Courting Justice

by Brenda Jackson

  Moments later she glanced at her watch. In less than four hours she would be turning thirty, which was depressing enough. And now on top of that she had to figure out how to deal with the likes of Angelo Di Meglio.

  * * *

  Angelo climbed the steps of the lighthouse, all the while thinking that if Peyton was here, he was going to wring her neck…but only after kissing her senseless for the hell he’d been through over the past two hours.

  When he discovered she wasn’t in her room, he had assumed she’d already left to go downstairs for dinner. However, he hadn’t been able to find her anywhere and began to panic until someone mentioned they had seen her leaving. Then he really got pissed when the resort personnel wouldn’t divulge any information—even to him—citing the privacy policy, something he was damn well aware of since he had implemented it.

  Luckily Saul had felt sorry for him and had pulled him aside and told him that the car Peyton had rented was parked in front of the lighthouse. Angelo hadn’t wasted any time getting here. And now that he was, he wasn’t sure how he would handle the situation after chewing her out…and kissing her. He couldn’t forget that part.

  The main door to the lighthouse was locked but Saul had given him a key. The older man had asked if something was going on between Angelo and Peyton that first night, and Angelo assured him there was. He was glad Saul trusted him.

  He quietly closed the door behind him and glanced up and saw how high the spiral stairs went and sighed upon seeing the elevator. He had been to the lighthouse before on a tour but had forgotten just how nice it was. He remembered being told it was used mainly as a honeymoon retreat and to spend a night there cost a pretty penny.

  He found out that Peyton had rented the place for two nights, which meant she didn’t have a problem paying to be alone on her birthday. Why? Why would she not want to celebrate with others? Sam and Mac had planned to take her on a four-day cruise. But he had talked them out of it and suggested Dunwoody Cove—insisting that they not come along. At first they balked at the suggestion until he talked to them individually, pleading his case.

  He stepped in the elevator, and was anxious to see Peyton. He was probably the last person she expected to see tonight. Did she really think she could pull a stunt like this and he wouldn’t come after her? Evidently she did.

  The elevator came to a stop and the door swooshed open into a tiny parlor encased in glass that provided a stunning view of the ocean. His gaze swept around the room. He remembered the setup. At the time he had thought the studio would be the perfect hideaway. Evidently, that had been Peyton’s thought as well.

  Suddenly he heard the sound of soft, jazzy music playing, and a song that somehow fit the place. He moved from the parlor into an area that was bathed in soft light from a single bedside lamp. He glanced around and saw the huge bed, the flowers he’d sent her, a big bag of chips and several wine coolers in an ice bucket. From the looks of it, she had started the party without him.

  He wondered where she was and was about to call out her name when he heard the sound of soft sobbing. He moved toward the open French doors and that’s when he saw her. She was wearing an oversize T-shirt covered with a shawl, curled up on a chaise longue facing the ocean with a wine cooler in her hand—crying. The tough-as-nails attorney was bawling like a baby.

  He moved toward her. “Peyton?”

  She jerked her head around and accusing eyes bore into him. “What are you doing here, Angelo? How did you find me? Who told you?”

  He came to a stop in front of the recliner, deciding to sum up her questions in a single answer. “Doesn’t matter, I’m here.”

  She wiped at her eyes and looked away, as if she was embarrassed he had caught her crying. “It does matter. I don’t want you here. I want to be alone. So go away and let me enjoy my birthday in peace.”

  He lifted a brow, wondering if that was what this was all about. He’d heard some women got pretty damn emotional when it came to their birthdays—especially ones ending in a zero. He never took her for the emotional type. But if she was it didn’t matter one iota…except for the fact that she was in tears.

  He eased down beside her on the chaise as she tried scooting away from him. “Did you hear anything I said, Angelo? I don’t want you here.”

  “At the moment it doesn’t matter what you want,” he said, reaching out for her and pulling her toward him while lifting her slightly to place her in his lap. She hadn’t resisted, which meant some part of her needed to be held.

  The one thing he knew not to ask was whether or not she wanted to talk about it, so he decided to use another approach. “Getting old can be a bitch, can’t it?” he asked softly, holding her gently. “But then it’s not all bad considering the other alternative, which is death. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about it one way or the other.”

  She pulled back and glared at him. “If that was meant to be funny…”

  “No, Peyton, it was meant to be serious. And I think if you take a moment to look back over your life and consider all the things you’ve accomplished over the past thirty years, then you’ll agree that you have lived a very successful and productive life.”

  He pulled her back closer into his arms. He liked the way she felt pressed against his chest. “Now take my advice and take a moment.”

  Holding her in his arms and listening to her even breathing, he reflected on the exact moment he realized the depths of what he was feeling for her. It had been at Mac’s wedding when a couple of Luke Madaris’s rodeo friends had been checking her out, much too overtly to suit him. He’d watched them and brooded over it. He fought back the desire to knock the hell out of a few of them before FDR, who’d evidently seen Angelo’s anger, had asked what was wrong. He’d told FDR nothing, but he’d known at that moment it was something. It took him another year to finally admit to himself just what that something was.

