At Her Command by Dana Drake

CHAPTER
ONE
     
    “ Your
Honor, in Qualitex Co. v. Jacobson Products Co.,
Inc., the Court held that a color could meet the legal
requirements for trademark registration under the Lanham Act,
provided that it had acquired secondary meaning in the market.”
Nathan Scott watched Chief Judge Parker Madison beaming from the
bench, as attorney for the defense Bridget Kelly, made the most
ridiculous argument he’d heard in twelve years of patent-trademark
litigation. “Mr. Scott has failed to prove that the color of his
client’s trademark has acquired a secondary meaning.”
    “Your Honor,” Nathan stood to address the
Court. “Ms. Kelly’s has failed to show the relevance of Qualitex to the case at hand.” Judge Madison’s expression
morphed from warm, imbecilic infatuation to cold indifference.
    “I believe it’s my job to determine
relevance, counselor.” He glared at Nathan, turned back to Bridget
Kelly, and regained his stupid smile. Nathan sat stone-faced at a
slow boil. It was pointless to refute Bridget Kelly’s specious
arguments. She might as well be singing Three Blind Mice .
Judge Madison was going to rule for her client regardless of the
law. It was the third time in a month that she’d kicked his ass in
Federal Court, despite her clients not having a straw of evidence
or the law on their side.
    Bridget Kelly was tall, five feet
nine-inches, and at least six-two in her five-inch pumps. She made
no bones about relishing looking down at Nathan and the other male
attorneys with her ice water blue eyes. Female attorneys feared
her. She wore her thick mane of black hair down on her shoulders,
and dressed in dark suits that accented her curves. Judge Madison
adjourned at three o’clock, it was Friday after all, and he had a
weekend of golf planned. Nathan was reaching under the table for
his briefcase when a pair of legs came into view. He followed them
up to the black wool skirt, past the crisp white blouse to Bridget
Kelly’s sparkling eyes. “Too pissed at me to let me buy you a
drink?” Nathan sat up too quickly and saw stars. He didn’t have
anywhere to go. He was divorced now, a single man for the last
twenty-six days.
    “Uh, sure, I guess so.” He felt his face
flush hot. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was the one who made
people squirm and blush, not the other way around. He stuffed his
papers into his briefcase and stood, acutely aware that she was
taller than him.
    “Mind if I drive?” she asked, as they boarded
the elevator.
    “Of course not.” She led him to silver BMW
328, and unlocked the doors with her key fob. He started to walk
around the car and get her door, but she was too fast. He squeezed
the seatbelt as she rocketed out of the parking garage onto
Jamieson Avenue. She drove to the Red Hat, a hole in the wall that
lawyers on expense accounts would never set foot in, and parked in
the side lot. “All the better,” Nathan thought. “I might
be accused of collusion if I’m seen with her, the way things are
going.”
    He ordered Dewar’s. She ordered Glinlivet.
“I’m buying, Nathan. How about joining me?” He nodded, refusing to
turn down eighteen-year-old Scotch. “Cheers.” She held up her
tumbler. They tapped glasses. “I’ve been meaning to do this for a
while,” she said. “Well, ever since I heard you were available.” He
looked into her ice water blue eyes and was frozen, unable to look
away. Heat radiated from his face.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Your divorce, twenty-six days ago.” He felt
the color drain out of his face.
    “How did you know about my divorce?” Bridget
sipped her cocktail and smacked her lips.
    “This is so good. I’ll order us another.”
    “How did you know about my divorce?” She
stared at him.
    “I know a lot about you, Nathan. I know you
grew up in Richmond, Mechanicsville, actually. You attended William
and Mary and the University of Richmond Law School. You married
Patty Ann Scott, nee Ortell after you