He watched her now, dressed in a tailored navy suit with an ivory silk tie blouse. Her high heeled shoes were polished, her pale hair was confined in a stylish chignon, her gold knot earrings matched a gleaming brooch on the lapel of her jacket. She was always like that, tightly controlled, neat as a pin and as finished as a dressmaker’s hem. Oh, how he longed to mess her up, to see that shining hair falling loose on creamy, naked shoulders, those lady lawyer clothes piled in an irreverent heap on the floor. His floor. He suddenly realized what he was thinking, swallowed hard, and tore his gaze away from her.
This would never do. When he was in the courtroom he had to concentrate on the case. There would be time enough to pursue her when the session was over for the day. That day.
He could wait no longer.
* * *
Marisa was walking down the marble floored corridor of the courthouse that afternoon on her way back to her hotel when she heard a man call her name.
She knew who it was before she looked. She took a deep breath and then turned and faced him, her expression calm.
“Jackson Bluewolf,” he said, extending his hand.
“I know who you are, Mr. Bluewolf,” Marisa said dryly, grasping his fingers briefly.
“I wonder if I might speak with you.”
“Go on,” Marisa replied evenly, looking up at him, thinking that he must be very tall. She was wearing heels and he still topped her by several inches.
“Not here,” he said. “Where are you staying?”
Marisa hesitated.
“I merely thought we could have a drink in the lounge,” he said mildly, his lips curving slightly.
“At the Fillmore,” Marisa said, feeling foolish.
“Good. There’s a comfortable bar on the lower level. May I walk you over there?”
“Why?”
“I want to talk to you. Concerning the case, of course.”
“I think we’re covering everything we need to say in the courtroom,” Marisa said.
“It will just take a few minutes. Please.”
“All right,” Marisa said reluctantly.
He fell into step beside her, saying, “May I take that for you?” He indicated her briefcase.
“I’m used to carrying a bag, Mr. Bluewolf,” Marisa said.
“Call me Jack,” he said, and smiled.
Be careful, Marisa, she thought. At close range his charm was overwhelming, a combination of his arresting good looks, his physical grace, and the easy smile which revealed beautiful, slightly uneven white teeth. He was wearing a taupe pinstriped suit which complemented his dusky skin and gleaming black hair. His eyes, she noticed, were not the dull brown of ordinary eyes but an intriguing amber, the color of fine sherry or very old, very expensive Scotch.
Yes, be very careful indeed.
“So what is this about, Mr. Bluewolf?” she said briskly.
He chuckled.
“What?” she said, startled, looking over at him.
“Jack,” he reminded her gently.
Marisa shrugged. There was something about him that made standing on ceremony seem ridiculous.
They emerged from the building into the balmy late afternoon air. The hotel was just across the main street and he took her elbow as they traversed the intersection. Marisa felt herself stiffen and then relaxed deliberately. Really, she was acting like a child.
The hotel bar was thronged with happy hour revelers. Jack greeted the host familiarly and they were shown to a secluded corner, away from the noise and confusion.
“Your friend?” Marisa said, nodding toward the departing man.
Jack made a deprecating gesture. “I’ve been in Ponte Azul for several months now, working on the case. This place is convenient to the courthouse; Ben and I have been in here quite a bit.”
Ben was Ben Brady, the NFN lawyer, and the mention of his name reminded Marisa why she was there.
“Well?” she said.
He raised his brows.
“The case.”
“Oh, yeah, the case. I was wondering if it has occurred to you that you’re working for the wrong side.”
This statement so accurately reflected what she had been thinking that she froze, stunned. She waited for a long moment and then said smoothly,“I’m not going to discuss politics with you, Mr. Bluewolf.”
“Politics?”
“The goals of the NFN, while they may be laudable, are a political matter. I am here to represent the federal government to the best of my ability in a court case, and that I intend to do. It would be unprofessional and unethical of me to do anything other than my level best to win the case for my client.”
“Well said,” Jack observed, watching her face.
A waitress arrived to take their order.
“What will you have?” Jack said, looking at her.
“Club soda with lime.”
“And a bourbon for me. Thanks.” He waited until the woman had departed and said, “You’re a last minute replacement, aren’t you?”
“How did you know that?”
“The papers your firm filed indicated that somebody named Arthur Winston was going to be representing the feds. Then you showed up at the preliminary hearing. Even before I heard the judge address you by name I would have bet good money that you weren’t Arthur Winston.”
“Arthur was in a car accident and I had to take over when it was clear he wouldn’t be able to continue.”
“I see.” He sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “I’m going to be frank with you, Ms. Hancock. There is much more at stake here than a cemetery or a highway. The Seminoles are using this hearing as a forum to air a long history of unfair treatment by the government. The protesters, the editorials in the local papers, the tempers flaring all over the county have little to do with the court case. They have much more to do with the poor conditions of reservation living which have left all of the Indians in this area bitter and malcontent.”
“I’m aware of that,” Marisa said evenly.
“You’re now at the center of this whirlpool, the most visible representative of the government and therefore identified with its position. Do you realize this could be dangerous for you?”
Marisa met his eyes levelly across the tiny table. “Are you threatening me, Mr. Bluewolf?” she asked quietly.
His face went blank. His drink came at that moment and he gulped about half of it before he replied.
“You’ve got me wrong,” he said huskily. “I was only trying to warn you to be careful.”
“I’m sure it won’t shock you to learn that a warning like that could be viewed as intimidation.”
“You’re jumping to the wrong conclusion, Ms. Hancock.”
“Possibly, and if I am, I apologize. I’m merely basing my reaction on my past experiences. You wouldn’t be the first person to try scare tactics when I turned out to be a little more formidable than I look. Some threats are more subtle than, ‘Catch the next plane out of here, lady, or you’ll be sorry.‘“
“Do you really think that of me?” he said softly, holding her gaze deliberately.
“Mr. Bluewolf, I don’t know you. I do know that my arrival here was not exactly good news for your organization, and even though my case has not been going well lately each day I keep on fighting. It would be much easier, and cheaper, to drive me out of town than to bear the expense of countering every motion that I file. If I’m terrified into dropping the case, you win. If I’m terrified into leaving it to someone else, the confusion and delay caused by replacing me can only work to your advantage. Am I making my position clear to you?”
“Perfectly,” he said tightly.
“Good,” she said, rising smoothly. “I’m so glad that we understand each other.”
He shoved his chair back and stood also, his eyes blazing.
“Thank you for the drink,” she said primly, leaving it untouched at her place as she turned and walked away.
Jack drained his glass as he watched her go, then slammed it onto the table so hard it cracked.
Damned impossible woman. She had completely misinterpreted his intentions. But somehow, instead of turning him off her cool, determined response had only gouged the hook in deeper.