“Don’t worry about it,” he said. Setting the bottle of wine down on the counter, Vic slid onto a stool and pulled up to the bar counter.
Sam eyed the bottle of chardonnay. She could use a drink right about now. “You want to open that?”
He smiled. “Sure.”
“Corkscrew’s in the second drawer to the right of dishwasher.”
Vic found it with ease and standing next to her, proceeded to cut the seal from the bottle top. “So what are these issues you two are having?” he asked casually.
“Jess has a bit of a problem.”
“A problem?”
“Yes,” Sam said, un-wrapping the fillets.
“Like what?”
Her gaze latched onto him. “Don’t know.”
“I thought you two were close.”
She stopped and regarded him more fully. “We are.” Sam knew the comment wasn’t meant to hurt, rather a simple question of fact. “Very.”
“Then why don’t you press her on it?” He twisted and pulled the cork free. “You’re her big sister. Isn’t that your job?”
“It’s not my place. She asked for space and I’m giving it to her.”
“Hmmm...” Vic narrowed his gaze.
She and Jessica operated on the same wavelength. They worked from the same set of values. In time, her sister would divulge all and ask for Sam’s opinion, her guidance. The fact that she wasn’t doing so signified she wasn’t ready to work through her issues. Yet. “She’s in the absorption stage. She just needs time.”
“The what?”
Sam smiled at his confusion. This kind of thinking was probably beyond his realm of thought. Men act, women think—then act. They need time to feel a situation out before they decide on a course of action. At least that’s what she did. And hopefully Jess did too.
“It’s what I refer to as the stage when news comes as a sudden shock, or when someone reaches a point in their life where the only thing they can do is make change—drastic change—but the mind needs time to absorb the significance before it can follow suit.”
“That’s heavy.”
She nodded to his wisdom. “Sisterly problems can be heavy. But eventually she’ll wrap her mind around it and come to me. We’ll talk, she’ll figure it out.”
He reached for the wineglasses hanging from beneath her cabinets and poured each of them some wine, the buttery yellow liquid rolling up against the crystal bowl. “Will she listen to you?”
The question softened some of the pressure Sam felt building inside and she smiled. “She will.”
Vic leaned forward and pecked her nose with a kiss as he handed her a glass. “I bet you give good advice.”
“I’m a lawyer. I give damn good advice.”
He handed her a glass and raised his in tribute. “And your clients thank you.”
While Sam lifted her wineglass to tap against his she felt an odd undercurrent of tension. If she recalled correctly, this was the same man who disagreed with her strategy on Perry. No settlement, no way. He believed she should go even further and push for jail time, despite the fact the evidence didn’t warrant such action. Sam took a slow sip from her glass and savored the creamy-vanilla taste as it slid over her tongue. Not normally a white wine fan, this one was good. Smooth and rich with a touch of oak. Bringing the glass to her lips for another taste, she considered his comment. Why was Vic so interested in prosecuting this Scaliano? “That’s a bit surprising coming from you, in light of our disagreement on the Perry case, I mean.”
The comment knocked the jovial spirit from his eyes. “Sam,” he said, his posture stiffening. “Just because we have a disagreement over case strategy doesn’t mean I think you give bad advice.”
“No?”
“No,” he said, firming his voice. “I think you’re a damn good lawyer with the best interests of her client at heart.”
Sam wondered about that, but remained quiet. No sense pushing the subject at the moment.
“Sam.” Vic slid an arm around her waist and drew her close. “I mean it.”
Snug within his grasp, she sipped from her wine and watched him closely.
“I appreciate the opportunity you’ve given me with Perry, but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to disagree with you sometimes.”
“Never said it did.”
“But your actions say different.”
“Just because I’m sleeping with you doesn’t mean I’m won’t experience dissatisfaction sometimes.”
Vic smiled. “Really now…”
She nodded.
He squeezed her close. “Anything in particular you’re dissatisfied with at the moment?”
