Sleeping With the Enemy Read online

  Jay moved to the large windows overlooking the Blaze campus, putting his back to the other men in the room because he wasn’t so sure he could maintain a stoic expression any longer.

  “I’m sure you’ve met Bridgett, at the very least at Brody’s wedding this past spring,” Hank was saying. “By all accounts, she’s as brilliant in the courtroom as she is beautiful.”

  The tension that had been torturing his neck and shoulders since the meeting began settled uncomfortably in another part of Jay’s anatomy as he thought of the “brilliant” and “beautiful” Bridgett Janik. She’d avoided him at her brother’s wedding, just as she had every time their paths had crossed in the past eighteen months. Always impeccably dressed in some expensive, figure-flattering outfit, the petite blonde with the light gray eyes hadn’t even graced him with a haughty look since he’d taken over ownership of the Blaze. It was as if he was invisible to the woman, while the short hairs at the back of his neck lifted every freaking time she entered the same room as him. Given his reaction to her, she couldn’t be as immune to Jay as she pretended. He allowed himself a moment to admire her ability to remain aloof—it was a skill he’d cultivated for years. But he needed to discredit her as the Blaze’s outside counsel. Because working with the alluring Bridgett Janik would be too much of a distraction for Jay, and he didn’t need any more distractions in his life.

  His eyes were still focused on the leaves changing color on the trees surrounding the practice facility as he spoke. “I’m sure that’s a conflict of interest.” He tossed the suggestion out, hoping Hank and Art would latch on to it.

  “Actually, no, it isn’t,” Art piped up. “There’s no prohibition on a family member representing another family member in a courtroom. Although, it’s not always the best idea. I can quote several cases where it hasn’t been effective.” Hank cleared his throat and Art continued. “In any case, Ms. Janik will be technically representing you as the owner of the Blaze. Her brother’s association with the team is irrelevant.”

  Great, Jay thought to himself, the guy can’t try a case in court, but he knows all the intricacies of conflicts of interest.

  “With any luck,” Hank pointed out, “we won’t need outside attorneys, but I think Stuart’s plan is a good one. Having Bridgett in our corner will certainly give us some credibility with both men and women.”

  Jay hoped Hank was right, that this case would die out before the Blaze became the butt of jokes by late-night talk show hosts. More important, he hoped it would settle quickly so that he’d be able to keep his distance from Brody Janik’s sister.

  “Stuart is sending his team over this afternoon, as soon as they go over the court documents,” Hank went on to say. “In the meantime, let’s let Don see what he can find out about the Knowles girl. After that, we can come up with a defensive game plan.”

  He listened as the other men filed out of his office. All the while, Jay was formulating his own game plan on how to ensure Bridgett Janik would quickly recuse herself from the case.

  • • •

  The teakettle whistled with annoyance while Bridgett Janik carefully stirred the ingredients for chai tea into her cup. She tucked the cell phone between her ear and her shoulder and reached for the shrieking kettle.

  “I’m sorry, Stuart, but I thought you actually said cheerleaders for a minute there.” Bridgett stirred her tea before blowing carefully over the rim.

  “That’s because I did say cheerleaders, Buffy,” the senior partner for her firm’s Baltimore office, Stuart Johnson, replied on the other end of the phone. He’d dubbed her “Buffy the Class Action Slayer” two years ago when she’d persuaded the judge to quash half the designated class in a large environmental case weeks before the plaintiffs had even issued subpoenas. “Good to know you didn’t leave your hearing over in Italy with all your hard-earned money. How was the shopping spree, anyway?”

  Bridgett recognized a redirect when she heard one. And Stuart’s were always among the best. It was what made him such a successful trial attorney.

  “My trip to Italy was wonderful, Stuart. I slept until noon. I ate bread and pasta and I shopped like I had the money to spend. The best vacation a girl could want after eighteen months on a case. But you already know this because your wife was there for part of my vacation.” Elizabeth, her boss’s wife, had a bit of a shoe fetish. When Bridgett had mentioned she was headed off for a shopping vacation on the Italian coast, the older woman had looked so enthralled that Bridgett had invited her along. She hadn’t minded the company because it gave her an excuse not to invite one of her interfering sisters. “Get back to the subject of stupid cheerleaders, Stuart.”

