“All rise.”
Michelle stood, watching Kerry give Philip a polite nod. Kerry had no idea of what was to come. Judge Lanport was a stickler for starting on time, and today he looked even more impatient as he rushed into the courtroom, robes flying behind him.
“Okay, let’s quickly move this along. It’s my wife’s birthday, and I’m meeting her for lunch. I need to be out of here in…” He looked at the clerk. “How much time?”
The clerk at his side glanced at her watch. “One hour, your honor.”
“One hour it is.” After the attorneys stated their names and clients for the record, the judge point to Philip. “Mr. Berman, you’re up.”
Philip stood up and took one last look at his notes. “Your Honor, Mr. Garcia has filed this action against Royal Cleaning Company alleging claims for negligence and strict liability. In order to prepare this case, it is imperative that we receive the discovery requested, as reflected in the Plaintiff’s brief and the exhibits and affidavits we’ve file with it. The Defendant’s objections are nothing more than roadblocks thrown in front of my client in an attempt to delay this case in hopes that he’ll give up.” Philip shot Kerry a glance. “I assure you, Mr. Garcia is here for the long haul.” Philip glanced down to check his notes.
Kerry took advantage of Philip’s pause to interrupt. “But Your Honor, any alleged wrongdoing occurred over twenty-five years ago. Even if Royal Cleaning Company was liable in this situation, and I’m definitely not saying that is the case, the statute of limitation would long since have expired.”
Michelle frowned, but Philip was quick to rebuttal. “Your Honor, Mr. Berman can raise limitations in a motion for summary judgment. But since he hasn’t, I would like to focus on the motion before the court. My client has a right to the documents asked for in the request for production. As you can see from the affidavits attached as exhibits A through R, we believe those documents will show that Royal Cleaning Company was aware of the toxic components of its product. We can prove that awareness through the settlement documents we’ve requested.”
“There was a settlement in this case?” the judge questioned with a frown.
“Not with my client, Your Honor,” Philip responded. Evidently, he’d anticipated that question from the judge. “Our investigation has revealed that six claimants entered into a settlement with Royal Cleaning Company. As you can see from the affidavits, that settlement resulted from the employees’ threat to sue for injuries resulting from using the toxic cleaner.”
Kerry interrupted. “Exactly, Your Honor. That was over twenty-five years ago. Limitations have run.”
Philip stood up straighter. “The discovery rule applies in this case, Your Honor.”
Kerry took the bait. “Your Honor, the employees Mr. Berman is referring to were obviously aware of the alleged toxicity. There is no reason to believe that Mr. Garcia would not have been just as cognizant. The discovery rule doesn’t apply.”
Philip cleared his throat. “It most certainly does, Your Honor. Mr. Garcia was not in the same position as those plaintiffs. He worked for a company using the product, not the Royal Cleaning Company. Royal Cleaning Company deliberately and maliciously failed to inform it customers about the dangerous effects of long-term exposure. Those documents that we seek go directly to both this concealment and to the broader question of liability. My client needs those documents not only to establish liability, but to counter any limitation argument that Mr. Monroe may choose to bring up.”
Philip turned to Kerry. Michelle couldn’t see Philip’s expression, but she could imagine it was smug.
“Point taken, Mr. Berman.” Judge Lanport looked at the papers in front of him. Michelle held her breath. All of Philip’s information seemed to be in order. Actually, she knew it was. Luis Garcia had given her a few details on how Philip was planning to move forward.
Finally, Judge Lanport looked up. “Very good, Mr. Berman. Mr. Monroe, you should have done your homework. Motion to compel is granted. Mr. Monroe, your client has thirty days to turn over the documents that Mr. Berman has requested.” The judge turned to the clerk. “How much time?”
The clerk looked down at her watch. “You still have twenty-five minutes, Your Honor.”
The judge smiled. “Excellent. I have time to stop and get some flowers. Court adjourned.”
Michelle stood and waited until the judge left the bench before gathering her things to leave. To her surprise, Rob Sigsmond, the Deputy Director at the Executive Office for the Occupational Safety and Health Standards Board, stood waiting at the back of the courtroom. What was he doing here? Michelle assumed a professional stand as he approached. “Mr. Sigsmond, I didn’t know you were here.”
“I was here on another case, but thought I would drop by because word is getting out about this one.” He held a hand out to her. “Excellent job from what I heard.”
She shook his hand. “Well, according to Philip, this is only the first step. Monroe wasn’t bluffing on filing a motion for Summary Judgment, and his firm definitely has the capability to bury Berman in paperwork. Even once Philip has the documentation showing the concealment, the legal briefing on the application of the discovery rule is going to be intense, based on my research.”
“I am familiar with Philip Berman’s experience. I have the utmost confidence in him, especially since he has consulted with you, Michelle. You’ll be up for that promotion before you know it.”
Michelle nodded in what she hoped was a wise manner. “I hope I can live up to the high standards that come with it.”
“Being ambitious with a strong work ethic is all that we ask for.”
