Courting Justice

by Brenda Jackson

  “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, Peyton?”

  Pretty little head? Boy, he was full of compliments today. She held up her hand to cut off any further words from him. “Let’s just forget it.”

  “Forget what? The kiss, or your thinking that I have ulterior motives for complimenting you?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Have you forgotten about Lela Stillwell and what you asked me to do?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then,” she said, deciding that now they were finally getting somewhere.

  “Will you do it?”

  Peyton hesitated. She was certain she had fully slept off her hangover, so why had her head begun spinning again? She wondered if she should let Angelo know he was practically making her dizzy. “I’ve given it some thought.”

  “But you haven’t made up your mind.”

  Actually, she had. She wouldn’t do it since she wasn’t sure if she could keep her infatuation with him from resurfacing. It had been bad enough two years ago when he’d stayed at her place those few days. She had told him to make himself comfortable and feel right at home. He’d done just that. He had thought nothing of walking around shirtless and letting her see him in just his pajama bottoms.

  “Actually, I have. I don’t think doing something like that will work. Who in their right mind would believe we have something going on?”

  He glanced over at her, seeming surprised that she would say such a thing. “Why wouldn’t they?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, nobody would think of us as a couple.”

  “I disagree.” He glanced around the café. “There’s not a woman in here who I could imagine myself with besides you.”

  Following his gaze she glanced around the room, too, studying the various groups of women. Not surprisingly, the majority of them were staring right back at them. They were probably wondering why he was sitting with her instead of them.

  She returned her gaze to Angelo and her heart rate increased when she saw he was staring intently at her. “Not that I think I’m chopped liver or anything, but look at them.”

  “I did.”

  “And what do you see?”

  “Women—plenty of them with their faces made up, their hair in place and their nails done. And every last one of them with I’ll-eat-you-alive-if-given-the-chance looks on their faces,” he said.

  She lifted a brow. “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “For me it is. I told you why I’m here. And the thought that anyone wouldn’t think we’re a couple is simply crazy. You are better for me than any other woman in this room, hands down.”

  Was that irritation she heard in his voice? She fought back a laugh that he would waste his time being annoyed at such a thing. “Hands down, huh?” she said, deciding to make light of their conversation.

  He leaned in closer and the look in his eyes told her he wasn’t making polite conversation. “So what do you think, Peyton?”

  If he thought he had answered all her questions, she had news for him. “Why me, Angelo?”

  Their gazes held, and the look in his eyes had her heart pumping like crazy. She bit her bottom lip, feeling a sudden flutter in the pit of her stomach. For whatever reason, it appeared he was still annoyed with her.

  “You’ve known me longer than anyone here, so I can trust you,” he finally said. “With you I don’t have to worry about your interest in me being purely financial or because of my newfound fame.”

  His words were actually a compliment—kind of. And she couldn’t help the sensation that made her chest swell or the undercurrents that were making the tips of her nipples harden under her blouse. “I thought men who weren’t serious about women didn’t care one way or the other, as long as they were on top of their game.”

  He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Maybe for some, but I’ve outgrown that.”

  She waved off his words. “Whatever.”

  “You don’t believe me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Angelo? No. But does it matter what I believe?”

  He was spared from answering when the waitress came to take their order. Just as well, Peyton thought. He had told her more than enough fairy tales today anyway.

  * * *

  Angelo shifted in his chair thinking that every muscle in his body was feeling Peyton’s presence. Conversation for them had ceased for the moment while they enjoyed their meal.

  She had ordered a lot, and he was surprised she ate it all. Since he’d eaten breakfast and lunch, all he wanted was something light and decided a bowl of soup would be enough, or so he’d thought. But more than once he swiped a French fry off her plate.

  He slowly chewed on the fry thinking he could feel the connection between them even if she couldn’t. Did she even sense what was taking place? Had she caught on that he was laying the groundwork for what was to come? What would eventually happen between them?

  More than once he saw her glance at the group of women sitting at a table across the room. He was very much aware that the women were staring at them and had been doing so for quite a while. He wondered if that’s what was bothering Peyton and decided to ask.

  He glanced over at her and before he could speak his eyes devoured her, taking in the smooth, creamy brown texture of her skin, her dark eyes that preferred studying the food on her plate rather than him, and the way her mouth was curved in a pout.

  He lifted a brow. “Would you like to tell me what’s wrong, Peyton?”

  She glanced up, met his gaze, held it and was about to move her mouth to speak when they both noticed a presence at their table. He lifted his gaze and stared into the face of Lela Stillwell.

  Where the hell had she come from? And why had she chosen just that precise moment to appear? And what right did she have to glare at him like he’d been caught doing something wrong?

  “Lela?” he said, acknowledging her presence.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” Lela said in that syrupy voice that made him cringe. Then she had the audacity to reach out and place her hand over his. Now she was being disrespectful to Peyton, and he wasn’t going to put up with it. He reached out and removed her hand from his.

