Authors: Lisa Rayne
Counselor Undone
Teaser
THE MOST
PASSIONATE KISS OF HIS LIFE . . .
Kansas City
attorney MICHAEL REMINGTON is in the middle of a corporate case he can’t
afford to lose. The jaded workaholic has laser focus until he’s blindsided by
an unsettling distraction—an anonymous encounter that ends with the most
passionate kiss of his life. When his search for the sexy mystery woman gets
sidetracked by his unexpected attraction to an ambitious new associate, his
life goes from merely unsettled to downright complicated.
THE BIGGEST
CASE OF HER CAREER . . .
J
ORDIS MORGAN has one goal at her new firm: make partner at all costs .
. . well, almost any cost. She’s determined to earn the firm’s coveted case
assignment—as Michael's co-counsel on the most high-profile patent case
in the country—without having an illicit affair with her boss. More
interested in career advancement than romance, Jordis does everything in her
power to resist the explosive chemistry brewing between her and the man who's
not used to being told no.
LEADS TO
THEIR GREATEST ADVERSARIAL CHALLENGE . . . EACH OTHER
Amidst evidence of
case sabotage and high-stakes litigation he can't risk for an unethical
liaison, Michael must make a life-altering choice—fight for the woman he
can't live without or hold on to the patent case of the century. In a world
where he'd like to have it all, the staid attorney soon finds himself faced
with his greatest adversarial challenge—the one to win Jordis's
heart.
Two . . . One .
. . Happy New Year!
Despite the two flutes of champagne he held in his hand, the
gladiator turned her deftly into his embrace. The shawl she’d wrapped around
her shoulders fell to the ground as plastic horn toots erupted inside amidst
cheers. He
slid his occupied fist behind her
back, gripped the base of her neck with his other hand, and kissed her
thoroughly. She pushed hard against his chest. When she opened her mouth to
tell him he’d made a mistake, he took the liberty of sliding his tongue inside
to play wickedly with hers. She moaned softly, which caused him to chuckle.
She didn’t know who this man was or why he thought he had an
open invitation to make love to her mouth, but her ability to think straight
slowly evaporated. She’d never been kissed like this—like the last
beautiful woman on earth. Her libido sparked, making her excited and appalled
at the same time. She’d been unattached for fourteen long months, and this
hunk’s skill with his tongue sent hot flashes to an area of her body she’d
almost forgotten existed.
Author
LISA RAYNE graduated from
Princeton University with a bachelor’s degree in Comparative
Literature, went on to obtain a law degree from Stanford, and pass the bar
exam in two states. Her passion for the creative arts led her to practice
intellectual property, entertainment and media law for many years before she
decided to start producing her own creative works instead of simply
representing others who did. She currently lives in the Midwest with her two
daughters.
Copyright
© 2015 by Lisa Rayne
All rights reserved.
The
reproduction, transmission or utilization of this work in whole or in part in
any form or in any information retrieval system by any electronic, mechanical
or other means, now known or hereafter devised (including, without limitation,
scanning, digitization, photocopying and recording) is unlawful piracy and
theft of the author’s intellectual property and is expressly forbidden without
prior written permission. If you would like to use material from the book
(other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher.
Fire
Sign Press,
a division of
Fire Sign Media Group
PO
Box 9150, Kansas City, MO 64168
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual persons (living or dead), business establishments, events or locales
is entirely coincidental and in no way reflects the nature, character, business
practices or opinions of any person or entity for which a resemblance may
exist.
Any
trademarks or trade names mentioned are the express property of their
respective owners.
Cover
Design by
thecovercollection.com
First
edition: August 2015
The
publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned
by the publisher.
To
Karol Jarvis
and
Bonita Thornton
for
always believing in the dream. Every person should have cheerleaders like you
in their corner: people who never doubt, never discourage, and always lift up.
This book would never have been completed and published without your unfailing
support.
Few authors are lucky enough to start their career
with a book club behind them before the first manuscript is even finished. I
happen to be so lucky. To the ladies of STCC Book Club (
www.stccbookclub.com
), many thanks for
your support, beta reading time
,
and
invaluable feedback on the storyline and characters of this book (particularly
Donna Scoggins, Beverly Jackson, and Laverne Rodgers Smith).
