Love, Lies & The D.A.

by Rohman, Rebecca

  “Why didn’t you pursue it as a career?”

  “I don’t know… I always enjoyed hospitality, and I went to college with that plan. Sometimes, I used to go to work with my dad, and I always thought he being the boss of all these people in a grand hotel was so cool… I suppose photography for me was always my happy place. I could go to these beautiful places and loose myself. Relax… Escape…”

  “You should come sailing with me one day. You’d enjoy the scenery. California has so much to offer. There are some really beautiful bays here.”

  I smile at his response, but in the back of my mind, I am aware that is something that would probably never happen. Even though I wish it could. I purposely change the subject.

  “So what fun things did you do at college?”

  “For a brief period, I entertained the idea of becoming a pro football player, but I decided I liked arguing more.”

  So that’s where the hot bod came from…

  “It’s in your blood. Did your parents influence your decision?”

  “My dad thought it was awesome… Mom not so much. She had a hard enough time getting through one of my games. Ultimately, though, they left the decision to me.”

  “And you decided to follow your dad’s footsteps.”

  “Yep…. I thought I’d leave the football playing to fooling around with my brothers in the back yard on the holidays.”

  “Why aren’t you with them for New Years?”

  He hesitates. “Honestly, I was… I wanted to see you.”

  I blush. I wish he would kiss me… I want to kiss him, but I manage to control the urge.

  He looks into my eyes and slowly we lean into each other. He slips his hand on my profile, and our lips are about to meet when the silent sounds of nature are intruded by loud screams and outbursts of laughter. We instantly look behind us. A group of about six to eight kids are horsing around in the snow. That puts an end to any moment we might have shared.

  “Hungry? I’m starving,” I say, rising to my feet.

  “Me, too. I guess we should head back,” he replies as I help him to his feet.

  The more time I spend with Jonathan, the more I realize how different he is from what I originally thought.

  Jonathan’s phone rings while I make us sandwiches for a late lunch. He sits at the island while he chats on the phone. I suspect it’s the housekeeper giving him a doggie update. He ends the call and confirms my suspicions.

  I join him at the island and we eat.

  “Do you ever use that hot tub?” he asks.

  “A few times.”

  “We should get in later. After that hike we did this morning… you’ll be amazed how great your body will feel after.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  “You cook very well.”

  “Thank you. I think. Making sandwiches hardly qualifies as cooking, but I’ll take it.”

  “You seem to know your way around the kitchen.”

  “I had to cover it at school. I’ve never seen myself that way, but I figure if I keep things simple, I won’t screw it up too badly.”

  “I’ll fix us dinner tonight. Maybe grill us some of those steaks.”

  “You cook?”

  “A little… I follow your philosophy. Keep it simple.”

  We finish lunch and watch a movie and some football, complete with popcorn and soda. When the sun starts its descent, we head to the hot tub. I am a little nervous. I hope I don’t gawk at him again. I slip into a little white bikini, wrap myself in a robe, and head out.

  When I get onto the terrace, I try to ignore the fact that ass-hugging Ralph Lauren trunks cling to every inch of his well-endowed front… and back. He steps into the tub, and after I tear my robe away, he stretches out his hand and helps me in. I have no idea what I was thinking when I agreed to this. I can’t get hot and sexy images of us having passionate sex in the tub out of my head.

  Since Richard and I broke up, my body has craved sexual pleasure in a way it hasn’t before, but this is flipping torture. Sure, I’ve pleasured myself a few times, but there is no substitute for a man who you’re physically attracted to who you know knows all the right things to do to you in bed. Sitting opposite to him, I close my eyes, sit back, and relax. I hope that I don’t give him a clue that while I lie here, I am practically salivating at the mouth and lusting for his sexual pleasure.

  I am just starting to calm down and relax when he raises one of my feet and massages, working his thumbs from around my ankle to the arch of my foot and then my toes. My God, I swear this could be considered foreplay, because what he is doing to me right now causes all sorts of tension to develop between my thighs, along with the tingling sensation that runs down my lower back.

  My goodness. Is he purposely trying to seduce me, or is he completely unaware of what his actions are doing to my body?

  Oh, don’t be naïve, Jada. Of course he knows what he’s doing. He’s made his feelings for you abundantly clear.

  He moves to my other foot, and as he works, a soft moan spurts out of my lips. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this sexually aroused. I try to remember the last time I was with Richard, and nothing comes to mind. Jonathan snaps me back to the present when his hands move from my feet and he works his way up my calf.

  Oh God, that feels good.

  I feel like I’m losing control. I want him to make love to me. I open my eyes, and I’m startled when I find him staring straight at me. He hooks his arms under my thighs and pulls me towards him. The look in his eyes are filled with pure desire. I’m straddling him, and I can feel his erection in the center of my crevasse; just a few thin strips of fabric are between us.

