“Because Scaliano deserves it.”
“People die. Accidents happen,” she said, watching Vic’s expression ice over. “It’s what keeps us in business. What makes this guy any different?”
“He’s got a record. He’s proven he’s out for himself—at the expense of his customers’ lives. That’s not okay with me.” He swapped glances with Diego but focused on Sam. “And it shouldn’t be with you, either.”
She eased forward and deposited her pen onto the legal pad in front of her. Planting both elbows on the edge of her desk, she folded her arms together and glared at him. “Let me tell you something.” Warmth flushed her skin as her thermometer bumped up a few degrees. “Greed is never okay with me. Negligence is never okay with me. I’ve seen what it does to people—from the inside—which is why we’re here.” She cocked her head to the side. “Mrs. Albright has a valid claim for the death of her husband and I intend to see justice served. Whether or not Scaliano had a personal hand in this remains to be seen. Perry is a big organization. They have layer upon layer of management. As far as I know, he may be an unfortunate captain on a sinking ship.”
“He’s not.”
A chill entered the room.
“Enlighten me. What don’t I know, Vic?”
His last breath trapped in his chest, Vic’s breathing slowed. “The guy’s dirty.”
“How so?”
“Two deaths in California aren’t enough for you?”
“Not particularly,” she said. “Not when you run the numbers.”
The numbers.
Fury began to rumble inside him. People weren’t numbers, Sam. They were human beings. They had lives and futures and families who loved them.
And this man takes it all away. “I think it’s worth a shot,” he said, fighting his impulse to divulge detail; detail sure to seal the deal.
But to do so would expunge him from this case. He knew the drill. He was too close. A lawyer tainted by self-interest was a dangerous animal, capable of jeopardizing the outcome with its unpredictability.
That’s what he would say, if their positions were reversed.
“And risk our chances for a civil award?” Sam challenged.
“Separate trials.”
She shook her head. “Mrs. Albright isn’t up to it.”
“So what—you’re saying you get one or the other, but not both?”
“Yes,” she said calmly, sparks shooting from her dark brown eyes. “In this case, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“So that’s it?” Vic felt opportunity swirling down the drain, sucking every ounce of hope for justice right along with it.
“Like your casino case,” Diego chimed in. “Hit the company where it hurts. The bank account.”
Vic’s heart filled with lead. In this case, money meant nothing. They made it every day, blew it every day. Without punishment, Perry would do it again. Scaliano would do it again. It was something he couldn’t allow.
“Let’s get research working on the forseeability angle,” Sam said, closing the meeting. “Find out what we can.”
“I’m on it,” Diego replied and stood with an eager smile.
The man radiated victory. And whereas Vic knew Diego had missed the mark, he couldn’t resent him. Diego was the only reason he was here. Because Sam trusted his judgment to include Vic in on a strategy session that moved him one step closer to his goal.
Vic walked back to his office, lugging a sense of defeat behind him. His gaze cruised ahead, running over paisley designs in the navy carpet, oblivious to passersby. Though Sam and Diego had shown interest in his strategy, it hadn’t been enough to entice Sam to up the ante. She still seemed open to settlement, rather than go for the kill.
Which surprised him. He thought Sam would not only go for the bait, but clamp down hard. But she didn’t. Not even close.
“Raul wants to see you.”
Vic halted by the desk of his secretary. Young and matter-of-fact, she awaited further questioning. “Did he say what it was about?”
“No,” she said, and offered up a charitable smile. “Only he wants you now.”
Foreboding swept over him. Perfect. It’s never good when the senior partner is looking for you, let alone in a hurry on a Friday afternoon. Making an about-face, Vic decided the sooner the better.
Standing in the foyer of Raul’s office beneath an elaborate chandelier, Vic waited for his boss to finish his call. While the executive secretary politely kept to herself, he was aware she could see him from the corner of her vision. From his vantage point in the waiting area he could see through the open door that the conversation had become heated, though Raul managed to keep his overall demeanor calm. Not wanting to appear intrusive, he slid both hands into his pockets and tried to be discreet in his eavesdropping.