  “You were looking for me for what reason?”

  “I thought we could spend the afternoon together.”

  He gave her a smile that he knew didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then he glanced over to Peyton. “I’m sure Lela somehow forgot her manners, so let me make the introductions. Peyton, this is Lela Stillwell. Lela, this is Peyton Mahoney.” The two women glanced at each other, but neither extended their hands, nor did they exchange pleasantries.

  In fact, as if dismissing Peyton altogether, Lela turned her attention back to him and said, “Well, are you ready?”

  He lifted a brow. “Ready for what?”

  “For us to spend the afternoon together. Didn’t you read the brochure you were given when you checked in?”

  He had to remind himself that standing before him was a woman who could take the words spoiled, selfish and narcissistic to a whole new level. “Evidently I didn’t. What did it say?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Tonight the resort is hosting the couples’ ball, and it would be best to claim your date early.”

  He stared at her for a moment and then just to make sure he understood what she was insinuating, he said, “So you’re claiming me?”

  She smiled brightly. “Of course.”

  Sometimes people simply amazed him, especially women, and at that moment, particularly Lela. She had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth; had attended some of the best schools; had been introduced to all the finer things in life. But when it came to substance—namely manners and respecting others—she might as well have been raised by a pack of wild dogs. Especially compared to Peyton—who had
been raised by her grandmother in a less than desirable part of Chicago, rarely saw her mother growing up, didn’t know her father and had to pay her own way through college and law school but still possessed the kind of class and grace that money couldn’t buy. If the two women were pitted against one another, Peyton was the winner hands down.

  He held Lela’s gaze and was about to open his mouth to tell Lela that it would be a cold day in hell before he would allow her to claim him for anything, when he heard Peyton’s soft chuckle.

  He glanced across the table in time to hear her say to Lela, “Sorry, Ms. What’s-Your-Name, but you’re a tad too late. Angelo might not have read the brochure, but I did. And he’s already been claimed—by me.”

  Chapter 6

  The coffee machine in Peyton’s suite was taking too long to brew and the steady slow drip was driving her crazy. It wouldn’t have been so bad if Angelo hadn’t been standing across the room watching her every move.

  After putting Lela in her place and watching her stomp away like the spoiled brat she was, Peyton had finished her coffee. Angelo had had the good sense to keep quiet while she did so. Telling him she’d see him later, she’d left the restaurant. To her surprise, when she passed the group of women from the elevator, they smiled and gave her the thumbs-up. Evidently they had witnessed Lela Stillwell’s behavior from across the room and were glad she had been put in her place.

  Peyton had met a lot of rude people during her lifetime, but she was convinced Lela took the icing off the cake. It wasn’t what she said, but how she had said it, like she had every right to talk down to people. Who had made her queen? How dare Lela assume that even though Angelo was having lunch with Peyton, that she was insignificant and that Lela could make a play for him right in front of her and show her disrespect. Anger raced through her body.

  The nerve of that hussy, she thought.

  “I hope that coffee you’re brewing is for drinking and not to throw on me.”

  She looked back at Angelo over her shoulder. She had let him in a few moments before, and he was still there standing with his back against the closed door, as if trying to decide whether it was safe to stay. “I don’t know what I plan to do just yet,” she said, still fuming inside.

  “Why are you angry at me? It’s not my fault Lela is the way she is.”

  He was right, it wasn’t his fault. But still, why was he like a magnet for some of the most ill-mannered, obnoxious women around? Why?

  She turned around and glared at him. “I hope you know that I had made up my mind not to get involved with you and that woman. You’re a grown-ass man who should be able to fight off unwanted advances on your own. However, Lela Stillwell takes the damn cake. That heifer had the nerve, the damn audacity, to stand there and act like I wasn’t there, like I was no better than the friggin’ ketchup bottle on the table. Who in the hell gave her the right to ignore me that way? As if I was insignificant!”

  “Definitely not me.”

  Peyton glared at him for a moment and then shook her head as the rich aroma of brewing coffee filled the air. There was an unreadable expression on his face and she couldn’t help wondering if he’d found the situation amusing at her expense. The thought practically had steam coming out of her ears.

  She studied his features—saw the way his chiseled jaw had tightened—as the angry lines around his lips matched the unmistakable glacial look in his eyes. No, he wasn’t amused. Apparently he was just as pissed as she was.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. “Level with me, Angelo. Have you and Lela ever had an affair, and am I being used as a pawn to make her jealous or something?”

  He walked toward her with a stride that was sexy as sin as well as measured and decisive. When he came to a stop in front of her, he glanced around, surveying the room instead of looking directly at her. She had a feeling he was merely trying to get his temper under control before he responded.

  He glanced back at her and held her gaze. “No. Hell no! I’ve never been involved with Lela, although on countless occasions she made it her business to let me know she hoped otherwise.”

