What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 5)

by Cathryn Fox

“After nine months, Jackson decided that the law was not his bailiwick,” the judge remarked. “He’s doing very well in real estate despite the current economy. He does admit his legal background comes in very handy.” Accepting his coffee and a pastry from Samantha, he continued, “Sam has a paralegal degree and keeps adding more and more law courses. With a little help from me, she’s as qualified and capable as most of these young lawyers that are being admitted to the bar these days.”

  Adam’s gleaming green eyes surveyed her with unwavering scrutiny. “She doesn’t look old enough to have experience in anything.”

  Samantha found his deep voice smoothly insulting. Unable to still the feeling of antagonism this arrogant stranger seemed to cause, her tone turned cold. “I worked with my father for three years as his associate.”

  “Your father’s a lawyer?”

  “My father was a private investigator, doing mostly insurance work,” she told him, settling herself in her usual position on the corner of the judge’s desk.

  “And he instilled a great love of the law into your immature brain that the judge here aptly continued to nurture,” Adam replied in a tone that she found intensely irritating.

  She heard the judge chuckle and instinctively knew he was going to let her take care of herself. Discretion is the better part of valor, her brain echoed. But being herself and fueled by two five hour energy drinks, she favored Adam with her best intimidating glare. “I take it you do not share any great love of the practice of law, Mr. Rourke?”

  “I was a corporate lawyer for a few years and—”

  “Ooh…corporate law,” she interrupted him in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “Busy trying to find legal loopholes to keep those big companies from having to pay the IRS. That must have been exciting work.” She raised an arched brow in a mocking gesture and saw his eyes narrow at her provoking comment.

  “What branch of the law have you decided to favor, Miss Logan?”

  This man is going to be three Excedrin™ and a couple of Tums™, she decided, trying to refrain from childishly pulling a face at him. “I’m interested in consumer protection. I think the consumer has been given the short end in the goods and services he uses. I loved it when the big banks backed down on fees after all the protests. It’s about time the law began to work for the average citizen.”

  “Sam’s been offered a job with the attorney general’s consumer frauds bureau when I retire,” Judge Griffen explained, relaxing back in his chair so he could further enjoy their verbal sparring.

  “Oh, wonderful,” Adam replied in an equally sarcastic tone. “Just what the country needs—another consumer watchdog to tell everyone what they should and shouldn’t breathe, eat, drink, buy, and use. Haven’t you ever heard of caveat emptor— let the buyer beware?” He was being persistently argumentative and enjoying every minute of it. He watched an indignant flush of anger suffuse Samantha’s attractive face. He was used to women from sixteen to eighty hanging on his every word. But not Miss Logan. He was intrigued and challenged, enjoying her frankness and quick repartee.

  Samantha, however, was trying to control her heightened color and mounting anger. He likes to make people nervous. A mutinous line thinned her full lips and her chin came up. “Quality control is fast becoming a thing of the past. Parts are broken or even missing in a sealed factory box. Many of the credit card companies offer warranties, but it shouldn’t come to that and all their paperwork.” She spoke in a voice whose steadiness surprised her. “I think it’s important that people have a place to turn to when they need help. Most consumers don’t even realize they have a right to use the small claims court to handle local problems. New York has a vehicle Lemon Law but there needs to be more. I’m sure even you at some time or another have been stuck with the proverbial lemon.”

  “Oh, I have,” Adam answered, “but I either send it back for a refund or buy a new one.”

  He finished in an amused tone she was beginning to hate. “How wonderful that you can afford to do that.”

  “Now I know how the judge must have felt when Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan would square off in court,” Judge Griffen chuckled. “You’ll never top him, Sam. He’ll play you like a fish till you wear down. If the truth be known, he probably agrees with every word you just said. Adam has always been fond of playing devil’s advocate.”

  The phone’s shrill ring broke the tense atmosphere in the office. Samantha, with a rather unladylike snort of disgust, reached across for the receiver. “Good afternoon, Judge Griffen’s chambers,” she said in a voice tinged with anger. “Hello, Mr. Martin, how did you make out with the judge’s golf clubs? Oh, that’s wonderful, just replaced the nine iron.” She gave a thumbs-up signal to the smiling judge. “How about the pressure gauge on my tanks? Good, can you refill them for me; I think I can just make it before class. Oh, Freddie picked up everything.” Her right eyebrow arched, and she put her hand on the judge’s shirt sleeve. “Now, about Freddie, and the contract for the country club.”