Was it a client on the phone? Opposing counsel? Vic couldn’t imagine Raul getting pissed with anyone—the man was the definition of cool.
Angst hammered and he began to pace. Couldn’t have anything to do with him. He hadn’t been here long enough to piss anyone off.
“Victor.”
Vic snapped to attention. “Yes Raul. You wanted to see me?”
“Yes.” A picture off the pages of GQ magazine in his cream linen suit pants and soft blue shirt and tie, Raul extended a hand followed by a friendly pat onto his back. “Come in, come in,” he said and waved a hand ahead of him.
With controlled movements, Vic seated himself opposite the imposing black walnut desk, and crossed one khaki-clad leg over another. Clean and shiny as a spanking new wax job, Raul’s glass desk liner looked as though it hadn’t been touched.
Did the man actively work cases anymore?
Probably not. If Raul was anything like the senior partners at his father’s firm back home, he spent his time hobnobbing with the Who’s Who in town, not hashing through case files.
“How can I help you, sir?”
Raul took his seat in an oversized leather chair and tamed the light in his smile. “Good news travels fast.”
His heart jumped. “Excuse me?”
“I hear you’re working Perry.”
“Well, sir,” Vic replied and shifted his weight somewhat uncomfortably. “I don’t know if I would go so far as to say I’m working Perry. Sam asked me to sit in on a meeting, but she never said anything about joining her full-time.”
“No?”
“No.” Why that should surprise Raul, Vic had no idea. Sam didn’t strike him as the sharing kind. “I’m sure if Sam wanted me on the case, she would have said something.”
“I see.” Elbows to armrests, Raul tented his fingers. “Perhaps we should clarify with Sam.”
“Clarify what with me?”
She breezed into the office behind Vic and his pulse took off. Shit—this didn’t look good. She might get the wrong idea and think he was going behind her back!
But Raul seemed to expect her. “So, how did the session go?”
Sam dropped into the seat next to Vic, a wave of spicy perfume following, filling the air around her. One long clean-shaven leg crossed his way, her knee barely covered by the hem of her ruby red skirt as she replied, “Great.”
The same ruby red as the form-fitting top half of her suit dress, her sleeveless suit dress, showed off by barely tanned arms. Taken with her close proximity, Vic pulled his attention away from her legs and arms and said, “I was just mentioning to Raul how we discussed some ideas for Perry.”
She zapped him with a smile. “Did you, now?”
“I did,” he said firmly, but had the distinct feeling something else was at play.
“May I presume things went well?” Raul asked.
“You were right,” she replied to Raul, her gaze dancing between men. “He has some good ideas on the case.”
What? Vic’s confusion leapt between the two.
“The casino case has some parallels.”
“I thought it fit rather nicely,” Raul agreed.
“We’ll
try it. First we need to determine how many decisions actually came in for the plaintiffs. Might be enough to scare Perry into a settlement.”
Vic balked. Diego said they weren’t entertaining talk of a settlement!
“Anyway,” she continued, “we’ll see what shakes out.”
“Sounds like things are proceeding to your satisfaction.” Raul pulled Vic into the conversation and said, “Stevens is interested in Victor’s status.” His gaze moved between the two. “Will you need him for Perry?”
She turned to face him and the world stopped.
Everything hung on the next words out of her mouth. Everything he had worked for, everything he sought. Everything that mattered to him. Sam held the key. She could open the door, or slam it closed in his face. Right now.
“Yes, I will.”
Vic’s tension broke in a dam of release, flooding him with relief. She will. He was in!
Beautiful, generous, he wanted to hug her—squeeze hard and let her know what it meant to him. A chance, that’s all he asked for. A chance to make certain justice was served.
