Counselor Undone (7 page)

He handed her the tote he still held. “Do you have far to
go?”

“No, I don’t live far. I should be inside my apartment in
about twenty minutes.”

“Okay.”

She reached for the door handle, but he didn’t move.
“Michael, I really have to go.”

“You don’t need to stop for gas or anything, do you?”

“
No.
” She tugged
at the door, but his hand stayed its movement. Shaking her head, she released
the door and gripped the top of the steering wheel with both hands. “I’m good.
Trust me. I know better than to make pit stops alone this late at night.”

He nodded and closed the door. Instead of stepping away from
the car, he motioned for her to roll down the window. “If you need anything,
call me.”

“What could I possibly need between here and home?” Her
voice dripped with exasperation.

Her rising anxiousness to be on her way lightened his
demeanor and tempted him to delay her a bit longer. “You could run out of gas,”
he said for the simple sake of argument.

“I told you I had plenty of gas.”

“No. You told me you didn’t need to
stop
for gas. For
all I know, you’re one of those people who like to ride around on
E
.”

She looked at him with an expression that said
as if
.

Michael fought a smile. “You could get a flat tire.”

“I have roadside assistance.”

“Yeah, some strange guy in a tow truck meeting you stranded
by the side of the road in the middle of the night. That really reassures me.
Take my mobile number.”

“Michael, really. I appreciate the escort to my car, but
I’ll be fine from here.”

Michael’s shoulders lifted as he heaved an exaggerated sigh.
He pulled his smartphone from his inside jacket pocket. Punching buttons, he
asked, “Do you have a cell phone?” He took her eye roll as a yes. “What’s the
number?”

She rattled off ten numbers. He punched them into the
keypad. A few seconds later, her phone rang inside her bag. Jordis’s mouth
turned down in a perplexed frown at the late night call before she glanced over
at the phone in his hand and saw it had an active outgoing connection.

Michael pushed the
End
button and slid the phone back
into his pocket. “Now you have my number. Call me if you should need anything
on the way home. If not, great. But, do call me when you get home so I know you
arrived safely.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but Michael cut her off.
She gave a short laugh. “Okay, okay. I’ll call you to let you know I made it
home. Can I go now?”

He backed up.

Not giving him a chance to say anything else, she shoved the
car into
Reverse
and zipped out of the parking space. Her eyes caught on
his one more time when she hit the breaks to shift into
Drive
.
“Goodnight, Michael,” she said quietly.

He slid a hand into his pants pocket. His responding
farewell came out in an unintentionally husky voice. “Goodnight, Jordis.”

Her fingers clenched the steering wheel. She looked away
quickly and maneuvered out of the garage. When she cleared the gate, he dropped
his head back and closed his eyes.

What was he doing? All he had to do was walk her to her car
and say goodnight. Instead, he’d made out with her in an elevator and harped
about her safety as if he were dropping off a date.

Turning toward his SUV, he pulled out his key ring and hit
the remote unlock button. The SUV’s lights blinked at him as the keyless entry
system chirped. Michael walked over slowly, pondering that he’d given Jordis
his mobile number.

He took great care to make sure few people had his mobile
number. It avoided problems, especially those of the female variety. Only his
assistant, Chase, and a few key senior partners had his personal cell number.
If anyone else needed to reach him, they could leave him a voicemail message at
the office—he picked those up religiously—or contact his assistant
who always knew how to get in touch with him.

He found it ironic women tried so hard to get his personal
number, and the one time he offered it willingly to a female associate, she
didn’t want it. He was almost insulted, but he suspected with Jordis it came
down to a show of independence. His display of old world manners had thrown
her. He’d caught her look of surprise when he’d helped her don her jacket. That
bit with her car keys—not letting him open the door for her—had
also been revealing.

Michael slid into his ride. He put the key in the ignition,
but didn’t start the car. He glanced over at the elevator bay, pulled out his phone,
and made a call.

When he finished, the scene in Jordis’s office flashed
through his mind. He’d almost kissed her then. When he’d touched her in the
doorway, he’d wanted only to challenge her bravado a bit, but the smell of her
perfume—a hint of sweet and floral with a crisp aquatic note—had
drawn his mind from her late night lawyering habits to her womanly curves. Once
his hand contacted her warm skin, all he could think about was how soft she
felt, how beautiful her eyes were, and how much he wanted to explore those
luscious lips.

He’d watched her eyes shift colors like they had in the
conference room when she’d caught him staring at her legs. The vein in her neck
had pulsed at Mach speed, and he’d wondered if anxiety or attraction fueled the
response. She didn’t seem the anxious type. Given her response to him in the
elevator, he’d like to think it had been attraction. Yet, when he and Chase had
walked past her office after Monday’s meeting, he’d heard Vivian ask her about
her sexual preferences. Her nondescript response left questions to which he’d
like to know the answers. It would be his luck that she was indeed gay.