  Placing his empty coffee mug on the tray, Adam leaned back in the burgundy leather chair, listening to Samantha Logan’s soft husky voice. She was, he decided, the proverbial sexy librarian fantasy – with an edge. She had been a bare-footed blur when she walked into the office. Now, he took his time, frankly appraising the tall, well-built, curvy body, supported by long legs that were neatly packaged in slim black slacks. His gaze lingered appreciatively on the generously rounded curves under her fitted white blouse, a slim, fuchsia tie was knotted loosely under the collar.

  Her blond hair was piled precariously on top of her head, held in place by – damn, his eyes widened – a bright yellow pencil. A few flaxen wisps had escaped, curving against a softly rounded face. Black earrings winked among the tendrils. Square blue abalone-tinted frames highlighted wide, light-blue eyes. He idly wondered what occasions merited the removal of the sexy, retro glasses.

  Samantha became intensely aware of Adam’s bold scrutiny. It was unnerving being watched so closely. Dissected. She felt her normal equilibrium slipping. His green eyes seemed to be looking straight through her with nerve-shattering intensity. He’s probably used to women hanging on his every word. Well, he has just encountered one woman he can’t patronize. Her thoughts must have communicated themselves to Adam, for he raised one dark eyebrow and quirked his mouth in that familiar, mocking smile. When her pencil point snapped under his amused stare, she grudgingly pulled the other from her topknot.

  In slow motion, Adam watched her blond hair untangle and drift down to her shoulders, in a sexy-just-out-of-bed, mess-me-up-more tumble. He hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath, until he coughed in relief.

  Focus! Samantha turned sideways to face the judge, Mr. Martin’s monotone voice streamed into her ear. “Yes, sir, I know Freddie’s a bit…okay, over the top in appearance, but you’d be helping an Iraq war vet. And he, in turn, hires other vets. The judge uses him for all his auto repairs, Katherine, too, and the entire district attorney’s office. Well, you have his proposal and all his references and if you are not completely satisfied, there is an easy-out clause. Mr. Martin, you’ve known me since I was an annoying twelve year-old, have I ever steered you wrong? Yes, I know I’m not a member of the country club…” When the judge motioned to take the receiver, Samantha added, “Here’s Judge Griffen, he was one of the country club’s founding fathers.”

  She watched her employer write a few notes on her steno pad, tapping the paper for her inspection. Samantha nodded in approval. She smiled when the judge’s deep baritone voice said: “Then, we have a deal, Tom? Sam can tell Freddie? Okay, sign off on the contract and I’ll pick it up at the charity golf match tomorrow afternoon.” When the judge saw her blinking rapidly, he put a calming hand on her forearm. “No crying. You did it –”

  “With your help – there’s the buzzer, I can’t wait to tell him.” Samantha circled around the desk and moved to the open door. “Hi, guys!”

  Adam abruptly realized bo
th the judge and Samantha had forgotten he was even in the room. He had watched their little tableau with heightened interest. Harold Griffen suddenly seemed years younger while he was helping his paralegal and the mysterious Freddie. What in hell is going on? Adam Rourke found himself sitting a little straighter and taller in the deeply cushioned leather chair when the guys stomped their booted feet into the elegant, cherry paneled office.

  “Your honor. Sammy.” A richly tattooed arm reached to shake Harold Griffen’s hand. “I left Miss Katherine’s car downstairs in its usual spot, she’s purring like a kitten. Both sets of golf clubs are in the trunk. We saw Tom Martin at the shop but –” He shrugged and handed over a key ring. “Sammy, we’re heading to Montreal for the holiday weekend, so I’ll drop your gear at the house.”

  “Thanks just put it in the garage.” Samantha surveyed the three hulking tattooed men with a smile. “We have some great news.” She nodded toward the judge but he shook his head. “Mr. Martin just called…Freddie, you got the country club contract!” Samantha exhaled a squeal when she was picked up, whirled around and then passed from man to man. “Whoa, guys, I’m getting dizzy. Turk, my ribs!” Samantha patted Turk’s bald head and was settled gently back on the carpet.