To
the ladies at the fragrance counter at Macy’s Metro North Mall in Kansas City,
Missouri (Nancy, Mary, Cathy, Alicia, Paula, and Pam), you
rock
. The writing and fine-tuning of this book would not have been
half as much fun without your constant support and feedback.
To
Dr. Kerrie Herren, although you will probably never read this book, know that I
appreciate your diligent and “gentle” pushes to hold me accountable to finish.
To
the awesome Cherry Adair, thank you so much for your invaluable time and
guidance during and after your pre-convention plotting course at the Kansas
City and New Orleans RT Booklovers Conventions. Figuring out turning points and
black moments and how to raise the stakes in fiction shouldn’t have been such a
blast.
And
finally, to my new readers and future fans, I’m happy you took a chance on this
book. I’m planning a few additional books in this series so please let me know
what you think. You can find me online at
www.lisarayne.com
.
Happy
reading!
Lisa Rayne
Michael Remington had never had to work so hard for a
one-night stand in his life.
It went against his grain and his ego.
He’d long ago become jaded about love and all things Cupid,
but he generally had no problem finding a casual bedmate when he wanted. As a
named partner in a prestigious law firm with political connections and ties to
the social elite of Kansas City, women practically threw themselves at him.
Yet, here he stood at the local bar association’s annual New Year’s Eve masked
ball—at five minutes till midnight—looking for a woman who had made
herself scarce. If he hadn’t been the one to walk away from his elusive prey
earlier, he’d think he’d lost his touch.
“What are you doing standing here all alone?” Michael’s best
friend and law partner, Chase Hager, snuck up behind him and slapped him on the
shoulder. “The whole point of my convincing you to come was so you could meet
someone new.”
Michael grunted. “I must have been out of my mind. And I
can’t believe I let you talk me into this ridiculous costume. I feel like a
piece of meat on display.”
Chase laughed. His eyes scanned the costume that made
Michael look like an ancient gladiator
sans
breastplate. “How do you expect to attract quality prospects if you don’t show
off the merchandise?”
Michael rolled his eyes, finding the comment ironic coming
from a guy whose costume kept all his significant body parts covered. “You know
I’m not in the market for quality prospects. I’m not in the market for
any
prospects.”
“Oh really?” Chase eyed the two champagne glasses in
Michael’s hand. “It looks like you’re in the market for something. Didn’t mean
to interrupt. Carry on.” Chase walked away, loud chuckles accompanying his
self-satisfied grin.
Michael tuned out the annoying sound of his friend’s
retreating mirth and resumed the search for his evening entertainment. She wore
a Juliet costume. Other than that, he didn’t know much about her. He hadn’t
bothered to ask her any questions or get her real name. It hadn’t mattered. The
moment she’d spotted him, she’d turned on a flirt that promised more than good
conversation.
Not one, usually, to go for the vampy come-on, he’d humored
her. He may be jaded, but he wasn’t rude. She’d made a pouty complaint about
her Romeo having gone off “roaming” and suggested Michael play her knight in
shining armor. He’d laughed and responded, “Wrong costume.”
When she’d looked at him with a blank stare, he’d realized
she couldn’t make the distinction between a Roman gladiator and a knight of the
realm. He’d wondered if her Elizabethan-styled wig covered a natural blond.
Then he’d chastised himself for the insensitive stereotyping. A woman didn’t
have to be blond to be intellectually challenged. He’d met enough female
cerebral lightweights to know.
Categorizing Juliet as good for an easy lay, but never one
to rise above an occasional late night tryst, he’d politely excused himself. He
hadn’t originally felt like playing the game tonight. He’d recognized her type
and the hunger in her eyes immediately. He avoided—or fought
off—women like her all the time, women set on attaching themselves
permanently to a rich professional with a strong reputation in the community.
He didn’t make himself available for that kind of liaison.
At thirty-eight, he’d seen enough of his buddies take the plunge only to end up
doing the sap two-step when romantic bliss turned into an episode of reality TV
divorce court. He’d almost made that mistake once,
with a firm colleague no less,
and his
engagement had ended in disaster. He’d learned his lesson. He didn’t believe in
forever-after, and he didn’t think this masked ball would net him a Cinderella.
