He handed her a bag containing two bottles of white wine. “I’m taking whatever you give me any way you give it.”
If that wasn’t a loaded comment, she’d never heard one. “Have a seat in the dining room,” she said, glad that she had planned for them to eat there and not in the tiny breakfast room, for he wore a suit, a dress shirt and tie. “You look very spiffy. Don’t tell me you dress that way for work.”
“Thanks for the compliment. I did when I worked at Marks and Connerly, but I had on Dockers, a T-shirt, and sandals all day today. I plan to keep a suit, shirt, tie, shoes and socks at my office to change into when I have appointments.”
I’d have gotten what I want tonight without putting on this Sherman tank, her name for the sexy jumpsuit. As it is, I can’t lose.
She served the first course, a mousse of scallops in a sauce of tomatoes, shallots, wine and dill, said grace and glanced up as if to get Reid’s reaction. “If the remainder of the meal is anything like this mousse,” he said, “I may never leave here.”
“Thanks. I made a menu out of what I had in the house. Next time, I’ll plan it properly.”
He devoured the salmon that she’d baked in foil with lemon, herbed butter and paprika; the tiny steamed potatoes rolled in butter, lemon juice and minced parsley; steamed asparagus, a lettuce and red onion salad, followed by Gorgonzola cheese with crackers and then a lemon cognac soufflé.
“This is wonderful wine,” she said as if she hoped to start a conversation, but his focus was on the food, and he’d forgotten the obligatory polite conversation.
“It is,” he said. “This is one of my favorite cheeses. It’s better with red wine.”
“Really?” She got up, went to the kitchen and got a bottle of red wine. He watched her walk and thought his eyes would pop out. She knew she’d get to him in that getup, but she needn’t have gone to the trouble; he was starved for her.
“We aim to please,” she said, putting the wine on the table.
He poured wine into the glass she brought and raised it to her. “And please, you definitely do. Don’t tell me you made a dessert,” he said when she brought in the soufflé.
After consuming two helpings of the dessert, he got up, removed his jacket, kissed her on the mouth and said, “Go in the living room and play something cool, loud enough for me to hear it.”
“But what about the neighbors?”
“Hang the neighbors. This is my night.”
Reid cleared the dining-room table, put the dishes in the dishwasher, cleaned the pots, made the place as neat as he could and looked at his watch. Seventeen minutes. He figured she hadn’t had time to cool off, but if she had, he knew how to heat her up.
In the downstairs bathroom—more of a half bath, since it didn’t have a tub—he rinsed his mouth, freshened his breath, straightened his tie and rolled down his sleeves. With this woman, a guy needs everything going for him or he can forget it.
He slipped on his jacket, got two wineglasses and the second bottle of white wine and made his way to the living room. He stopped short at the sight of her bending over the CD player with her assets on display and her voluptuous body sending out signals like a powerful wireless. He told himself to slow down. He’d been keyed up ever since the door had opened and he’d gotten a look at her cleavage from a neckline that plunged almost to her navel.
“Hi,” he said.
She straightened up and smiled in a way that suggested she hadn’t seen him for a long time. He poured two glasses of wine and put one to her lips, and she sipped the wine without taking her gaze from his. Feeling is if he was about to be carried away, he drank the wine that she held to his lips, and its dazzling effects settled in his belly.
It isn’t the wine, he told himself. I’m getting drunk on her. He took the wine from her hand and placed both glasses on the coffee table. “I want to dance with you.” She raised her arms and placed her hands against his shoulders. “I want us to dance to our own music,” he said as she moved against him while Luther Vandross sang “Here and Now.”
He stopped dancing. “I’m in deep with you, Kendra. I believe you love me, but you’re sending me all kinds of messages tonight. I…I feel as if I may not be able to contain what I’m feeling right now.”
“As long as you love me, truly love me,” she said, “I’ll be happy.”
And he didn’t doubt that she would be the one who decided whether he truly loved her.
“You’re so firmly planted in here,” he said, pointing to his chest, “that I can’t imagine my life without you.”