  Judge Griffen was laughing as he moved from behind his desk to shake everyone’s hand. “Freddie, Turk, Pete—I’m so proud of each of you. I’ll be picking up the contract tomorrow.”

  Freddie ran a large hand over his square-jawed face. “Wow, this means…” he turned to his two friends, “well, we can hire three more vets for the main shop, keep a man on-site at the country club for instant repairs.” His massive chest moved heavily beneath the white T-shirt and leather vest. “Hell, we may have to expand the auto shop –” Then he held his palm up. “No, we’ll take it one step at a time; don’t want to expand too fast in this economy.”

  She nodded. “I do think you’ll need to hire at least three more. You all worked well at the Speedway with JoJo, Mack and Charlie.” Her finger wagged a warning. “Do not take Finch and Nick away from the college parking garage security posts, I got them.”

  The judge quickly moved to her side. “Why, have there been any more problems? Are you having a problem?”

  Samantha watched the men form a protective circle around her. She shook her head. “No, Finch has me park right next to the guard post and he cones off another half-dozen spots for any other women who show up for night classes.” Her hand settled on the judge’s shirt sleeve. “I’m sure their hulking forms, Sig’s, and persistent snarls have solved all the assault issues, at least in the parking garage. They just have to be careful they aren’t cited for felony rudeness.

  “I learned the campus-rent-a-cop’s contract is up soon. Those guys would run for donuts but nothing else. Katherine’s been helping me put together a contract packet for Finch and his team. We even got a great price on those sonic-whistles Nick gave me. All the sororities and counselors are making them available. Unfortunately, rape and assaults are still a major campus problem.”

  Judge Griffin’s brown eyes surveyed her flushed features. “Well, I will be damn glad when this night class ends. You’re not taking any classes during the winter, are you?”

  “No, the weather was too bad last year. There’s an online class in cyber bullying I’ve already signed up for, but that doesn’t start until January.” Samantha smiled at the group. “I’m ready for a rest. After getting you three married, then Lucy, you next week,” she nodded at her employer, “followed by your testimonial dinner, then packing up this office…” She looked at Freddie, “didn’t you say there was a holiday dive in Nassau?”

  “Between Christmas and New Year’s, you want in?”

  “Email me all the particulars, especially the cost,” her palm slapped the side of her face. “I don’t even have a passport.”

  Freddie cleared his throat. “Well I have some other news. We just found out Lily is having a boy,” he ignored the ‘awes’ and continued, “Samuel Harold Frederickson should arrive the end of February, so I’m hoping you two will be godparents.”

  Judge Griffen handed Samantha his handkerchief when he heard her sniffling. “Absolutely, we are honored.” He pumped Freddie’s hand and slapped him on the back. “Congratulations, son.”

  Sam was mopping at the tears streaming down her face. “I’m going to need windshield wipers for these glasses. I’ll give Lily a call later; I gather she’s staying home this weekend with the other wives?”

  They all grinned and nodded. It was Turk who spoke, “Yeah, we get a free weekend away from nagging.” At Samantha’s arched brow, he grinned. “We love their nagging. You know we love your nagging.”

  “We better head out, guys. Thanks again, Sammy, this wouldn’t have been possible without –”

  She waved Freddie silent. “You did it yourself. Have a safe drive north.” Once the outer office door slammed shut, Samantha turned to Judge Griffen. “We are going to be godparents! Is this not the best day! Katherine will be thrilled to hear about the contract and you can tell her to add blue yarn to the baby blanket. She emailed me the security proposal for Finch, she added some great clauses.”

  Head tilted, Samantha’s bright, moist eyes, stared at her employer. “This is an omen. Now that you’re retired, once you get your strength back after the honeymoon,” she ignored his snicker, her fingers moving to straighten his blue silk tie, “you and Katherine can devote more time to the Wounded Warrior Project. You both would make great lobbyists. And I’m still pushing you into working as a mediator –”

  An exaggerated, loud clearing of a throat, had them both turning their heads. Samantha blinked Adam Rourke into her line of vision then she looked back at the judge and started to laugh. “Forgot all about the man!” Noting Adam’s furrowed brow, she winked at her employer.