  “You say cheerleader as though it’s dirty somehow.” Stuart’s tone was teasing. “Naughty even.” He laughed at his words, and Bridgett let out an exasperated sigh as she carried her tea over to the large window in the living room of her condo in Boston’s trendy Back Bay area. Sunlight sparkled off the dew still glistening on the rooftops in the early autumn morning. “What have you got against cheerleaders anyway?” he asked.

  Bridgett blew on her tea. “Nothing.”

  “No, your tone says otherwise. Don’t tell me you always wanted to be a cheerleader but you just weren’t chirpy enough?”

  “Funny.” She took a sip, letting the chai mingle on her tongue. The Janik girls had all been cheerleaders—all except for Bridgett. She’d tried out, begging her friend Jessica to audition as well. Given that two of her sisters had preceded her on the squad, Bridgett figured she’d be a sure thing. After all, she had the looks and the requisite pom-poms to fill out the uniform. Jessica—the one she’d had to coax into trying out—got picked instead. Stuart was correct. It was the chirpiness. The cheer sponsor and the two captains thought Bridgett was too serious to be an effective cheerleader. Well, she was a serious person. A girl didn’t get into Harvard without being one.

  Apparently, the decades-old slight went deeper than Bridgett remembered, judging by her reaction this morning. She’d have to examine that little character flaw later, though. “Focus, Stuart. You said we’re taking on a case involving cheerleaders. Can you give me more detail than that, please?”

  Stuart laughed. “Usually you only get snippy when I mention conscious uncoupling. I’ll have to add cheerleader to the list of words that make Bridgett lose her practiced cool.”

  Bridgett was glad Stuart couldn’t see her bristle at the phrase conscious uncoupling. “Hey, Jimmy Fallon, do you want to call me back after you get finished with your monologue?”

  He laughed again before sobering up. “I didn’t say we were representing the cheerleaders. We get to be the bad guys and defend the party they are suing.”

  Now, that was more like it. Bridgett took another sip of tea as she considered the possibility of being retained by a school or a university against a bunch of girls in short skirts and ridiculous hair bows. “Oh, please tell me we get to defend against a group of helicopter parents who want their daughters to all win the first-place trophy?”

  That got another laugh out of Stuart. “That tune will change when it’s your little darling sobbing that some myopic judge robbed her of the blue ribbon.”

  Bridgett paused with her teacup poised at her lips. She wondered if Stuart was right. But then, she’d never know, would she? Somehow she doubted that, even if she had a child, she’d want him or her not to think they had to be winners all the time. How would that prepare them for life? Life could be cruel. Bridgett knew that firsthand. There was no use sugarcoating it. The point was moot, however, and Bridgett swallowed her tea around the lump in her throat.

  “Actually, these are NFL cheerleaders,” Stuart explained.

  “The NFL has cheerleaders?” Of course there were the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. They were practically icons. But, Bridget wondered, did the other teams have actual cheerleaders? She’d never really noticed.

  Stuart was
silent for a moment on the other end of the line. “You can’t be serious. Don’t you go to your brother’s football games?”

  Bridgett’s younger brother, the baby of the Janik family, was Brody Janik, a Pro Bowl tight end for the Baltimore Blaze and certified heartthrob to women around the globe. He was as much of an icon as the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. In fact, her brother’s new sister-in-law had once been on the Dallas squad. “Sure I go to his games, but I don’t go to watch the cheerleaders.” She mainly went out of family obligation and because Brody was the one member of the Janik clan who understood Bridgett for who she was. The rest of the Janiks wanted to make her over to be more like them: settled. “I didn’t think the Blaze had cheerleaders.”

  “They do,” Stuart said just as an ominous feeling settled in the pit of Bridgett’s stomach. “And they’re suing team management for alleged workplace violations.”

