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  DEVIL’S ADVOCATE

  TB MARKINSON

  MIRANDA MACLEOD

  Copyright © 2022 T. B. Markinson & Miranda MacLeod

  Cover Design by Victoria Cooper

  Edited by Lida Townsley

  This book is copyrighted and licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any forms or by any means without the prior permission of the copyright owner. The moral rights of the authors have been asserted.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Preview of Take Two

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ash froze at the edge of the glittering ballroom, her comfort zone disappearing faster than shots of tequila at a sorority party. At least, she assumed that was what went down at those shindigs. She’d been too busy working three jobs during the nine years it took her to complete college part-time to have any personal knowledge of such extracurricular pursuits.

  Unlike the rest of the aspiring lawyers in the room, sipping their champagne and chitchatting like they’d been genetically engineered to hobnob.

  The guest list for the opening reception of the McGill and Harding Mock Trial Invitational read like it had been ripped from Mrs. Astor’s list of The Four Hundred. Tonight’s Gilded Age mansion might have been renovated into a luxury hotel and event space, but the great-great-grandchildren of America’s elite were still schmoozing within its walls like it was 1899. Ash wasn’t sure whether she wanted to despise them or be them.

  No, that wasn’t true. She knew which she’d prefer. But being one of them wasn’t an option. That ship had sailed right along with the Mayflower, and it was not a coincidence that was how the ancestors of most of these folks had gotten here.

  Despising them was the only sensible option.

  Despite being one of the prestigious competition’s finalists herself, in her bargain rack suit and discount store shoes, Ash knew full well she fit in with this elite crowd about as well as a bucket of dirty mop water. Then again, the only way one of her own forebears would’ve visited this place in its heyday was if they’d been hired to clean it.

  Don’t let that thought take root in your head, Ash commanded herself.

  After all, her legal skills were kick-ass and she had the take-no-prisoners attitude to match, as long as she didn’t let self-doubt creep into her head. She was better than any of them, and she couldn’t afford to forget it. Her entire future depended on snagging the summer associate position that was the prize for first place. While most of the other contestants probably had hundreds of connections to help secure a job at a top law firm, this was Ash’s only chance to get her foot in the door.

  You’d better not blow it, she thought.

  “Let me guess.” Coming from behind, a feminine voice, silky smooth and delectably low, sent a shot of searing heat through Ash’s core. “You’re the latest woman who thinks she can ruin my life.”

  Clutching the delicate stem of her wineglass with more force than was wise, Ash pivoted ever so slowly, completely focused on maintaining the icy veneer she’d worked so hard to erect in preparation for the evening. In this setting, emotional detachment was more useful than a full-body shield. But as she came face to beautiful face with the voice’s source, Ash struggled to maintain her composure.

  Hot. Damn.

  Considering the deep timbre of the stranger’s voice, her small stature came as a shock—but not half as much as her pleasing face and generous curves. The woman’s blush-pink cashmere suit set off her smooth blonde hair and sparkling sapphire eyes to perfection. The outfit easily cost more than all the items in Ash’s closet combined.

  Typical Ivy Leaguer.

  This woman could’ve been Lawyer Barbie brought to life, except Ash was pretty sure the popular children’s doll was supposed to be a hell of a lot taller than five-foot-nothin’. As the silence stretched, the stranger’s glossy pink lips quirked in an amused half-smile, anticipating Ash’s response to her less than orthodox conversation starter.

  Don’t lose your steely nerve now, Ash begged herself silently. After coming so far, she couldn’t let this pretty lady be her undoing.

  “Excuse me?” Ash flicked one brow upward, a practiced gesture she’d spent years perfecting. It never failed to give her an edge. “Do women often make a habit of ruining your life?”

  “Aside from my ex—who did her best to elevate ruining my life to an Olympic sport—most women are smart enough not to try. I’m Caitlyn, by the way.” When the woman extended a hand, the hint of hunger in her eyes unleashed a pulse of energy inside Ash. The heat shot all the way to her toes before zipping back to her center with the dangerous power of a riptide.

  Oh fuck. Were Ash’s ears falling victim to an auditory hallucination brought on by desperate wishful thinking, or had this diminutive vision of sexiness just referred to her ex with a feminine pronoun?

  You’ve got to keep it together, Ash urged herself, primarily directing her command at her libido, though she was open to help from any and all parts willing to pitch in to fight for the greater good.

  Engage porcupine mode!

  “And I must be stupid. Otherwise, why would you think I would risk ruining your life when so many other women know better?” Each word was a spikey quill, Ash’s sole focus being to force this overly confident woman onto her back foot. Whether inside the courtroom or out, the best defense was a good offense.

  It wasn't necessary to go to Harvard to know that.