She stepped closer, traced his left cheek with the palm of her right hand, pressed her lips to his and then parted them, sending a shock wave throughout his body. He plunged into her, aware that she meant him to hold back nothing. She sucked his tongue into her mouth, and he could feel her getting hotter as she began to move against him. He sampled every crevice of her mouth with his tongue until her breath started coming in short spurts, and she grabbed his hand and shoved it into the neckline of her dress.
He looked down at her exposed breast, and swallowed the liquid that had accumulated in his mouth. Lord, how he loved it! He sucked the nipple into his mouth, picked her up and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom while he suckled her. He got her out of the jumpsuit, threw back the covers and put her in bed.
“Let me help,” she said, watching him undress.
“It wouldn’t do for you to touch me right now, sweetheart. I’m starved to death for you, and the sight of you lying there in that scrap of red cloth isn’t making me simmer down.”
She reached over and stroked his penis. “Hmmm,” she said, licking her lips.
“Like what you see?” he asked her, not trying to keep the grin off his face.
“Like it, and can’t wait to get it.”
He kicked off his shoes, didn’t bother to pull off his socks and stood staring down at the treasure before him. She opened her arms in a gesture as old as women.
“Come here to me.” He nearly fell into her embrace as she spread her legs in a familiar welcome. He put his arms around her and kissed her eyes and her forehead, praying that he wouldn’t erupt.
“Honey, I don’t need the finesse tonight. I just want to feel you moving inside me.” She reached down to fondle him, but he moved his hips, thwarting her effort.
“You’re not ready, and I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.
She held her breast. “Kiss me. You won’t hurt me. You can’t. I want…” He found her vulva with his fingers and let them work their magic until he knew she was ready for him. She took him in her hand, stroked and caressed him until he shouted aloud.
“Stop it, baby, or it’ll be over.”
She raised her body and took him in. Home. No other word described the feeling he got when he slid into her. Pure heaven was his. He rode her fast and furiously.
“Do you feel it coming? Am I in the right place? I can’t last much longer the way you’re swelling around me. Oh, Kendra!” And then he could feel her clutching and squeezing him. Screams poured out of her.
“I love you so much,” she said.
He wanted to tell her how much he loved her and what she meant to him, but the words wouldn’t come. He managed to breathe as he gave himself to her, gave himself as never before. “I’m yours. Only yours.” With those words pounding in his head, he came apart in her arms.
She seemed weightless and lifeless in his arms, as if the experience had drained her, yet he knew her now, and understood that, after a quick recovery, she would be ready for more.
“How do you feel?” he asked her. “That was rather short. I know you had an orgasm, but was it complete?”
Her arms tightened around him. “It was wonderful. Why? Are you tired?”
He couldn’t hold back the laugh. “No indeed, but I could use a bite of something.”
“I know. Lovemaking always makes you hungry. There are some buttermilk biscuits with ham wrapped in aluminum foil in the oven.
I’m sure they’re still warm.”
“Did you plan them for dinner and forget to serve them?”
“No. I planned them for you, ’cause I knew you’d get hungry.”
He stared down at her, wishing he understood women, any woman. “How did you know we would make love?”
She locked her hands behind her head and purred as any sated feline would. “Because I planned it.” He stared at her with what he supposed was a quizzical expression. “You don’t think you’re the only person who can get hungry, do you?” she said.
With no answer for that, he rolled out of bed, went to the kitchen, put the ham biscuits and wine on a tray and got back in bed. “You’d better have some of this, too,” he told her. “You can’t make love on an empty stomach. At least, I can’t.”
At a quarter to four the next morning, he sat on the side of her bed tying his shoes. She tightened her robe, poured the last of the wine into a glass and handed it to him. “I forgot to tell you something. My clerk said that Brown and Worley are on the court’s docket for Monday after next.”
He hardly believed his ears. “You forgot to tell me that? You’ve been with me nine hours, and you haven’t remembered to tell me until now?”
“I don’t know who the plaintiff is.”
“And you didn’t go to the trouble to find out?”
“I didn’t want to appear overly interested.”
