Table of Contents
Your Honor
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
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Chapter One
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©copyright2018
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, place and incidents either are products of the author’s magical imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental—unless you’re a mean character in the book and then it’s directed at someone ☺
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Editor: Lisa Loewen
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Prologue
JENNER
Professional Code of Ethics: Canon 3E/Rule 2.11(A) –Disqualification may be required if a judge’s impartiality might reasonably be questioned if –Presiding over cases involving an attorney with whom the judge had a romantic relationship.
I read the Canon repeatedly, over and over again then chanted it to myself before I’d enter the courtroom. My entire life and career could potentially be at risk. Yet, seeing her crumbled every ounce of my resolve. Professionally, the control was mine as the judge. Personally, I choked on my words when it came to her. I didn’t break easy but every time I saw her sitting in my courtroom as her beautiful lashes splayed over her eyes, I realized I didn’t have a prayer. No matter which road I took, I had everything to lose.
Chapter 1
DISCOVERY
LUCY
“Cheers!” our group toasted in unison holding the shot glasses in the air. Supposedly, the creamy liquid was going to taste like Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Yes, the cereal, or so they said. Most shots were supposed to taste like some sort of concoction, yet for me, they tasted like gasoline scorching my throat.
For the past two years, I hadn’t partied. I hadn’t even had a drink. I’d barely left my apartment. Law school navigated my life, and in seven days I was starting my new job as an assistant district attorney in New York County. So tonight, we celebrated. I tossed the liquor into my mouth, I swallowed quickly hoping to avoid the awful taste.
“That wasn’t too bad,” Henley laughed, sliding her shot glass across the table.
I quickly glanced away as the flavor of Cinnamon Toast Crunch overwhelmed my taste buds.
Henley and I both gasped. “Oh. My. God! Cinnamon Toast Crunch!” We laughed and ordered two more.
“Hey, Lucy, these cupcakes are de-lish!” Kak said, filling her mouth with another bite.
“Thanks!” I replied. “My neighbor across the hall is a fantastic baker, and she’s just getting started, so I peddle her name out whenever I can.”
“They are decorated so cute.”
I made a mental note to tell Midge the compliments about the cupcakes.
The music from the other room grew louder as the night grew later. Our private party in the back room was symbolic of what would happen to our graduating class or at least our group. Some of us ventured out into the big room to meet other people, drink more and possibly dance. Others stayed in their comfort zone of the back room with familiar faces. Inevitably, the party would be over and our friendships too would likely fade. Sad really.
Henley and I, however, would undoubtedly be a forever thing. Four years of college. Three years of law school. We had endured her series of monogamous relationships and my unwillingness to date let alone dive into a serious relationship.
“Well?” she asked as we stood in the doorway of the club. A group of men sat around a bar table in the corner by us. One hot guy in particular glanced my way. I’d sort of forgotten how to do this flirting thing as I awkwardly looked away. I’d never been a flirter. My mother had done enough for both of us.
“Well what,” I asked, feeling the hot guy’s eyes on me.
“Have you picked him out yet?”
“Stop.”
“I am not going to stop. It’s time,” she said way louder than necessary. “Whatever lucky soul you pick is going to have to Indiana Jones that pussy. Those cobwebs are a force to be reckoned with.” The music just happened to transition from one song to the next during her not-so-subtle declaration, and the guys from the corner overheard, turning in unison to look at us. Blood crept into my cheeks.
“Indiana Jones that pussy? Really? You’re disgusting.” I swatted at her, crinkling up my nose.
“And please, for the love of God, tell me you waxed or shaved like I suggested. We certainly don’t want Welcome to the Jungle blaring out as you drop your panties.”
Laughter erupted from the guys in the corner at that remark, and when I glanced at them, the hot, older guy winked at me. I offered him the fakest of smiles, bowed and curtsied in their direction, then flipped around to my obnoxiously crude friend.
“Thank you for that,” I gritted, glaring at Henley.
She giggled, and then jerked my arm out of socket as she winked back at the table of guys and lugged me in the opposite direction.
“Whoever you finally give it up for after twenty-four years of no sex, he better be special or at the very least, memorable.”
I smiled and glanced back at the guy with the dark eyes.
The farther we walked, the louder the music revved up. Girls in skimpy clothes gyrated around the dance floor, grinding on guys and other girls—flipping their hair all around. Some girls bent over touching their toes while guys grinded on their asses. Damn, I really needed to get out more.
I glanced down at my attire. Black fitted dress slacks. Collared dress shirt. It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t skanky. It didn’t shout ‘fuck me’ from the ceiling. It didn’t really shout anything though. Except maybe pussy cobwebs down below…
Jacque covered Henley’s eyes from behind. He’d been crazy about her for the past year, but she wouldn’t do it. His father was a tenth circuit judge and everyone knew that Jacque would do great things. Henley wanted to shine on her own. And one thing was for damned certain; she wouldn’t be outshined.
