Indiscretions (2 page)

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don't know.” She lowered her head and expelled a deep sigh. “I've toyed with the idea of leaving and going elsewhere. I even told them as much this morning.”

“You did?” Charisse was shocked. McMahon, Counts and Perry was the leading law firm in the state of Georgia. This job meant everything to Khendra.

True, she suffered occasional kicks in the backside, but for Khendra to even consider leaving must mean she had really had enough. Now Charisse was really worried.

She had known Khendra since they were five years old, growing up in the Atlanta housing projects. Even then, Khendra wanted to be an attorney and assumed the role of peacemaker between the children on the street when they were involved in fights. She had always been “different,” everyone said. It wasn't until she started school that they realized what the difference was. Khendra was brilliant. While everyone else struggled through school, Khendra skipped grades. Then, attending the prestigious all-girls Spelman College didn't help her social prowess either. By the time she was twenty, she had graduated from law school in the top five percent of her class. And in the following year she had passed the bar exam in both Georgia and New York.

To many men, Khendra was intimidating and a threat to their manhood. Not only was she beautiful, which she never seemed to realize, she was smart as well. A devastating combination. Yet, there were still those diehard few who would give their right and left arms just for some acknowledgment from her. But as Khendra had often said, she had never learned how to deal with men other than on a business level. The one time she tried, she had been devastated by the outcome and still blamed herself. She had so much to offer, but it was going to take a special man to help her realize that. Trying to help her find that man was a quest Charisse avidly pursued.

“What was the response of the mighty ones when you told them you were considering leaving?”

Khendra sighed deeply and stirred her Coke.

“Mr. McMahon said, ‘Well, Ms. Phillips,'” Khendra mocked in a low grumble, “‘we will certainly miss you, but you have to do what you think is best.'”

“Damn!” Charisse swore under her breath. “It would serve them right if you did leave. You can do better someplace else. Why don't you try some of the other law firms? You've had plenty of offers. What about that guy, Cliff something-or-other, in New York, who just started a firm? I'd miss you like hell, but at least I'd have a vacation spot. Go someplace where you'll be appreciated. You've put up with enough of this crap.”

“I have to stay. I only said that to get their reactions.”

“Yeah, and look what you got,” she added, taking a bite of chicken.

“I know, but I have something to prove, Charisse. Not just to myself, but to my family and to them. My folks never believed I could make it in a predominantly white male profession.” Her smooth brow furrowed in contemplation. “And I know this whole stunt is the firm's way of keeping me in my place. They've never made it a secret they haven't been pleased with my handling of the press on my previous cases. If and when I do decide to leave,” she said, her voice picking up strength and determination as she spoke, “it'll be on my terms—” she shook her auburn head vehemently—“not on theirs.”

Charisse smiled, satisfied Khendra would come out on top of this dilemma as she had all of the others. When the tide turned against Khendra, she was at her best. Charisse just wished she was as persevering in her love life as she was in her career. She was dynamite in the courtroom, but her success with men could use a good shot in the arm.

“Now that's the girl I know,” Charisse said, smiling brightly, “but listen, hon—” she checked her watch and took a forkful of food—“I've really got to get back to the boutique. If I don't, those salesgirls will run me in the poorhouse, selling things that ain't on sale.” She slapped her hand down on the table and let out a throaty laugh. “So I'll see you soon. Hear? Give me a call. I've got this great guy you'd just love.”

Khendra twisted her lips and shook her head in defeat. Charisse's life revolved around men and romance. It was a rare occasion when Charisse wasn't in love with love. Most people couldn't understand how they had remained friends for so many years. They were as different as night and day. That was probably the attraction. Charisse provided the excitement, while Khendra was the level-headed one. But maybe a date would do her good. It had been a long while. At least it would be a diversion from her usual routine.

“Okay, I'll call you,” she conceded. “We'll plan something.”

“Soon,” Charisse said firmly as she slid out of her seat, smoothing her white cotton skirt over her full hips. She slipped her dark shades over her broad nose and leaned over to give Khendra a peck on the cheek. “My treat,” she said, placing a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “And don't forget, I'll be waiting to hear from you,” she called over her shoulder as she made her exit.

Khendra waved goodbye and blew a kiss. When she had finished her Coke, she paid the check and headed back to her office.

Khendra stood momentarily in front of her office building, looking up at the unimaginative blocks of concrete and glass. Maybe that was why she was always so avant-garde in her mode of dress, she mused, looking down at her canary yellow linen skirt and brown paisley blazer. Perhaps it was her way of breathing life, vitality and a splash of color into the drab gray world of the legal profession. But her flamboyant nature and outspoken manner had cost her, she realized. Yet, she still refused to totally bend to the will of her superiors, no matter what they did to her.

Although her anger had subsided somewhat after talking with Charisse, it began to once again boil to the surface as she made the slow rise on the elevator. At some point, she knew she would have to confront the false faces of the other attorneys, with all of them knowing full well how she had been slighted. A dull throb pumped methodically in her right temple when she envisioned the questions, the looks.

