chuckle sounded amazed and annoyed at the same time. “Believe it or not, several women’s groups have already announced plans for protests of this Sunday’s Blaze game.”

Bridgett knew of the blogger. Whoever
was behind the
poison pen—or in this case, keyboard—had tortured her brother, Brody, last season, nearly causing him to lose his career and the woman he loved.

“I’ve set up a meeting for three this afternoon at the Blaze headquarters. Hank will be waiting for you. And, Bridgett, I don’t have to tell you what a client as wealthy as Jay McManus could do for this law firm—not to mention your
partner earning statements.”

“Wait, you said Hank will be waiting for
me
. Just where exactly will you be?”

“On speakerphone. I’ve got to be in Manhattan to take care another of those conscious-uncoupling cases you love so much. But I’ll meet you back at the Baltimore office tonight and we can discuss strategy. Toni has you on the eleven o’clock flight, so you might want to pack those gorgeous
Burberry bags of yours and hustle to the airport.”

As she hung up the phone, Bridgett gave the window another thump with her forehead. Her options were limited, really. She could stay in Boston and suffer her family’s futile attempts at matchmaking or head to Baltimore, where a meeting with the man she’d come to know as the Antichrist awaited her. Every nerve ending in her body screamed that
she’d just made the absolute wrong choice.

Dan was waiting for Bridgett at the airport. Instead of heading to the office, they took a detour to G&M restaurant for a working lunch.

“You know me too well, Dan,” Bridgett said as their server placed a fresh crab cake in front of her.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be happy to be back in Charm City, so I thought I’d sweeten the day with your favorite lunch,” Dan said with a laugh.

“Don’t worry. Just because I might be here for a few months doesn’t mean I’ll rescind my offer; my Blaze tickets are still yours to use this season,” she told him. “You don’t have to stuff me with food.” She took a moment to savor the delicious lump crabmeat. “Umm. These are so good, I might be inclined to ask Brody for a sideline pass for you this weekend, though.”

Dan had played college
football at the University of Delaware and still loved everything about the game. Bridgett had never understood why grown men acted like giddy little boys when they got around professional athletes. Even smart
men like Dan fawned over her brother, Brody, as though he were the crown prince of pizza and beer.

“Actually, just between you and me, I’m hoping the exposure to Jay McManus will open
a few more doors than just the sidelines.” Dan took a sip of his drink while Bridgett’s enjoyment of one of her favorite foods evaporated with the mention of the Antichrist’s name.

Dan misinterpreted her sigh as displeasure with him. “Oh, hey, I’m going to give everything I have to this case; don’t get me wrong. And I love working for the firm. It’s just always been my dream to work in the
NFL somehow. Did you know the general counsel for the Blaze isn’t even a trial attorney? If I play my cards right, maybe they’ll place us on retainer and I can fulfill two dreams at the same time.”

Bridgett waved him off. “I get it. Trust me, you’ll have Stuart’s blessing, not to mention a big fat bonus, if you can pull that one off.” She didn’t mention that she’d rather balloon up two dress
sizes before working with a football team—particularly one owned by Jay McManus. “Tell me what you’ve got so far. What was in the filing?”

Dan pulled the folder out from his briefcase. “It’s got all the earmarks of the other cases floating around the NFL: wage discrimination, lack of compensation for appearances, character degradation. Yada, yada. It looks like this woman is out for some publicity
and maybe a little blood, too. She’s also accusing the team of sexual harassment.”

She wilted a little in her seat. Stuart hadn’t been shortsighted in naming her as lead attorney. A woman defending against a sexual harassment case was a common legal tactic, but it also put Bridgett in an extremely untenable position. The defense was almost always built on discrediting the supposed victim and
her perception of the harassment. She never shrank down from these cases, but she didn’t enjoy them either.

“I know I’m going to hate the answer either way, but please tell me there’s something substantive to her case.”

“The case cites some incidents at the annual calendar photo
shoot in St. Barts this summer. The one named plaintiff claims there wasn’t enough security in place and that
the women were harassed by sponsors, fans, and—wait for it—a couple of players who also happened to be at the resort.”

Bridgett released an exasperated sigh. “Imagine that, players hooking up with cheerleaders.”

“Actually, it’s in their contract—the cheerleaders’, that is—that they’re not allowed to fraternize with players, coaches, or any of the staff.”

“Is it in the players’ contracts
that they can’t date the cheerleaders?”

Dan looked a little stumped at her question. “Uh, I don’t know. But I can check.”

“Don’t bother. I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that one is a big fat no.”