  There was a flash in Caitlyn’s eyes of respect with a dash of something spicier, the prospect of which threatened to unleash a host of fantasies best not entertained in polite company. Not that Caitlyn and polite seemed to belong in the same sentence. Beneath the pampered Persian cat exterior, Ash suspected this woman was completely feral.

  Which was fine. Exciting, even. Ash relished the triumph of holding her own against this tiny but undoubtedly formidable foe. And vanquishing her in the end. That would be the sweetest part. So much better than sex. At least, that was what she would keep telling herself as often as necessary to start believing it.

  Caitlyn’s eyes darted around to take in the crowd of future lawyers with their expensive suits, shiny shoes, and flawless hair, looking for all the world like they’d been mass produced from the same prep school assembly line. The canny expression on Caitlyn’s face after a single appraising sweep of Ash’s plain black suit and neat but unpretentious hair was an excellent reminder of the need for Ash to keep her guard up.

  “Sixteen contestants in the McGill and Harding Invitational this year, and I’ve been competing against every single one since freshman year of college. A few s
ince high school. Except for you. It’s like you floated out of the water on the back of a clamshell. So, who are you?” Caitlyn’s mix of sweetness and interrogation came across as almost… flirtatious.

  No, that couldn’t be right. This was a competitor, and a much younger one at that. Rich. Cocky. Admittedly of the sapphic persuasion…

  But no. No way would this captain of the pep squad be flirting. Not here, and not with Ash. Even so, Ash’s flesh came alive with interest. A clamshell… was that a Botticelli reference? Maybe she had been flirting.

  Like an animal emerging from hibernation, Ash slowly became aware of how foolish she must appear. If she stood still any longer, one of the catering staff was likely to pick her up and add her to the display of ice sculptures on the buffet table.

  Ash blinked. Her brain refused to reboot.

  She repeated the action slowly, once and then twice more, hoping to radiate a deliberate and mysterious air. In reality, she needed to stall for time as she absorbed the woman’s moxie, which was simultaneously impressive, extremely intimidating, and more than a little irritating.

  Not to mention the type of sexy that had Ash’s nipples pebbling against the soft silk of her blouse.

  Exactly how long had it been since she’d felt a woman’s body pressed against her own? Too long to remember. When did she ever have the time?

  No time like the present, whispered the voice of temptation.

  Under other, less important circumstances, getting Caitlyn into her bed before the night was done would’ve been an interesting challenge.

  But not tonight.

  Caitlyn was right. There were sixteen contestants in the McGill and Harding Mock Trial Invitational, and exactly one coveted summer associate position up for grabs. It was winner take all, with no points for second place. Getting groovy in the sheets was tempting as hell, but her future was far more important than getting laid.

  Ash had come here to win, not to lose control of herself. She had to keep playing things cool, no matter how hot to trot she might be.

  “If you were half as good as you think you are, shouldn’t you know who I am?” Ash savored a sip of wine, keeping the glass at her lips longer than necessary as she devoured every nuance of emotion that crossed Caitlyn’s face, all without tipping her own hand. The last thing Ash needed was for her competition to figure out exactly what effect each little movement had on certain parts of her anatomy. If she couldn’t make the woman squirm from pleasure in bed, this tiny thrill would have to do.

  “Ooh… I like that. Already trying to get into my head.” Caitlyn was indeed squirming, but not from any type of discomfort. More like with the anticipation of a child who desperately wanted to go on a roller coaster she might not be tall enough to ride. An intriguing response, to say the least. “As a matter of fact, I do know your name. Ashley Tanner. Ash to your friends, though I’m not sure how many of those you have.”

  “Hey!” Ash’s eyebrows skyrocketed at the unexpected insult.

  “I’m not judging,” Caitlyn rushed to assure her, a slightly embarrassed expression stealing across her features, as if she’d been so excited to share what she’d learned that she hadn’t realized how it might sound outside her own head. “In this profession, friendship can be a liability. You never know when you’ll find yourself on opposite sides of the table. There’s no room for personal feelings to impede sweet victory.”

  Ash couldn’t have said it better herself. Didn’t it just figure that the one woman she absolutely couldn’t pursue would end up being a perfect match?

  Caitlyn leaned against the gleaming mahogany bar that ran along one full wall of the room, her eyes taking in the other law students as they mingled together with all the congeniality of sharks converging on a seal. It was apparent to Ash that Caitlyn knew them well but didn’t care for them much. Or maybe she was bored of their predictability. They’d only just met, but already Ash could tell this was a woman who loved the type of challenge these cookie cutter trust fund kids couldn’t provide.

  “That guy to your left—the one in the tan pants and blue blazer—he’s probably a lock for the Supreme Court in thirty years.” Caitlyn shook her head like it pained her to say it. “He’s distantly related to Roger Taney.”

  “The Chief Justice who delivered the majority opinion in the 1857 Dred Scott case?” Ash sized the man up with a swift glance, her upper lip curling slightly. “The one who said people of African descent couldn’t ever be American citizens.”