Henley twirled around and began dancing with Jacque. Her clothes were fun, flirty. After glancing down at my humdrum outfit, I shook off my own doubt and strolled to the restroom. The bright lights of the bathroom never did anyone justice, but when I laid eyes on the cute, scarcely dressed girls by the sink, I wanted to punch myself for dressing the way I did. It stemmed from my mother. Because of her fire engine red lipstick, I barely wore any make-up. I dressed conservatively because she didn’t and was always a cloud of embarrassment. She spent her time spreading her perfectly shap
ed legs for almost anyone, I’d sworn myself to a sexless life…until now.
Frustrated, I hit the door of a stall, laying a paper toilet seat cover over the seat and sitting.
My brain was foggy from the earlier shots and drinks; I stood, finding drunken courage that I normally wouldn’t have; I unbuttoned the top button of my dress shirt and the bottom three. After fastening my dress slacks, I tied the bottom of my shirt in a knot, allowing my belly button to show, flushed the toilet, washed my hands and strolled right back out into the club. I might be a nerdy little attorney but I could sexy this shit up real fast.
From the bar, I watched Henley and Jacque grooving away. They really would make the perfect couple.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, cupping his hand around his ear to capture what I requested.
“Um. How about a martini.” I didn’t drink enough to have a preferred drink of my own.
“Ok. What kind?”
I shrugged. “Never had one. Nothing sweet.”
He tossed a cocktail napkin in front of me. “Ok. Gin or Vodka.”
“Gin, for me,” a deep voice behind me said. “Dirty.”
“What’s dirty mean?” I asked the man whose dark eyes I’d locked with earlier at the back table. The brighter light over by the bar did him justice. Flirt, I thought to myself. As casually as I could, I glanced at his ring finger, no ring. This was him…Indiana Jones…I could feel my skin tingle.
“Make her a dirty vodka. Put it on my tab,” he instructed.
Ding. Ding. Ding. Bonus. He bought me a drink. “I know I’m just throwing it out there but would you want to have sex with me tonight? Like a no strings attached sort of thing,” I blurted out immediately.
The bartender chuckled. “Wow,” he said sliding the full martini glass my way. “Please tell me you two know each other.” He raised his brows at the man I’d just propositioned.
“Nope. Haven’t really even met.”
The bartender stared at me for a long second. “That was slick,” he added as he walked away shaking his head.
Wanting to magically disappear, I took a sip out of the fancy glass; the saltiness of the drink surprised me, and when I glanced up, the guy, who grew hotter by the sip, was staring at me.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Sorry for what?”
“Blurting that out. What can I say? This girl’s got game.” I grinned.
“I see nothing wrong with being upfront and honest.”
After a big gulp and devouring an olive, I shrugged. “I know you heard the cobwebs remark. So, it’s whatever.”
He shook his head of slightly gelled, brown hair. Well-shaped sideburns came down the side of his handsome face. “It was actually the Welcome to the Jungle comment that sealed the deal.” When he smiled, his entire face lit up.
“Are you gay?” I spat out, wondering why he hadn’t jumped at the chance of unobligated sex? Wouldn’t most guys?
He didn’t answer, only rolled his eyes and took another long drink.
“It’s ok if you are. I’m not saying that being gay is bad. It’s just…” I decided to quit while I was ahead, though I didn’t feel ahead.
The conversation sort of took an awkward turn after that. Self-doubt reared its ugly head as I began to gnaw on my bottom lip. I had asked a guy to have sex with me and gotten no response. Perfect. My confidence plummeted.
Pulling his hand from his pants pocket, his thumb freed my lip from my teeth. God, it had been so long. Just his finger touching my lip caused everything inside of me to tighten.
“What makes you think we should sleep together?”
“You mean besides the Temple of Doom sort of comment,” I laughed as the vodka began to swim freely through my veins. “And seriously, you need to be attracted to someone in order to even get it up, so if you’re not attracted me, that’s fine.”
“Getting it up isn’t a problem.”
“Honestly, it’s ok. In fact, the next guy that walks up to this bar, I’m going to ask him to have sex, and if he says yes, you are out of luck, buddy. You sat on answering way too long,” I teased.
I drew a hint of blood this time as I bit down on the same part of my lip. It had been a habit for as long as I could remember. Typically, I switched sides so the same spot didn’t get too raw. Once again, his thumb freed my lip from my destructive teeth, but this time his thumb brushed gently over my entire bottom lip and gave me a shit-eating grin.
“You’re beautiful. You don’t need me to tell you that. But, I must say, you are especially stunning now that you tied your blouse in a knot.”
