Friction by Sawyer Bennett
She's promised me that she won't hold my job and what I have to do in the courtroom against me, which I might have believed at one point, but not after she took me to Lauren's grave.
Not after she shared with me the nature of her relationship with Jenna.
Not after I learned what Jenna did for Lauren.
Turning away from the courtroom, I head through a set of double doors and enter into the back halls of the civil superior court division. Pulling out my phone, I try to call Rhonda Valasquez again.
As expected, I get her voice mail.
"Ms. Valasquez, this is Reeve Holloway again. I'd really, really like to talk to you. I do represent Dr. Summerland, but even if you know something that could hurt my case, I'd still like to hear it. It could help settle the case, spare Jenna LaPietra a stressful trial. Please call me back. You have my number."
I hang up, knowing deep down that this woman won't call me back. I have no clue what she knows about Dr. Summerland, but she knows something. The funny thing is, I'm not seeking the information hoping I can use the knowledge to protect Dr. Summerland. I think I'm really hoping she'll tell me something that would help Leary's case. Not that I could ever disclose that to Leary. That would be as big of an ethical violation as if I told her about the rebuttal witnesses I'm going to call to attack Jenna. I have no clue what I'm hoping to accomplish, but I feel that Valasquez is important for some reason.
I walk into Judge Henry's office suite and smile at his secretary, who sits at a small cherrywood desk outside the judge's chambers.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Holloway," she says with a warm smile.
Sneaking a quick look at the nameplate on her desk, I say, "Good afternoon, Mary."
"Judge Henry is still hearing a motion right now, but Miss Michaels is already in his office. You can go in. He shouldn't be but ten more minutes or so."
I nod at her and head into the interior office, knowing that in about two seconds I'll be looking at Leary's beautiful face, and my oxygen will feel a little sweeter once I'm in her air space.
I've been in Judge Henry's office before. It has typical dark paneled-wood walls, commercial-grade burgundy carpet, and dark-cherry furniture that matches his secretary's desk. He has two leather wing-back chairs, also in burgundy, that sit opposite his desk, and at the sound of my entrance, Leary leans to the side and peeks her face around the side of one. Her eyes rake over me quickly, and her lips curve upward in a sinful smile.
I close the door and she says, "Hey, stud."
Striding over to her, I don't bother with a response. Instead, I place my left hand on the back of her chair and lean over the top. Her face tilts up and I give her an upside-down kiss. "Hey, beautiful."
She snakes a hand up, and it curves around the back of my neck, pulling me back down. She kisses me this time, slipping her tongue deep in my mouth, and the sweet sensations of pleasure and peace run through me.
This woman riles me up like no other, yet makes me entirely calm at the same time.
Unreal.
I pull slowly away from her, loving the way her eyes are closed and a satisfied smile is left behind.
Stepping to the side of the chair and squatting down beside her, I bring my hand up and rest it on her knee. "What are you doing the rest of the day after we finish this conference? Want to knock off early and go do something?"
"I have a partners' meeting at four p.m. We're voting on next year's partnership candidates," she says, a wistful tone in her voice.
"Bummer," I say with a sad smile. "Are you coming over tonight?"
"You know I am," she says, and the promise in her voice has me wishing for time to go wonky and fast-forward by about five hours.
Looking back over my shoulder at the closed office door, I slide my hand up just a little higher on her leg. When I turn back toward her, I lean in a little closer and squeeze her leg. "Why don't you give me a peek of what you have under that skirt? Give me something to think about the rest of the day?"
She snickers at me and tries to bat my hand off her leg. "We're sitting in a judge's office, Reeve. Show some decency," she admonishes without any real censure in her tone.
Grinning, I slide my hand up a little higher. "I have no decency where you're concerned."
Her hand slams onto my wrist and grips it tightly, trying to halt my momentum. "Stop it," she growls--or is that a purr?
"Just a peek, baby," I cajole. "Black lace, right?"
"You're not looking," she says primly.
