by Lisa Rayne
Michael grabbed the report instead. “In the future, Covington, if you have a complaint about how I dish out assignments, I suggest you come see me instead of bullying another associate. Or, you’re always welcome to take your complaints to Hager or McCormick. Neither of them would tolerate me doing anything to jeopardize the reputation of this firm.” He slapped the report against Eric’s chest. “Just make sure you take the latest billable hours report with you, and make damn sure your stats out shine whomever you’re complaining about. Otherwise, both Chase and Roy will laugh you out of their offices.”
Michael stood up. “You’re a smart guy, Covington. And you might actually make an outstanding attorney one day if you ever drop that cloak of entitlement you wear around yourself like a security blanket. Quit assuming you’re the best man for the job and start putting in the effort to prove it.”
With a parting glance at Jordis, Eric turned to leave.
Michael shifted his stance. “Oh, and Eric?”
Eric stopped mid-turn.
“One more thing.” Stepping close to him, Michael dropped his voice to a dangerous growl. “We’re at the office so I had to control myself today. But the next time you put your hands on Jordis for any reason, it won’t matter where we are. Know that I won’t bother giving you a warning. I’m just going to proceed to kick your ass. Are we clear?”
Eric gave a terse single nod and left.
Michael turned towards her. “Jordis—”
“I hate to say ‘I told you so’,” she interrupted, “but neither of us should be surprised by Eric’s attitude.”
“He’s entitled to his opinion, but his behavior was out of line.”
“Well, I doubt he’ll be the last to demonstrate negative sentiments about our liaison. And now that he thinks I set him up, I’m sure it won’t be the last time I hear from Eric.”
“Set him up?”
“Apparently, IT traced the computer network leak to his computer. He thinks I had Brandt set him up.”
Michael shook his head and sighed. “I’ll deal with Eric later on that. Right now, we need to talk about what happened in my office.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Give me a chance to explain.”
“I’m not in the mood for explanations at the moment, Michael.” She threw several files, a notepad, and a reference book into her tote. “I’ve had it up to here—” She raised her flattened hand horizontally above her head. “—with overbearing, domineering, arrogant male jerks. Right now, all I want is to get out of here.”
She passed him to leave. He reached for her, but she shook off his grasp. “Don’t. Let me go, Michael. I need some space.”
* * *
Jordis blew out of her office right past Chase Hager. Chase snagged her by the arm. “Whoa, where’s the fire?”
She jerked her arm away. “The next man who grabs me is going to get decked!”
Chase threw up his hands and grinned at her. “O-kay. Sorry. What did I do?”
Jordis closed her eyes and dropped her head with a shake. “Nothing, Chase.” She looked back at him. “I’m sorry. This has nothing to do with you. I just need—” She glanced up and peered over Chase’s shoulder.
Chase twisted to see what she was looking at and saw Michael standing in the doorway to her office.
“I need to get out of here for a while. Excuse me.”
Chase watched Jordis board the elevator then turned to his buddy.
“Don’t ask.” Michael waved him off and stalked away. He went to shut the door to his office only to find Chase’s hand blocking the move.
Chase slid through the crack in the door. “You really didn’t think you were going to get off that easy did you?”
Michael turned from him.
Chase shut the door. “What did you do this time?”
Michael whirled back around. “Why do you assume I did something?”
“Because I know you. So spill. What gives?”
Michael told him the story.
“You bought Jordis a car?”
“Yes.”
“A car?”
“You said that already,” Michael gritted between clenched teeth.
“Right. I’m just trying to make sure I’m clear on this.” Chase adjusted his pant legs and sat. “You got rid of her car without her permission and replaced it with what you think is a safer model.”
“I didn’t get rid of her car. It’s safe and sound in my garage.”
Chase grinned. “So you’re holding her car hostage until she spends a week driving the car you picked out for her . . . the car you picked out without consulting her.”
When Chase put it like that, Michael sounded like the overbearing jerk Jordis had accused him of being.
“Okay, maybe I should have consulted her first. But, damn, I handed her outright the keys to a brand new car in a model she loves. Most women would’ve been excited by that or at least appreciative.”
Chase laughed. “You mean those twits attracted by your money and power, who bat their eyelashes at you and coo ‘how high’ when you say jump?”
Michael scowled at him.
“Yeah, you’re right. Those women would have been very appreciative. How have those relationships been working for you?”
“Cut the crap, Dr. Phil. What’s your point?”
“My point is this. Jordis isn’t like any of those other women. She’s the complete opposite. I dare say her sass, her independence, and the fact that she doesn’t take your crap lying down is a big part of the attraction for you.”
Chase stood up. “I get why you bought her the car. Better than you do. It’s not about the weather, Michael. Until Jordis, you’ve only been fiercely protective of four women: your two sisters, your mother, and my Grace. You need to ask yourself what those four women have in common. Then, you need to find Jordis and fix this.”
Michael let Chase’s words sink in. Yes, he needed to fix the situation with Jordis, but she’d asked for space. He’d give it to her.
He turned to his desk after Chase left. He had other things to handle immediately, starting with Eric Covington and the IT issue.