  “Oh no,” Bridgett whispered.

  “Oh yes,” Stuart said. “And the Blaze have hired us to handle their defense. And you, Buffy, are the perfect person to take the lead. Not only are you a woman—although it would have helped tremendously if you’d been a cheerleader at one time—but you’re also Brody Janik’s sister. Score one for us in the headlines when this goes public later today.”

  With a less than steady hand, Bridgett set her tea down on the antique marble side table she’d bought in Florence a few years back. Stuart wanted her to defend the Baltimore Blaze in a class action suit? Against cheerleaders? If that wasn’t too insulting, she factored in the team’s new owner: Jay McManus. The man was insufferable, arrogant, obscenely wealthy, and sex on a stick. And he made her stomach crawl every time she got within fifty feet of him. She did everything she could to keep her distance from the man at all costs. Working for him on his defense would violate her own personal restraining order and Bridgett couldn’t go there.

  “I’m sure it’s a conflict of interest somehow,” she said, adding a silent prayer after the words left her mouth.

  “Come on, Bridgett. Second year law school. There’s no conflict here even if the Sparks were suing your brother directly.”

  Bridgett softly banged her head against the warm window, scaring a pigeon hanging out on the other side. Of course Stuart would have thought this through. He didn’t make a move without carefully considering all the options. She tried another tactic. “I don’t know. I’ve been in Baltimore for over two years on the Pressler case. I’d like to hang out close to home for my next case.”

  “Hang out at home? Bridgett, before you left for Italy, you begged me to staff you on a case that was anywhere BUT Boston. Remember the nagging family whose radar you are trying to fly under? Brody’s been married for six months. You’re the only single one left. They’re gunning for you, Buffy. But hey, if you want to deal with that, I’ve got an open-and-shut discrimination case filed by some fast-food workers in Worcester you can first-chair.”

  There’s no such thing as an open-and-shut case that involved discrimination. With another headbang against the window, she cursed her entire family, including her not-so-favorite brother, Brody, and her sweet old Grandpa Gus, who had conspired together to marry her off to the first available orthodontist they could find. She’d be a sitting duck if she stayed in Boston.

  “How long?” she said, her tone resigned.

  “That’s the can-do spirit,” Stuart said. “I won’t know the particulars until we pick up the filing at the courthouse. I sent Dan over there to get it.”

  Bridgett sighed. Dan Lewis had been her associate on the Pressler case. At least he was a good lawyer.

  “That blogger who writes the Girlfriends’ Guide to the NFL made a vague reference to the case late last night—that’s what put it on Hank Osbourne’s radar. Since then, the media have run with it.” Stuart’s chuckle sounded amazed and annoyed at the same time. “Believe it or not, several women’s groups have already announced plans for protests of this Sunday’s Blaze game.”

  Bridgett knew of the blogger. Whoever was behind the poison pen—or in this case, keyboard—had tortured her brother, Brody, last season, nearly causing him to lose his career and the woman he loved.

  “I’ve set up a meeting for three this afternoon at the Blaze headquarters. Hank will be waiting for you. And, Bridgett, I don’t have to tell you what a client as wealthy as Jay McManus could do for this law firm—not to mention your partner earning statements.”

  “Wait, you said Hank will be waiting for me. Just where exactly will you be?”

  “On speakerphone. I’ve got to be in Manhattan to take care another of those conscious-uncoupling cases you love so much. But I’ll meet you back at the Baltimore office tonight and we can discuss strategy. Toni has you on the eleven o’clock flight, so you might want to pack those gorgeous Burberry bags of yours and hustle to the airport.”

  As she hung up the phone, Bridgett gave the window another thump with her forehead. Her options were limited, really. She could stay in Boston and suffer her family’s futile attempts at matchmaking or head to Baltimore, where a meeting with the man she’d come to know as the Antichrist awaited her. Every nerve ending in her body screamed that she’d just made the absolute wrong choice.