  “It’s not the same for men.”

  Her words cut into his thoughts. He glanced at her as he dabbed the tears from her eyes with a tissue. “What isn’t?”

  “Turning thirty.”

  He nodded, deciding not to disagree with her, even though he felt the inclination to do so. “How is it different?” he asked.

  “Men think about…just what you said earlier. All their accomplishments and all they’ve achieved. While women think about what they haven’t achieved. For some, but not all, what they think about most is the lack of a ring on the third finger of their left hand or the fact that they don’t have children.”

  He rested his chin on the crown of her head as he felt a glimmer of hope. “Are you saying you want those things? The ring on the finger? Motherhood?”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. But things aren’t the same anymore.”

  He was trying like hell to follow her. “Aren’t the same anymore for whom?”

  “Sam, Mac and I,” she continued. “We’re still close and everything. But we used to do practically everything together. Now they have their own lives. They have husbands. They have babies.”

  Now he understood. Mac and Sam were married and were mothers.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for them. But we don’t get to hang out like we used to,” she interjected. “They have other priorities, and I understand that. And I don’t want to sound like a whiner, but I miss our girls-night outings.”

  She not only missed them, he concluded, she felt left out in the cold without them. She’d probably had these feelings for a while, but on the eve of her thirtieth birthday, it was hitting home, hitting hard and making her realize that in addition to getting older, her life was changing.

  He wondered how he could reason with her, make her see that this particular change was all good. Should he come clean and tell her that Sam and Mac had planned to spend her thirtieth birthday with her and that he had talk
ed them out of it?

  He remained silent and held her in his arms. Even two hundred feet high they could hear the sound of the waves washing against the shore, the ruffling of ship sails in the wind and the occasional sound of crickets. There was so much he wished he could say, but knew he would have his chance in due time. And now was not the time. Right now she needed him for another reason. She needed him to be there whether she admitted it or not.

  “Angelo?”

  He glanced at her. In the darkness he could barely make out her features. “Yes?”

  “Why are you here?”

  She’d given him an opening to level with her, and God knows he wanted to. But he still wanted more between them, before he bared his soul…and his heart. “You were supposed to meet me for dinner,” he reminded her.

  “I told you I wasn’t coming.”

  “I guess I didn’t believe you.”

  Neither said anything for a few brief moments. “How did you find me?”

  “I called Alex Maxwell.”

  He heard her soft chuckle. Alex Maxwell was married to one of the Madarises and when it came to solving cases or finding people, he was legendary. Everyone in the Madaris family joked that if anything or anyone was ever missing, just call Alex.

  “Seriously, Angelo, how did you find me?”

  He wasn’t about to throw Saul under the bus. “I have my ways.”

  She breathed in a deep sigh. “Did it ever occur to you that I didn’t want to be found?”

  “No, especially not when—” he glanced at his watch “—in less than forty minutes you’ll be celebrating your birthday. Do you honestly think I’d let you celebrate it alone?”

  She didn’t answer. “When I arrived a few nights ago and checked out the place and saw all the good-looking guys here, I initially had another plan to celebrate my birthday.”

  He really didn’t want to know she’d been checking out other guys. “What had you planned?”

  He could see the hint of a smile forming on her lips. “I figured when the clock struck twelve on the eve of my birthday that I would be in bed with one of them, in the middle of having the big O. Now isn’t that hilarious?”

  He didn’t see a damn thing funny about it—not a single thing.

  “What good is celebrating the big 3-0 without having a big O in the process?” she said, chuckling.

  He didn’t see a lot of good in it, especially if her bed partner was anyone but him. “Well, I guess that won’t be happening. You’re going to have to come up with another fantasy.”

  Her gaze lifted to his face. “Why should I have to when you’re here?”

  Angelo froze. And when he was able to get his heart back to beating normally again, he said, “Come again?”

  “Now that you mention it, it’s been more than a year since I’ve been in bed with a man.”

  He drew in a deep breath, thinking that was way too much information, especially considering how he felt about her. Like just now, when he inhaled, he got more than a whiff of her cologne. He’d picked up her scent, a luscious aroma that made his erection ease into a hard throb.

  “You’re not going to say anything?” she asked him.

  He reached out and took the wine cooler from her hand. It was practically empty. “Yes, I’m going to say something. You’ve had too much to drink again tonight.”

  She shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”

  “Yes, you have, and I hope it doesn’t become a habit.”

  She slowly eased up to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ve decided I want to celebrate, after all. I was going to do it alone, but since you came here uninvited I might as well put you to work.”

  He stared at her, assessing her honesty, and liking the feel of her arms wrapped around him. He could see her features a little more clearly now with the light streaming in from the bedroom. Her eyes were clear, but he thought he saw a hint of mischief in them and couldn’t help wondering what was going on in that pretty little head of hers. “Put me to work doing what?”