I straighten my fingers out, turn my wrist slightly, and they find her bare skin just above the lace of her stockings. "If you won't let me look, how about a touch?"
"No," she hisses and attempts to slam her legs together. I anticipate this, though, and shove my hand all the way in between her thighs until I cup her pussy. Grinding the heel of my hand on her, I whisper, "Touch or look, baby? What's it going to be?"
"Reeve," she says in a moan, "Judge Henry could walk in any moment."
"Maybe," I say. "And that would be really awkward. So quit fighting me and give me just a look or a touch and I'll leave you alone."
Leary's eyes flash hot at me with both annoyance and lust. "Fine," she snaps. "A quick touch."
Chuckling, I pull my hand back a tad so I can angle a finger under the elastic band that rests in the crease of her leg. Just as I get the tip of my index finger inside, I hear Judge Henry's booming voice out in the office area. The walls must be paper-thin, because I can hear him tell Mary, "Here are my notes on the restraining order. Go ahead and type me up a rough draft and print it out double spaced."
"Reeve," Leary says in panic and starts to push at my hand lodged between her legs.
Mary's voice comes through the door, "Right away, Judge Henry. But first, can I ask you a few questions about your accommodations for the judges' conference next month? I'm having trouble booking your flights."
Leary continues to push at my hand, but I hold it rock solid.
"Move your hand and get away from me," she whispers harshly.
Shaking my head, I give her an evil smile, working my finger under the elastic. "I want my touch first."
"He'll be coming in any second now," she protests.
"Just give in, baby," I urge her with a grin. "Five seconds, I'm in and out and then I'll leave you alone."
My heartbeat is slamming so hard against my chest, I'm sure Judge Henry and Mary can hear it outside the door. But for some reason, I don't want to give in. My need to touch Leary, to feel what's between those silken lips, has become imperative to me.
"Fine," she grits out, and her legs spread for me.
Fuck, yeah.
I slide my finger all the way in, swipe it through the lips of her pussy, and immediately find her practically dripping. I consider my options. A quick flutter over her clit or a bit of a deeper invasion?
Fuck . . . I want her to remember this all day while she's sitting in her stupid partner meeting. I opt for deep invasion.
I shove my finger inside her, easily sliding home because she's so wet. All the way up to my third knuckle and curl it upward. "Oh, baby. Fuck me . . . so damn wet."
Leary does nothing but moan and jerk her hips. I smile big but sadly as I pull my finger out. The conversation outside the door seems to be wrapping up. Tugging the edge of her panties back in place, I remove my hand from between her legs and stand up.
Leary's face is flushed pink, and she hastily scrambles to smooth her skirt down. When she looks up at me, I stick my finger in my mouth and suck it clean. "Mmm, baby. You are delicious."
"Oh God," she mutters and then adds in a complaining tone, "you are so going to fuck me good tonight to make up for that."
Winking at her, I reach down and adjust the semi I'm sporting and stride over to the chair beside hers, sitting down and crossing my legs in gentlemanly fashion. She slides a glance at me, shooting me a look of exasperation.
Before she can turn away, I say, "Hey."
"What?" she whispers.
"I adore you."
She smiles at me, not with just her beautiful lips, but with every prism of color in those fantastic eyes, and then Judge Henry opens the door and walks through.
We both start to stand up, but he shoots an impatient wave at us as he starts to unzip his black robe. "No. Sit, sit. No formalities here."
Both Leary and I say a quick hello as he removes his robe and hangs it on a hook on the back of his door. As he walks to his desk, he cuts us both a quick look and nods a greeting.
Then he does a double take at Leary. "Are you feeling all right, Miss Michaels? You look a little flushed."
She's as smooth as silk when she says, "Thank you for asking, Your Honor. I'm fine. Just decided to take the stairs rather than the elevator."
"Oh, good, good," he says absently as he sits down in his chair. Pulling his glasses from his face, he takes a moment to clean them with his tie and then puts them back on.
"Okay, so we're here for the pretrial conference for LaPietra v. Summerland, et al., correct?"