  He paused a moment. “There was a time when I thought about getting involved with her just to get it over with. It was going to be nothing more than a one-night stand. But luckily the controversy with Kevin Swank came up before I made a move. Although I felt bad for the guy, I was glad it was him and not me. After the scandal, Lela’s father sent her out of the country. Now she’s back, and she figures she can pick up where she left off trying to get me in her bed. And I don’t trust her one bit.”

  He crossed his arms over his own chest. “You’re right. I am a grown man, and trust me when I say I can handle my business. Maybe I didn’t have the right to ask you to get involved by pretending there’s something going on between us. But I figured if Lela saw me with another woman, she’d get the message that I’m not interested. Evidently I was wrong about that.”

  Peyton sighed. “Yes, Angelo, you were. There are plenty of women like Lela, who think just because they have money they can say or do whatever the hell they want, without considering others. All I can say is that she better be glad she’s dealing with the classy, new Peyton Mahoney. If I was the same person I was ten years ago, I would have used her to clean the damn floor.”

  A smile touched the corners of his lips. She glared at him. “And just what’s so funny?”

  “Your attitude. You remind me of what I heard my mother used to be like back in the day. According to my father she was something else.”

  Peyton lifted a brow. “Your mother’s family had money, too, Angelo.”

  He shrugged. “Not really. Although her father was a lawyer and her mother was a teacher, according to Mom, there wasn’t always a lot of money. There were four of them, and her parents made sacrifices to educate their kids and help them fulfill their dreams.”

  Peyton drew in a deep breath, believing what she’d said was still true. Relatively speaking, his mother had money—at least compared to how things were for her growing up in Chicago. She still remembered how her grandmother took on several jobs to make ends meet. When Edith Mahoney should have been looking toward retirement, she’d had a six-month-old baby dumped in her lap. Instead of turning Peyton over to social services, her grandmother had raised her. Luckily they had good neighbors who had looked after her while her grandmother worked three jobs.

  “Getting back to Lela, I ran into her when I left the restaurant, and I had a talk with her after you left. And I don’t think you’ll have to worry about her doing—”

  Peyton raised her hand to cut him off. “I hope you don’t think your little lecture or me speaking up is going to be the end of it. Get real, Angelo, you are a challenge to her. With your fame and good looks, you’re a prize. She’s not going to back off because of anything either of us might say. In fact, she’s probably going to be even more persistent. Trust me, you aren’t someone she plans on letting get away. So if you thought coming to the resort would give you time to relax and unwind, then you’re wrong.”

  She could tell her words had him thinking as he continued rubbing his hand across his chin. “Okay, so what do you suggest?”

  “I’m willing to reconsider your offer. Granted, Lela will try my patience and yours. But it’s time she learned that she can’t always have what she wants.”

  He dropped his hands to his sides. “And what will you get out of all this?”

  She drew in a deep breath as she mulled over her answer. “On the way back to my room a couple of guys hit on me. And like I said, I’m not in the mood for that kind of attention. Although your sister and Mac have the best of intentions, I’m not as hard up for a man as they think. I want to rest, relax and have a good time. And having a good time doesn’t necessarily mean I want guys to think I’m ready and willing.”

  She paused for a seco
nd. “However, I do want to celebrate my birthday on Thursday, and I’d prefer to do so with you rather than with any other man I’ve met so far. So what do you say?”

  For a moment, Angelo didn’t know just what to say. He thought Lela had blown it for him. Instead, her little scene in the restaurant might have worked in his favor. But he’d been truthful about what he’d told Peyton. He did have a talk with Lela and had told her he wasn’t interested in her. He thought he’d handled the situation. But Peyton had a point. Some women just didn’t know when to give up, and unfortunately Lela was one of them.

  “Angelo?”

  He looked at her, really looked at her, and what he saw touched him so much that he almost reached out and pulled her into his arms. He was tempted. Lord, how he was tempted. He thought about telling her how he had convinced Mac and Sam to surprise her with a trip to the resort for her birthday, and how he had concocted a plan to make sure that they spent time together. Even with the complications created by Lela, it seemed his plan was falling into place quite nicely. Everything was turning out just right, so he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He wanted her to get to know him—the real DeAngelo Di Meglio—in a way no other woman ever had.

  After a long pause, he finally responded. “Yes?”

  “So what do you think?”

  He smiled. “I think that if you’re right about Lela, then in order to pull this off, we’re going to have to be exclusive. I know this is a singles’ resort, and the idea is to date other people, but that’s not going to work.”

  She chuckled. “So we’re going to have to break the singles-resort rules? But then what can they do? Ask us to leave?”

  Angelo reached behind her to grab a couple of coffee cups and shifted his body so that he was propped against the counter next to her. As he lifted the pot to pour the coffee, his hands seemed to tremble a little when Peyton came to stand beside him. He handed her a cup of coffee, took a sip from his own cup.

  “No. They wouldn’t dare, especially since I’m one of the owners.”