Dirty Lies

by Lush, Tamara

  He laughed, a genuine belly laugh. "It's funny you ask that, Skylar. I never say never. But governor? Not right now. All I've ever wanted is to be Florida's lawyer."

  "Surely you have the money to launch a campaign. You have a net worth of one hundred million dollars by some estimates."

  Federico looked amused. "I'm not hurting for money. But I'm not eager to throw cash away on politics, not yet. I don't have the time. Maybe next year. I'm about to file a big class-action lawsuit this week."

  "Really? Care to tell me about the case?"

  "Sure, why not. You'll have the exclusive." He leaned toward me, and as I nodded, my heart sped up at the thought of being first on a good story.

  "We're suing DogMunch, the dog food company, on behalf of hundreds of pet owners whose dogs died after eating their product. Class action. We've found the company ignored complaints and evidence that the food had toxic substances probably slipped in from the factory in China. I can get you some Florida dog owners for interviews if you want. There's also evidence people became sick from e-coli after handling the food. It's a federal lawsuit, so this is a good national story."

  I beamed. It was a lightweight scoop, but a scoop nonetheless.

  Jill would love this, especially if we found a person with a warm, fuzzy photo of their now-dead pet. Jill loved animal stories that tugged at readers' heartstrings because they got lots of website clicks.

  "Thank you," I said. "Can you send me a copy of the lawsuit before it's filed?"

  Federico slipped on a pair of reading glasses that hung around his neck and squinted at his phone. "What's your e-mail?"

  I told him, and he tapped. "Done."

  "Yes, it's those lawsuits I enjoy. Where I can stand up for the little guy. The regular person."

  I arched an eyebrow. Federico had slipped into one of his TV commercials, it seemed.

  "That reminds me," I said, "I have a few more questions. I'm not sure how these will work into the story, but I did some research on you and was curious about some things."

  "Of course. Fire away."

  "Your advertising has been controversial. I've read where you spend twenty million on television ads alone each year. Is that true?"

  "It's about right. More or less. What I put out in advertising I get back in clients and settlements."

  I nodded. "Is it true you started your career by suing insurance companies that wouldn't pay sinkhole claims?"

  "It's true. I then branched out to other kinds of defense litigation, including personal injury."

  "You have a lot of outside business interests, is that correct?"

  Federico tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. My mouth turned dry, because I was building up to a bigger question.

  "Sure. I'm a rich man. I invest in a lot of things. What are you getting at?"

  "Through public records, I've discovered you're the part owner of a chain of check-cashing stores throughout the southeast. I'm wondering why you would invest in such a business."

  Federico smirked. "Skylar. QuickChex is a legitimate business that complies with all local and state laws."

  "Some think those businesses practice predatory lending. There's often high fees and interest rates, and they take advantage of people who can't get bank accounts because their credit is awful. Isn't that the opposite of the image you portray as a lawyer of the people, of the working class?"

  "QuickChex provides a service. It complies with all local and state laws."

  Federico's jaw tensed, and the muscles near his ear bulged. I wasn't sure how much of this part of the interview would get in the paper, but it was satisfying to uncover some details about a powerful man and ask him lots of questions.

  "Right. It's legal. But is it ethical? Would you divest yourself of that business if you did run for governor?"

  "I would have to think about that. What time is it? I think I need to jump on a call. I really appreciate your interest in the class-action lawsuit."

  I glanced at Luca. He was holding his espresso cup in mid-air and looking at me as if I'd suddenly grown a horn in the middle of my head. Had he been offended by the questions? There was no way he could understand how reporters did their jobs.

  I smiled serenely at both men. "Thank you, Mr. Rossi. I appreciate it. I'm sure my editor will love the pet food scoop."

  They shook hands, and Federico turned to his nephew. "Luca, can you see Skylar out?"

  Luca put his coffee cup in the sink. He took mine, and our fingers brushed against each other. Our eyes met, and the needy feeling surged through my body again.