“Nothing in particular.” Nothing of the sexual nature, but not one prone to playing games, she wasn’t going to reveal her reservations about the rest of it until she was prepared to act on them.
“I doubt that very much. You’re a precision driven woman Sam, but if you don’t want to share…”
She said nothing.
“Then I’ll have to accept that as your final answer.” He smiled again, but this one didn’t quite reach his eyes. “As to your legal expertise, I realize you understand this case is worth a bundle and while I may disagree with your slate of charges, I don’t disagree with your handling of opposing counsel.”
Lingering in his warm tone of reassurance, Sam was still bothered. The damndest thing about it was she couldn’t figure out why. Why did she think he was holding back something? Did he not trust her? Did he harbor a secret?
Gazing at her with a question in his eyes, Vic asked, “What’s the matter now?”
“Nothing.” Nothing she could put her finger on anyway and not interested in ruining their evening together, she set her wine down and slipped free from his hold. “So how do you like your fish prepared? Sautéed, baked or broiled?”
“Grilled.”
She looked at him. “Smart ass.”
“Anyway you like it, I’m game.” Vic grinned as he said it, though he too seemed a bit off, unsettled.
“How about sautéed.” She looked at him. “I’ve got a great Cajun seasoning I can use.”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll warn you,” she said, trying to rally her spirits for an evening of fun. “I like it spicy.”
“Is that supposed to be a news flash?”
Sam grabbed a knife from her sleek black butcher block and pointed it at him. “Be careful or I’ll have smoke blowing out of your ears before all is said and done.”
“Probably.” He chuckled. “But it won’t be from the fish.”
About to snap off a comeback, she quieted. Sex play was usually top on her list, but not at the moment. Between Jess and Vic, she needed to unwind some knots and re-tie them—so they made sense. As it was, there were too many unanswered questions snaking around both of them and she didn’t like it. “Maybe you should pour me some more wine,” she advised.
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe we should skip dinner and go straight to dessert.”
Sam felt a pinch. Unfortunately she wasn’t as excited by that prospect as she wanted to be.
# # #
Sam stirred awake in the darkened bedroom. Nestled close against Vic’s warm naked body, her mind hovered on the edge of sleep.
“Did you hear that?”
“What?” Her mind adjusted to her surroundings. “What did you say?” she asked, her thoughts groggy and unfocused.
“Did you hear that?” Vic whispered again, a muffle of heat against her ear. “I think it’s your sister.”
“Jess?” She listened to the silence. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Give it a second,” he instructed, one arm slung over her side, Sam’s body was spooned into the curve of his. Sam rubbed the sleep from her eyes and trained her ear for the distant sound.
Nothing.
“I think you were dreaming,” she chided softly, and dropped her head back against his shoulder. His body warm and cozy next to hers, she wanted to do nothing
but relax into their skin-to-skin contact.
“I wasn’t dreaming,” he insisted, a marked urgency in his voice.
“What did it sound like?”
“Like someone coughing up their insides.”
Then she heard it.
“Oh my God.” Sam jerked her head forward. “That’s Jess.”
She bolted from the bed and dashed into her bathroom. A light went on and within seconds she shot out, pulling closed a red satin robe. “I’ll be back,” she told him, then disappeared into the hallway.
Following the awful noise, Sam found Jessica in the guest bathroom, wearing T-shirt and boxers and hunched over the gleaming black toilet. “Jess?” She rushed to her side, ignoring the stench that assailed her. “What’s the matter?”
Jessica turned to her, a mix of relief and embar-rassment swamping her face, but then unleashed another rush of vomit into the dark bowl.
Instinctively, Sam’s hand went to her back, stifling her own urge to puke at the horrific stench.
Vic poked his head around the bathroom door. Dressed in his cargo pants and white undershirt, he looked like he was getting ready to leave. His eyes sought Sam’s. “Hey, everything okay in here?”
Jessica heard him and reeled, mortified by his presence. Another spasm and Jess missed the toilet with her next hurl, sending lumpy streams over the rim and down the sides.
