Mad About the Man

by Tracy Anne Warren

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Brie stared for a long moment, then tossed back her head and laughed. The very idea of her and Monroe, it was . . . well . . . it was laughable. They despised each other for one thing. For another, she didn’t hook up with men she worked with—at least not any longer. She’d more than learned her lesson a few years earlier when she’d had an affair with a fellow lawyer. To say it had ended badly was an understatement; it was a mistake she would never let herself make again.

  “Are you finished?” he asked in a carefully polite tone.

  “A-Almost.” She held up a finger and gave way to one more belly laugh before she forced herself to sober up. Her lips twitched a couple more times before she was finally able to hold it together. Catching her breath, she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I didn’t know you even had a sense of humor, let alone such a good one.”

  He gave her a look that put her in mind of a predator. “Who says I’m joking?”

  “You must be. The two of us together? It would be like a WWF match. It wouldn’t be lovemaking. It would be hatemaking.”

  “What does love have to do with it?”

  “Hey, that’s an old song, isn’t it?”

  “Laugh if you want, but I’m going to have you, Brie Grayson.”

  “No, you are not. I don’t sleep with clients.”

  “Who said anything about sleeping? I’m talking about sex.”

  “I don’t do that with clients either.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “No, we won’t.” She stood and reached for her leather satchel. She pulled out a folder and laid it down on the coffee table. “Here is the client agreement and letter of retainer. You can sign it and messenger it over to my office. In the meantime, I’ll ask one of the other partners to handle your legal work.”

  “No.”

  “No, what?” She arched a brow.

  “The understanding was that you would handle my legal work. If you refuse, then the deal is off. McNeal told me you agreed to all the terms.”

  “I did, but that was before you added an additional term.”

  “The sex, you mean? Oh, that’s not a term of our arrangement. When it comes to my corporation, I’m all business, and our personal dealings will have no bearing on said business. Just consider the other a future side benefit to be enjoyed by both parties when the time is right.”

  “The time will never be right.”

  He smiled that arrogant grin of his. “We’ll see. Lunch must be ready by now. Let’s go into the dining room.”

  “Look, Monroe, this isn’t going to work out between us, so we might as well put an end to our association right now.”

  “Why won’t it work out?”

  She studied him for a long moment. “Truth?”

  “Always. I expect scrupulous honesty in my lawyer, at least when it comes to her dealings with me.”

  Brie’s lips twitched upward again. “Then honestly it’s because we’re about as incompatible as two people can get. I didn’t like you when I was twelve and I don’t like you now. We go together about as well as peanut butter and sardines.”

  He took a moment to consider. “Well, you’re right that they wouldn’t go together on a sandwich, but in an exotic Asian dish, the combination might prove both spicy and delicious. Besides, why is likability a prerequisite to our working together? Or do you like everyone you represent?”

  Tiny frown lines settled between her brows. “No, but—”

  “Then I don’t see the problem. Now, lunch. My chef is the temperamental sort who’s been known to fling pans when he’s displeased. Since he’s one of a handful of Michelin three-star chefs in the city, I’ve learned not to piss him off.”

  Her eyes widened. She’d known the restaurant at the M Hotel boasted a fine-dining restaurant with one of the city’s top chefs at the helm, but she had never imagined the culinary master himself would be cooking her lunch.

  She scowled. Monroe really was diabolical. Did he know she was a foodie and would find a chance to sample such exquisite cuisine nearly impossible to resist, or had it just been a stroke of luck on his part? Knowing what she did of him, she guessed the former. First he tempted her with a partnership at her law firm and now a meal made by one of the best chefs in the United States and possibly the world.

  What a bastard.

  “You and I are strictly business,” she said, staring him in the eye. “I am your attorney and only your attorney. Understood?”

  “Completely.”

  “There’ll be no asking me out and no more talk of sex. Ever.”

  His face was smooth and serious. “If you prefer.” He motioned toward the dining room with a hand. “Shall we?”

  She was a little surprised by his sudden, easy agreement but accepted it anyway. Letting her nose lead her toward the delicious scents of freshly baked French bread and some sort of bacon derivation she suspected might be braised pork belly, she walked on.

  It was only later, after she’d eaten one of the best meals of her life, had put the signed representation agreements back into her briefcase, and had just climbed back into the company Escalade, that she realized Monroe hadn’t actually promised anything when it came to not pursuing her on a personal basis.

  Because, as a lawyer, she ought to have realized that the words “if you prefer” did not mean “yes.”

  * * *

  A vacuum whined somewhere in the distance, the evening cleaning crew busy sweeping, emptying trash cans, and switching off lights as they finished their work.

  Brie paid them no attention, her thoughts focused squarely on the motion she was preparing. Her fingers moved swiftly over her computer keyboard, pausing every so often to flip through her notes to locate a pertinent citation or other necessary piece of information.

  She was reconsidering a section of the paragraph she’d just written when the theme music to Mad Men started playing on her cell phone. She didn’t need to check to know that it was her older sister—the advertising executive—calling.

  Smiling, she hit “answer” and put the phone up to her ear. “Hey, Madelyn.”

