Yanking on his robe, he left his room and went downstairs to the study. The fire had nearly died, leaving behind the glow of hot embers.
He added a log from the stack in the corner, then prodded with the poker until flames danced, licking hungrily at the new, dry wood. He set the poker down and stared at the fire, absently rubbing his stomach.
“Thanks, I was too lazy to get up and add a log.”
He jumped in surprise and turned to see Samantha curled up in one of the wing chairs in front of the fireplace. “You scared the hell out of me,” he exclaimed.
“Sorry.” She flashed a small smile. “I thought you saw me here and just didn’t feel like talking.”
With the light from the fire, he could see her clearly.
Curled up and clad in a navy robe, without makeup and with her hair a tumbling mass of curls, she looked soft and vulnerable.
He turned on a table lamp and strode over to the bar. Grabbing the bottle of brandy, he tried to ignore the ache in his stomach.
“You’d be better off with a glass of milk,” she observed. “What is it? An ulcer?”
He eyed her in surprise and realized he was once again rubbing his stomach. He grimaced, displeased that she’d noticed and had guessed what ailed him. To him, the ulcer implied a weakness, a lack of control over his emotions and body.
Nodding, he splashed brandy in the bottom of a glass, then walked back toward the fire and sat down in the chair opposite hers. “Milk would probably be better, but I prefer brandy.”
She smiled. “And they call me perverse. How long have you had it?”
“Two years. Since Waltrip v. Burlington.”
“Bad case?” she asked.
“The case wasn’t so tough—a real-estate deal gone bad. But the litigants were both horrid. It was the first and only time I was found in contempt because of my client’s outrageous outbursts. Judge Halloran wasn’t amused.”
“He a tough judge?”
Tyler sipped his drink before answering. “Tough, but fair.”
“He wasn’t too bad at the arraignment.”
Tyler nodded. “Just remember he’s the boss of his courtroom and you’ll do fine with him.” He eyed her curiously. “Why did you go into law, Samantha?”
She shifted positions, flashing a long length of leg before covering up again with the robe. “Why not?” She smiled ruefully. “I know why you’re surprised. With my rebellious nature you expected me to do—to be something a little less conventional. Like maybe an exotic dancer, or a stripper.”
Tyler’s head instantly filled with a vision of her on a stage, clad in a sparkly G-string and a tiny top that scarcely hid her lush breasts.
He tightened his grip on his glass as his stomach burned and his groin tightened. “You have to admit, when you left here you weren’t exactly on the fast track to success.”
“No, I was a mess.” She sighed and turned her attention to the fire.
Her admission surprised him. He studied her features, highlighted by the golden flames. What streak of perversity existed in him that found her so fascinating? She was pretty, but as an eligible, successful lawyer, Tyler could have his pick of the pretty women in town.
No, it wasn’t so much the way she looked that had captured Tyler. It was her passion, her simmering anger that drew him. It was her thought process, and the actions that resulted from it that had always intrigued him.
But it was an intrigue, an attraction he didn’t intend to follow through on. Somehow, he feared that Samantha would be as destructive to him as the anger and passion that had once ruled him and he had since learned to tame.
“Father always expected the worst from me, and so that’s what I gave him. It wasn’t until I left here—left him—that I began to expect more from myself.” She looked back at him, returning to his initial question. “Why not the law? It was what I knew, what I’d grown up with.” She flashed him a wicked grin. “Besides, it’s far less respectable than stripping for a living.” She sobered, her gaze holding his. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”
Again she managed to take him by surprise, this time with her directness, her utter lack of guile. “I don’t think I liked you much when you were a teenager,” he answered truthfully. “The jury is still out on whether I like the woman you’ve become.”
She nodded, as if expecting no more, no less from him.
“We don’t have to like each other to work together.”
“Who knows? Maybe we’ll learn to like each other, given enough time.”
She laughed. “You’d have to loosen up a bit before that could happen.”
He returned her smile. “And you’d have to straighten up a bit.”
For a moment, an amicable camaraderie flowed between them. The fire snapped and crackled cheerfully as the flames shot dancing shadows around the room. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze still focused on her.
“It must have been tough, being on your own and putting yourself through law school.” As he said the words, unexpected admiration swept through him. For the first time, he considered what her life must have been like for the past six years without the support of family or friends. He finished his brandy and placed the empty glass on the stone hearth.
“It was tough,” she agreed. She stared into the fire, and wrapped her arms around herself. “It helped that I had a little money left from my inheritance from Mom. That got me through the first year. Then I worked at a variety of part-time jobs while I finished school.”
Tyler shook his head. “It’s funny. Law school would have been out of the question for me without your father. He did for me what you refused to let him do for you.”
“I didn’t refuse anything,” she countered as she looked at him once again. “My father never offered me anything but criticism. Sometimes I think I made it through law school just to spite him.”
Tyler laughed. “Now that sounds like the Samantha Dark I know.”
Silence fell between them as they both stared into the fire. Tyler realized that at some point during the last few minutes his stomach had quit hurting. Who would have thought he and Samantha could have a rational, almost-pleasant conversation?