  "We can go this way," he said, pointing to the hallway and guiding me down it with his hand on the small of my back.

  His touch. Finally. It was all I'd thought about for days.

  As we made our way down the hall, I glanced into a room that looked like a den—a space awash in tan and light blue hues. I'd grown up in a small rental cabin in Vermont decorated with funky batik throws, Buddha statues, and stacks of books.

  Luca's family could buy a thousand of my childhood homes, and the cool order in Federico's house both excited me and made me feel lacking.

  I wondered what Luca thought about this showroom setting. Was this how he lived in Italy? His parents were probably filthy rich, like Federico. No student loans for him to worry about.

  Luca was behind me in the hall. As I passed another room, he called out, "Oh, come look at the study and the garden."

  Luca definitely wanted to eke out a few more minutes with me. Who would give a stranger a tour of the study?

  Admittedly, it was a gorgeous space. Hundreds of books lined two walls. My eyes stopped on an imposing mahogany desk. A brief fantasy floated through my mind of Luca picking me up and sitting me atop him, spreading my legs and entering me as she bit my neck and dug my nails into his back. I glanced at him and looked to the desk, feeling embarrassed.

  Those sorts of thoughts didn't usually enter my mind during work hours. Or any hours, for that matter.

  I paused at a large picture window overlooking a tropical garden. Giant leaves and colorful flowers erupted over a patch of trim lawn. I pointed to a grove of angry red flowers that slightly resembled pineapples. The blooms jutted out from spiny green leaves, and the entire plant looked prehistoric.

  "Do you know what those are?"

  Luca shook his head and stood next to me. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. His eyes were as green as the tropical foliage outside, and I stammered because the color was so arresting.

  "They're…they're called hurricane bromeliads. I learned this while covering a garden club meeting. They bloom in August and September. People in Florida say the more they bloom, the bigger the chance a hurricane will hit that year."

  My mind wandered, remembering how Luca's mouth felt. I licked my lips, tasting the glossy lip balm.

  "Skylar, you have pen on your chin," Luca said, matter of fact, jarring me from the kissing fantasy.

  Gah. That's why he's staring at me. I'm a babbling, ink-stained wretch.

  "Oh! Where?" My hand flew to my face.

  "On the left side of your mouth."

  I rubbed with my fingers, trying to appear dainty but certain I looked stupid—or worse, coarse. Like a trucker scratching his beard.

  "Um, no, the other left," Luca said, stepping forward and taking my chin in his hand. His thumb grazed my skin and my cheeks blazed.

  My mouth was open in mid-gasp from his touch. Luca's thumb shifted and brushed my bottom lip. One slow stroke to the right. Another to the left. I inhaled and looked into his eyes as his touch sent a million volts through my body.

  "It's gone."

  "Thanks," I whispered, inhaling his scent. It reminded me of limes and cinnamon and clean laundry. I wanted to lick his skin and bathe in his essence.

  "I can't be this close to you and not kiss you," he said in a hoarse voice.

  He bent toward me and our lips met. It was difficult to believe, but this was an even better kiss than the one
in the pool.

  It was a ravenous, hard kiss, and I suddenly couldn't control the rhythm of my heart. I knew this was wrong, making out with a source's nephew after an interview. If the story on Federico were already published, I'd feel a little less unethical.

  But I couldn't stop kissing him. Didn't want to. The intensity was too startling, especially in the blazing light of day. A kiss this hot should be confined to the dark corners of night.

  I explored the tip of his tongue with mine, and my palm grazed the dark stubble on his chin. It was soft, not bristly, and the discovery made my heart melt everywhere.

  He threaded his fingers into my hair, and I resisted the urge to curve my leg up to his hip. Breaking away from his lips, I watched with satisfaction as he gulped in a few breaths.

  But I was breathing fast too.

  "You asked my uncle some interesting questions," he said unsteadily, looking up at the ceiling as if to regain composure.

  I ran my finger down the smooth skin of his neck and smiled. Was it wrong of me to enjoy teasing him? "And I still have a few questions for you. About the plane crash and where you were."