“I think Vic will be an asset to the case,” she said. “Good ideas, great energy, I think we’ll do well together. I plan to work up several scenarios where I believe his input will be invaluable.”
“Good, good,” Raul said. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Vic owed her one. Not only did she include him on Perry, she played him up in front of the senior partner.
“After all,” she added, a small shadow entering her eyes. “He’s been there before.”
Vic felt her appraisal. She was a coach assessing her team. Expected, admirable… Then why did he feel like there was more to it?
Chapter Seven
The meeting with Raul concluded, Vic and Sam exited the reception area. Once out of earshot, he asked, “Can I buy you dinner?”
Excitement rippled across her nerves, brandished a tingly rise of goose bumps clear across her bare arms. She cast a glance toward Raul’s secretary, then settled in on Vic. An invitation like that presented a whole host of possibilities. “What’s the occasion?”
“A thank you.”
“Thank you?”
“For your support,” he said, and his smile broadened.
A smile that was contagious. “Hmm...” Delight zipped up her spine. Things were looking up already! “Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”
“Tonight, okay?”
“Perfect.” Sooner the better she mused, her desire sparked by the intimate fire building between them. “I have a few phone calls to make so can we say, around seven?”
“Seven works for me.” Hesitation collected in his eyes. “Should I pick you up?”
Sam almost giggled at his sudden case of timidity, but only nodded. “It’ll save on gas.”
Vic’s smile turned to grin. “You pick the place and I’ll see you at seven.”
Dinner. What a marvelous turn of events. She couldn’t be more pleased.
Outside the busy café on Ocean Drive, Sam felt the stress slip from her body. The first swallow of gin cut across her taste buds, raced straight down her limbs, and pummeled the tension from her muscles.
Only one thing outranked a gin martini; a hot bath.
Sitting across from her, Vic dwarfed the bistro table yet still managed to appear comfortable, relaxed, even embraced the local style, sporting a white Guayabera for the occasion. Feet away, cars rolled along at a snail’s pace, the inhabitants here to see and be seen, while a steady stream of pedestrians weaved between tables scattered across the sidewalk. The energy of South Beach was high, the sights and people bright and lively, the music pulsating through her body, into the air—hands down this was one of her top spots in the city.
“So, Vic, you like Miami?”
“It’s okay. Definitely has its upside.” He gave a quick shake to his head as a man passed their table. Flaunting nothing more than a loin cloth secured low around his hips by a rope—Indian style—he waved maracas through the air, making odd calls and shrieks in sync with his flailing arms.
Sam met his gaze. “We call that local flavor.”
“That’s some kind of flavor,” he said, his distaste clear, and took a sip from a martini identical to hers.
“They don’t have those in Philly?”
“No. Nothing close. I assume you’ve never been?”
“Nope.”
“Been anywhere close by?”
“I’ve been to Ohio. I have a sister who lives there.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
“No and it’s no place I want to be, either.”
“Why not?”
“Why not?” Sam shot back ignoring the half-clad group of women swaggering by. “Why would I? Almost as hot in the summer, the winters are horrendous. It’s like living in a sandbox and not my cup of chi.”
“Huh?” Vic withdrew the martini from his lips, a marked question in his eyes.
“Every time you go inside, you have to kick the snow from your boots, drop them by the door and remove half your clothing. Your extremities are numb, your lips are chapped, and it takes a good hour before you can feel your nose again.” She shook her head in disgust. “No thanks.”
“Aw, but that’s only the winters.”
Sam balked. “Which is half the year up there! I visit my sister and her kids and it’s a pain. Depressing, too.” She pulled a deep swallow from her drink, a whiff of alcohol flaring her nostrils as the liquid fired down her throat.
“I bet I could convince you otherwise with a trip to the Pocono Mountains.” Pride lit up Vic’s face. “Nothing like racing down the slopes on a cold brisk day to get your blood flowing.”