A gush of disappointment skittered across his gut, making
him grab the steering wheel and squeeze tightly. Shaking off the implications
of his reaction, he chastised himself.
Get a grip, Remington. There’s no way
she would have responded to you that way if she were gay.

Kissing her had felt right, like coming home
. His gut churned and an
odd tremor rolled through him at the thought of h
er uniquely familiar
moan when she’d pulled him against her center. She’d taken
him to a place he’d been before. Why? What was there about this woman that
stirred him so?

He rubbed both hands down his face. His still semi-firm
erection throbbed with a need for release he suspected could only be found
between those long, long legs of hers. When he’d admired those legs as she'd
lowered herself into her car, he’d appreciated the golden hue of her light
caramel skin.

His head snapped up.

New Year’s night, he’d admired the second Juliet’s tan, her
golden
tan. He hadn’t considered that
her color might be natural instead of sun-induced. “Ah, hell.” The words burst
from him as he flopped back against the seat. “It
is
her.”

He let the knowledge wash over him, unsure what to do with
his certainty.

All this time, he’d been looking for Juliet, and she’d been
right under his nose. Chase had called it. Jordis Morgan shook him up in ways a
colleague—or any woman for that matter—hadn’t in a long time. Until
his midnight run-in with the mystery woman a couple of weeks ago, he couldn’t
remember experiencing an instant emotional draw to a woman. Instant sexual
attraction? Sure. He’d been there and done that. He handled instant hormonal
urges easily. He did what came naturally and forgot about it, and the woman,
once he’d slaked his need.

Unfortunately, what he felt now went beyond mere biological
appetency and therein lay the problem. The instant emotional attraction he’d
experienced on New Year’s Eve hadn’t been a fluke. Jordis was his mystery
woman, and her emotional pull on him tugged stronger than ever.

Why on earth did these stirrings have to arise for a woman
who worked at the firm? Life had taught him the dangers of that. He could be
setting himself up for a shakedown.

What would she want? Would she vie for key case assignments
or guaranteed partnership? Or, would she maneuver covertly for a more permanent
setup, perhaps one that came with eighteen-plus years of child support
payments?

She came across as a straight shooter. She didn’t seem the
type to play games, but he had to wonder with which head he’d formed that opinion.

Of course, the question of whether she “did white guys” had
yet to be answered. He hadn’t been able to hear if Vivian had gotten any
additional information on that query. Wondering if she had a racial preference
didn’t disturb him as much. This second hurdle, if it existed, didn’t seem
insurmountable. He wouldn’t mind being Ms. Morgan’s first. She certainly hadn’t
responded to his kiss as if she’d been concerned about anything other than the
feel of his tongue inside her mouth.

A wicked smile on his lips, he leaned forward and
started his car. The dashboard lit up and displayed that over twenty minutes
had passed since they’d said goodbye and, of course, Jordis hadn’t called. He
wondered which would explode first, their battle of wills or the sexual time
bomb they’d ignited with that kiss in the elevator. Whatever happened between
them, he doubted either one of them would be able to “just forget” what had
transpired tonight.

Now, he had to figure out what to do about it.

Jordis pushed into her Northland loft apartment and tossed
her keys onto the entry table. Her heart pounded in her chest. Without turning
on the lights, she let her tote slide to the floor and pressed her forehead
against the closed door.

What had she done?

She’d let Michael Remington kiss her. Worse, she’d kissed
him back.

It was that damn cologne he wore. The scent had taunted her
from the moment he’d approached her three days ago and had continued to draw
her under his spell with their every encounter. For days, she’d been fighting
an attraction she didn’t want to feel. After tonight, the situation had
escalated to a whole new level.

Never in her life had she lost herself like that with a
first kiss—except once. Spartacus. And tonight it had happened again.
When Michael backed her against the elevator wall and pressed his lips to hers,
she’d known. The kiss had been sweet and seductive, not overwhelming and passionate,
but she’d known.

Michael Remington smelled like New Year’s Eve.

His scent reminded her of the midnight kiss she’d shared
with a stranger under the stars. The familiar scent had wrapped around her and
kissing Michael had felt almost predestined. When his lips had touched hers,
the same vortex of attraction and passion and overwhelming
lust
she’d experienced on that dimly
lit balcony had coursed through every cell in her body.

She’d felt almost as if she were reliving that night. In
fact, she’d momentarily become disoriented. When she’d grabbed Michael’s pants
to steady herself, she’d thought she heard him whisper “Juliet” right before
the elevator dinged.

She was losing her mind. No way, he’d called her Juliet. Had
he?