  She leaned closer to him and whispered against his lips, “Making love to me.”

  Chapter 11

  He wasn’t saying anything, Peyton noted. He was just staring at her with those gorgeous dark eyes of his. And why did he have to smell so good, so delicious and so masculine? Her mouth hovered close to his lips. All she had to do was stick out her tongue and quickly lick them. How would he react if she did that? They’d already kissed twice, and he’d initiated it both times. How would he respond if she took things into her hands and…

  “You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.”

  His words invaded her thoughts. Did he think it was the wine cooler talking, controlling her thoughts, her desires? Granted she felt warm and relaxed, but it was because he was holding her. She was in his arms. She had wanted to be in his arms before, but hadn’t allowed herself to think about it. But she was about to turn thirty—in a matter of minutes—and wasn’t her birthday supposed to be about her and what she wanted?

  Okay, maybe she had given him too much information, especially about the big O. But she hadn’t slept with a man in over a year. She’d put her desires and needs on hold, case after case after case. Simply put, she needed to get laid. But not just with anyone, only with him. He was someone she knew and trusted. She knew he was a man who would not hurt her.

  “I think it’s time for you to go to bed, Peyton.”

  His words heated her lips, and she knew what he was saying. “Only if you get into bed with me,” she responded boldly.

  He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “You think too much.” With that, she leaned in and did what she’d been tempted to do many times, especially when he’d stayed at her place and she’d bumped into him late one night when she’d gotten up to raid the refrigerator only to find he’d had the same idea.

  She took her tongue and slowly traced it across his lips. She felt the way his stomach muscles tightened against her torso and heard his sharp intake of breath. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked through tightened lips, as if he were too afraid to open them for fear she might go further. Now, who was the coward?

  She smiled at him as butterflies floated around in her stomach. But she refused to back down now. “I’m being naughty. I’ve been a good girl for a while, at least I’ve tried. I don’t even use as much profanity as I used to. I’ve been working hard. I haven’t given Judge Chambers another ulcer with my courtroom theatrics, and I’m even doling out more compliments than I normally do. But tonight I don’t want to be nice. I want to be naughty. Got that? And more than anything I need to get laid.”

  She chuckled softly, thinking that she couldn’t be any more blunt than that. She watched his eyes darken, and with the way she was sitting on his lap she could feel the moment his erection came to life, becoming more rigid under her backside. She liked the way it felt pressed against her like steel.

  Their mouths were just inches away from each other. “Um, something is starting to grow I see,” she said playfully.

  “What do you expect? You’re a very desirable woman.”

  Her eyes widened at his words. Did he really find her desirable? He could have any woman he wanted and there were a slew of them back at the resort just itching to get into his pants. There was no doubt in her mind that good old Lela would just love to jump his bones. But he was here with her, and with an enormous hard-on. She met his gaze. “You think I’m desirable, huh?” she said softly.

  “Hell, yes.”

  She licked her lips and felt him harden even more. “How desirable?” she asked.

  “More than you need to be at this moment and that could be dangerous.”

  She lifted a brow. “Dangerous for who? You or me?”
>
  He reached out and softly stroked the side of her face and said in a husky tone, “Both of us.”

  It wasn’t what he’d said, but how he’d said it that made her panties wet. Then there was the way he touched her face, the gentle way he’d caressed her body. Such tenderness from him turned her on big-time.

  She held his gaze as he moved his hand from the side of her face and pushed a few locks of hair behind her ear. “You probably won’t remember any of this in the morning,” he said in a soft voice.

  “Wanna bet?” She knew he thought she’d had too much to drink, but he was wrong. She always drank wine coolers when she wanted to relax and unwind. She could handle them and the effect on her was no more than what a couple of beers would have on him.

  He glanced down at his watch. “You don’t have much longer now.”

  He was right. She didn’t have much longer. What she’d said earlier was true. She wanted to be naughty. Since he wouldn’t make the first move then it was up to her to do so.

  Wiggling off his lap, she stood up and tugged at his arm. “Come on, Angelo. Make yourself useful and make love to me. It’s my birthday, and I should be able to have what I want. And I want the big O. Either you do it or I’ll go find someone else.” She was lying of course. She only wanted him.

  He eased up off the chaise longue. She could tell from his expression that he hadn’t liked what she’d said. His glare said as much. But she hadn’t expected him to respond by reaching out, grabbing her and pulling her into his arms. “No other man is going to make love to you—ever!”

  For a second she thought he sounded possessive, serious, even a wee bit territorial. She pushed the thought from her mind. He probably didn’t mean it the way it had sounded, she was sure of that. But now that she had his attention, she might as well go for it. “Well I guess you better do what you need to do then.”

  She shrugged the shawl off her shoulders and whipped the T-shirt over her head and stood stark naked before him. She gave him one of those what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of smiles and before she could draw her next breath, he had swept her off her feet and into his arms.