  Two

  Dan was waiting for Bridgett at the airport. Instead of heading to the office, they took a detour to G&M restaurant for a working lunch.

  “You know me too well, Dan,” Bridgett said as their server placed a fresh crab cake in front of her.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d be happy to be back in Charm City, so I thought I’d sweeten the day with your favorite lunch,” Dan said with a laugh.

  “Don’t worry. Just because I might be here for a few months doesn’t mean I’ll rescind my offer; my Blaze tickets are still yours to use this season,” she told him. “You don’t have to stuff me with food.” She took a moment to savor the delicious lump crabmeat. “Umm. These are so good, I might be inclined to ask Brody for a sideline pass for you this weekend, though.”

  Dan had played college football at the University of Delaware and still loved everything about the game. Bridgett had never understood why grown men acted like giddy little boys when they got around professional athletes. Even smart men like Dan fawned over her brother, Brody, as though he were the crown prince of pizza and beer.

  “Actually, just between you and me, I’m hoping the exposure to Jay McManus will open a few more doors than just the sidelines.” Dan took a sip of his drink while Bridgett’s enjoyment of one of her favorite foods evaporated with the mention of the Antichrist’s name.

  Dan misinterpreted her sigh as displeasure with him. “Oh, hey, I’m going to give everything I have to this case; don’t get me wrong. And I love working for the firm. It’s just always been my dream to work in the NFL somehow. Did you know the general counsel for the Blaze isn’t even a trial attorney? If I play my cards right, maybe they’ll place us on retainer and I can fulfill two dreams at the same time.”

  Bridgett waved him off. “I get it. Trust me, you’ll have Stuart’s blessing, not to mention a big fat bonus, if you can pull that one off.” She didn’t mention that she’d rather balloon up two dress sizes before working with a football team—particularly one owned by Jay McManus. “Tell me what you’ve got so far. What was in the filing?”

  Dan pulled the folder out from his briefcase. “It’s got all the earmarks of the other cases floating around the NFL: wage discrimination, lack of compensation for appearances, character degradation. Yada, yada. It looks like this woman is out for some publicity and maybe a little blood, too. She’s also accusing the team of sexual harassment.”

  She wilted a little in her seat. Stuart hadn’t been shortsighted in naming her as lead attorney. A woman defending against a sexual harassment case was a common legal tactic, but it also put Bridgett in an extremely untenable position. The defense was almost always built on discrediting the supposed victim and her
perception of the harassment. She never shrank down from these cases, but she didn’t enjoy them either.

  “I know I’m going to hate the answer either way, but please tell me there’s something substantive to her case.”

  “The case cites some incidents at the annual calendar photo shoot in St. Barts this summer. The one named plaintiff claims there wasn’t enough security in place and that the women were harassed by sponsors, fans, and—wait for it—a couple of players who also happened to be at the resort.”

  Bridgett released an exasperated sigh. “Imagine that, players hooking up with cheerleaders.”

  “Actually, it’s in their contract—the cheerleaders’, that is—that they’re not allowed to fraternize with players, coaches, or any of the staff.”

  “Is it in the players’ contracts that they can’t date the cheerleaders?”

  Dan looked a little stumped at her question. “Uh, I don’t know. But I can check.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that one is a big fat no.”

  He shrugged. “Most of the girls who sign up for this gig are dancers or aspiring models. I doubt any of them really want to marry an NFL player.”

  Bridgett arched an eyebrow at him. “At least until they see the number of zeros in the guy’s bank account.”

  “All the same, if this woman can substantiate the sexual harassment charges, it’s gonna make headlines.”

  “Apparently it’s already gotten the attention of women’s rights activists.” Bridgett picked at the rest of her lunch. “What do we know about this woman?”

  “Not much yet. I’m hoping the team will have something for us later today, although management of the cheerleaders is actually subcontracted out, so most of the information will come from a third party.”

  “Wow, and I thought environmental law was complicated,” she said, shaking her head. On the positive side, that little tidbit meant she likely wouldn’t have to deal with the Antichrist.