What were the chances of that? What were the odds Michael
Remington, of all the men in the greater Kansas City area, would turn out to be
her gladiator? A million to one? Two million to one?

Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. Her gladiator had
that long, sexy hair that gave him a bad-boy, devil-may-care vibe. Everything
about Michael Remington, from his short-cropped hair to his expensive tailored
suits, shouted proper, straight-laced, and . . .
lawyerly.

Surely, she could blame her behavior tonight and her
temporary mental deficiency on the olfactory déjà vu effect. One minute, she’d
been reminding herself of all the reasons she shouldn’t be attracted to Mr.
Remington. The next minute, she’d been wondering what he looked like without
any clothes.

She sucked in a breath. The visual that came with the
thought was almost too naughty for words.

No.
She rapped her forehead against
the door thrice.
Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

She’d only recently escaped the viper pit of law firm scandal.
She couldn’t handle scandalous hookups part two. Yet, ever since Michael Remington
had walked into the conference room on Monday, an inappropriate curiosity had
haunted her.

Was he dating anyone outside the office? Rumor had it he
didn’t do serious, but did he have a current go-to girl?

The last question in particular had warned her she was
headed into dangerous territory where Mr. Remington was concerned. She’d
weathered the personal aspersions cast her way at her prior firm when she’d
been accused of fraternizing with a senior partner in exchange for special
treatment. How ironic would it be for her to walk into the same scenario at
RHM?

Actually, it wouldn’t be ironic. It would be
mega stupid
.
She’d already experienced several setbacks in her career. RHM was her last stop
on the law firm partnership track. She needed to make partner here or rethink
her career path. She’d previously considered the logistics of starting her own
practice. She had the drive, the people skills, and the knowledge to make it
work. But, starting a business from scratch when she had a perfectly good set
up at a great firm with a built-in support network didn’t sound appealing.

With that in mind, it would be the worst form of
self-sabotage if she walked consciously into the fire this time by actually
sleeping with her boss. But how on earth was she supposed to resist this attraction
to him if every time she was near him, his cologne made her think of her encounter
with Spartacus? It was the sexiest night she’d ever spent with a man, and they
hadn’t even taken off any clothes.

Shaking her head, she walked to the open vertical blinds
covering the floor-to-ceiling sliding glass door that led to her deck at the
back of the building. She had a great view overlooking a large swimming pool
and a meandering walking trail. Floodlights usually lit the pool area, throwing
brightness into the apartment. Tonight, only the dim glow of security lamps
poured in because the pool was closed for the winter.

She stared into the night, the elevator kiss still foremost
in her mind. Having made the connection between Michael’s cologne and
Spartacus, she understood, in part, this odd pull she felt towards her boss.
But
was it just his cologne?

Had she simply been trying to relive New Year’s Eve tonight
or was there more to it?

Before she could seriously consider the issue, her cell
phone rang. She snatched the vertical blinds closed, flicked on a light, and
darted to where her bag laid abandoned by the entryway. She fished out her
phone. Looking at the number on the screen, she smiled. “Hey, you. To what do I
owe this late night call?”

“Hey, sis,” her brother replied. “Just checking on my favorite
girl.”

“Yeah, right. You must be in between hoochies at the moment
or you would definitely be otherwise occupied this time of night.”

Her brother laughed. “Well, for someone complaining about
the lateness of the hour, you sound awfully bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just getting in from the office.”

“What! Jo, what have I told you? I don’t like you alone in
that office building so late after business hours.”

Jordis rolled her eyes and plopped down on her plush
oversized sofa. Here we go again, she thought. “Look, dude, you’re not the boss
of me,” she joked, reverting to their childhood banter. “A girl has to make a
living.”

“That’s crap and you know it. A girl can bring her work home
with her and do it from the safety of her own apartment. Isn’t your laptop
working?”

Jordis thought about the laptop her brother had recently
overhauled for her. It had been top of the line when she’d bought it four
months ago. Now, she wouldn’t be surprised if the US military considered it a
classified secret weapon with all the RAM and microchips and whatzits he’d
added.

An electrical engineer by training, her brother spent most
of his time tinkering with anything electronic or mechanical, trying to see
what he could do to “make it purr.” He’d been a Bond fan as a kid. Jordis had
always thought if MI6 ever needed a hip quartermaster, her brother would be the
perfect candidate. If he weren’t such a looker, he’d be considered the quintessential
nerd.

“My laptop is fine. Although, I’m afraid to turn it on now.
Last time I went to use it, it tried to take over a small country in the Middle
East.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” her brother replied dryly. “I’m
serious, sis. What’s the point of having remote access to your office network
if you’re going to stay at the office no matter what? Hell, what you need is a
man. Then you’d have something to do besides play Perry Mason and perfect oral
arguments.”

