Blackjack and Moonlight: A Contemporary Romance

by Braden, Magdalen

  “Didn’t you tell me there’s a local pizzeria that’s pretty good?” He handed her the phone.

  While they waited for the pizza to arrive, Elise put on jeans and a T-shirt that read “A Hard Man is Good to Find.” Jack hid his grin as he pulled on his own clothes.

  Elise was setting the table and Jack was getting two beers out of the fridge when he said, “Oh, I heard Mather is going to withdraw his complaint against you.”

  She turned to stare at him, a place setting still clutched in her hand. Her expression was hard to read. “You know this? How?”

  He wasn’t going to lie, and he’d ruled out being coy. No harm in being sparing with the truth, though. “I talked to Chief Judge Williams about whether I was obligated to recuse myself from any case involving Fergusson. Your situation with Mather came up, and Judge Williams was very unhappy that Mather was going after you in that way. She said she wanted to make a phone call, and I gather she did. She let me know yesterday that the folks at the DRB were very clear—Mather would face an investigation of his own practices if he didn’t withdraw the complaint.”

  Elise stood stock-still for a moment, then slowly went back to positioning flatware, adjusting each piece with meticulous care. Her silence seemed ominous as she made deliberate, almost robotic movements.

  Jack wasn’t stupid enough to ask her if she was mad, but he sensed she was. He wished she’d say something. He didn’t enjoy fighting with a woman while they were dating—it seemed counterproductive. Then again, Elise wasn’t like any of the other women he’d been with.

  “I was about to accuse you of fixing my problem.” Her voice was crisp and quiet. She leaned over the table to fuss with the place mats, the salt and pepper, the napkins. Her refusal to look at him was hard to bear. “You would deny that, wouldn’t you? You arranged for my problem to get fixed—that’s a more accurate way of putting it.”

  He didn’t bother denying this.

  She turned then. Her face was pale, but her cheeks were bright with rage and her eyes looked almost black. She crossed her arms and pressed her lips in a tight line.

  “I didn’t ask you to fix this. I didn’t want you to fix it. That’s not why I told you. I called you because I wanted to hear your voice and have you reassure me that I could handle it.”

  Jack kept quiet. He was caught in a sudden blizzard, vehement and chilling. She had never looked more beautiful or distant. If only she’d yell at him. Rage he could handle. This emotional withdrawal cut at his heart.

  In that moment he saw what he was risking. Maybe their crazy alternating-dates scheme wasn’t what he wanted, but it was better than a life without her. And this icily unresponsive person wasn’t his Elise.

  She shook her head. “Not a smart move, Your Honor. It showed no respect for my ability to take care of my own problems.” Her voice was getting louder. Jack hoped that was a good sign.

  “I’m the proximate cause of this mess,” he argued. “But for my actions, none of this happens. Don’t I have the right—hell, the obligation—to fix what I’ve caused?”

  “It was my problem. My career, my actions, my conversation with Mather. Think about it—if I don’t even tell you that he filed a complaint, you have nothing to fix.” She was closer to yelling, but not there yet.

  “Yes, but you did. How come it didn’t occur to you that I’d feel guilty about what you were going through? And want to exterminate Bart Mather like the worthless vermin he is?” Jack made a tight gesture as though he were flicking a crumb off the table.

  Elise took a step closer to him. “If your actions were motivated by guilt, why didn’t you apologize and ask for the chance to fix it? Because you didn’t ask, did you? You just figured out a solution—a nice, political, one-hand-washes-the-other backroom deal—and went full steam ahead.”

  “Yes, I did.” No point denying it.

  “Do you really think so little of my abilities as a lawyer? And anyway, you know I have access to the same sort of backroom deal. Fergusson might be an old-school Quaker law firm from way back, but I’m pretty sure there are a few people there who could have made a similar sort of phone call.”

  He folded his arms. “If that’s the case, then why are we having this fight?”

  “Because it was my right to decide if that was the way I wanted to go!”