  “The very one.” Caitlyn’s tone crackled with contempt, a fact that raised Ash’s opinion of the woman by a notch or two.

  “Is he as racist as his ancestor?” Ash couldn’t help but ask. She stiffened slightly, unsure how Caitlyn would respond—these were, after all, her people, even if she didn’t like them. But the woman’s whole mouth and cheeks quivered from her barely contained laughter.

  “I’ve never asked. Should I?” Caitlyn took a cheeky step forward.

  “Go for it,” Ash teased.

  The woman came to a halt, shooting Ash a withering look. “You know, you’re not supposed to let a friend do something like that.”

  “I agree. As you said yourself, in our line of work, friendship is a liability.” Once again, Ash lifted her glass to her mouth to block Caitlyn from seeing a smile appear.

  “Ah, but we could be friends, don’t you think?” Caitlyn winked, and Ash’s tummy responded by turning a cartwheel.

  “I don’t need friends,” Ash replied stiffly, though at that precise moment, she would’ve been willing to think whatever Caitlyn told her to think. Which was exactly the type of nonsense that would lose her this competition.

  “You don’t hold back, that’s for sure.”

  “Hold back?” Ash scoffed, channeling every bit of disdain she could muster to cover up how close she was to drooling all over Caitlyn’s undoubtedly designer shoes. No way could she let this woman, a competitor she would need to best in the courtroom in a mere handful of hours, see how bad she had it for her. “I don’t see any point in playing nice, Elle Woods.”

  “A Legally Blonde joke. How very original.” Caitlyn rolled her eyes, though she didn’t do a convincing job of looking offended.

  “I could’ve gone for Sophocles, but I wanted to ensure you got the reference.”

  The ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of Caitlyn’s mouth, hinting she was as amused by this banter as Ash found herself to be.

  Is she as turned on by it, too? Ash swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

  “I applaud your originality. As a short, blonde female lawyer, I’ve never had anyone make the comparison to Elle Woods before.” Caitlyn narrowed her eyes, studying Ash with an unsettling intensity. “Just so you know, I’m picturing you as Colonel Jessup in A Few Good Men.”

  Ash did her best to ignore the fresh onslaught of bodily sensations ignited by the woman’s careful scrutiny. “Please don’t tell me I look like Jack Nicholson in this suit.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” Caitlyn probed Ash’s face for three searing heartbeats before adding, “You can’t handle the truth.”

  Ash let out a hearty laugh. “I should probably feel insulted, but that was good.”

  “I have to be honest.” Caitlyn’s tone was like a spoonful of warm honey. “I was dreading this year’s mock trial, but it’s really looking up.”

  “Why were you dreading it?” Ash couldn’t help asking, apparently forgetting all those reasons they shouldn’t get too friendly.

  “These prep school robots bore the fuck out of me.” Caitlyn looked Ash up and down, her eyes showing she appreciated the view, then pointed discreetly to one guy across the room. “Josh over there always tries to go for his big Hollywood courtroom moment. It’s the reason he loses so often.”

  “From what I’ve heard, grandstanding will get you nowhere with the judges from McGill and Harding. The firm prefers subtle brilliance and dedication.”

  “I see you’ve done some homework of your own.”


  “Naturally.”

  Their eyes met in a moment of mutual admiration, neither of them making a move to break the contact, and Ash couldn’t help but notice the depth of blue, like a kettle pond beckoning her to dive in headfirst on a summer day.

  If only that wouldn’t be such a terrible mistake. It wasn’t just Ash’s future at stake. She had her family to think about too. With all her willpower, Ash struggled to keep the conversation on neutral ground.

  “Do all your prep school buddies”—Ash flicked her hand, encompassing the entire room—“know how you feel about them?”

  “I’m sure they feel the same way.” Even so, something about Caitlyn’s demeanor hinted at her ability to network like a professional, to turn on the charm like a faucet of liquid sunshine. Ash wondered how many were taken in by the act, mistaking it for friendship. She made a mental note not to add herself to their ranks, no matter how much her insides were beginning to glow from the woman’s nearness. This could all be a ploy, a way to gain an advantage, and nothing more.

  “What else do you know about me?” Ash pressed. She needed something, anything, to distract her from the way Caitlyn’s pink tongue was swiping her lower lip. If conversation didn’t work, she might resort to reciting multiplication tables in her head. “So far, all you’ve told me was my name. You could’ve gotten that much by glancing at my name tag at registration.”

  “You’re a second-year law student at UMass, though you’ve been enrolled… a bit longer.”

  Ash’s cheeks pricked with heat. At thirty-two, she was by far the oldest contestant in the room. The unfairness of it rankled. “Not everyone has a trust fund to cover their tuition.”