The Player (6 page)

There were two people already seated at the conference table—one was obviously the court reporter, and the other was a woman who looked to be in her mid-fifties. Her blonde hair hung to her shoulders, and while she had a few extra pounds around her middle, she was an attractive woman. She looked up at them, then glanced back at the door. “Where’s Blair?”

Good God. Was he so thoroughly haunted by his ex-girlfriend that the opposing counsel had her name? He suddenly felt like Ebenezer Scrooge—forced by the ghosts of his past to face all his wrongs and inadequacies.

Rob Sisco offered her a smile, but it came across as patronizing. “She’ll be here in a moment.” Then he looked at his watch and stifled a yawn.

Garrett swallowed the urge to ask the guy if he was bored. Instead he sat on the other side of the table, across from Ms. Hansen’s client, and pulled out his laptop so he could open the document of questions he’d prepared.

Sisco took a seat several chairs down and started drumming his fingers on the table, not stopping when Mrs. Norfolk shot him an irritated glance.

Garrett glanced up at the clock on the wall. 10:59. Jesus, this was going to be a long week.

He glanced toward the glass door, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Blair—
his
Blair—standing in the hall, wearing a long-sleeve black blouse and a white skirt, her hair up in a twist. How could she be
here
of all places? But the dozens of questions running through his head gave way to concern as he studied her. She looked off, like something had upset her. But even as he watched, she steeled herself and shook off whatever was going on. He could tell by the way she straightened her shoulders and turned toward the door with confidence and authority. It burst open, and Garrett stood as she entered, still in shock. Why was she going by B.A. Hansen when she was Blair Myers? A moment of panic washed through him—
could Hansen be her married name?
—but then it hit him. Hansen was her mother’s maiden name, and the A was from her middle name—Anne.

He’d found her and he hadn’t even tried. They hadn’t seen each other since law school, and now they’d been thrown together twice in two days. This had to be the universe telling him to pursue her. He felt more hopeful than he had in years.

She stopped behind one of the empty chairs, her face turning several shades lighter as her eyes searched his face, probably trying to verify that it was indeed him.

“Blair?” Sisco asked. “Is there a problem?”

She gave an involuntary shudder, then forced a smile as she moved to the table. “No. Of course not.” She extended her hand to him over the table. “Blair Hansen. I hear you’re taking Philip Lopez’s place.”

He leaned over and shook her hand. So she wanted to play it like they were strangers. He understood the reasoning—he’d probably do the same thing in her situation—but it felt odd to pretend he didn’t know her when he’d held her in his arms the night before. “Garrett Lowry.”

“Have a seat, Mr. Lowry.” She waved toward his chair and waited until he took a seat before she did the same. As soon as she was settled, she placed a legal pad with neatly written notes on the table in front of her. He wasn’t surprised. She’d always preferred to handwrite her notes in law school versus using a laptop.

She studied her pad for several seconds, then reached for the water pitcher in the middle of the table and poured a glass. He saw a tremor in her hand as she lifted the glass to her lips. She was obviously shocked to see him, but she’d looked shaken up before she even stepped into the room. Something else had happened, something unrelated to the realization that they’d be sparring partners this week. She needed time to recover, and he was going to give it to her. He turned to the reporter.

“Do you have the physical address and email address of my office in San Diego?”

She looked up in surprise. “Of course.”

“Could you read it off to me so I can make sure it’s correct? We’ve recently moved offices.”

She rattled off both, then looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

“Thank you.” He smiled and caught a glimpse of Blair out of the corner of his eye. Most of her color had returned, and she looked more prepared.

She took a deep breath. “Let’s begin.”

In many ways, it was a routine deposition. Rowena Norfolk was accusing her husband of philandering with multiple twenty-something-year-old women. Garrett had read Lopez’s notes. She was right. Now Mr. Norfolk wanted to divorce the current Mrs. Norfolk and marry version 2.0. The current Mrs. Norfolk wanted to make him pay for his indiscretions, and Blair Hansen was pushing hard to make that happen.

There wasn’t much Garrett could do to discredit her story. Hers was the vanilla side of their divorce, and both attorneys knew it. For all intents and purposes, Mrs. Norfolk was the victim. The juicy details would come out when Blair deposed Lopez’s client and his girlfriends.