Michael sat down at his computer and woke up the sleeping machine. He scanned through his emails until he found his carbon copy of the one from Brandt to the CIO about Brandt’s most recent investigation report. The email included an attachment detailing forensic information that traced network logins, system downloads and the piggybacking of access routers. He didn’t understand all the computer lingo, but Brandt had included a spreadsheet of key times and dates. Michael printed out the spreadsheet and went over the information looking for any recurring patterns.
Half an hour later, he finally got a clue. He double checked his calendar and corresponded dates on the spreadsheet with days of the week. Shaking his head, he rose from his chair and went in search of Eric.
Chapter 19
Eric Covington glanced up as Michael Remington walked into his office. Tossing down his pen, he looked squarely at the partner. “So, should I be clearing out my desk?”
“That depends on you. At this point, I don’t suggest you push your luck.”
Eric frowned.
Michael sat in the guest chair opposite Eric’s desk. “I understand you take issue with the computer forensics report we received on the network breach investigation.” Michael tugged at his pant leg and crossed his left foot over his right knee. “Why don’t you tell me about it.”
“I’m sure Jordis filled you in.”
“I’m asking you. Now’s your chance to give me your side of the story.”
Eric didn’t say anything. He’d acted rash this morning. He’d let his temper get the best of him. He wasn’t foolish enough to walk into another trap. He’d take the Fifth on this one.
When Eric didn’t respond, Michael said, “You know, Eric. In our profession, arrogance often comes with the territory. I’ve found, however, that a man who makes the mistake of being arrogantly sexist leaves himself
open to having his balls put in a sling by some woman he underestimates.”
“Believe me, I won’t be underestimating Jordis again.”
Michael’s fingers flexed against his knee. “Your obsession with Jordis is making you stupid.”
Eric felt his face heat.
Michael leaned forward and tossed a spreadsheet onto Eric’s desk. “If you’re going to hang with a woman who likes to spend Sundays on her knees, you might want to try one who prefers doing so in a house of God rather than while servicing you. Especially, since it seems your woman of choice has an interest in more than how long it takes to get you off.”
Eric’s brow creased, and he picked up the spreadsheet. “What are you talking about? I haven’t—” The don’t-bullshit-me look on Michael’s face made him hesitate. How could the partner possibly know about his fraternization activities? “Alyson?”
Michael settled back in the chair. “Sundays seem to be a popular day for transmission of case data. The last one occurred last night. Know anyone who had access to your office, and thus your computer, last night?”
“That bitch!”
“Yeah. Looks like you were set up all right. And you gave the perpetrator free reign to do so in exchange for . . . whatever. I guess the next time you accuse someone of being swayed by the ‘oldest profession known to man’, you’d do well to look in the mirror first.”
Michael stood. “I’m going to give you a chance to get back on my good side, Eric. Everything we have on Alyson so far is purely circumstantial. The IT investigation team will be contacting you for assistance catching Alyson in the act. I suggest you cooperate. You do and I’ll give you first crack at any case on Alyson’s docket you want and the opportunity to first chair the next major IP case appropriate for a Senior Associate.”
Eric waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Do we have a deal?” Michael asked.
“That’s it? I help nail Alyson, and I get a clean slate?”
“Clean slate?” Michael scoffed. “Let’s just say I’ll forgive your prior transgressions, but I don’t intend to forget them. My warning still stands.”
Eric had no doubt as to what warning Michael was talking about. Jordis. He’d play with fire with that hellion one too many times already. As long as he got a caseload that gave him the opportunity to prove himself to Remington, he didn’t care what Jordis did.
Eric stood. Cautiously, he offered Michael his hand. “Deal.”
* * *
Two days later, Michael stood at his office window staring at the tangerine glow rising with the dawn. Sleep and he no longer had an amicable relationship so he found himself at the office earlier than usual.
The IT group had progressed with Eric on arranging their sting for Alyson, but Michael hadn’t seen Jordis since Monday morning. She’d made herself scarce. The look on her face when she’d walked away still haunted him.
She’d taken his gift as a vulgar expression of thanks for the lay. He didn’t understand how she could possibly think he saw her simply as a notch on his bedpost. Granted, he’d made the mistake of referring to her in anger as a piece of tail before, but he’d thought they’d gotten past that.
He’d never bought a woman elaborate gifts before, not so much as a tennis bracelet. Last weekend he’d gone out and bought her two. He’d been looking for something to express the seriousness of his feelings, and he’d come across a trinket that had made him think of her. He’d bought it on impulse. He hadn’t gotten a chance to give her that second present—the one he still hadn’t quite come to terms with buying. She’d been too preoccupied with the car.
Dammit. He should have handled that better. He’d known her independent spirit would make her turn down the car so he’d taken the easy way out, hoping she’d fall in love with the Charger Daytona on sight and he wouldn’t have to convince her to accept it. He’d thought the Daytona a good compromise. It had the sporty power she loved with all-wheel drive to give her maneuverability in challenging terrain. That she’d thought it payment for her sexual performance galled him. He’d simply wanted to see her safe.