  Adam’s mouth twisted in wry amusement. “Well, Hal, things certainly have changed in this office. That guy, Turk, has a prison tattoo and –”

  “Prison!” Samantha interrupted, her tone cold as she moved to confront him. “How dare you insinuate that I’d put the judge’s reputation at risk, Mr. Rourke. Just because they don’t spend what…” Her fingernail zigzagged over his lapel, “two months’ pay on clothes and shoes, you conclude they’re thugs? You need an attitude adjustment!” She ignored his dropped jaw and stunned expression.

  “And where do you get your information, off bad TV shows? Check out the Urban Dictionary, the tear drop image has been corrupted. Turk has never been a part of a gang. The five tears represent the loss of five Navy SEALS from his team. If you knew Turk, you’d learn he’d lost his right leg on that mission. Freddie has a metal plate in his head from an IED attack and Pete…well under that T-shirt and leather vest he has way too many burn scars.” Samantha looked over her shoulder at the judge. Her expression and gestures said a great deal without her even saying a word. When she heard Adam’s voice, she turned back, not even trying to hide the disgust in her voice. “How’s that, Mr. Rourke?”

  “I said I apologize.” His green eyes narrowed on her face before taking note of the angry tapping of her barefoot against the carpet. Damn, she was mad! And way too sexy. Adam blinked that observation away.

  Judge Griffen didn’t even try to control his laughter as he settled back into his leather chair. “Sam got me and Katherine involved in the Wounded Warrior Project and it’s been such a blessing.” He leveled a pointed stare at his friend, “Perhaps you should look into volunteering after all you were a marine in Iraq.”

  “Volunteer?” Samantha sneered the word, her arms folding across her chest. “I have a feeling Mr. Rourke’s the type who does put his money where his mouth is. Writing a check is such an easy way to volunteer.”

  “Now who’s making uneducated insinuations?” Adam pushed himself up from the chair. He had hoped to tower over her, but found he was just a few inches taller. “I do quite a bit of volunteer work back in Virginia and in New York City –”

  “Ohhh…and what d
o you volunteer to do from behind a desk?” Sam wished she had left her heels on, but matched his height by standing on the balls of her feet. “Pose for photos with one of those massive PR checks? Stand next to an elegantly designed sign?”

  His index finger pushed up the nose piece of her glasses. “I am seldom behind a desk. I have a working horse farm and I do most of the work. See, calloused hands, not manicured.” His palms went up for her inspection. “I have horses that are dedicated for use with groups of physically handicapped kids and adults, I’m a Big Brother, and yes, I also donate money and my time when legal issues come up.”

  Her eyebrow arched but her stoic expression spoke more than words. She exhaled a huff along with a mumbled apology. “Then I stand corrected.

  A series of beep-tones echoed in the palpable silence and had her cocking her head. She reached out, captured Adam’s wrist and turned his watch for her inspection. “I’ve got to leave for class.” Sam looked back at the judge. “I’ll stop and close your account at Martin’s before I come in on Tuesday.”

  “All this higher learning must cut into your social life,” his words were whispered close to her ear.

  “Does it look like I have a problem with a social life, Mr. Rourke,” she snapped. As if he had any right to inquire about any area of her life!

  “Is there any chance you can skip class tonight,” Judge Griffen asked, still trying to hide his amusement over their verbal jousting. “I was hoping you could join Katherine, Adam, and me for dinner.”

  Over my dead body! “That’s very sweet of you,” she said politely, tempering her refusal with a smile. “But you know Dr. Gilbert, an exam every Friday and I’m the last woman standing in that class.”

  The judge nodded understandingly. “You run along and enjoy the long Columbus Day weekend.”

  “Shall I take the tray back before I go?” Samantha focused totally on her employer, pointedly ignoring the man who had moved even closer, his shoulder now touched hers.

  “Don’t bother, my dear,” he cheerfully told her. “I know your class starts early on Friday’s. The cleaning staff will take care of it.”