While Rowena Norfolk came across as the victim, it was Garrett’s job to find any discrepancies that might discredit her innocence, which meant he had to act like an ass. Fortunately for him, he was fairly good at it. He had a few nuggets to dig into from her answers in discovery. Rowena’s husband had suggested his soon-to-be ex-wife had hidden money before the separation, and what was more, had committed an indiscretion of her own. Garrett was fully prepared to weasel the information out of her—if there was any grain of truth to it—but try as he might, his usual tactics didn’t work. Blair and Rowena stonewalled him at nearly every opportunity. Blair was protective of the woman, stopping him multiple times when she thought his questions went too far.

Sisco left halfway through the deposition, and Garrett could see some of the tension leave Blair’s shoulders. Was this why she’d seemed so upset last night? Was she in trouble at work? He couldn’t imagine why. She’d sure as hell convinced Lopez she was a hard ass—the most coveted reputation an attorney could earn. He also knew Blair enough to know she was not the type to break rules or skirt the edges of morality. What could she be in trouble for?

When he finished his questions, he thanked Blair’s client and stood to leave. He wanted to talk to Blair, but he couldn’t do that in front of Mrs. Norfolk. He walked out of the conference room, taking satisfaction in the way Blair’s gaze followed him.

It was a little after noon now, and their next deposition was at three. Maybe he could convince Blair to join him for lunch. The Country Club Plaza was only a couple of blocks away, and they’d have time to talk and get back for the meeting. If Blair was like any other professional, the best way to get in the figurative and literal door was through her assistant. Good thing he knew who her assistant was, even if he didn’t know her name.

The short hallway he’d come down had been lined by conference rooms, so he headed down the perpendicular hallway, looking for the woman who’d led him to the conference room. He found an open area with several desks outside a bank of offices and saw her sitting at one of the desks. She had a phone to her ear and was arguing.

“I don’t care if you have to fly that crab from Timbuktu—you will have it here for the reception, or we will sue you for breach of contract. Got it?”

He grinned as he listened to her end of the conversation. He could tell Blair had rubbed off on her.

She glanced up at him and her eyes widened. “If there are any more issues, I’ll expect you to call me immediately.” She hung up and grimaced. “Can I help you, Mr. Lowry?”

“You’re Blair’s assistant, correct?”

Her guard went up. “Yes, I’m
Ms. Hansen
’
s
assistant.”

“Does Ms. Hansen have lunch plans?”

The woman couldn’t have looked more surprised. “Uh . . .”

He sat on the edge of her desk and leaned closer, waggling his finger at her computer. “Come on,” he teased, knowing he was pouring on the Garrett Lowry charm a little too heavy. “Just squeeze me in there. A quiet little lunch for two.”

“That sounds cozy,” Blair said, her tone short.

Garrett jerked upright, cursing under his breath. “Blair.”

Her eyes narrowed with disgust. She skirted around him and walked into her office. “Well, don’t let me stop you. You two have a great time.” She slammed the door behind her, and her assistant shot him a death glare.

“I think that’s your answer, Mr. Lowry.”

Ouch
. Garrett stood. “Maybe I should go talk to her.”

She reached under her desk and pulled up her three-inch pump. “You go near the door, and I’ll gouge your eye out with my heel.” Her jaw clenched with anger.

Her reaction caught him by surprise. While she was admittedly very loyal to her boss, her statement seemed a little strong given the situation, if not unprofessional. Frustrated, he considered threatening to report her, but that would only piss off Blair even more. He needed to regroup and come up with a new way to convince Blair to talk to him. Garrett held his hands up in surrender. “I’m rather fond of my eyes, so I guess I’ll go to lunch on my own.”

“Good idea.”

“I’ll go to lunch with you!” a brunette called out from a nearby desk, her voice all sultry promise.

He grinned and pointed his finger at her. “I’m gonna take a rain check, sweetheart.”

He walked out angry, but he only had himself to blame. He’d laid the foundation for Blair to believe he was hitting on her assistant, which meant he was back to square one, not that he’d even gotten very far. Blair was a proud woman, and he’d broken her heart five years ago—just as he’d broken his own.