His father had died as a result of a car accident during a winter snow. Another driver with a vehicle not properly equipped for inclement weather had lost control of his car. The other driver had died at the scene. His father had managed to hang on for a few days in the hospital before succumbing to his internal injuries.
He needed his father’s guidance right now. He felt lost. He’d been happy until Jordis had crashed into his life. Okay, maybe not happy, but he’d been content.
His hand found the silver chain he’d pocketed with his loose change out of habit this morning. He hadn’t thought about it much in the days since he’d met Jordis. Fingering the chain, he said out loud, “Talk to me, dad.”
He thought about his parents’ fairy-tale beginning. At the age of ten, he’d once asked his father after hearing his parents’ love story for the zillionth time, “It was a miracle you found her, huh, dad?”
“No, son,” his father had responded, “the miracle wasn’t that I found her. The miracle was that I recognized her and accepted it.”
Michael went numb. Was it really that simple?
Yeah. He shook his head at his own folly. It was that simple.
Chase had been right . . . again. Purchasing the car hadn’t been simply about the weather. The thought of Jordis driving a car that wouldn’t handle snow well had made him nervous. He’d been afraid of losing her. What was that old saying? Women fall in love with the man they want to live with; men fall for the woman they can’t live without.
His fingers tensed around the chain he’d been fondling. He pulled out the silver bracelet. Five charms linked at equidistant segments stared back at him. For the first time, he looked closely at each charm. His heart thudded and then he smiled. Glancing up at the heavens, he gave a silent prayer of thanks. Despite Jordis’s denials and the address discrepancy, he’d had a way since day one to identify his mystery woman, a way as unique and individual as the infamous glass slipper.
He’d known that night on the balcony she was his true Juliet. When she’d shown up at his firm, his body knew who she was and his heart had recognized her even if his conscious mind hadn’t yet understood. He’d found her and he’d recognized her not once but twice. The problem was he hadn’t accepted it. He’d been fighting it. He was still fighting it, trying to have her without losing his heart when this whole time she’d already stolen it.
She’d become the fifth in a set of unique women who had one particular thing in common: he loved them.
Michael laughed softly. He’d joked he’d not find his perfect mate at a masked ball. He’d scoffed at love at first sight. And here he’d fallen victim to both.
Maybe you’re not really a dinosaur, but my Prince Charming. That’s what she’d said to him as they’d lounged in front of her fireplace last weekend.
Yeah, he was, and he needed to go claim his fairy princess.
Michael turned and strode from his office at a furious pace. He headed straight for Jordis’s office. It was empty. She’d left her desk clear of files and the room tidily organized. It looked as if no one even worked in it.
Michael headed to her secretary’s desk. Her secretary wasn’t in yet. It was an insanely early hour for most anyone else to be in. He headed back to his own office and paced impatiently while time ticked by.
When he finally heard his assistant Lana at her desk, he stepped outside his office and barked, “Lana, have you seen Jordis this morning?”
Lana gave him a look that could have melted steel. That was the downside to having a secretary who’d known him since he was in diapers. He often felt like he was dealing with a parent. “Since I just arrived, that would be a no. And, good morning to you, too, Michael.”
Michael blew out a loud breath. “Sorry.”
Lana put her purse in her bottom drawer and sat down. She noticed a stack of files on her desk. She picked up the note on top and read it be
fore handing it to Michael. “It looks like she dropped these files off last night. The note says for me to make sure you look at the memo she left on top.”
He quickly flipped through the documents. She’d prepared a draft motion for sanctions in case they could link adverse counsel to the breach of the firm’s computer network and a memo detailing medical information she thought could be used to pressure the other side into settlement.
When had she had time to do all this?
He sat the documents down on Lana’s desk and ran his fingers through his hair with a deep sigh.
“Something wrong, boss?”
Lana rarely called him “boss.” Hearing her do so now made him think of the one woman who called him that out of facetiousness. Where was she? “I need to find Jordis Morgan. Would you mind checking around for me?”
“Have you asked Vivian? She and Jordis are pretty close.”
“Good idea.” He headed for Vivian’s office and burst in without knocking. “Vivian, do you know where Jordis is?”
Vivian looked up from her file, surprised to see him. “No. She—”
“Never mind. That’s all I needed to know.” As he was about to leave, he looked down and noticed the file Vivian had sitting in front of her—the Gardner pro bono file. Jordis was pretty passionate about getting that young mother what she needed to provide for her son. Seeing Vivian with the file made him uneasy. “Did Jordis turn the Gardner matter over to you?”
“Yes. She wanted to make sure Cynthia had someone who would fight hard to get her what she needed.”
“Why isn’t Jordis the one fighting to make sure Miss Gardner gets what she needs?” His unease grew. It finally dawned on him why Jordis’s office had looked so neat.
He spun and headed back to her office. When he walked in, the evidence of abandonment jumped out at him. Not only had she cleared her desk, she’d taken all her personal items and bared her walls. Her diplomas, awards and pictures had been removed. His heart sank. She wasn’t away from the office. She’d left permanently.