  He took my hand off his throat and kissed my palm softly while staring into my eyes. "How about this? Have dinner with me and I'll tell you."

  Hmm.

  The story on Federico would be published by then. And even if Luca was the rescuer, I couldn't write about him at this point. Or could I write about a guy I kissed? That required some thought.

  "Deal."

  Chapter Fourteen

  No Regrets

  LUCA

  One night. That's all I'd need. One night of crazy, wild sex. With a woman who could share an intelligent conversation in the moments between our carnal pleasure, no less. After everything I'd been through, didn't I deserve at least that?

  As we stood in the den, I stroked Skylar's cheekbones with my thumbs. Finally, she was giving in.

  The idea of spending the night with her made me rock-hard with anticipation. Oh, who was I kidding? I was already aroused from watching her in that sexy dress, grilling my uncle with those questions. The way she'd worn that knowing little smile was too alluring.

  "God, you're so sexy." I groaned out loud, and she giggled.

  "Stop."

  "So, dinner. My uncle's leaving tomorrow, and I'm alone."

  "Alone is bad."

  I brushed my thumb over her lips again. Her eyes fluttered shut. So sensual, this girl.

  "Thursday night at seven?"

  She nodded and opened her eyes.

  I grinned and slipped my thumb into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the tip and stared right at me. Devastatingly sexy. My cock throbbed with insistent need.

  It would be so easy to take her right here in the study. Shut the door and fuck her on the couch. Or bend her over the desk and shove her little skirt over her hips. Or press her against the wall. But that wouldn't be right, not for the first time at least. If I was going to risk spending time with her, I wanted both of us to enjoy it.

  For hours.

  I took my thumb out of her mouth and kissed her forehead. "Let's get you to your car before I do something we both regret."

  She laughed. "You're going to make me have regrets? I don't like the sound of that."

  If only she knew.

  "No regrets," I whispered, then quickly kissed her again.

  Skylar followed me out of the study. We went outside and stood in the driveway, the sensation in my groin uncomfortably tight. Why couldn't I control my body around her?

  "Do you like your little Italian macchina?" I asked, patting her Fiat 500's roof. I'd seen the car the night we first kissed, but was so stunned she didn't want to spend the night that I hadn't commented on her choice in autos.

  "I…I love it. I bought it when I graduated from college. It's sky blue, after…um, my name. Sky." She paused and looked up at me. The fact that she was short was endearing. "That's kind of precious and silly, right? That I bought a car the same color as my name?"

  I smiled. "I think it's…it's…adorable." And I did think that. Nervousness washed over me, as if I were a teenager talking to a girl for the first time. Actually, I hadn't even been this nervous as a teenager. I'd always been confident around women.

  "I drove it down from Boston."

  "You and your little car, all that way." I paused and peered in the window. "It's kind of messy inside."

  "Yeah, I work out of my car a lot." She bit her lip, and a look of embarrassment crossed her face.

  I straightened my posture. "Are you interested in the photographer?"

  She turned, snorting. "Where did that come from? No. I told you I'm not dating anyone. And I'm trying not to date journalists."

  Laughter erupted from my chest. "You're 'trying not to date journalists'?"

  She shook her head. "My ex-boyfriend was a reporter. A former war correspondent. After we broke up, I figured I'd try to stay away from reporters, editors, photographers. They're too complicated."

  "Probably a good idea." It was so hard to be serious in this conversation, under the circumstances.

  She smiled in return. "Thanks again for the coffee. I'll see you Thursday. It's actually great for me. I don't have to go into the office Friday because I've worked overtime since the plane crash."

  "Perfetto," I said. "Perfect. We can make it a late night. Or an early morning. Or something."

  She laughed, and I leaned down, held her face in my hands, and gave her a long kiss on one cheek, then the other. When she let out a little sigh-moan, it took herculean willpower not to kiss her mouth again.

  "Ciao, Skylar Shaw."