  “Hey, yourself,” her sister said in a cheery voice. “What are you up to? Home having dinner, I hope.”

  “Nope, I’m still at work, and yes, I know it’s nearly”—she paused and flicked a quick glance at the clock on her credenza—“eight. I’ve just got a little more to do. Then I’m shutting down for the night.”

  “You ought to shut down now, but you already have a mother, so I won’t nag. Just promise you won’t stop by the deli and take a sandwich home for dinner.”

  “Promise,” Brie said, leaning back in her chair. “I’ll order Chinese takeout instead.”

  Madelyn laughed and groaned.

  “Hey, don’t turn your nose up at Chinese takeout. The place I go is authentic Szechuan and delicious.”

  Brie arched her spine, only then becoming aware of the stiffness in her neck and shoulders. Maybe she should pack it in and go home. For more reasons than she wanted to think about, it had been a really long day.

  “So, what’s up?” Brie asked. “Or are you just calling to check on me?”

  “Of course, but we’ll get to that part in a minute. First, I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me tomorrow. It’s one of my non-telecommuting days, so I’ll be in the city.”

  “Sure. I’d love to. Let me just check my calendar.” Clicking a couple of buttons on her computer, she brought up her daily planner. “I have a client meeting at eleven thirty, but it shouldn’t run more than a hour. How about one?”

  “One sounds great. Now, what restaurant?”

  They batted around a few possibilities before settling on a trendy new Italian spot that had recently gotten a slew of rave reviews.

  “How are Zack and the twins?” Brie asked.


  “They’re wonderful,” Madelyn said, her obvious pride and contentment in being a wife and mother bubbling through every syllable. “Holly and Hannah had a stomach bug last week, but they’re all better now and up to their usual antics. They tried dressing poor Millie in doll clothes yesterday, but being the self-respecting cat she is, she wiggled out of the dress and headed for high ground. You know what a sweet cat Millie is, so I’m sure she didn’t mean to, but Holly got a minor scratch during the escape attempt and, oh, the tears. Thank God for Hello Kitty Band-Aids. That helped turn the sniffles into smiles. Not to be left out, of course, Hannah demanded that she be bandaged too. Zack had to apply new bandages to both girls after tonight’s bath.”

  Brie laughed, imagining her adorable nieces wielding their considerable God-given charm.

  “So, how about Zack? Has he heard any more about the chief creative director slot?”

  “It’s all just speculation at the moment, but supposedly the old chief at Fielding and Simmons is retiring come October. If he does, Zack is a shoo-in for the job.”

  “That must have you both excited.”

  “Cautiously optimistic, since we’re trying not to count chickens and all that. But I have my fingers crossed for him.”

  “Of course, you do.”

  “If he gets it, though, you know what this will mean, don’t you?”

  Brie laughed again. “Are you referring to your never-ending one-upmanship and the fact that he’ll outrank you again?”

  “Exactly. We’re both all even now as creative director for our two separate firms, but if he gets this promotion . . . well, chief jobs don’t grow on trees. It could be years before I make the cut, if I ever do at all.”

  “You will. You’re too good not to. In the meantime, the extra money will make a nice consolation prize.”

  “I know. Maybe to console myself we should all go on a fun family vacation. Somewhere with warm trade winds, tall, cool drinks, and a soft sand beach. Zack and the girls and I could all use a week to do nothing but relax.”

  “Sounds heavenly.”

  Brie envied her sister, wondering where Madelyn got the energy to chase after a pair of spirited three-year-old girls, hold down a high-pressure career at one of the best advertising agencies in Manhattan, and keep the romance alive in her undeniably happy marriage. Although Brie had to give some credit to Madelyn’s husband, Zack, who adored his wife and children and did his half of the domestic chores and child rearing without complaint, in spite of his own high-powered position at a rival advertising firm.

  Or at least he didn’t complain often—the laundry the only real bone of contention between them. If it were up to Zack, Madelyn observed, they’d throw all the dirty clothes out and continually buy new—that or use a laundry service and the dry cleaner’s as he’d done when he’d been a bachelor. But with two growing girls, that option was out.

  There’d been one particularly memorable argument after he’d mistakenly washed one of her red silk blouses on hot with a load of white towels and underwear. The miniaturized blouse had gone straight into the trash, while the whites had turned a delicate shade of pink the twins had dubbed “princess colored.” Madelyn had given up after that and agreed to do the laundry on her own. To compensate, Zack had been assigned one hundred percent of the sweeping duty. Zack loved to sweep, so it had been an easy compromise.

  Otherwise, they were the most happily married couple Brie knew with the possible exception of her parents, who were already thinking up ways to celebrate their ruby wedding anniversary in a couple more years. And her older brother, P.G., and his wife, Caroline, who had a rock-solid marriage and a love that had grown even deeper since Caroline’s battle with cancer and her subsequent remission.

  Come to think of it, once the newest lovebirds, Ivy and James, tied the knot, she would be the only single Grayson left. The only one who couldn’t seem to find the right mate and settle down. At the rate she was going, she might never find anyone.