  Strange. He’d thought when she got to the yelling stage, it would feel more personal. Instead, she was furious but not in an intimate way. They weren’t fighting as lovers, they were fighting as lawyers, adversaries on a case.

  Oh God. All the sex, the dinners, the kissing, the flowers—none of it had worked. He hadn’t gotten an inch closer to her than that day in court when she was both a total stranger and the love of his life. Panic caused his face to flush. She still didn’t see the bond between them.

  “You’re being silly,” he blurted out. He could have kicked himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but he just blundered on. “If Mather’s complaint goes away as a result of a backroom deal, who cares who makes the phone call? Isn’t it better if Wallace Leith and Geoff Charles don’t know anything about this? You’re up for partnership soon. You don’t want this affecting their decision.”

  “Because I’m a silly woman who probably would have said the wrong thing and gotten herself into trouble as a result, is that it?” she spat out. “I think that’s about all of your help I care to accept. I—”

  She stopped suddenly.

  Jack thought she was going to make up some excuse, like she didn’t feel well, but she didn’t. She lifted her chin defiantly.

  “I don’t want to see you again. You should leave.”

  Her face was stony, her eyes flat and unwavering. For a moment, he imagined he saw a flicker of something—regret? sadness?—but it was gone before he could identify it. Now she looked unshakable in her desire to see the last of him.

  Jack considered his options, one by one, and they all came up short. He couldn’t argue with her decision to kick him out, his love for her was still a handicap, and sex was clearly not the answer. It nearly killed him but he decided to leave without another word. As he went through the hall, he saw his canvas bag, dropped by the front door where they’d—

  He winced at the memory. He could hear Elise slamming cabinets and drawers as she unset the dining room table. Now she got angry, of course. Under the cover of her banging around, he unzipped his bag and left the small gift on the floor, its wrapping paper and curly bow mocking him with their cheerfulness. He thought about its contents, picked because he loved the light she shone into his life. He loved her so much it hurt.

  Was he giving it to her because he wanted her to have it, or because he couldn’t have borne the pain of seeing it again?

  When Jack opened the door, he nearly knocked over the kid with the pizza. Jack took some savage pleasure in paying for the food, including a generous tip, then set the pizza box on the floor next to his present. He closed the door, rang the bell, and walked home.

  Chapter Ten

  The panel Elise was moderating sounded interesting—Maternal Instincts in the Judiciary. She flipped through her notes one last time before going up on stage to shake hands with the panelists. When the organizer gave the nod, Elise introduced the panel with brief bios of the four women judges.

  “So the obvious questions are, do we insult women judges by even discussing a gender-specific term like ‘maternal instincts’? Shouldn’t all judges be above gender, or do women bring something special to the judiciary?” Elise threw the topic open to the panel, listening with half an ear, ready to jump in with the next question when discussion flagged. It was a lively panel, though, and she found herself enjoying the talk as much as the audience seemed to.

  This was such a nice break from her casework just now. She was in that slump where all her cases were bogged down in discovery and motion practice. It racked up the billable hours, but left her with too much time alone and too few deadlines. And that had proven to be a recipe for
thinking about Jack.

  As soon as his name popped into her head, Elise scanned the auditorium for that glossy black hair. She knew he’d be there. Yup, he was staring right at her. She looked away immediately, then down at her notes, and then over at the panel.

  “How do your maternal instincts affect your work as judges?” She addressed the four women, and they were off again. They seemed to enjoy playing off each other’s answers, making her job almost too easy. She barely had to pay attention. Her thoughts sped back to that spot, right side of the audience about a third in from the back.

  She risked another glance. He was sitting next to Judge King. Of course. What had he told her about them? That they’d broken up? Oh, who even cared. It wasn’t anyone’s business if they were still seeing each other.

  He did realize they’d broken up, didn’t he? She hadn’t gotten postcoital flowers on Sunday, which was a good sign. Of course it was a good sign. She didn’t want him to apologize, and even if he had, it wouldn’t have made any difference. She was still furious with him for taking care of her problems for her—a service she hadn’t wanted or asked for.