“That’s a weak excuse. Since you didn’t know the answer, you could ask, and especially since you just judged a case against them. I wish you had waited and told me tomorrow. This isn’t the ending I’d wish for to one of the most wonderful evenings of my life. I’ll call you.”
It hurt, and she suspected that the pain would deepen with the passing days. She hadn’t asked Carl Running Moon for the name of the plaintiff in the Brown and Worley case because she knew. She walked into her chambers the next morning, found the file on her desk—Maguire versus Brown and Worley—and telephoned Reid.
“Hello, Kendra.”
Well, she thought, if he’s feeling frost now, he’ll probably freeze when he hears what I have to say. “Hi. In the Brown and Worley case two weeks hence, you are the plaintiff.”
“I know. My lawyer told me a few minutes ago.”
“Reid, I’m going to recuse myself from that case.”
“What did you say?”
“It would be improper for me to judge that case, Reid, and that’s a matter that has worried me ever since we met. I am incapable of impartiality concerning something so important to you.”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing.”
“Please, Reid. I could be disbarred for judging your case, and besides, I have to live with myself.”
“Why would you be disbarred? Nobody here in Queenstown knows about us but us.”
“Myrna knows, and so does that architectural examiner…uh…Helligman. But if no one else knew, I know, and I have to respect myself. I’m sorry, Reid.”
“Do what you have to do. I’ll be seeing you.”
She hung up and telephoned the county clerk. She would do most anything for Reid except compromise her integrity. He hadn’t understood, and he’d walked. It hurt like hell, but it wouldn’t kill her. She got through the day as best she could, fighting to focus upon the trials and to stave off images of Reid smiling, grinning, hot with desire and in the grip of orgasm.
She got home later than usual, for she had no reason to rush. Reid wouldn’t call. The red light flashing on her answering machine didn’t fool her, either. After checking, she returned her sister’s call.
“How’s it going?” she asked Claudine.
“Great, but I see things aren’t so good with you. When did you ever ask me ‘How’s it going?’ What’s wrong?”
After Kendra’s recitation, Claudine said, “He’s upset because he has so much at stake. Too bad he can’t see it your way. If I were you, I’d find ways to help him behind the scene.”
“Oh, I plan to observe the trial, and I hope his lawyer will accept whatever suggestions I may have.”
“That’s the spirit. Years from now, you’ll look back on this as a mere ripple in a pond.”
“Please God you’re right. I’m paying for his ex-wife’s folly, but I’ll get through this. Are you spending the weekend with Philip?”
“I’m going down Thursday night. I’ve applied for a teaching position in Princess Anne, and they want to interview me.”
She let out a gasp. “Does this mean what I hope it means?”
“You know Philip can’t move. His life is there. I’m sure I’ll get the job. That man has so much clout that evidence of it continually shocks me. Kendra, everybody seems to love Philip. I haven’t met anybody, from the local postal clerk to the mayor, who doesn’t seem to admire him. Last Saturday, I went with him to a reception at the Naval Academy in Annapolis. He doesn’t seem to know what a big shot he is.”
“And, honey, let’s hope he never learns.”
“I think we’ll probably get married around Christmas time. Doris is planning to barbecue two grown pigs. You and Reid had better get it together, because he’ll be best man and you’ll be maid of honor.”
But they didn’t get it together. On the Monday morning when the trial opened with the Honorable Judge Weddington presiding, Reid met Kendra in the courthouse lobby, nodded and kept walking. He had a good lawyer; she knew and had worked with Dean Barker, and now she shook his hand.
“I’d been hoping that you would try the case, Kendra, but I hear you recused yourself and stepped down. Mind if I ask why?”
“Reid is a personal friend, and I want to see him win.”
“I see. Well, I’ll take any hints you can give me. We have a pretty tight case, but the jury will be impressed with the fact that he lost this case earlier.”
“I’ll be taking notes, Dean.” She took a seat in the rear of the court so as not to be conspicuous. Her belly twisted into a knot when Brown and Worley entered the court with Fred Emerson between them. Among unscrupulous lawyers, Emerson stood out.