Well, he couldn’t change the past. He could only move forward, and if nothing else, Garrett Lowry was a stubborn man. He wasn’t giving up that easy. Not this time. Now that she was back in his life—and it was truly starting to seem like this was kismet, even though he and Blair had always laughed at such romantic notions—he was going to try his best to earn another chance.

He went to his hotel and wheedled his way into an early check-in, then grabbed a sandwich before heading back to Blair’s office. His phone rang when he was almost there, and he groaned when he saw it was Nana Ruby.

“Hey, Nana. I’m here in Kansas City. Happy?”

“Hell no, I’m not happy. Your mom and your aunt are at it worse than ever.”

“You seriously thought making me a groomsman would improve the situation?”

“Your aunt and uncle are having dinner with Neil and his fiancée tonight. You’re going with them.”

“Nana. No. I have something else I need to do.” He had hoped to convince Blair to talk after the deposition, maybe even grab coffee.

“The only thing you need to do is help settle this family war. Suck it up, boy. Your aunt’s gonna text you the address. Dinner’s at six.”

Great. Just what he needed. Dinner with his mouthy aunt, his whipped uncle, his dick cousin, and said cousin’s fiancée, who was probably as dull as dirt given her choice of mate. Yippee. He couldn’t wait.

He arrived at Blair’s office forty-five minutes early and asked for early access to a room so he could have somewhere private to prepare. He had no delusions that the next deposition would go so well. Blair was deposing one of Brian Norfolk’s
indiscretions
, and he expected her to bring her A-game and then some.

The receptionist must have heard about his disastrous attempt to secure a lunch date with Blair. She batted her eyelashes and told him she was free for dinner.

“Sorry,” he said with a grin. “I have plans.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” She sounded hopeful.

“What I really need right now is that room . . .” His words trailed off, and she got the hint.

She stood and opened the door to the back with her keycard. “There’s a small room where you can work. I’ll show you.” Then she led him down a hall and pushed open a door, revealing a table surrounded by four chairs. A phone sat on the table next to the wall. “I’ll let Melissa know you’re here, and someone will come get you when it’s time.”

“Do you know if Ms. Keating has arrived yet?”

She shook her head. “She hasn’t, but I can bring her back here when she arrives if you’d like.”

“Thanks.”

He went over his notes until Ms. Keating arrived about twenty minutes later. Between her short, tight dress, her exposed cleavage, and her heavy makeup, she looked like a toss-up between a hooker or a stripper, and neither was a good option for them.

“Did Mr. Lopez not discuss the importance of dressing conservatively?”

She looked herself up and down, batting her eyelashes. “This
is
conservative.”

Good God. What did her version of seductive look like? He tried prepping her for possible questions Blair might ask, but it soon became apparent that Brian Norfolk’s interest had been in her looks and not in her intelligence.

There was a knock on the door, and Melissa poked her head in. “We’re ready for you in the conference room.”

The bloodbath he watched unfold in front of him for the next two hours didn’t come as a surprise, but it didn’t exactly help his ego either. Blair was relentless, and though Tiffany Keating tried to evade Blair’s questions, the younger woman was soon spilling her guts, despite Garrett’s constant counsel to the contrary.

When Blair finally announced she was done, Garrett figured if there was ever a time she might talk to him, it was now, when he was thoroughly beaten. Perhaps she’d take pity. But she got up from the table and left the room. He would have given anything to follow after her, but he had to deal with Tiffany Keating first.

“Did I do good?” she asked, batting her eyes.

“You answered truthfully,” he hedged. “That’s the important part.”

A grin spread across her face. “Say, do you want to get a drink?”

Garrett forced a friendly smile. “Thanks, but I have plans.”

She stood and leaned into him. “How long are you in town?”

“I’m really not sure, but I’m going to be busy the entire time I’m here.”

“Well, if you change your mind . . .” She lifted her eyebrows, her voice heavy with innuendo.

He escorted her out to the reception area and saw her off, glad to part ways with her, mostly because she reminded him of one of the flakes he’d dated after he threw Blair away. He didn’t deserve a second chance with that powerful, beautiful Amazon of a woman he’d seen in action in the conference room just now, but damned if he wasn’t going to try anyway. Tomorrow.