"Yes, Your Honor," we both answer simultaneously, but Leary reaches into her briefcase and pulls out a multipage document. Handing it over to him, she says, "Mr. Holloway and I worked out a proposed pretrial order. We've been able to agree on all of the issues for the jury except for a minor disagreement on the wording of the causation issue."
Judge Henry takes the order and starts reading it. He pays careful attention to the wording issues. These will be the exact questions the jury will have on their verdict sheet when it's time for them to deliberate.
"Before I let you argue about the wording of the causation issue, is everything else accurate on the order? Witnesses? Evidence? You both agree on all this stuff?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Leary says quickly. "Everything is on there."
Massive guilt pours through me, because not everything. My three surprise rebuttal witnesses aren't on there, but under the law, I don't have to provide those. Just another reminder of the weight I'm carrying on my shoulders by keeping this secret from Leary.
Judge Henry nods and turns back to the jury issues. "Okay, Miss Michaels, tell me what the problem is with the wording here."
For the next ten minutes, both of us argue until we turn blue in the face. Our disagreement isn't a minor one, and it's something we tried to work out on our own one day through e-mail correspondence. It was weird having a spirited argument with her over the law and rules of procedure. It was a good thing we did it via e-mail and from our respective offices, because she was so sassy to me, I wanted to bend her over my knee and fire her ass up. I wanted to fuck her hard and make her come all over my cock.
Of course, none of that happened.
That night, though, when she came over to my house, I told her that it turned me on, and she proceeded to pick a fight over our respective positions on tort reform. She lit into me good, didn't hold back, and was about as disrespectful as you could get. Turned me the fuck on, and she got her spanking and a hard fucking to boot. I went to bed with a satisfied smile on my face as I pulled her into my arms.
Judge Henry finally makes a decision and actually comes up with a middle-ground compromise on the issue. I'm satisfied with it; Leary isn't. She wanted to win and she didn't, and I have to wonder what mood she'll be in when we leave here, since she didn't get exactly what she wanted.
"Is there anything else we need to discuss before the trial?" Judge Henry asks as he takes his glasses off and puts them on the table.
"I don't think so," I respond.
Leary says, "Nothing other than some standard motions in limine that I'll need to present before the trial starts."
"Sounds good," Judge Henry says. "We'll address those at the appropriate time. Now, I need to ask, is there any chance of settlement? I see in the file that Miss Michaels has filed a motion for sanctions against Mr. Collier and TransBenefit for failing to show up at the mediation."
His hard gaze is pinned on me, and he's giving me a little preview of his feelings about that motion. "I'm sorry, Your Honor. Against my advice, TransBenefit is refusing to make an offer."
"You know I don't like these insurance companies not playing by the rules, Mr. Holloway. This motion that Miss Michaels had to file does not make me happy. Is your client aware that the law pretty much demands I award her the money she's asked for?"
"Yes, sir," I say quickly. "I've advised Mr. Collier to pay the amount rather than have me argue the motion, but he doesn't want to take my advice."
"Well, maybe pass on to your client that I might just tack on a little more to what she's asking for not only wasting her time but mine as well."
"Duly noted, sir," I say with an apologetic smile. "I'll pass the message along."
"Okay, then," Judge Henry says as he stands up from his desk. Leary and I also stand, and we all take a moment to shake hands. "I'll see you two in my courtroom week after next for the start of the trial."
Leary and I wish Judge Henry a good day, grab our briefcases, and head out the door. After waving good-bye to Mary, we hit the back hallway.
"How mad are you about the jury issue?" I ask with a teasing smile.
"Not mad enough to avoid you tonight," she says saucily. "You owe me a good fucking, remember?"
I do a quick look behind us, don't see anyone, and spin on Leary. Dropping my briefcase, I grab her by the shoulders and push her back into the wall. She doesn't even get out an outraged gasp before my mouth is on hers and I'm giving her a good, hard kiss.
I make it quick because I don't want to get caught, but before I pull completely away from her, I ask, "Do you adore me, too?"
