It’s now five minutes past the time my motion hearing should be starting. The courtroom is eerily silent. It’s only me, the judge, and the bailiff, and we’re patiently—okay, not so patiently—waiting for Leary Michaels to show up. The judge doesn’t look too perturbed, but then again, Judge Henry has a reputation for being mellow and laid-back. He’s got his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, scanning something on the laptop that sits in front of him. The bailiff looks supremely bored, but that’s par for the course. I can’t imagine his job is very exciting.

I didn’t think I had a snowball’s chance in hell of winning this motion, but if opposing counsel doesn’t show up, the judge will probably grant me the unexpected victory. Of course, the partners in my firm will go apeshit, because we’ll lose out on the opportunity to bill thousands of dollars in future legal fees to our client on this case. Quick victories don’t pay the bills.

I hear the door at the back of the courtroom open, and Judge Henry looks up with a slight smile on his face. “Ah, Miss Michaels. Glad you found some time in your hectic schedule to join us here today.”

Miss? Well, I guess that question has been answered.

I turn slightly in my chair to take a quick peek at my opponent, and gravity pulls my lower jaw down hard as I see the woman in red sauntering up the aisle toward us like she was on the catwalk.

What. The. Fuck?

She doesn’t even spare me a glance as she pushes herself through the low swinging door that separates the gallery from the area that houses the judge’s bench, the counsel tables, and the jury box.

My eyes narrow as I watch her take the table to my right, saying in a crisp tone as she sits down, “My apologies, Your Honor. I think all of our time is going to be wasted today with this motion.”

My head jerks back in surprise at her temerity, not only because she didn’t sound at all apologetic for keeping a judge waiting but by the blatant venom of her tone. She’s clearly not happy to be here.

Can’t say I blame her, as this motion borders on a fraudulent use of the court’s time, so I just shrug and lean back in my chair, letting my gaze rake over Miss Michaels. She’s sitting up so straight, I’m sure a steel pole is fused to her spine. Her hands are clasped firmly on the table, and she stares straight at the judge.

“Mr. Holloway,” Judge Henry says, and my eyes snap to his. “I believe this is your motion, if you’d like to start. I’m sure we all have better things to do with our Friday afternoon.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” I say as I stand up, even though my head is spinning. I still can’t let go of the image of her taking off that silk stocking in the elevator. That flash of skin on her thigh, the promise of the sweetness that was just beyond.

I’m discombobulated at best when I make my argument, fumbling several times in the process. This, of course, is almost unheard of for me. I’m a fucking phenom in the courtroom, and the last time I was tongue-tied was when Mary-Beth Schubert stuck her hand down my pants in junior high when we were playing Seven Minutes in Heaven.

Fifteen minutes later, having made the lamest and most excruciatingly unmeritorious argument in the history of law-dom, I sit back down and wait to see what Miss Michaels will do. She really shouldn’t do much more than stand up, sneer in my direction, look back at the judge with arms outstretched, and go, “You’re seriously going to listen to this dipshit, Your Honor?”

That’s what I’d do . . . if I didn’t think it would land me in jail.

Miss Michaels stands with the cool sophistication she’s exhibited from the moment I barreled into her. It’s quite hard for me to remember that just twenty minutes ago, she was giving me quite a striptease, and I have no clue why that even occurred. My cock still twitches when I think about it, so I hastily try to focus on her argument, just in case I need to react.

“Your Honor, I’m not even sure I should waste my breath responding to Mr. Holloway’s small-minded and timid arguments. The standard is that the allegations in Plaintiff’s complaint should be deemed admitted for the purposes of this motion, and outside of Mr. Holloway showing some evidence of fraud, we really shouldn’t even be here. Not only did he fail to make a showing of such, but clearly he needs to wipe the cobwebs out from what I would loosely call a brain to even think such a motion would pass muster under your keen gaze.”

Fuck, she’s ballsy and completely going out on a limb. Her tactic isn’t to attack my argument but to attack me, as evidenced by the fact she slammed my intellect in front of Judge Henry by actually raising her hands and making air quotes when she referenced my brain. The woman is vicious and she hasn’t even yet addressed the merits, or lack thereof, of my motion.

“But let me make clear to this esteemed court,” she continues in a haughty tone. “Jenna LaPietra went to Mr. Holloway’s client, Dr. Summerland. She paid him good money to have breast-reduction surgery, and in return, he left her maimed. Now, Mr. Holloway might not be a breast man, and in fact, based on what little dealings I’ve recently had with him, I’m not sure he’d know how to find one with a GPS, but I can assure you, Miss LaPietra’s disfigured body has left her life in a shambles, with catastrophic medical bills and no means to earn a living.”

My man card in crucial need of saving, I surge out of my chair. “Objection, Your Honor. I am indeed a breast man and know my way around them with my eyes closed—but legs tend to be more my thing,” I say with a lascivious smile aimed toward my opponent.

“Couldn’t prove it by me,” Leary Michaels sneers back at me.

“Well, it takes a real woman—” I start to say, but I’m cut off.

“Children . . . I mean, counsel,” Judge Henry says in a tired voice. “Let’s use our inside voices when making snide comments that have nothing to do with the merits of this case.”

“Totally agree, Your Honor,” Leary says in a placating voice. “Mr. Holloway is being completely inappropriate.”

“I’m being inappropriate?” I snarl as I stand up. “Your Honor, despite the fact Miss Michaels purports to hold a law degree, she’s yet to argue one iota of law. I have to wonder who has cobwebs in that hollow space of a skull that’s supposed to hold her brain.”

Did I just say that out loud?

Judge Henry picks up his gavel and bangs it on his desk, but it’s not loud enough to cover up the snarl emitting from those beautiful lips that would look amazing wrapped around my cock.

“Enough,” Judge Henry barks at us. “God, they don’t pay me enough to listen to this crap. Mr. Holloway, your motion is denied. There is no basis for it, and the one thing that Miss Michaels did say that is utterly accurate is that this is a waste of the court’s time. Now, is there anything further you two brats want to discuss with me today?”

“No, Your Honor,” the witch in red says sweetly. “As always, you make a well-reasoned decision.”

“No, Your Honor,” I grumble. “I apologize for wasting the court’s time.”

“So be it,” Judge Henry says as he raps his gavel once more. “Court’s in recess.”

I close the file on my desk as Judge Henry steps off the dais and heads through the door to his chambers. When I turn, I see that my opponent is already walking down the aisle, her black purse slung over her shoulder. It’s then that I realize she didn’t even bring a file to court with her, she was so assured that she was going to win.

“Hey,” I call out to her as I scramble through the swinging door, wincing as I bang my knee against it.