He had one use for women currently—a physical use, which is exactly where
his one-night stand came in, if he could find her.
He glanced at the two flutes of champagne in his hand,
tempted to down them both. He abstained. He’d probably had one too many drinks
already. After he’d escaped Juliet, he’d had a few to take the edge off his
boredom. That had been a mistake. He’d only managed to slide his boredom into
frustration.
His gladiator costume had brought out the predator in otherwise
reserved ladies. After being groped and propositioned relentlessly by women he
knew—despite their masks and costumes—and a few he didn’t, he’d
decided to go with it. Maybe getting laid for the first time in four months
would improve his disposition. Unfortunately, now that he’d decided to give in
to dimwitted Juliet’s offer of a sure thing, she’d disappeared.
He should have stayed home and watched the ball drop over
Times Square. Better yet, he should have gone to the office to figure out how a
box of discovery documents had gone missing in his multi-million dollar patent
infringement case. He planned to build the firm founded by his late father and
his grandfather into a national powerhouse. He wouldn’t succeed if he dropped
the ball on the intellectual property case of the year
, a case journalists predicted would change the legal landscape for
pharmaceutical patents.
He sighed. He’d deal with his case issues tomorrow.
Banishing work from his mind, he stepped onto the balcony of the penthouse
condo. A smile spread across his lips. A lovely vision stood staring at the
view over the railing. He’d found her.
* * *
Mask still in place, a costumed Juliet stood on the balcony
wondering why she hadn’t left this party. The couple she’d planned to meet, her
first cousin plus one, hadn’t shown and she didn’t know anyone else here.
She hated New Year’s Eve parties. She didn’t need to wax
nostalgic about the past year. Betrayal and heartbreak had haunted most of the
last three hundred and sixty-five days. She’d left the unpleasant memories
behind in Los Angeles six months ago, and she never wanted to revisit them. As
for New Year’s resolutions, the only resolution that mattered mandated letting
nothing—and no one—distract her from making partner by the end of
the year at the KC law firm to which she’d recently transferred.
She’d only come to this midnight-fest foray—against
her better judgment—to appease her cousin. Then she’d compounded the
mistake by letting her cousin arrange for her costume. She’d wanted Cleopatra,
but a mix-up at the costume shop had led to the delivery of this Juliet getup
instead. By the time she’d realized the mistake, the shop had closed and she
couldn’t make an exchange. She planned to give her mysteriously absent cousin a
scathing piece of her mind for pressuring her to attend this party because she
“needed to meet new people” then leaving her high and dry.
The sound of the balcony door sliding open drew her
attention. She turned towards a walking piece of art wearing a gladiator
costume.
Four . . . Three . . .
“Juliet! There you are!” the masked gladiator cooed, his
baritone voice slightly singsong from one too many glasses of wine . . . or
something. “I wondered where you’d gone.” He placed a strong hand around her
arm.
Two . . . One . . . Happy New Year!
Despite the two flutes of champagne he held in his hand, the
gladiator turned her deftly into his embrace. The shawl she’d wrapped around
her shoulders fell to the ground as plastic horn toots erupted inside amidst
cheers. He
slid his occupied fist behind her
back, gripped the base of her neck with his other hand, and kissed her
thoroughly. She pushed hard against his chest. When she opened her mouth to
tell him he’d made a mistake, he took the liberty of sliding his tongue inside
to play wickedly with hers. She moaned softly, which caused him to chuckle.
She didn’t know who this man was or why he thought he had an
open invitation to make love to her mouth, but her ability to think straight
slowly evaporated. She’d never been kissed like this—like the last
beautiful woman on earth. Her libido sparked, making her excited and appalled
at the same time. She’d been unattached for fourteen long months, and this
hunk’s skill with his tongue sent hot flashes to an area of her body she’d almost
forgotten existed.
Without removing his lips from hers, the gladiator backed
her into a corner alcove west of the sliding glass door, not stopping until her
back nearly touched the stone wall. With a bit of apprehension, she noticed
darkness covered the alcove he’d selected, the few existing patio sconces not
aggressive enough to throw their light around the turn in the wall. Her mind
began to whirl. She shouldn’t be here—not at this party and definitely
not in this man’s arms.