Her eyes light up, go a shade warmer, and she places her fingertips on my jaw. "Yeah, I adore you, too."
CHAPTER 19
LEARY
The trial has started.
It's on.
We're in our third day of jury selection, and it's almost complete. Contrary to what many people think, a case is either won or lost in jury selection. There's evidence and witnesses and then the pomp and circumstance of compelling closing arguments. While that's all important, none of it matters unless you have the right jury.
The law says the jury should be fair and impartial.
I say horseshit.
Every attorney who has ever conducted an effective voir dire has done so by stacking the jury with people who are biased in his or her favor. To do this, the judge gives us latitude in asking a wide variety of questions, designed to pick at and expose a juror's true feelings and philosophies. Mix that in with body language, tone of voice, and eye contact, and there's a true art to homing in on those jurors who can make or break your case.
So far, Reeve and I have agreed on ten of the twelve spots. The clerk has called in two more people from the jury pool to fill the empty seats, and I begin questioning them, starting from the top once again. Basic background information, marital status, current job, educational history, et cetera. Then I dive into meatier issues, like how they feel about tort reform and people who bring lawsuits against doctors.
So far, I've been pleased with the jurors. I've tried to stack it male heavy, because they'll be more sympathetic to an attractive woman with deformed breasts. Women, naturally, will not be sympathetic to Jenna being a stripper. I did exercise a few of my challenges on two men who, despite what might be a natural affinity for boobs, had other things about them that made them unattractive to me. One was a schoolteacher, and they're notoriously conservative, and the other was a minister. Now, I've had my share of liberal ministers on juries before, but there was something about the way the man looked at Jenna that had me on edge. All of his answers made him come across as completely fair and impartial, but I noted censure in his gaze. So I went with my gut instinct and released him.
Turning to the first applicant in one of the empty seats, I say, "Thank you for the background information, Mr. Harmon."
He beams back at me. He's young, maybe twenty-five or so, unmarried, and employed as a graphic des
"Can you tell me how you feel about the type of lawsuit that my client, Jenna LaPietra, has brought against Dr. Summerland and his practice?"
Mr. Harmon leans back, places one ankle on his knee, and grins. "Nothing wrong with it. It's what our country is about, right? Equal access to the judicial system and all."
I'm surprised he didn't add on a "dude" to that, but the guy is surprisingly smart. He has a college degree, after all.
"And in particular, when the trial is over, I'm going to be asking the jury to award Jenna a large sum of money. Part of that award will be for pain and suffering. Can you tell me what you think about the concept of paying someone money for intangible things like pain and suffering?"
Mr. Harmon leans forward, shoots a quick look at the judge, then brings his gaze back to me. He dramatically sniffs the air in front of himself and says in his best stoned-out voice, "Ah, nothing like the sweet scent of money to drive the stink of pain and suffering away, dude."
For the first time in my legal career, I've been struck dumb by a juror. His answer is absolutely fucking perfect, but was given in such a way as to border on disrespectful to me. Not that it bothered me, but I turn to look up at Judge Henry, wondering if he'll chastise the juror. I find him staring bug-eyed at the blond-haired young man, his jaw slightly agape.
Before he can collect himself, I turn back to the juror and give him an appreciative smile. "Thank you, Mr. Harmon. Those are all the questions I have right now."
I actually have a ton of other questions, but I'm not going to bother. After that answer, there's no way Reeve is going to let that kid stay on the jury. Mr. Harmon all but agreed he'd be the type to award big bucks for pain and suffering.
Fucking bummer. That dude--yes, dude--was the dream juror of all jurors. I give him one last almost-sad glance and turn to the other juror who was called into the box.
The courtroom has emptied out and the bailiff has turned out the lights. He patiently waits at the back doors for Reeve and me as we pack up our stuff. Reeve's cocounsel, Gill Kratzenburg, and the insurance company representatives--four in addition to Tom Collier--all made a break for the doors when Judge Henry recessed for the day. Jenna also hightailed it out of there, but that was so she could smoke a cigarette.