Michelle smiled cheerfully. “Thank you again, sir.” She waited until Sigsmond was out of sight before she left the courtroom and took off down the main hall. She was going to be late meeting Connor.
* * * *
The San Jose Museum of Art was the one place from Connor’s childhood that he enjoyed. His mom had taken him here every Friday. It was an old habit, and for meeting Michelle, it was perfect. It was a public place where they could talk in private and not worry about being disturbed. She looked stunning, as usual. She wore a charcoal-colored suit. He was in jeans. It was almost laughable. They wandered outside first, looking at all the sidewalk artists. Most painted for tourist, using the San Jose skyline for subject matter.
There was one he wanted to show her, though.
“Let’s go this way.” He headed for the last vendor on the street—Denmark Masumoto, an implant from Japan. Connor pointed to a small canvas, a blurring of different colors. “What does that look like to you?”
Michelle leaned in close, studying the painting with her usual intensity. “It looks to be of a human element.”
“You are correct,” Denmark replied. “Because your eye is untrained, you only see a fraction of what is portrayed on this canvas. You paint a woman’s body and she is nothing more than a collection of her shadows, lines, and curves. You paint her soul, reaching for things she wants to accomplish—her passions, her dreams—them you have great art.”
Connor knew Demark was correct. At only twenty-two, the artist had already attracted a small following.
“So that’s a soul, not a face?”
Connor nodded. “Art, like everything else, should go beyond what one sees on the surface.”
They were both quiet as he led the way back to the museum. Connor and Michelle wandered around, finally ending up by the statues. One figure caught her attention.
“George Washington?”
Connor wasn’t surprised she had noticed. It was an interesting piece. He nodded.
“In a loin cloth.”
“The artist was going for a look.”
“So I see.” Michelle looked closer, inspecting it carefully. “It is very realistic, but there is something larger than life about it.”
“That’s the style of this artist. He likes for everyone that he sculpts to be something bigger than they really were. It should be so
easy.”
She moved to the next statue, a young girl playing in a puddle, and the read the card. It was one of Connor’s favorites. The joy of childhood captured forever. The girl didn’t care what she was going to be when she grew up. She was caught in one moment, for a lifetime.
“You like the sculpture best?”
He nodded. “I prefer marble over the other types. Marble is the closest to how things really look.”
Her eyes studied Connor rather than the piece of art. “They look frozen.”
“As is most of the world.”
Michelle tiled her head, her expression full of questions.
Connor shrugged. “We all have moments where we go through the motions, just so we can have the times when we’re alive.”
“When do you feel alive?”
He never should have opened his mouth. “You sure you want to get into this?”
She gave a brief nod. “I do. It’s a very serious question.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“Tell me, Connor.”
“When I’m in the kitchen surrounded by nothing but pots and pans, trying to create a new recipe.”
“Not when you’re around people? I never figured you to be a loner.”
He placed a finger to his lips. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone.”
Pots, pans, and cutlery never judged anyone. That admission was too deep to reveal right now. It was time to find a better subject. “How’s work?”
Michelle smiled. “Never a dull day, but things are fantastic.”
Her positive attitude was contagious. He chuckled. “That good, huh?”
She began to pace in front of the statue. “I went to court today. Royal Cleaning Company is playing hardball with Philip and Luis. Philip had to get a motion to compel Royal Cleaning Company to release a few documents that were used in the prior case. Philip is going to nail them, Connor. They knew exactly what their product was doing to people, and they ignored it.”
“What does that mean for you?”
“Hard to say right now, but it could mean more work. Royal Cleaning is still in business and could be using the product or something similar to it. If word gets out about this case like I think it will, OSHA might have to step into investigate further.” At that moment, she looked like she could rule the world. She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of work, I need to get back to the office.”
Was she that anxious to get rid of him? “You’ve only been here for fifteen minutes.”
“I know, but I have a ton of things to do. She looked up at him, an expression that made him nervous and terrified, but more than a little glad. “Although, I don’t want to go.”
Her desire seemed easy enough to fulfill. “Then don’t.”
“But then I won’t get any work done.”
“Yes, you will.”
“How?”
“You’ll get around to it.”
He continued on down the hallway, and she followed. Then he stopped in front of a painting of a storm on one side, beautiful weather on the other side, and the mixing of the two in between. It captured the attention of the eye, kept you intrigued, wondering what would happen. He’d give anything to have the ability to create something with so much skill and talent.
“Take a look at this.”
Just as he had done the first time he saw it, she studied the painting intently. Taking in all the details. The vivid colors. The passion. “It’s stunning.”
“It took the artist six years to finish this.”
Michelle laughed. “I bet it drove him insane. I have a one page to-do list and that’s plenty.”
“Not necessarily. He probably just wanted to finish things his own way.”
She shook her head. “My boss would have a conniption.”
She worked too hard. “How many hours do you work in a week, Michelle?”
“Fifty-five to sixty-five.”
She definitely worked too hard. “Have you ever played hooky?”
“No, I’ve never needed to.”
He was going to change that. “And when’s the last time you went to the park?”
