few steps. She wondered why he continued to
guide her along, but she didn’t shake off his touch. The depth of color in his
darkened eyes gave him a smoldering look that sent waves of adrenaline pulsing
through her veins. She felt like the protagonist in one of those thrillers she
liked to watch on television. She had the sense ominous music should be playing
in the background, the kind that presaged getting into tight
quarters—like an elevator—alone with him might be a colossal
mistake.
Chapter 5
When they reached the elevator bay, Michael removed his hand
from Jordis’s back to push the Down button. Although he no longer touched her, the ghost of his hand lingered along
her back. He didn’t speak. He stood quietly at her side staring straight ahead.
Jordis didn’t speak either, too busy trying to make sense of the odd current
that had passed between them back at her office.
She thought about the look in his eyes when he’d caressed
her face. He hadn’t tried to kiss her, but she’d gotten the impression he’d
wanted to. But that was ridiculous, right? Michael Remington didn’t do office
romances. The talk around the office made that clear.
The elevator arrived, and they stepped in together. Michael
continued his silence. Jordis continued her silent musings about him. They’d
known each other for only a few days. How had he managed to get under her skin
with no more than a few touches and a challenging look from those hypnotic gray
eyes?
Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. This pull stemmed from more
than his physical appearance or a few touches. The guy intrigued her. He had
from the moment he’d walked into the conference room three days ago. Since
then, she’d run into him in the hall a few times and finished a research memorandum
for one of his cases on appeal. Reviewing the file for that case had added to
the admiration she’d already developed for his courtroom style. The man wrote
one hell of a brief. His written legal work stood in equal measure with his
courtroom flair.
Uh-oh. Personal curiosity, physical attraction, and
professional admiration. This
could not be happening. She was not developing a thing for a guy at work . . .
and a white guy at that. Was she out of her mind?
Jordis glanced at Michael. She’d learned to thrive in the
predominantly white school and work environment she’d been immersed in since
her days at the all-girl college prep high school her mother insisted she
attend, but she’d never dated outside her race. If she were going to start, now
was not the time to develop an appreciation for tall, vanilla swagger. Well,
given his luscious olive skin tone, maybe he was more like butter toffee
swagger. Either way, a fling with a senior partner, even one—especially
one—as sexy as Michael Remington was definitely not in the cards.
Nothing undermined a female lawyer’s credibility in the
office quicker than talk she slept around with fellow associates. Carrying on
with a senior partner? That constituted premeditated reputation suicide, a
quick way to get herself labeled an opportunist set on sleeping her way to the
top.
As if sensing her pensive mood, Michael slowly turned to
face her. “Something wrong?” His deep baritone voice reverberated within the
steel box of the elevator.
Warmth poured from his gaze. The look in his eyes made her
senses prickle with apprehension. “No.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Her pitchy tone belied her calm outward appearance.
His eyes cruised heatedly down the length of her body, and
she hoped that wasn’t the answer to her question.
“Like you’re considering . . . the possibilities?”
He took a step in her direction, as if propelled by a force
outside himself. His movement caused a waft of his cologne to drift over her,
and she was once again struck by the thought the fragrance was familiar. That
prickly feeling intensified.
She took a measured step backwards.
Michael continued to
guide her along, but she didn’t shake off his touch. The depth of color in his
darkened eyes gave him a smoldering look that sent waves of adrenaline pulsing
through her veins. She felt like the protagonist in one of those thrillers she
liked to watch on television. She had the sense ominous music should be playing
in the background, the kind that presaged getting into tight
quarters—like an elevator—alone with him might be a colossal
mistake.
Chapter 5
When they reached the elevator bay, Michael removed his hand
from Jordis’s back to push the Down button. Although he no longer touched her, the ghost of his hand lingered along
her back. He didn’t speak. He stood quietly at her side staring straight ahead.
Jordis didn’t speak either, too busy trying to make sense of the odd current
that had passed between them back at her office.
She thought about the look in his eyes when he’d caressed
her face. He hadn’t tried to kiss her, but she’d gotten the impression he’d
wanted to. But that was ridiculous, right? Michael Remington didn’t do office
romances. The talk around the office made that clear.
The elevator arrived, and they stepped in together. Michael
continued his silence. Jordis continued her silent musings about him. They’d
known each other for only a few days. How had he managed to get under her skin
with no more than a few touches and a challenging look from those hypnotic gray
eyes?
Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. This pull stemmed from more
than his physical appearance or a few touches. The guy intrigued her. He had
from the moment he’d walked into the conference room three days ago. Since
then, she’d run into him in the hall a few times and finished a research memorandum
for one of his cases on appeal. Reviewing the file for that case had added to
the admiration she’d already developed for his courtroom style. The man wrote
one hell of a brief. His written legal work stood in equal measure with his
courtroom flair.
Uh-oh. Personal curiosity, physical attraction, and
professional admiration. This
could not be happening. She was not developing a thing for a guy at work . . .
and a white guy at that. Was she out of her mind?
Jordis glanced at Michael. She’d learned to thrive in the
predominantly white school and work environment she’d been immersed in since
her days at the all-girl college prep high school her mother insisted she
attend, but she’d never dated outside her race. If she were going to start, now
was not the time to develop an appreciation for tall, vanilla swagger. Well,
given his luscious olive skin tone, maybe he was more like butter toffee
swagger. Either way, a fling with a senior partner, even one—especially
one—as sexy as Michael Remington was definitely not in the cards.
Nothing undermined a female lawyer’s credibility in the
office quicker than talk she slept around with fellow associates. Carrying on
with a senior partner? That constituted premeditated reputation suicide, a
quick way to get herself labeled an opportunist set on sleeping her way to the
top.
As if sensing her pensive mood, Michael slowly turned to
face her. “Something wrong?” His deep baritone voice reverberated within the
steel box of the elevator.
Warmth poured from his gaze. The look in his eyes made her
senses prickle with apprehension. “No.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Her pitchy tone belied her calm outward appearance.
His eyes cruised heatedly down the length of her body, and
she hoped that wasn’t the answer to her question.
“Like you’re considering . . . the possibilities?”
He took a step in her direction, as if propelled by a force
outside himself. His movement caused a waft of his cologne to drift over her,
and she was once again struck by the thought the fragrance was familiar. That
prickly feeling intensified.
She took a measured step backwards.
Michael continued to
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