  He folds me in his arms and draws me close to him. My heart explodes between our bodies, and my hardened nipples are against his chest. I lean my forehead against his, and finally our lips touch. He gently braces my head with his palm, and I wrap my arms around his neck. He kisses me again, but this time I part my lips, allowing his tongue to slip into my mouth. I open my mouth wider, letting him deepen our kiss, allowing our tongues to tease and explore each other. My hands roam over his neck, shoulders, and chest.

  His hands glide over my shoulders and down to my back. He draws me closer towards him. Kissing my neck, his hands caress my back, and his fingers inch closer to the ties of my swimsuit.

  Suddenly, I remember that he may very well be the man to ensure that I am sent off to prison.

  I pull away. My breathing is heavy—so is his. My forehead is still against his. He kisses me on my cheek then my neck.

  “Why’d you have to be the bloody District Attorney?” I whisper.

  “And why’d you have to be a murder suspect?” he responds.

  “Ask your friends at the SFPD.”

  “I don’t know what you’re doing to me. You’re making me have all these crazy thoughts,” he says, looking into my eyes and gliding his fingertips over my shoulder.

  “Ditto. I better get out of this tub, or we’ll both end up doing something we regret.”

  “Don’t come looking for me.” He smiles. “I’m going to take a long, long cold shower.”

  I laugh and exit the tub, quickly wrapping myself in my robe. I head to my bedroom. I never turn to see what Jonathan is doing. Besides, I suspect he needs a moment alone so he can collect himself.

  In the privacy of my room, I pull my Bobbyphone from my top drawer and push the speed dial button.

  “Happy New Year, Missy.”

  “Same to you Big Brother. Busy?”

  “No. Just lying by the pool with my Sweetheart.”

  “My, my how things have changed. Tell her I said hi.”

  “How’s Mr. DA?”

  “I think I’m about to lose my frigging mind.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s stranded here at the house. He slept over last night.”

  “Wait a minute… What did you say? Are you two seeing each other?”

  “No… I don’t know what we
’re doing. We met at a party last night, and I couldn’t drive home because of the snow. Anyway, he ended up driving me home. Then an avalanche knocked out the bridge down the street. So he’s stranded here.”

  He explodes into laughter. “Somebody is sexually frustrated.”

  “You’re damn right I am. This is driving me insane. If this ever went to trial, could I have him thrown off the case?”

  “Why? So you could have all your sexual desires fulfilled? Tell that to the judge then call me back and let me know how that works out for you.”

  “Bobby, I’m serious. I don’t know how to handle this.”

  “Seriously, this is not an easy situation—”

  “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  “This is mostly about him. His career. His reputation.”

  “Can he get disbarred for something like this?”

  “That’s a grey area. The best advice I can give you is if you care about him, stay away. At least until you know what’s happening with the case.”

  “That means I have to get through at least two more days. The neighbors said the last time an avalanche destroyed that bridge, it took three days just for them to get a temporary one up.”

  “Well, I wish you good luck.”

  I take a very long shower after I get off the phone. When I’m done, I turn on the TV in my room, hoping to watch something that will help me pass the time.

  I am starting to get hungry. I suppose I should see if Jonathan has started dinner or if I should fix something myself. When I walk into the great room, it looks like he started. The ingredients are scattered all over the island. However, something is wrong. He sits on one of the stools, his head between his hands as he fists his hair between his fingers.

  “Jonathan? Is something wrong?”

  He looks up at me. My skin turns to ice; I can feel something terrible has happened. Sadness consumes his body, his eyes are red, his shoulders hang low.

  “My dad is dead.”

  Chapter 6

  What?” I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “He and my mom were at dinner, and he had a heart attack. He was dead by the time he arrived at the hospital.”

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

  I pull him in my arms. I feel his hurt and pain. That was the very way my dad was taken away from me. Immediately, all the memories of that day come flooding back.

  I understand what he’s going through, the shock, wanting to believe that there’s some sort of a mistake and it’s all not true. I hold his hand and walk him over to the sofa. I know he must be eager to get back to San Francisco. There is no way we can possibly wait for the bridge to be fixed.

  I make him a cup of cocoa then I call David. I don’t know if he knows.

  “Jada. You two doing okay up there?”

  “David… I have some bad news.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Charles died of a heart attack this evening.”

  He goes silent for a moment.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this.”

  “Is Jonathan alright?”

  “He’s in shock. Look, I need your help. I know this is difficult for you, but we need to get back to San Francisco ASAP. Do you know anyone who has a boat that can pick us up here and bring me to your house, so we can leave in my car?”

  “Yes, yes. I can make arrangements, but it won’t be till morning.”

  “That’s fine, the earlier the better.”

  “I’ll call you back with the details. Tell Johnny we’ll be thinking about him.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  “I sit next to him on the sofa and hold his hand. His pulse runs wild. I’m sad that I can’t take his pain away. Then I remember his dogs, and I’m sure there must be things he needs at his house.

  “Can I have your housekeeper’s number?”

  He hands me his phone. “Her name is Delores.”