Immediately, she sent Dean a note. “Reid’s ex-wife is in town. Ask her to testify. She wants him back, so she won’t lie.”
Dean opened with a history of Reid’s accomplishments and noted his deal with Reginald English and his consultancy with Mark and Connerly. “If it pleases the court, I’d like to read and file a registered architectural examiner’s affidavit on the condition of Judge Kendra Rutherford’s house and other cases in which structural damage was discovered in Brown and Worley’s buildings.”
In spite of that evidence, Kendra sensed that Dean did not have the jurors with him, and when Emerson began his attack on behalf of Brown and Worley, she got busy and asked for a meeting with Dean and Reid.
“Three of those jurors were witnesses for Brown and Worley in their case against CFSL a couple of weeks back,” she said. “Have them thrown out. Reid, you should have Marks and Connerly—especially Jack Marks—testify on your behalf, also Philip and Arnold Dickerson, especially Philip. And Myrna? What happened to her?”
“She flew the coop as soon as Dean called her. Myrna couldn’t pass muster if Emerson decided to expose her as a person without honor. She’s gone for good,” Reid said. Kendra tried not to show her delight, but the grin that brightened Reid’s eyes told her that her solemnity hadn’t fooled him.
Dean opened his cell phone and called Jack Marks. “This is Dean Barker, Reid Maguire’s attorney. Would you be willing to testify on his behalf at the Brown and Worley trial that’s now in progress?” He listened for a minute. “Thanks. We hadn’t thought we’d need witnesses, but the defense is playing hardball, so I have to shore up our fences. Tomorrow morning. Many thanks. Reid? All right, I’ll tell him.” He thanked the man and hung up. “Reid, he wants you to call him.”
“Another thing,” Kendra said. “There’s no law that says you can’t read Helligman’s affidavit to the jury again. Imprint it in their minds. Don’t ask permission. Just do it.” She not
iced how Reid observed her professional demeanor, all the while nodding in agreement. “If I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”
“Reid,” she said as they left the lawyer’s office, “have you thought of writing out some relevant questions for Dean to ask you? I mean questions about that building that collapsed. You are going to take the stand, aren’t you? You’ll make an immense impression, especially if you wear what you wore to my house the night I fixed dinner for you.”
His eyes blazed hot with the fire of desire, and she let her own eyes answer his in kind. “I’m going to take your advice about this and everything else. I have to call Philip, but I’ll be in touch later.”
She watched him as he headed for his car, his masculine swagger proclaiming who he was. Whether or not he knew it, his sense of self did not depend on the outcome of the trial; he didn’t need the validation that a victory would give him. And she hoped he would realize that he had recovered his self-image and his status as an architect without Brown and Worley having been found guilty of incompetence.
“I’ll look forward to it, Reid,” she told him, and she would. She’d had enough of sleepless nights and soggy pillows.
“You’re helping me in spite of…of my ungraciousness,” Reid said when he called her. “Why?”
“What a pity you feel you have to ask. I want you to win, and I don’t love you less just because you were pigheaded.”
“I suppose that’s about as kindly a way as you could describe it. Trust me, I’ve paid for my pigheadedness a thousand times. You’re one hell of a woman, Kendra. When this is over—”
She interrupted him. “Let’s focus on winning this case, Reid. We can’t afford to miss a single trick. Emerson is not a nice man, but he’s a very clever lawyer, and after losing the case against CFSL, he doesn’t plan on losing this one. Did you speak with Philip or Arnold?”
“Philip and Arnold will be here tomorrow around eleven. I’d like to see Emerson tie up with either of them.”
As it happened, Jack Marks’s testimony practically sealed the case in Reid’s favor, for he testified that he had accepted a contract worth one hundred million dollars only after Reid had agreed to be the architect, working for him as a consultant. “I don’t have an architect capable of designing that kind of building,” he said, “but for Reid Maguire, it’s little more than a chicken scratch. He can design anything, and he certainly didn’t put any structural flaws in that simple building that Brown and Worley erected in Baltimore. Reid showed me the plans. I couldn’t find a flaw in them.”
One Night With You Page 23