This was the first time she could recall doubting herself. Self-doubt regarding her profession was an emotion with which she was totally unfamiliar. On the other hand, she knew from day one that as soon as she stepped through the hallowed halls of McMahon, Counts and Perry, she was going to have to work harder than anyone in the firm. Although her credentials spoke for themselves, she was the first black female associate ever hired in the firm's 104-year history. They took a chance with her, and she knew it. But her nonconformist nature would not allow her to be molded into their conventional approach to criminal defense, which was her specialty. This, compounded with her opinionated persona, kept her constantly in hot water with the senior partners. Inwardly she cringed when the words she had lashed out at them whipped through her brain. The recollection and the inevitable aftermath made her throbbing head spin.

Walking briskly through the hushed corridors, her mind totally entrenched in her latest dilemma, she made the sharp right turn toward her office and walked smack into what she swore had to be a recently erected wall. Her portfolio flew out of her hand, and its contents spilled out on the carpeted floor.

“I'm so sorry…I wasn't…I didn't—” she blurted out in an embarrassed jumble, realizing it was a person and not a thing she had collided with. She blindly stooped down to retrieve the scattered articles. As she gathered the materials in a pile, a warm, masculine hand covered hers, and a voice with the soul-stirring resonance of a gospel singer stroked her rattled nerves.

“Let me. It was partly my fault, anyway.” Khendra's eyes slowly rose and rested upon the most smoldering black eyes she had ever seen. They appeared to dance with mischief, and something more—something dangerously inviting.

“Are you all right?” he asked, the beginnings of a dimpled smile easing across his smooth face. When a full smile lit up his face, Khendra felt herself dissolve like melted butter, as perfect milky-white teeth sparkled against his deep, dark-chocolate complexion.

“Yes…I'm fine. Thank you,” she answered slowly. Who was that person who just sounded like Minnie Mouse?

He extended a hand to her, helping her to rise from her crouched position. She gingerly placed her hand in his and immediately felt the tingle of electricity creep through her body. His eyes and his smile held her entranced as she rose to meet his piercing gaze.

He stood a full head taller than she in her two-inch heels, which would place him at about six feet three inches, she quickly surmised. His appearance bore the impression of a sleek panther lethally quick and sensual. He wore his dark hair cut very close, allowing the natural waves to show through. His broad shoulders filled the obviously expensive suit exquisitely, leading her to feel he would look good not only in a boardroom, but on a football field as well. Just his look and the way his half-smile played around his full lips made her feel totally vulnerable and completely feminine, feelings that were gently disturbing. The only way she knew how to handle the situation was in a businesslike manner, though her insides yearned for another approach.

“Are you looking for someone? Perhaps I can point you in the right direction,” she said, a part of her hoping they were heading the same way.

“Actually,” he began somewhat sheepishly, “I'm heading toward my office.”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Really? I guess this is my day for getting caught off guard.”

“Excuse me?” He gave her a curious look.

“Nothing. Just thinking out loud. So…where is your office?”

“Right down the hall, I think.” He pulled a card from the breast pocket of his midnight blue suit. “According to the receptionist, my office is opposite a Khendra Phillips'. Do you know her?”

Khendra's stomach fluttered. “Very well, actually. I'm Khendra Phillips.” She gave him a tentative smile. “And you are…?”

He returned her smile. “So you're the formidable Ms. Phillips.” He was pleased by the bright colors she wore, which were totally in contrast to the somber hues that pervaded the legal industry. His eyes quickly slid over her curvaceous figure, as he concentrated hard to keep his mind focused on the conversation at hand.

“I've heard great stories about your legal wizardry.” His satiny voice caressed her statuesque form as he spoke. “The newspaper photos do you no justice.”

As his dark eyes once again roamed over her body, Khendra had the dizzying sensation of being stripped bare under his heated gaze. A slow throb pumped steadily inside her, as though warning her of the unseen danger that lingered behind those volcanic orbs. Then that heart-stopping voice brought her back to reality.

“It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Sean Michaels.” Khendra's smile slowly dissolved.

“Problem?” His brows creased at her sudden change in expression.

So this was Sean Michaels! The hot-shot attorney from New York who had stolen a golden opportunity from her. Her anger rushed to the surface in waves.

“I guess I don't feel too formidable today,” she said curtly.

His thick eyebrows rose in surprise. “Tough case?”

“No. Tough politics.” She gave him a cutting smile. “I've really got to be going, Mr. Michaels.” She started to move away.

“Maybe you'd like to talk about it,” he called out to her retreating back.

She stopped and turned toward him, confusion and surprise outlining her eyes.

“That is, if you want to. I have a very sympathetic ear.” He shifted the stack of briefs under his arm and gave her the most unsettling look as he waited for her response.

“I don't know if that—”

“How about this? Why don't I take you to dinner when we sign off?” He shrugged his left shoulder and tilted his head to the side, looking at her through dark lashes. “We can talk about anything you'd like. No shop talk.” When she didn't respond, he added, “I could really do with some beautiful company. It gets pretty lonely when you're new in town.”