  I went quickly inside. If I lingered, the urge would be too strong to push her up against the Fiat, grab a fistful of her hair, and kiss her long and deep in the hot sunshine. The thought of our bodies, sweaty and naked, made me swallow hard. Maybe we'd screw on the terrace lounge chair in the middle of the day.

  Fuck, I was horny.

  I padded into the kitchen. Washing the dishes gave my restless hands something to do, but Skylar's light pink lipstick stained the rim of an espresso cup and kept my mind on her.

  It had been amusing to watch how she asked questions of my uncle. I was once a young, green reporter like that, naïve and filled with ambition. Those days were over, though, had been for years. Now I felt old and jaded. Skylar was still the sort of reporter who thought she'd find truth in everything she wrote. She didn't know yet that the truth was subjective on every story.

  She'd learn soon enough.

  My initial impression of her as an amateur was wrong. Dead wrong. All her articles were top-notch, and she'd been comfortable while talking with Federico. It wasn't easy for a new reporter to speak with such authority to a powerful man. She'd paused, scrunched her forehead a little, but looked at her notebook and asked the strong questions despite any reservation.

  She had done her homework and researched Federico's finances—which seemed ethically challenged, I had to admit. He hoped to God my uncle wasn't involved in anything criminal, because I was putting full trust in the man. Still, I didn't have much choice. Federico was the only family I had, and the only person on earth who could help me.

  I paused in reflection. His mother had spoken cryptically about Federico, saying he was a good man, but she hoped he would stay out of Italy for the sake of the family.

  How I wished to go back in time and ask my mother what she meant. Soon, I'd get to the bottom of the tangled relationship between my parents and uncle. I didn't see how I could avoid it while staying on Palmira.

  Speaking of hard questions, I shouldn't have asked Skylar if she was interested in the photographer. But I'd felt an uncharacteristic jolt of jealousy when Matt checked her out.

  Of course that idiot thought she was beautiful. She was.

  I emptied the grounds from the espresso pot into the trash, slapping the funnel containing the packed coffee against the garbage can.

  So, she doesn't get involved with jo
urnalists.

  We'll see about that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hungry

  SKYLAR

  I paused at Luca's door. Looking down, I ran my hands over my hips and down my thighs, smoothing my long, light pink cotton dress.

  Taking a deep breath, I rang the bell. A half-minute later, Luca pulled open the door. He wore khaki cargo shorts and a white linen button-down that set off his olive skin. No shoes. He looked younger, probably because his shave was so precise, and his skin looked so perfectly soft. I imagined pressing my nose and lips to it.

  His green-gray eyes glittered as he smiled down at me. "Skylar. I'm glad you're here."

  He reached for my hand, pulling me into his body and enveloping me into a hug after he shut the door. I closed my eyes, inhaling his lime-spice scent. He touched his palm lightly to my cheek and planted a brief kiss on my lips. It was such a small gesture, but the feel of his mouth lingered on mine, tingles racing over my skin.

  "Come." He drew away and led me by the hand into the kitchen, then out a door to the pool deck where we'd shared that first kiss. He ushered me to a glass table under a navy-blue umbrella where a candle flickered inside a hurricane lamp.

  "Do you think it's too hot to eat outside?" he asked.

  I shook my head, feeling unusually shy. "No. It'll be nice to see the sunset. Let's stay outdoors."

  "Excellent. Why don't you sit, and I'll bring you a glass of wine?" He pulled a chair away from the table and motioned for me to sit. "Here."

  I sank onto the navy-blue cushion, and as I slung my purse over the chair back, I watched him walk off. Luca seemed nervous tonight also, maybe as nervous as I felt.

  I hadn't paid much attention to it the night of the plane crash because I was so captivated by Luca, but now I looked around the deck and found it decorated in white rattan furniture with blue accents. The soft strains of chill, down-tempo music floated from a speaker resting on a small table, and I became mesmerized by the rhythm and the shimmer of the pool's blue water.