Michelle thought for a moment. “I can’t remember the exact time, but I was a child.”
“You work too much.”
“But if I don’t do my job, then people who really need my help won’t get it.”
He should have known Michelle would be driven by something more human than money. Then again, he should be surprised. “What will happen if you reach burn out mode, or if you just stop caring? Then what will you do?
“I can’t just take off.” She appeared to be embarrassed. Theodore would say he was corrupting her. “Michelle, it’s a job. You deserve the right to have a life, too.”
“But I’ve worked hard for this career.”
Theodore would be correct.
“And you have done a great job at it, but is that all you want to do?”
“Are you telling me I should quit, move to the valley, and smoke hemp?”
Connor couldn’t contain his chuckle. “No. But I think there’s a lot more inside you than just a career.” She should realize that as well. “I am sure you have hobbies.”
“Well, I used to knit, but I could never finish anything so I stopped.”
He paused. “Do you read?”
“Oh yes, all the time. I love to read. I have to keep up with environment business and medical journals.” She stopped. “That’s not what you meant, is it?”
Connor made up his mind and grabbed her hand. She needed someone to come to her rescue more than she knew. “Come on.”
Chapter Eight
He purchased two deli sandwiches, a bag of chips, a soft drink, and a copy of a steamy romance novel. They found a bench outside a quiet spot, and he handed her the book and a sandwich. After half and hour, she was enthralled.
“Why did you pick this up?” she asked. “I never would have picked it up.”
“I have only read a few romance novels. While I haven’t read that one, I just figured you could use something different to read.”
“This couple is sort of sad.”
He took the book from her and read a few lines of the emotional scene she was in the middle of before giving it back. “In a way, but they’re your average couple.”
“Well, no, he’s a millionaire whose family owns a popular hotel in Italy and she is a woman looking for an affair after being jilted at the altar.”
“Yes, but I don’t think that’s the author’s point. It all boils down to a man and woman trying to make their lives mean a little more. While the circumstances surrounding them seem to be impossible, they both want it.”
Michelle reached for his hand. “It’s just a book, Connor.”
He looked down at their intertwined hands and laughed. “Yeah. Silly me.” When he looked up, his eyes were full of warmth. “I’m glad you’re here.”
* * * *
Somewhere in the distance, kids were laughing and playing, and dogs were barking. But everything in Michelle was focused on the intensity in his eyes. They weren’t talking about the romance novel anymore. “I’m glad you suggested this.”
“Michelle?”
She liked the way his voice dipped when he said her name. “Yes?”
“You’re nothing like how I thought you’d be.”
“How so?”
“You’re not so—” He pushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. “Rigid. I thought you’d be serious and businesslike all the time, but you get so animated when you talk about your work.”
In a few minutes, Connor was going to figure out that it wasn’t her work that got her excited. He inched closer, and her nose tingled from the masculine fragrance of his cologne.
“I’m not all work, Connor.”
He traced her lips with a light finger and she shivered. “Not with this mouth, you’re not.”
“Is that an insult, Mr. Sakuma?”
At the same instant she reached up for him, he lowered his
head. Great minds. “I would never insult your mouth, Michelle,” he whispered against her lips. “Never.”
It started out quite innocently, soft and teasing, a mere brushing of lips. His tongue traced just inside her mouth, sending quick sparks of desire racing through her. When she wanted more, he held back.
Today, he seemed to be in no hurry. She loved the taste of him. It was wonderfully intoxicating. Connor was a temptation that she could not resist. He didn’t hide anything from her. His unsteady breath, the quickening of his heart. The way his hands caressed and stroked. All of it went straight to her head.
A breeze drifted over them. In the distance, the city moved forward. Car horns honked and, somewhere in the distance, a woman was singing. Yet, the bench that they sat on had become a haven.
Unable to resist the temptation, she took his lower lip in her mouth and sucked, fascinated by the feel of his jaw under her fingertips, the rough stubble that lined it.
Connor pulled her closer until she sat in his lap, his hands pushing firmly inside her jacket. With an easy sigh, she melted into him. Already, her body was beginning to throb and heat. Her tongue tangled with his, impatient, but then he slid his tongue deeply in her mouth and covered her heart with his hand, his touch gentle and soothing.
He kissed her with a slow, incessant rhythm that made her shift her hips until she could feel his erection underneath her. Even then, it wasn’t enough. She rubbed against him, the friction of his jeans a poor substitute for what her body was demanding.
Nearby voices buzzed in the background, reminded her of where they were. Connor lifted his head, tracing her cheek with an unsteady hand. “You’re killing me here, Michelle.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“Don’t apologize.” He glanced down at his watch. “Look at the time. It’s getting late. You should go. You’re not going to finish all that work you have.”
He was studying her. This was another test. If it hadn’t been for an important call to a manufacturing company, she would have stayed. She wanted to stay. But she did need to finish a report for an insurance company as well, and a co-worker’s inspection of a warehouse was very spotty. If she didn’t follow up on the inspection, no one would.
Long, Slow Surrender Page 9