“It’s okay,” Sam murmured, but directed her gaze to Vic. She gave a toss to her head, gesturing for him to leave. And while she didn’t receive any argument, Sam didn’t care for the parting look he threw Jessica’s way, as though he thought she was drunk.
“Sam...” Jessica whined.
“Don’t worry, punk. Vic’s gone.”
Jessica moaned and sat back on her heels, head hung low, framed by tousled waves of brown. Sam reached over and gathered the hair, gently pulling it away from Jess’ face, twisting it into a makeshift ponytail. She tucked a clump of it beneath her nightshirt. “Are you ill? Maybe ate something that didn’t agree with you?”
Sam rubbed her sister’s back, her thoughts colliding with possible reasons for her vomiting. It wasn’t like her to go binge drinking. She enjoyed the occasional beer, sure, but Jess was far from a drinker. For that matter, the kid didn’t indulge in any mind-altering substances that she knew of. Tried one or two, but didn’t care for them in general.
Was she ill? Seriously ill?
Sam thrust the negativity from her mind at once. It was nonsense. Jessica was sick, nothing more. Sick from a minor illness, she reaffirmed, and expunged the catastrophic scenarios playing out in her brain. It’s the flu, a stomach virus.
Or maybe she was drunk, Sam thought in sudden burst of hope. Stressed out, she had one too many beers and was now paying the price. Couple of aspirin and a glass of water, she’d be good to go.
Jessica retched again, but only managed a spit, the yellow tinged bile floating on the water’s surface. Sam burrowed in by her side. Please let it be alcohol, she prayed. Please.
Let Vic be right on this one.
Sam sat with Jessica until the gags became fruitless, the contents of her stomach effectively deposited into the toilet in full. She then closed the lid and pushed down the lever on the low profile toilet, indicating for Jessica to sit. From a chrome ring alongside the sink, Sam pulled a black washcloth and rinsed it in cool water. She wrung it free and with a delicate touch, tipped Jessica’s chin upward and wiped her forehead, her cheeks, her chin.
And became discouraged. Jess was pale, her eyes glassy red. The bright lighting above didn’t help, but it was clear something was wrong. In a quiet voice, Sam ventured, “How do you feel?”
“Not so good.”
“Have a little too much to drink tonight?” Nodding her head, Sam willed it to be true.
“No.”
One word sent hope crashing to the tiled floor. “Do you think you’re coming down with something?”
“Maybe...” She brushed overgrown bangs behind an ear, but as Sam withdrew the cloth, her gaze hit the floor.
“Could be a stomach virus,” she offered. “I hear it’s going around.” Simple, curable, it would be gone in a few days time. Sam held a hand against Jessica’s forehead. “You don’t feel hot...” More like cold and clammy, she rued.
“It’s just my stomach. I’m sure it’s no big deal. I’ll be fine, in, ya know, couple of days, max.”
Refilling the cloth with cool water, Sam twisted it and folded it three times, and placed it once again on Jess’ forehead. “I think we need to get you to bed.”
“Can’t we sit on the couch?”
The girl just finished hacking up half her guts—why not lie down, go back to sleep? But as Jessica rose, Sam didn’t argue. Reaching beneath an arm, she eased Jessica up and out into the hallway and came face to face with Vic. Fully dressed, it seemed he was on his way out. “Vic, I’m sorry, but—”
He silenced her with the palm of his hand. “You two go ahead. I’ll take care of this.”
Sam shook her head, quick and vigorous. “You don’t have to do that. Leave it be. I’ll get to it in a little while.” She frowned at the vomit drying on the toilet rim, the trail ending in a sticky puddle on the white marble floor. It was a disgusting mess and far out of bounds for the sexy terrain covered by lovers.
“Don’t worry. I got it.” He gestured for them to con-tinue.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” he replied, his gaze dark, penetrating yet soft, compassionate.