“No thanks. My middle name’s Sunshine and I plan to keep it that way.”
“You should try a visit.” He paused, leaning forward ever so slightly with an almost conspiratorial flavor to his voice. “I’d show you a good time.”
Sam welcomed the easier terrain with a smile. “Now you’ve piqued my interest.”
Vic chuckled, his eyes taking her in like an eagle on its prey. “Be careful. I might take that as an acceptance.”
Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea how appealing that sounds. Once again struck by his good looks, Sam lingered on his build. Before her sat a lot of man. And muscular. It was a facet of his physique normally disguised by tailored suits, but when he wore a short-sleeved button-down, the muscles jumped out at her. Big, strong arms she could imagine locking around her body. Oh yes, this was solid man right here. Add his bold-faced confidence, six four stature and she found herself dangling from the hook—
His for the taking.
“Invite me one day.” She lifted the sword of olives from its ice-cold bath. “I’m easy pickings when it comes to handsome young men.” Movements slow and precise, she pulled one olive free with her teeth and began chewing.
“I’m twenty-eight. I can’t be that much younger than you.”
“Oh, you sweet, precious child,” she said, enjoying the flirtation. “You’re trying to soften me up, aren’t you?”
“How old are you?” His question was tight and direct.
“Thirty-seven.”
Vic relaxed into a smile. “That’s nothing.”
“Au contraire,” she said, feeling a flare of excitement shimmy through her loins. “In my book it’s everything. I’m nearing forty, the magical age when my mind, body and experience join to become a force to be reckoned with.”
“Yeah? Sounds like fun.”
“Fun.” Sam chuckled, amused by the understatement. “Well, I’ll give you an A for spunk, but you’re a tad naïve.”
“How’s that?”
“Rest assured, in a woman it’s a combination of epic proportions.”
“Sounds like someone needs taming.”
Sam laughed, thoroughly enjoying him. “You’ve got chutzpah, I’ll give you that!”
He hitched his chin up and winked. “I’ve got your number.”
; “Uh, huh.” She tossed a nod his way. “Trouble is more like it.”
“Trouble?”
Vic couldn’t be more endearing, she thought, noting how the shade of anxiety nipped his ego. He wasn’t sure how to take her comment.
Normally, she would let a man stew in wonder, but with him she wanted his smile and quickly reassured him it was meant as a compliment. “Of the best kind.”
Which returned full throttle.
Amazed by the assortment of people, Vic leaned back in his chair. Were they serious? A few women walked by who he swore were men, while others passed by almost embarrassing him. Did their mothers know they were dressed like that? Barely legal, girls strut by with attitude that screamed “been there done that.”
It was wholly unattractive to him.
Unlike Sam. Amidst a hive of activity, Vic returned his scope to her. None of them compared to the woman sitting across from him. An interesting mix of looks and brains, razor-sharp personality and cutthroat instinct, he had never met anyone like her before.
Guys like her filled the offices of every law firm in Pennsylvania, but women? His mind held fast to the contrary. Absolutely not. Some were smart, some interesting, some razor-sharp and even cutthroat, but all those rolled into one woman and wrapped in sex appeal?
No, that woman he had never laid eyes upon.
Until now. No suit, no silk, Sam wore a colorful knit tank top that hugged the curve of her modest breasts and trim waist, revealing well-toned arms and smooth creamy skin. Adding to the temptation was the tight white skirt she wore, showing off those lean shapely legs of hers.
Sam’s body was hot, there was no two ways about it.
And then there were her lips. Barely colored by a nude sheen of lipstick they shouted kiss me. With an unexpected ferocity, Vic was struck by the sudden urge to do just that—to run his hand through her wild auburn hair and pull her close.
Exhilaration whipped through him. What would she do? Would she welcome the move? Would she throw her head back and allow him to take over, to strip the clothes from her body and roam every inch with his mouth, his tongue?
Lust on the Rocks Page 7