Jordis sighed. “I need another man like I need a hole in the
head. The last one I had didn’t know the meaning of the word supportive and
considered the things he did for me down payments on the right to control me.
No, thanks! Besides, there’s nothing a man can do for me I can’t do for myself.”

“Your former fiancé was an idiot. And, there is one thing a
man can do that you can’t do for yourself.” He paused. “No matter how many
batteries you buy.”

She could hear the laughter in his voice. “Now who’s trying
to be funny?” She flashed back to the feel of Michael Remington’s generous
package rubbing against her and, though she’d never admit it out loud, knew her
brother was oh so right.

“Look, I know I sound like a broken record, but just because
you’re not in LA anymore doesn’t mean you don’t have to be careful. Even here
in the Midwest, we have our crazies and lowlifes.”

“Brandt, you don’t have to worry. I wasn’t alone. My boss
was still at the office tonight, and he made sure I left when he did.” She
skipped over the part about not knowing Michael was there at the time. Her
brother didn’t need to know that part. “In fact, he insisted on walking me to
my car and made sure I left the garage in one piece.”

Her phone signaled an incoming call. Checking the screen,
she groaned.

“What’s the matter?”

“That’s my boss beeping in. He made me promise to call and
let him know when I made it home, and I forgot.”

“Good for him.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Whatever. Look, bro, I gotta go.
Talk to you tomorrow.”

She tapped over to the other line. “Hello.”

A deep voice drawled, “Well, hello, Ms. Morgan. I trust
you’re safe and sound at home and not stranded somewhere on the side of the
road?”

A shiver tingled along her spine. He had an über sexy phone
voice. “Yes, I’m home. I’m sorry. I really did mean to call you, but my brother
called. We got to talking, and it sort of slipped my mind.”

“Okay then. I just wanted to make sure you were fine before
I turned in for the night.”

“Thanks for checking on me.” Through the phone, she heard
his refrigerator door open and close.

“You’re welcome.” He took a sip of something. “You know,
Jordis, we do have remote access to the network available. I’ll have Technology
set you up tomorrow. You shouldn’t be alone at the office that late.”

“Here we go again.”

“Excuse me?”

Jordis sat down on the couch. “Michael, I’m really not in
the mood for this lecture again tonight.”

“Again?”

“I just got the whole
you-know-you-shouldn’t-be-at-the-office-this-late and
why-don’t-you-just-use-remote-access speech from my brother.”

“Ah. I understand. Big brother’s protective of you.”

“Actually, he’s my younger brother. By four years. A fact he
seems to keep forgetting.”

“He’s not forgetting. It simply doesn’t matter to him. He’s
a man and you’re his sister. It sounds like the two of you are close, which means
he considers it his job to protect you and make sure you’re taken care of.”

“Is that the macho in you talking or are you speaking from
personal experience as a sibling?”

An odd thunk, like the sound of a glass or bottle hitting a
kitchen table, resounded through the receiver right before Michael’s deep laugh
caressed her ear. She’d never heard him laugh before. She liked the sound.

“Macho in me, huh? So, you think I’m macho?”

“Oh, in the worst way.”

His chuckles tapered off as he continued, “Well, I don’t
know about that, but I do have two sisters. One’s older than me and the other
is younger, but I don’t think I treat either of them differently because of our
birth order. I’d certainly chastise either of them if I found out they stayed
at their offices late into the night with no one around but a few security
guards.”

Jordis got up and strolled into her bedroom while he talked.
She left the lights off and used the light from the hallway to see. She pulled
off her skirt, laid it neatly over an overstuffed chair, and unbuttoned her
blouse before plopping herself on her queen-sized bed. She lay on her back,
with her head at the foot of the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling with one
foot flat on the bed and the other dangling in the air at the end of her crossed
leg. The fingers of her free hand absently caressed her abdomen as she
continued their conversation.

“So, what you’re saying is because I wasn’t born with a Y
chromosome, I need you or my brother . . . or some man . . . to protect and
take care of me.”

“No. What I’m saying is because I
was
born with a Y
chromosome, it’s my nature to want to protect and take care of the women in my
life whether you actually need me to or not. It sounds as if your brother’s of
the same vintage.”

A long silence followed his comment. A slight thrill ran
through her at his use of the word
you
. She understood he spoke
generally, but something inside her liked the idea he could consider her
amongst the women entitled to his protection.

“You still there?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Well? No comment?”

What could she say to that? He hadn’t spouted the usual male
propaganda about women being the weaker sex or no matter what advances women
have made in the workplace, it’s still primarily the man’s job to bring home
the bacon. Because his argument wasn’t based upon finding her somehow lacking
or less capable than him, Jordis really didn’t have a retort.