When she saw the reassuring smile take center stage on his face, Sam wanted to reach over and hug him. It was a special man that volunteered for the dirty work. She glanced back at the toilet. The dirty, nasty, nauseating work. She shot him a grimace of gratitude. A very special man. “Thanks.”
Vic stepped aside and she escorted Jessica out. Walking down the hall, the light of dawn streamed into the living room in pale golden hues. Surprised, Sam checked the clock on the double range in the kitchen as they passed. Six-thirty? My God—had she even been to sleep? But quick as the question formed, a warm sensation wound through her. A little. But her amazing insatiable lover kept coming back for more, prohibiting any more sleep than absolutely necessary. Reflecting on his current task, she realized Vic was indeed special. He was all that and more, actually.
Shifting modes, she led Jessica to the sofa, relocated a pillow, and settled her onto the center cushion. She lowered down beside her. “Do you want anything? Maybe some water, ginger ale? How about a little toast? Your stomach must be raw.” She thought about changing into clothes, but under the circumstances, the robe was adequate. She’d be showering in an hour, anyway.
“No thanks. I’ll be okay.” Jess put the damp washcloth back on her head, and lay back against the sofa.
Sam peered at her. How could she be so sure? Eyes closed and hair a disheveled mess, her natural peach tones were painfully missing. Food poisoning could be serious, deadly. Then apprehension marched back in and took over. Was it a disease?
Anxiety spread like the plague. After all, Jess had yet to confess the reason for her visit. Was this it? Did she have some kind of illness? Hell, vomiting could be a sign of any number of conditions. Food bacteria, intestinal bugs...
She’d ask Jen. Jennifer Hamilton was not only the smartest woman she knew, but a doctor. Granted, a cardiologist, but so what. You had to go through the same medical school to get there. You had to pick up something about everything, right?
Yes. Resolution poured through her. Jen would know and arm her with knowledge. Sam knew she could help the kid get through anything, once she had a handle on the details, but damn it she needed to know what she was up against.
Jess’ refusal to talk was coming to an end.
“Hey...” Vic came up from behind and placed his hands on Sam’s shoulders, his touch warm and solid. Comforting. “It’s taken care of in there.”
Sam reached up and placed a hand over one of his, giving it a light pat. “Thank you.�
��
Next to her, Jessica’s long-lashed lids eased open and she looked up at him. “Yeah, thanks.”
“No problem,” he replied, his voice almost a caress.
Sam ran her fingers back and forth across his, taking pleasure in the soft skin of his large masculine hands, then curled hers beneath his palm. Vic was a sweetheart. A definite keeper.
She stilled as the flippant thought swirled inside her.
Where did that come from?
A swarm of butterflies battered against her ribs as he bent down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll call you later.”
His words registered in a tangle of thought. “Okay,” she mumbled, torn between his goodbye and the strange feelings tumbling through her. “Sure.”
He squeezed her hand before withdrawing his from her grasp. “I hope you feel better, Jessica.”
She nodded and with that, Vic was gone.
Sam didn’t bother to see him to the door. He knew the way out. And the way in, came the whisper from the corners of her mind. She batted away the foolishness.
Don’t get so worked up. Vic was a nice guy. She liked him, respected him. He was her lover and coworker and these feelings were about friendship, nothing more.
Sam forced her focus back on Jessica and the reality of what lay ahead. “Let me wet the cloth again.”
“Don’t bother.”
Sam stopped midstream. “What?”
“It won’t do any good.” Jessica rolled her head to face Sam. “I’m pregnant.”
Chapter Twelve
“You’re what?”
“Pregnant.” Jessica pressed her eyes shut as the tears pushed out from the corners. She didn’t care that Sam was shocked. Her charade was over. It wasn’t like she could hide it forever and before long, everyone would know.
Including her father.
“How did this happen?”
Jessica sucked in a deep breath, then expelled it in a rush. And opened her eyes. Was she serious?
Lust on the Rocks Page 11