It was time to go for the kill, and he knew the best way. It was a huge gamble. One that could very well backfire, blow up in his face.
But he’d go for it anyway.
He turned and sauntered back toward his table. His client and Byron Devers, the young associate who’d accompanied Quentin to court, were both staring at him with poker faces. Quentin had groomed them to expect the unexpected.
Lexi was also watching him, riveted. He flashed a quick, lazy smile at her, and she smiled back.
Standing at the table, Quentin made a show of thumbing through a folder, as if he were searching for something specific. “What if I told you, Ms. Tanner, that I’d recently come into possession of an email sent by you to a colleague in another department? In that email, you raved about Mr. Henry’s successful handling of a certain project, and you stated that you’d give him a promotion in a heartbeat if it were entirely up to you? What if I told you, Ms. Tanner, that this email was sentthree daysbefore my client was terminated?”
He was bluffing, of course. The “colleague” he’d referenced had been too afraid of retaliation to testify against her employer. So he didn’t have any actual email exchanges to furnish as evidence.
But it didn’t matter.
In the second before the lead defense attorney jumped to his feet to object to the introduction of new evidence, Mary Tanner burst out defensively, “You don’t understand how much pressure we’re under to—” She caught herself.
But it was too late.
A hushed silence fell over the courtroom.
Quentin brought his head up slowly, his brows arched inquiringly. “How much pressure you’re under to dowhat,Ms. Tanner?” he prompted softly.
She clamped her lips together and darted an apologetic glance toward the defense table.
Noise erupted in the courtroom as the gathered spectators and reporters reacted to her damning near-admission. Judge Greer banged his gavel, calling for order.
“Your Honor,” the lead defense attorney implored, “in light of this development, we’d like to request a short recess to, ah, regroup.”
“I figured you would, Counselor” was the judge’s droll response.
Quentin’s client was grinning from ear to ear. And Lexi was giving him a thumbs-up sign, her face glowing with pride.
Quentin smiled at her.
Watch out, Lexi. I’m coming for you next.
Chapter 8
That evening, Quentin invited Lexi and their friends out for dinner and drinks to celebrate how well the trial was going. A court case of this magnitude ordinarily took at least four weeks. In light of the day’s surprise development, everyone believed that a favorable verdict for Quentin’s whistle-blower client was a foregone conclusion.
Lexi and Quentin were the first to arrive at the upscale downtown restaurant. After the gushing hostess requested Quentin’s autograph, he and Lexi were escorted to a posh VIP lounge and served cocktails while they waited for the rest of their party to join them.
Although it had been hard to keep her distance from Quentin for the past six days, Lexi was glad she’d toughed it out. He’d needed to concentrate on the trial, andshe’dneeded time to recover from their last explosive encounter and shore up her defenses. Now, seated beside him on the plush sofa—not within kissing distance—she felt reasonably in control of herself and the situation. Of course, knowing that they wouldn’t be alone much longer certainly helped.
Reflecting on the drama that had unfolded that day in the courtroom, she smiled and shook her head. “No matter how many times I’ve seen you in action, Quentin, you never cease to amaze me.”
He chuckled softly, lounging on the sofa with one arm draped across the back of the seat cushion and a glass of whiskey cradled in the other hand, which bore his gold class ring from Morehouse. He still wore his impeccably tailored Gucci suit, but he’d removed his tie and loosened the top three buttons of his shirt, exposing the strong, masculine column of his throat. He looked utterly relaxed and content, a man at his leisure.
He also looked drop-dead sexy.
Shoving the unwelcome thought from her mind, Lexi continued, “Seriously. I’ve already told you a thousand times what a gifted, brilliant trial lawyer you are. You’re absolutely riveting. But I swear, Quentin, you say and do some of the most outrageous things sometimes. I mean, onlyyouwould stop to tie your shoes, then compliment the other guys’ shoes, before cross-examining a hostile witness.”
Quentin grinned, tapping a broad finger to his temple. “It’s psychological.”
“I know. Everything you do in that courtroom is calculated.” She’d seen him manipulate and seduce women with the same finesse. It was downright frightening.
“But all kidding aside,” he said soberly. “I really want to win this case. My client stood up for what he believed in, and it cost him his job and his good reputation. These health insurance companies are controlling people’s lives—deciding whether they live or die—based on how much profit they stand to gain. It makes me sick to my damn stomach. If I can’t get these greedy bastards convicted for their corrupt policies, then taking a pound of their flesh is the next best thing.”
Lexi gazed at him, goose bumps peppering her skin. One of the things she’d always admired about Quentin was his fiery intensity. He was passionate about his beliefs, his innate sense of right and wrong. He’d gone into law to become an advocate for those who couldn’t advocate for themselves. Lexi used to tease him back in college, telling him that beneath his devil-may-care playboy persona beat the heart of a righteous crusader.