  I call directly from his cell.

  “Good evening, Jonathan.”

  She sounds older, Spanish, probably in her late fifties or early sixties.

  “Hi. Delores?”

  “Yes?”

  “My name is Jada. I’m a friend of Jonathan’s. His dad died this evening, and I’m going to try to take him back to San Francisco tomorrow in my car. I don’t have room for Micky and Maggie, though. Do you think you’ll be able to take care of them till he returns?”

  “Sure, Ms. Jada. Is he okay?”

  “As well as could be expected. It’s been a little shocking.”

  “Tell him I’ll be praying for him and his family.”

  “I will. Thank you. I’ll leave you some cash at the house.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Jada.”

  I end the call.

  “Both she and David send their love and support.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for doing this.”

  “No worries. Is there anything I can get you?”

  “No. Thanks. You’ve done more than enough.”

  “Do you want to be alone?”

  He shakes his head. “No. It’s great having you here,” he says sadly.

  I sit with him in silence for what seems like hours. I glance at my watch after some time. It’s eight in the evening. I know, at a time like this, food must be the last thing on his mind, but sometimes, we have to be reminded to eat. I go to the kitchen. Numerous vegetables are cut up on the chopping board. He had already prepared some white rice. In the fridge, some steaks are marinating. I slice it and do a quick stir-fry with the veggies. Dinner is ready in no time. I set everything on a tray and take it to him.

  “Please try to eat something,” I say, placing it on the ottoman in front of him.

  He smiles gently, but we have no verbal exchange. I fix myself a plate and then tidy the kitchen.

  I notice he’s wearing a robe. I head upstairs, and his clothing sits in the washer, clean but they need to be dried. After transferring them, I return downstairs. I eat and look across at his plate. He’s eaten a little more than half. That’s great. When Daddy died, I didn’t eat for days.

  His phone rings. I suspect it’s one of his siblings, but I’m not sure.

  “I’ll be there as early as possible tomorrow morning,” he says. “I’m not sure exactly what time… I’m fine… I love you too… Bye.”

  After clearing away the dishes, I make us some coffee.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “I think you’ve done all you can do… I still can’t get over this. This is unreal.”

  “I know how you feel.”

  “My father’s always been as healthy as a horse. He’s never spent a day of his life in the hospital. He gets regular checkups… How could this happen?”

  I wish I had the answers for him, but I don’t. I went through the exact thing when Daddy died. It was something I had to come to accept over time, and for me, that wasn’t easy. God knows what it will be like for him, and being that we’re just getting to know each other; I have no idea what I could do to ease his pain. I wrap my arms around him on the sofa, and we sit in mostly silence. At some point, he drifts to sleep while I lie in his arms with my head on his chest.

  After a night with very little sleep, the boat arrives by seven the following morning. I stop at a gas station to fill up. I take the tracking device and attach it to a big rig that’s heading in the opposite direction. They’ll think I’m heading to Nevada, where it looks like that truck might be going. We stop by his house to pick up his laptop and some bags, and soon we are on our way.

  We approach the bridge into San Francisco after three-and-a-half hours of driving in mostly silence. I realize I have no idea where Jonathan lives.

  “Where would you like me to take you?” I ask.

  “My parents’ house.”

  I think I remember the way, so I head on, thankful the San Francisco traffic is not too bad. We arrive at the house. Many cars are parked outs
ide.

  “Is there anything else I can do to help?” I ask.

  “You’re not coming in?”

  “You want me to?”

  “Please,” he replies softly.

  I park the vehicle, and we head into the house together. I haven’t really processed any of this, but when we enter the house and Caroline sees her son, it’s a harsh reminder of what has happened. She wraps her arms around him, breaking down in his arms.

  Pierce and Daniel seem to be as well as expected under the circumstances. However, Megan is exactly where I was eleven years ago—locked in her room unable to stop the tears. Jonathan manages to get in. He is probably what she needs most right now.

  I walk around the house, keeping busy, trying to help in every little way I can—fix food, do dishes, whatever would make that family’s life easier. I call my Bay Front location and ask them to prepare and deliver some hors d’oeuvres.

  After almost two hours, Jonathan has made some progress, because when he emerges, Megan is at his side. When I see her, I hug her, and as she cries, it’s hard for my old sad memories not to come back. Tears fill my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I am here to support this family, and falling apart due to my own sadness is not an acceptable option.

  I step into the bathroom for some much-needed privacy, and I wonder if the family feels the same way. An influx of people have been coming and going from the time we arrived, family, friends, coworkers, and associates. I know that at some point, they’ll want to grieve privately with each other.

  At about three in the afternoon, my Bobbyphone rings. I step out onto the patio for some privacy.

  “Hey,” I answer.

  “Jada. Sweetie, I heard the news. What’s going on?”

  “We’re in San Francisco now. I got a boat to pick us up and get me to David’s house. We took my car from there.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “At their family home.”

  “Is Jonathan okay?”