  She didn’t need a Boy Scout to help her across the road, dammit.

  “Is there a tension between your job and your home lives? Other than the obvious—namely that there aren’t enough hours in the day for everything we need to get done.” That earned her a laugh, and got the panel sharing anecdotes.

  Pretty damned ironic having her moderate this panel. Elise Carroll—unmarried and hardly the maternal type. It had been easy to ignore the question of whether she even wanted children when none of her relationships lasted longer than a few months.

  Just like that, she pictured Jack’s nursery, with its sunny wainscoting and charming mural. She’d only seen a bit of the mural—a fantasy landscape with meadows and animals. She wished she’d seen the whole thing, and now she never would. She felt an odd sadness that she hadn’t gone into the room, touched the crib, admired the changing table, and gauged the storage space.

  Just enough time for a couple of questions from the audience before Elise caught the nod signaling that the panel had filled its allotted time. She thanked each judge in her closing remarks. The organizer came up on stage to thank the panel and everyone clapped.

  Intent on avoiding Jack, Elise was leaning toward the exit when she heard a rich molasses voice behind her. “Ah, Ms. Carroll.” There was a touch of a Southern accent in that drawl, but Elise didn’t recognize the voice. She turned to find Jack with an older black woman, statuesque in a mulberry suit, a dusting of gray in her natural hair.

  “Elise, may I present Chief Judge Williams? Or have you had the pleasure of appearing before Her Honor?”

  “No, I haven’t,” Elise said as she shook the judge’s hand. “I’m a big fan, though. I particularly enjoyed your opinion in Envoy Services v. Hellman Theater.”

  “Well done, Ms. Carroll,” Judge Williams said with a megawatt smile. “Do you have a case cite for every judge you meet?”

  “No, just luck—I cited Envoy Services in a brief I’m drafting.”

  “Jack, be a peach and go fetch us some of that rather dim white wine they’re serving,” Judge Williams dismissed Blackjack McIntyre as if he were an annoying younger brother. Elise was impressed, then nervous about why the judge wanted to speak to her alone.

  “Ms. Carroll, I’m the one who got Bartram Mather’s complaint withdrawn,” Judge Williams stated without fanfare.

  “Yes, Judge.” Elise refused to look away from the judge’s challenging stare. Elise could guess some defense of Jack’s actions was coming next. Well, the Chief Judge of the Eastern District had no authority to influence Elise’s decision. The federal judiciary couldn’t opine on a personal issue between her and Jack, let alone one that was moot since they’d broken up.

  Her antagonism must have amused Judge Williams, who chuckled and patted her arm. “Honey, I tried to talk him out of it, I did. If I’d been in your place, I’d have torn a strip off his worthless hide. He really did just want to help.”

  Oh, lord, how to respond to sympathy? Elise was still struggling to think what to say when Jack returned with two clear plastic cups of white wine.

  Elise caught his glance. There was a question in his eyes, but she hastily looked away and concentrated on Judge Williams. If only the other woman would talk about something—anything—else. Like women in the law, for example.

  Elise had just opened her mouth to utter some banal comment about the Roundtable when the Chief Judge smiled benignly at both of them. “I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about.” She walked away to hail a colleague.

  Elise kept her eyes on his throat. She could see him swallow. She knew it was childish, but she was scared to look at his face. He had this way of staring at her—like a calm sea with a wicked undertow. What if she couldn’t resist the pull?

  “How have you been?” His tone was polite and calm.

  On second thought, she was brave enough to withstand that Blackjack charm. She’d ended it and it would stay ended. He’d gone back to being just another member of the judiciary. She lifted her chin and looked straight at him. His eyes were smiling at her, even to the point of warmth, and his lips— Oh, God, he was good-looking, especially when he was naked and looking at her just before kissing her, trailing those lips down her jaw before heading… A flush of heat spread over her body.

  “Fine. I’m fine.” Now for the hard part. Her shoulders tensed. “Thank you for the paperweight.”