He winked, a bucketful of butterflies tipped over in my stomach even though he was totally making fun of me.
“I know. Lame attempt with fitting in.” I shot back the martini—which I quickly learned was not a shooter on any level. Involuntarily, I blew out my now salty, dragon breath. “My God,” I whispered.
“Fit in with who?”
I motioned toward the dance floor. “Them. The Barbies trying to land Ken. You know, the skanks and ho bags.”
He chuckled, exposing perfectly aligned, white teeth.
“It sounds like you’re setting your sights high…are you shooting to be a skank or a ho?”
“Ho bag,” I corrected, swatting my hand at him. I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“Is that why you asked me to have sex with you?”
When I glanced at him, his brown eyes seared into me making me nervous. There was something demanding about him…yet gentlemanly. A professional aura that rang out through his clothes and shoes.
“No,” I whispered, suddenly embarrassed of my request for sex. “That pretty much shouted skank though, huh?”
“You are clearly not a skank,” he said finishing his own drink.
It only took a second or two this time for me to stop chewing on my lip…well; it actually took his hand moving toward my mouth again for me to stop. His hand redirected, going in a different direction; his fingers intertwined with mine.
“And your offer still stands?”
“Hey!” a guy shouted as he stepped up to the bar. “Can I get two jagerbombs and two slippery nipples!” The size of his nose ring was larger than any I’d seen. My eyes widened.
The guy I’d been chatting with arched his brows and tilted his head toward nose ring guy. I’m guessing he was remembering my threat to ask the next guy at the bar to have sex.
I shook my head, grinning, then mouthed no.
“Let’s get back to your offer. Does it still stand?”
My swallow got stuck somewhere in my throat.
“My offer?” my voice shot up in shock as I realized this might really happen.
The most perfect slight smile touched his lips as he tilted his head—a silent reminder.
“Oh, sex?” I nearly shouted. “Yep! Offer still stands.”
The bartender glanced at us again, giving me a mocking thumbs up.
“Perfect. I’ll tab out, tell my friends I’m leaving and meet you at the door.”
As his stool scooted away from the bar, I grabbed his hand. “Wait, what’s your number?”
His dark eyebrows met in the middle. “My number? Why?”
Shrugging, I said, “Look at this place. It’s huge. I just thought I’d text when I got outside.”
His eyes scanned the massive crowd but he still looked at me with hesitation… skepticism. I quickly shook my head, warding off his look of concern.
“I just meant in case we got separated. I wouldn’t text you after if that’s your concern. I’d never do that. You’ll never hear from me again. I told you no strings attached. But for tonight, you’re committed.” I winked.
The darkness in his eyes was somewhat intimidating but seemed to soften with my poor attempt at humor. As I took a step back, his gaze searched my face for something, maybe honesty. His tongue peaked out between his lips.
“641-913-“
As quickly as possible I typed in his num
ber so I could text him after telling Henley goodbye. He spat out the last four numbers so quickly, I wasn’t sure I’d gotten them right but didn’t want to make him repeat himself.
When I looked up from my phone, the vodka had gotten the best of my brain cells, and I accidentally stumbled into him.
“Did you drive?” he asked, helping me find my balance. There was a seriousness in his tone that sobered me a little. I knew nothing about the man I was leaving a club with. This had missing woman all over it. I could be on a milk carton by morning.
“Sorry,” I whispered, backing up. “No. I wouldn’t drink and drive. But seriously, I am a drink away from slobbering drunk.”
He chuckled and then turned and strolled toward his friends.
Quickly, I found Henley and whispered that I was leaving with the hot guy from earlier. She immediately shot a stare back at the table where the guys had been earlier, clearly searching for him. When I pinched her arm, she jerked away laughing.
“I want to see him!” she shouted.
“I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“Text me tonight! I want to know someone finally broke on through to the other side.” She knew I hated Jim Morrison.
I nodded. “If I wind up dead…”
She hugged me. “You’re not going to be dead. He was with an entire of group of professionals. But text me, ok?”
I took a deep breath ready for my night with Mr. Unknown. I glanced around, looking for him, but didn’t see him. I liked him enough already that I hoped he hadn’t bailed. I liked him enough already? Good conversation does not a relationship make.
The cool air was refreshing as I dashed toward the restroom to pee and freshen up, nerves suddenly getting the better part of me. A little uncertain, I texted his number:
Hey. This is me. That way you don’t lose me. ☺
Outside, the air wasn’t as cool, but the wind whipped my hair in my face. He, whatever his name was, wasn’t out there and he hadn’t texted back. I didn’t know his name. This was exactly something Pops would be angry about. My pops would have wanted his ID, his driver’s license number, phone number and social security number. The only number I had for him—he wasn’t responding to. And on a scale from one to ten…Mr. Martini was a 10.
Your Honor Page 1