He cast her a surreptitious glance, surprised to see a glimmer of tears in her eyes. “Samantha?” He leaned forward, unsure of what he was seeing.
She sniffed and swiped at her eyes with an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry. It crept up on me with no warning.” She drew a deep breath and once again wrapped her arms around her shoulders as if to ward off a chill.
“You sure you’re okay?” Tyler asked tentatively.
She turned and looked at him, her eyes luminous. “I just can’t believe he’s gone.” To his horror, she burst into tears.
In all the years Tyler had been a part of the Dark family, he’d never seen Samantha cry. It shook him, this sudden exposure to a side of her he’d never considered—a soft vulnerability he hadn’t known she possessed.
Up until now, he hadn’t been sure she’d even been touched by her father’s death. She’d shed no tears that he knew of, hadn’t been to the cemetery, had scarcely spoken of the man who had been her father.
He sat for a moment, unsure what to do, how to respond. Her grief shocked him. He hadn’t expected it from her—not for the man she’d seemed to hate for so long.
When her tears showed no sign of abatement, he got up and approached her, wanting to comfort, but unsure how.
Before he could reach her, she stood and walked into his arms, spilling her grief on the front of his robe. Her scent surrounded him. Her hair smelled of tropical flowers, the fragrance mingling with the subtle spicy perfume she always wore.
Tentatively he wrapped his arms around her, awkwardly patting her back as she continued to cry. “It’s going to be all right,” he murmured, wishing he knew better words to say to bring comfort.
He was a lawyer. Lawyers were supposed to be men of many words, but all the phrases that sprang to his mind sounded like empty, meaningl
ess platitudes.
He opted for silence, merely holding her and soothing her back with his hand as her body shook with the force of her sobs.
She didn’t cry hard for long. Within minutes her sobs lessened in intensity, becoming gasps for control. Still she didn’t move from his embrace, but rather seemed to burrow closer against his chest, as if soothed by the warmth of his body.
Within moments his pats on her back became caresses, her silk robe slick and sensuous beneath his hands.
The closeness of her body warmed his and he felt a stir of desire ripple through him. He fought against it, not wanting to want her. She turned her head away from his chest and her breath was warm against the side of his neck as her crying finally ceased.
Tyler knew he should move away from her, step away from the arms that clung around his neck, away from the body that pressed so close against his.
He wondered what she wore beneath the silky robe. It felt as if there was nothing between the robe and the heat of her skin.
She probably slept naked, he thought, torturing himself with erotic visions of her in bed wearing nothing but her damnable sexy smile.
His arms tightened around her even as he realized the danger of his thoughts. She tilted her head to look up at him, her lips parted as if awaiting his kiss. Her eyes were the color of dark chocolate, imploring him, enticing him.
Just as he’d known with weary resignation that he wouldn’t escape the Devil’s Kitchen without a fight, he knew there was no way he wasn’t going to kiss Samantha. Someplace in the back of his mind, he had the fleeting hope that in kissing her once, he would sate his hunger for her and be done with her once and for all.
Tentatively he touched his lips to hers, unsurprised to find hers moist and welcoming. He’d intended to keep the kiss light, controlled, but the moment she opened her mouth to him, he abdicated all thoughts of control.
She tasted of heat and desire, and Tyler wound his fingers in her hair as he deepened the kiss. As his tongue swirled with hers, every nerve in his body came alive with an electric current that crackled through him. All caution, all rational thought left him as he lost himself in her nearness, in the fire of her lips.
As their kiss ended, she tilted her head back, allowing him access to the slender column of her neck. Her breathing came in rapid gasps, letting him know her want was just as powerful as his own.
He pressed his mouth against her dainty earlobe, then kissed down her neck to the hollow of her throat. She trembled in his arms, as if overwhelmed by the force of her response to his every caress. This only heightened Tyler’s response.
A low moan escaped him as he moved his hands from her back to the swell of her breasts against her robe. The silk was no longer cool, but rather welcomingly warm, and her nipples pressed against his palms as if seeking escape from the garment.
He pushed her robe off one shoulder, unsurprised to find nothing but sweet-smelling skin. She held the robe closed across her breasts for a long moment as she looked into his eyes.
Tyler remained still, his heart thudding so hard, so loudly he wondered if perhaps she had uttered a protest and he hadn’t heard. He stepped back from her, unsure; still filled with desire, but not wanting to take what she didn’t want to give.
His breath caught in his chest as she smiled, then shrugged out of the robe, allowing it to fall in a pool of navy silk at her feet. Clad only in a pair of tiny lace panties, with the fire glow painting her in warm golden hues, her loveliness made Tyler ache.
At that moment the window next to where they stood suddenly exploded inward. Samantha screamed as Tyler pulled her down to the floor, unsure what was happening. Through the broken window came the squeal of tires as a car tore away.
Tyler jumped up and raced to the window in time to see the distant flare of taillights just before they disappeared into the darkness of the night. He remained standing there, breathing heavily as his brain tried to shift from desire to response to the threat of danger.
He turned away from the window, carefully trying to avoid the shards of glass that littered the floor.