  She dated here and there, as much as her workload allowed—which admittedly wasn’t much—but she’d gone out with a few guys since her return to New York City. Still, as interesting and attractive as some of them had seemed at first, their appeal had dimmed on further acquaintance. And it wasn’t that they were dull or self-absorbed or lacked compatibility; it was just that she couldn’t imagine spending one more day with any of them, let alone a lifetime.

  She’d been in love once, and when it had ended, the aftermath had crushed her to her core. She never wanted to love that blindly again. Never wanted to feel so vulnerable and naive and, yes, gullible. She was a smart, sophisticated woman, and yet she’d let herself get used, let herself be hurt almost beyond repair. She’d built up a layer of reserve since then that no one got past. And maybe that’s why she couldn’t find anyone. Because her trust had been violated, she didn’t trust anymore.

  “So, I heard you had a rather interesting weekend in the Hamptons,” Madelyn said, pulling Brie back into the conversation. “Did you really hit one of the other players in the face with a tennis ball?”

  Brie flinched at the memory. “Yes, I did, but he’s fine.” If you call having a face that looks like a punching bag fine. “I see James and Ivy have been busy running their mouths.”

  “Oh, I didn’t hear it from them. Zack told me.”

  “Zack? Where did he hear about it?”

  “One of his clients. Apparently it’s making the rounds. The local paper ran a short article and some blogger picked up on it. It’s gone out to other news agencies. Huff Post gives it a mention and CNN actually had it on the crawl tonight.”

  “What!” Brie’s fingers spasmed around the phone.

  “Guess the guy you hit is some big-deal business hotshot and one of America’s ten most eligible bachelors. After seeing his picture, I can see why.”

  “He isn’t that good-looking.”

  “If you say so. Seemed pretty hot to me.”

  Brie gave the computer keyboard a few quick taps.

  In the background, on the other side of the line, she heard a low, muffled voice. Madelyn laughed. “Of course you’re hotter, Zack. Why else do you think I married you?”

  There was another muffled remark; then Madelyn giggled again.

  Ignoring whatever audio PDA was unfolding between her sister and her brother-in-law, she scrolled down through the links, then clicked one open.

  And there he was—Maddox Monroe in all his glory. Or rather all his gory, since the photo was a shot of him coming out of the hospital emergency room, his face swollen and discolored, with gauze taped over his left cheek and eye. Lila, the girlfriend, was hanging on to him, her face turned away from the camera. Maddox looked far from happy, but then, why would he be when he was having his privacy invaded at such a painful, unwanted moment?

  Quickly, she scanned the article, sighing with quiet relief when she saw that her name wasn’t mentioned. The story stated that he’d been injured playing tennis, then gone to the hospital, where he’d been treated and released. The article went on to state that Maddox was being monitored for a possible concussion; it finished with a warning about the dangers of sports-related brain injuries. Obviously that concern for Maddox must have come and gone, since he’d seemed as sharp as a sushi knife—both mind and tongue—when she’d met him for lunch.

  “What’s the deal, then?” Madelyn asked. “Everything okay on your end? This Monroe guy isn’t threatening to sue or anything, is he?”

  “No, he actually—” Brie hesitated, wondering how much to tell Madelyn.

  “Yes? He what?”

  “You remember the punk kid who gave me such a hard time in junior high? I know you never met him since you were a couple years ahead, but I remember telling you about some of the crap he pulled.”

  Madelyn took a moment to recollect. “You mean the one who spent the year making cheese jokes about your
name and got that Mickey thing started?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one,” she said grimly.

  “I do, but what does that have to do with—” Madelyn broke off suddenly as the pieces clicked into place. “No! You don’t mean—it can’t possibly be him?”

  “It is.”

  “Manhattan magazine’s ‘Mogul with the Mostest’ and GQ’s ‘Hunk with the Luxury Hotels’ is that slimy worm from seventh grade?” A significant pause followed. “Well, no wonder you clocked him.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “Sure, one of those accidentally on-purpose kinds of accidents.”

  That was the trouble with sisters—they always knew more than you wished they did.

  “Look, he said something and I got mad and took aim, but I didn’t mean to hit him in the face. Honestly. I was going for more of a close shave, but I guess my aim was off.”

  “Or his head just happened to be in the way. So? Did you know you’d be playing tennis with him? And what did he say that set you off?”

  Settling back in her chair again, Brie launched into the tale—or most of it anyway. For some reason she left out the part at his penthouse where he’d told her he meant to get her in bed—which was never going to happen, so there really hadn’t been any point mentioning it.

  Over lunch, he hadn’t flirted with her at all. He hadn’t used so much as a single innuendo—not even when the oyster shooters with mignonette sauce had been served. He’d been a complete gentleman, surprising her with his interesting, thoughtful conversation. She wondered now whether he’d just been playing with her to see how she’d react. Besides, he had a girlfriend and was the type of man who could get any woman he wanted.

  Well, almost any.

  “So, you’ve been made partner?” Madelyn said, her voice high with excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me the second I called? For that matter, why didn’t you call me this morning to share the good news?”

  “I was working.” And figured my head still had a good chance of being on the chopping block.