She pushed harder against his chest. “
Please
.”
Pulling back slightly, he handed her a glass of champagne.
“Honey, there’s no need to beg. Whatever you want, I plan to give it to you
all
night long
.”
She accepted the glass on reflex. “You don’t
understand—”
“Here’s to the New Year,” he interrupted and lifted his
glass dramatically. He paused, as if searching for a more mindful toast, but
simply added with a wicked grin, “It’s suddenly looking very promising.” He
downed his champagne in one gulp then tossed the flute onto a cushion-covered
wrought iron chair not far away. “Drink up, Juliet.” He wrapped his fingers
around hers on the stem of the glass she held and assisted it to her lips.
“Don’t you know it’s bad luck not to drink to a toast made on New Year’s Eve?”
She took a sip while pressing persistently against his chest
with her other hand. He budged a smidge. Her breathing came easier with the
space she’d created between them until she realized his stingy costume left
most of his chest bare. Her hand rested against the wall of his smooth
pectorals, and what a wall it was. He sported the physique of a Calvin Klein
underwear model, all planes and bulges and six-pack. Those reawakened body
parts began to liquefy.
“Y-You’ve made a mistake,” she murmured, flustered by her
unexpected female response to him. Though she could count the number of lovers
she’d had on half of one hand, she didn’t lack sexual experience. Still, none
of her lovers, even the man to whom she’d once been engaged, had stirred in her
with a simple kiss a fraction of the heat currently rising inside her. “I think
you’re looking for someone else.”
And that’s a shame
, she thought,
surprising herself.
The gladiator smiled down at her. She stood approximately
five feet ten in the flat leather sandals she wore, but he still stretched
several inches above her. He had to be well over six feet tall. She’d gotten a
brief look at his face before he embraced her and noted odd colored eyes in a
rugged face. He wore his hair a little long. The back brushed the top of his
epaulettes, and a wavy wisp fell across his forehead, touching the top of a
dark brow. Given the paucity of the starlight, she couldn’t quite discern the
color of the tresses—black or maybe a deep brown. He qualified as
objectively handsome by any woman’s standards, but she didn’t understand this
intense attraction. Even with his olive-toned skin, he didn’t fit her usual
type.
Removing her champagne glass with one hand, he pressed his
other over the hand she rested on his chest. “No, milady, there’s no mistaking
you. How about we get better acquainted, like you suggested earlier?” He tucked
his face into the curve of her neck. “Mmm, you smell good. All flowers, and
sweetness, and woman.”
His lips trailed kisses along her neckline while he showered
her with words of seduction. The sound of his voice, two parts sexy and one
part awe, stirred her. She became enraptured by the risqué words he whispered.
When he got to the part about what he wanted to do with his tongue, she
shivered.
He took her mouth in another rousing kiss. His tongue
sliding warm across her lips, then along the length of her own, evoked sheer
bliss. Wrapped in the feel of him, she didn’t notice the hand he slid to the
split at the side of her costume until that hand invaded the fabric and moved
up her thigh.
Through a haze, she became conscious of his fingers
caressing the side of her bare bottom, the stringy thong she wore giving him
full access. His fingers massaged the firm muscles of her buttock. He still
held her half-full champagne flute in his other hand, but the burden didn’t
slow him down. He pressed at her back until she leaned flush against him from
hip to shoulder. The long hardness of his arousal met her abdomen, and her hips
swayed in a manner that made him groan aloud.
When that old R. Kelly song about a little bump and grind
began to play in her head, she decided she’d lost her mind. What was she doing
in a darkened corner—outside no less—with a stranger, making out
like a horny teenager? Something in her consciousness chided she needed to stop
him, but she couldn’t muster the will to resist. She felt as if he’d put a
spell on her. Maybe he should have come dressed like a warlock. He’d been
looking for another Juliet, but he’d magically homed in on the one so deprived
of a man’s touch she’d let him have his way with her outside on an open
balcony.
Everything happens for a reason
, her grandmother always said. Taking grandmamma at her
word, she wondered if there was a reason she’d ended up dressed like Juliet on
this particular balcony at midnight so Mr. Gladiator could kiss her until she
turned into a shameless hussy.