He shrugged. “Most of the girls who sign up for this gig are dancers or aspiring models. I doubt any of them really want to marry an NFL player.”

Bridgett arched an eyebrow at him.
“At least until they see the number of zeros in the guy’s bank account.”

“All the same, if this woman can substantiate the sexual harassment charges, it’s gonna make headlines.”

“Apparently it’s already gotten the attention of women’s rights activists.” Bridgett picked at the rest of her lunch. “What do we know about this woman?”

“Not much yet. I’m hoping the team will have something
for us later today, although management of the cheerleaders is actually subcontracted out, so most of the information will come from a third party.”

“Wow, and I thought environmental law was complicated,” she said, shaking her head. On the positive side, that little tidbit meant she likely wouldn’t have to deal with the Antichrist.

Two hours later, she made her way to the Blaze practice
facility. Bridgett was glad it was Tuesday and most of the team had the day off. She’d always tried to maintain some anonymity within her large, nosy family and she wasn’t sure how she felt about invading her brother’s playhouse, as it were.
Stop
kidding yourself.
Her anxiety about being in the Blaze headquarters had nothing to do with Brody and everything to do with seeing Jay McManus again.

Blaze General Manager Hank Osbourne greeted her with a smile and a friendly handshake as he led Bridgett, Dan, Scott Turner, the firm’s investigator, and a paralegal, Maureen, toward the large conference room at the corner of the building. Maureen had to be prodded a bit as she openly gaped at the poster-sized pictures of Brody and his teammates that lined the hallways.

“We’re glad to have
another Janik on our team, Bridgett,” Hank said as he pulled out a chair for her across from a wall of windows looking out over the outdoor practice facility. The view had even Scott and Dan gaping now. “Please, everyone help yourself to some refreshments and I’ll grab Jay so we can get the meeting started.”

An assortment of candies, fruits, and drinks was laid out on a counter next to the
conference table. Dan and Scott each grabbed a can of soda while Maureen busied herself setting up her stenotype machine in the corner of the room. Bridgett removed the jacket of her pewter Versace suit and draped it carefully over a chair before taking her seat. She doubted she could eat anything because her stomach was a knot of nerves. Fiddling with the sleeves of her silk blouse, she tried to
calm herself down. She hadn’t felt this jumpy since her first case out of law school. Stuart was lucky he was participating via a conference call because Bridgett thought she just might strangle him if he walked into the room right now.

Her hands balled into fists at the tall, dark-haired man who did enter the room, however. Looking immaculate in Hugo Boss—
of course
—Jay McManus greeted everyone
assembled with a cursory nod before taking a seat at the head of the table. He punched a button on the phone box that connected him with Bridgett’s boss.

He and Stuart carried on with their conversation as if the others weren’t in the room. That suited Bridgett just fine. She kept her eyes focused on her notes in an effort to avoid
the commanding aura that Jay put out, one that made all of
her nerve endings tingle. Eventually, Hank and Scott were brought in to discuss how they would try to discredit the claims being made against the team.

“We haven’t been able to locate Ms. Knowles,” Hank said. “According to her attorney, she’s returned to her parents’ home in Virginia Beach. Donovan Carter spoke to the manager for the Sparks today and she said that, by all accounts, the young
woman had been happy on the squad. Ms. Knowles is trying to break into modeling, so she frequently volunteered for the additional appearances.”

“Was the manager with the squad for the calendar photo shoot?” Bridgett spoke for the first time since entering the room, keeping her gaze on Hank.

“I believe she was, yes,” Hank replied. “The trip is one of the perks to being on the Sparks. The
entire squad goes, all expenses paid.”

“We really have no way of knowing whether the manager was a party to the alleged events of that week or not, then. This is going to be one of those cases that boils down to the credibility of
all
the witnesses.” She tilted her head toward Scott, who sat beside her. “I’d like our investigator to be able to speak with the manager as well, if that’s all
right.”

Hank nodded. “Of course. I’m sure Don would appreciate the help.”

“What do we know about the opposing lawyer?” Jay’s question seemed to be addressed to her and there was nothing Bridgett could do except meet his brilliant blue eyes. He leveled a hard stare at her and she had to work to keep from squirming. Jay McManus took no prisoners—especially when it came to his reputation.
She knew this firsthand. But his words couldn’t affect her anymore. All she needed to do was tell her heart the same thing.

“She’s young and eager to make a name for herself,” she said. “I’ve no doubt she fed the information about the case directly to the blogger somehow. The
Girlfriends’ Guide to the NFL
has garnered some serious power in mobilizing
public opinion, so it doesn’t surprise
me that opposing counsel would make use of such a broad platform.”