  He grinned, although his eyes continued to scan her face. Did he really think she was going to create a scene in front of a good chunk of Philadelphia’s legal community? “I’m glad. It pleased me when I found it.” He was really staring at her now, an intense look full of significance and meaning.

  Elise flashed on his present and the pizza they’d ordered. She’d still been angry enough to ignore the pizza but couldn’t resist seeing what was in the gift-wrapped box. He’d found a paperweight—a clear crystal cube, obviously handmade, in which an ocean wave was frozen, just about to break. It looked like the artist had taken a melon baller to the top, where a sphere was missing. A wedge of pale sheen streaming from the top gilded the dark sea. Moonlight.

  Curiosity won out over common sense. She raised her chin. “I don’t get it. What’s the secret message?”

  His gaze swept over the curve of her head. “Your hair. It’s like moonlight on the lake when I couldn’t sleep.”

  A hot wave of desire broke over her and then a chill replaced it. She wanted to cry, which was crazy. She never cried.

  His expression was so gentle and caring. He’d said he loved her hair. Suddenly, it was all too personal, too intimate—too loving. Her brain blanked on how to respond. “Yes. Well, thank you. It’s very beautiful.” She was staring at the knot of his tie again. Its rich bronze pattern had gone a little blurry.

  She had to get out of here. “I need to check in with the organizers,” she lied, and escaped.

  She ducked through a nearby doorway and out into the lobby. A few people stopped her to talk about the program, but she got away as gracefully as possible. Finally, she made it to the exit. She ditched her untouched wine and pushed out into the May sunshine.

  She found a cab to take her back to the office. She dreaded going home, where Jack’s ghost haunted her. The pillowcases still smelled of him because she hadn’t felt like doing laundry on Sunday. She could barely stand to go to bed every night. As soon as she closed her eyes, her entire body remembered things they’d done in that bed. Only exhaustion helped stem the longing to feel his hands on her skin. Of course it was just a sex hangover, but still it ached.

  So she’d work late. Again.

  Jack watched Elise run away, staring at the door she’d escaped through. On the other side of the reception, Judge Williams and Judge King kept throwing speculative glances his way. He was probably some sort of project for them, an unmarried man at his age being anathema in their shared world vie
w of happy marriages and large families.

  Well, sorry to disappoint two noted jurists, but it was not looking good for the Get Blackjack Married campaign. With another woman, perhaps, but not his Elise. And Elise was the only woman he’d ever want to marry.

  Always have to take on the hardest challenges, don’t I?

  He’d never even come close to imagining himself in love before, then suddenly, mysteriously, it was a fait accompli. He couldn’t explain it—it just was the way things turned out. Every moment spent with her had only deepened his joy in her intelligence, humor, beauty and zest. And she’d enjoyed her time with him—well, up to the point he crashed into her scruples about handling her problems by herself. That blunder had set back his efforts to get Elise to see how perfect they were together.

  Well, defeat wasn’t an acceptable result. Maybe his suit had been thrown out on technical grounds of—what? Improper procedure? There were ways to appeal that. She wasn’t indifferent to him. Sure, Elise had looked stricken when he’d explained why he’d picked the paperweight, but who knew what that meant. She was still mad at him. He’d considered apologizing on the spot. She’d just throw his contrition back in his face.

  The only way to lose a case was to give up, while the key to winning was to have patience. Wait for something—new evidence, defendant’s counsel to make a mistake, a fresh perspective on trial strategy.

  Same thing here. He’d get another opportunity to apologize after Elise had cooled off a bit. Until then, he could wait for her to make the next move.

  At least the Mather thing was gone. Jack could afford the time for Elise to soften—waiting and worrying would have made him crazy.

  He’d give her a couple of weeks. If she hadn’t contacted him by then, he could argue that she was reneging on a contract. Maybe by then she’d be ready to resume their sex dates.

  It seemed a thin thread to hang his hopes on. Still, his refusal to fail was almost equal to his patience.