“What’s going on? What happened?” Samantha asked, her voice shaky as she grabbed her robe and belted it tightly around her.
Tyler spied a brick on the floor, apparently the missile that had sailed through the window. He picked it up, surprised to find a message written on it. “It’s a note from your fan club,” he said to Samantha and held the brick up so she could read what was written there.
“‘drop the Marcola case.’” Samantha frowned. “What kind of nonsense is this?” she exclaimed as she began to pace back and forth in front of the fire.
Tyler watched her in growing irritation. Each step she took exposed a long length of bare leg, making it difficult for him to think, to focus on the matter at hand.
The shattering of the window had come at an opportune time, stopping him from doing something incredibly stupid. “I warned you this had all the earmarks of becoming a volatile case. Perhaps you managed to stir somebody up with your little visit to the Devil’s Kitchen. For God’s sake, would you sit down?”
Samantha stopped in her tracks, apparently surprised by the sharpness of his tone. She flounced down in the chair and glared up at him. “If you or anyone else thinks a brick through the window will make me drop this case, you’re sadly mistaken. If anything, this just makes me more determined. It lets me know somebody is afraid of what I might find out.”
Tyler frowned. “Samantha, I wish you would reconsider, let a court-appointed defense counsel handle Dominic’s case.”
“And I wish you’d sell me your half of Justice Inc.,” she countered. “We don’t always get what we want.”
Tyler narrowed his gaze, wondering if perhaps what had almost happened moments before between them had been an attempt at manipulation on her part. Had she thought that by seducing him he would agree to give her his half of the firm? He shoved this thought from his mind, unable to believe she would be that underhanded.
“Why are you so hell-bent on representing Marcola? Did you and Dominic have a thing at some time in the past?” It was a question that had gnawed at him since she’d announced her intention to represent the suspected murderer.
“Are you having a thing with my sister?”
“Good heavens, no,” Tyler replied, shocked at the very suggestion.
“Well, there was never anything between Dominic and me. I guess he’s the one man in town I missed having a ‘thing’ with,” she replied sarcastically.
“Besides me, but then you did try with me that night I pulled you out of the James Tavern.”
Her reaction to his words was immediate. Her back stiffened and her cheeks flamed red. “That doesn’t count. I was drunk and didn’t know what I was doing.”
“On the contrary, you seemed to know exactly what you were doing, as you once again displayed only moments ago.” Tyler knew he was feeding her anger as effectively as he’d fed the fire when he’d first entered the room. He couldn’t help it. He felt safer with anger between them.
She rose from her chair and advanced toward him, her cheeks still flaming with bewitching color. She stopped only when she stood mere inches from him. “You don’t ever have to worry about me making unwanted advances on you again,” she said softly as her breasts rose and fell with uneven breaths. “I’d sleep with Henry Watkins and his ugly toupee before I’d sleep with you.”
“That’s fine with me,” he retorted. “I generally sleep with women I love, and I’m not even sure I like you very much.”
She stepped back from him. “I don’t intend to lose any sleep over whether you like me or not.”
“I don’t expect you to. What should give you sleepless nights is that if you mess up Dominic’s defense, he faces the death penalty.”
Her eyes darkened. “Don’t you think I know that? What should give you sleepless nights is that when I win Dominic’s case, I’ll be the number-one lawyer in Justice Inc., and I won’t be happy until I for
ce you out.” She whirled around and stomped out of the room. Tyler heard the angry tread of her footsteps as she climbed the stairs to the bedrooms.
“Call the police,” he called after her. “We need to make a report of this.”
There was no reply. He rubbed his stomach, the burning pain returning like an unwelcome guest at a party. How in hell did she manage to reduce him to the point where he responded like a child, throwing insults and barbs like some kid hurling clods of dirt.
Staring at the broken window, he thought of those moments before the brick had sailed through. He’d been about to make love to her. Even now, the memory of her fire-kissed near nakedness caused an immediate physical response. Damn her. And what was with that question about her sister?
Shaking his head, he went into the kitchen and grabbed a broom and a dustpan. There was no reason to leave the mess. The police would find no clues amid the broken glass.
After cleaning up the floor, he would need to find some sort of plywood to nail over the window until morning when somebody could come to fix it.
As he worked, he tried to make sense of his perverse attraction to Samantha. Despite his reluctance, he had to admit he felt a strong physical attraction to her. And her immediate response to him told him she felt the same crazy emotions where he was concerned. Irrationally, illogically, despite the fact he disliked so many things about her, he wanted her.
Better to recognize it, acknowledge it than to pretend it didn’t exist, he thought, as he cleaned up the last of the glass. It took him a few minutes of rummaging in the shed to find a piece of plywood that would cover the broken window. He used more force than necessary to hammer in the nails, hoping the physical exertion would ease some of his lingering sexual ache.
If he were smart, he would leave here tonight, take up residence in a motel room somewhere until he could find another place to live. There was only one reason he wouldn’t...couldn’t do that.
He put the hammer down and picked up the brick and stared at the message. It seemed he wasn’t the only person in town stirred up by Samantha.
Reluctant Wife Page 8