Jay eyed her shrewdly. “I still have to wonder what the blogger gets from all this.”

“That makes two of us.” Hank sat forward in his chair. “That blogger has been a nuisance to this team for two years now. If nothing else, maybe we can compel this attorney to tell us who it is.”

“First things, first,” Stuart said from
the comfort of his seat on an Amtrak train barreling toward Baltimore. “Let’s get these charges to go away and then we can continue your quest to unmask the mystery blogger.”

A discussion of logistics followed before the meeting finally broke up. Bridgett blew out a slow breath, releasing some of the tension that had been holding her body in check for the past hour. She was a professional,
a partner in a law firm, for crying out loud. She could do this. Hank was saying something to Scott about introducing him to the team’s security chief, Donovan Carter, while Bridgett shoved her tablet into her red Marc Jacobs messenger bag and reached for her suit jacket. If she was lucky, she could get to her car without having to make any additional eye contact with the Antichrist.

“It’s
good to see you, Bridgett. Let’s get the girls together for a glass of wine while you’re in town.” Carly Devlin, Hank’s assistant, gave her a brief wave from the doorway where she intercepted the team’s GM with another apparent pressing problem. Bridgett nodded back. “The girls” she spoke of would be Carly, who was not only Hank’s assistant but the wife of the Baltimore Blaze quarterback Shane Devlin;
Julianne Connelly, wife of the team’s defensive captain, Will Connelly; and Shay Janik, Bridgett’s new sister-in-law. While Bridgett considered all the women friends, even the lure of a good glass of pinot grigio couldn’t entice her to share an evening with these ladies. Not when all of them would spend the entire time talking about babies.

The familiar lump in her throat that always accompanied
the thought of babies and children was painful to gulp down,
but Bridgett had become a master of enduring the pain. She’d had to be. Babies were not in her future. Her career was her life. The decision had been made for her years earlier and Bridgett refused to have any regrets about it.

Dan and Maureen were nearly out the door when the Antichrist deigned to speak to her.

“Miss Janik,
a word.”

It wasn’t a request as much as it was a command. Jay McManus was used to his minions heeding his orders. Too bad she wasn’t one of those minions. Bridgett had every intention of ignoring his summons and following the rest of her staff out of the door when he hit her with a rusty weapon from his arsenal.

“Please, Bridgett.”

She wasn’t sure which stunned her more: his uttering
the word
please
or her name rolling so easily off his tongue, as though it hadn’t been years since he’d spoken to her. Either way, her body froze before she could safely clear the room. Silently cursing her dumb luck for insisting on bringing her own rental car to the meeting, she watched as Dan and Maureen, oblivious to her discomfort, made their way to the elevator. A moment later, Jay closed
the door, cutting off her view and her escape route.

Sighing, she dropped her jacket and bag into one of the conference room chairs. If she was going to serve as part of his legal team, it was inevitable that she’d have to carry on a conversation with the man at some point. It was probably best to get everything out in the open sooner rather than later. “That’s funny. I didn’t think you knew
the word
please
.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Or maybe it’s just ‘I’m sorry’ that gets caught in your throat.”

He leaned against the door, mimicking her defensive pose as one corner of his mouth lifted slightly, giving her a glimpse of the dimple she’d once loved to trace with her finger and her tongue. She dragged in a rough breath as parts of her body went on alert thinking about
not only that dimple but the ones on his very fine ass, too.
Don’t go there
. With the futile hope of calming the tremors deep in her belly, she
practiced one of her favorite courtroom tricks of looking through the witness.

It didn’t work.

Even all these years later, Jay McManus was beautiful. Perhaps more so now that he’d matured. He was definitely sexier. Gone was the tall, loose-limbed,
carefree boy with the lazy smile; the guy who always seemed to have her hand in his. The man in his place was now chiseled to perfection, his designer suit barely containing the athletic body that likely rivaled many of the players whose paychecks he signed. His smile was hidden behind a carefully crafted veneer of aloof arrogance. But his blue eyes were nearly her undoing. She remembered the
fierce determination reflected in them when he’d been inside of her, when he’d been talking about being with her forever. And then again when he’d left her. That fierceness was in them now, but she refused to be cowed by this man. Not ever again.

“That’s exactly the reason we need to have this conversation,” he said, that silky smooth voice of his making her insides sit up and take notice.
“I need to know if you’re professional enough to handle this situation.”