Lust on the Rocks

by Dianne Venetta

  Sam paused, her energy lagged. Had she set a poor example? Was this her fault?

  In preparation for another round of kicks, she extended her arms and braced them erect. She hoisted herself up into a leap but tripped backward, nearly crashing to the floor. Damn it—if she didn’t stop thinking of Jess, she was going to hurt herself! Commanding her body back into a straight line, she tried again. Breathe, she demanded. Calm your energy. But as she did so, her mind filled with images of Jess.

  A tearful, hesitant Jess. The kid was afraid. Helping raise her from damn near birth, Sam knew the girl inside out. Jess was spunky and smart and full of life, but she was also sensitive. Growing up, it had always been she who was the first to cry, the first to lock herself in her room. Her feelings were always the first to be dinged and the last to heal. Being faced with an unexpected pregnancy had to be tough on her.

  Once Luke found out there was another guy in the picture, he’d be heartbroken. Dating Jess for a year now, this would hurt him.

  Unfortunately, when the spider of truth came biting, it didn’t care how you ended up in its web, only that you were there. What goes around comes around. It was Universal Law. You reap what you sow. While she didn’t like the idea of hearts breaking, she felt a strong commitment to honesty. If a person didn’t have their word, if they couldn’t own their truth, what did they have?

  Nothing but a façade, a shell of lies built to hide their fears. Sam sucked in another breath, but spit it out with a jagged sigh. She allowed her arms to fall and her spirits plummeted. She was in no mood to continue. Her mind wasn’t in it. Her heart wasn’t in it. Both were down the hall, curled up at the end of her sister’s bed, waiting for an invitation to talk.

  Her heart winced. One she feared wouldn’t come. Not anytime soon, anyway. Exhausted, she took a deep breath and ratcheted down the pummeling in her chest to a more tolerable level. Easing bare feet apart, she set her palms on the floor and began her stretch. Poor Jess. You can’t hide from yourself. You can’t escape your past. You have to live with yourself until the day you die. Choices squared with lessons. Hopefully, you make the right ones and if not, learn from the wrong ones. And I’ll help you, punk. Anyway I can, I’ll help you.

  Sam held the stance for several moments, then grasped elbows and hung, lengthening further into the pose. Her thoughts drifted to Vic. She didn’t like the way he was so hung-up on this Scaliano. Sure he was the CEO and bore responsibility for what happened on company premises, but Vic kept making a personal connection. As though the man had stood over Mr. Albright as he lay dying and blocked anyone from coming to his aid.

  An assertion the facts didn’t sustain.

  Lifting up until her back ran parallel to the floor, Sam extended her arms out in front of her as far as she could, closed her eyes, and asked herself why. Why did Vic insist on nailing the top man? Was he looking for headlines? A trophy for his collection?

  It didn’t make sense. Make your kill, quick and clean. You score, you win, and then you move on. Getting tangled in the emotions of your case was a trap best avoided. Clasping hands behind her back, Sam maintained her bent position and reached backward, recalling Vic’s comment about her attachment to Mrs. Albright. He was right. It wasn’t usual for attorneys to hug their clients, and she could understand how he might think she was blurring the line between business and personal. But she wasn’t. Far from it. She pulled further into her stretch. Business was business and she knew the difference. Her job was to punish the bad guys.

  Raising her frame to its full height, Sam reached for the ceiling. And personal was personal. She connected with people. Clients weren’t numbers. They weren’t totals in a ledger of profit. They were people; people with problems in need of solutions which is how they ended up on her front step in the first place.

  Sam lowered into a lunge and loosened the muscles in her inner thighs and hips, culling over the possibilities. One thing was certain. She didn’t just roll off the mango truck. Vic had an agenda. What—she didn’t know, but it was there. Did Vic know something she didn’t?

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I don’t get it,” Vic muttered, staring at his expert witness through the one-way glass partition that separated him and the mock courtroom set up within the offices of Baker, Schofield. The room was an instrumental tool used to prepare witnesses for trial by giving them a sense of what it would like when they took the stand, the types of questions he would receive, the kind of pressure he may feel…

  Sam and Diego stood by his side and watched as an in-house attorney inside the room made notations on Dr. Pope’s testimony while another reeled off questions.

  “The man has experience,” Vic insisted, though Sam could hear the doubt creeping into his voice. “He’s got the know-how. He’s spent plenty of time in front of Congress on this very subject.”

  That may be, Sam mused, but the good doctor was clearly showing signs of wear. The day’s practice session had stolen much of his earlier vigor and he was fading fast.

  “Making prepared statements to a panel of sympathetic ears is a lot different than defending your position against a hostile cross-examination,” Diego challenged. “If he doesn’t toughen up, he’s not going anywhere near the stand.”

  The comment echoed her disappointment. The man had crumbled. Too idealistic, too innocent, opposing counsel would eat him alive. If her team couldn’t coach him to recognize the tactics being used against him, Dr. Pope would end up looking like “Dr. Dope.”

  “I can fix it.” Vic looked directly at Sam, appealing for an extension. “I’ll make sure he’s ready to handle whatever they throw at him.”

  “You need to watch that.”

  Sam’s gaze riveted to Diego.

  “Every word you communicate to him might be discoverable.”

  “I’m not some first-year hack,” Vic shot back. “I know what’s at stake.”

  Sam shifted her attention between the two and noted Vic was not wielding his usual self-control this morning. He seemed worked up, agitated.

  “I’m not trying to insult you, man,” Diego retreated. “I know you know what you’re doing. I’m just saying we need to be careful how we proceed.”

  Vic glared through the partition, his black brows converging into a tight knot. “The man is good. He knows his stuff.”

  It was one thing to have control of the facts, Sam thought, but quite another to spit them out under pressure. She eyed the doctor. Although he was surrounded by allies and knew this setup was only practice, the man seemed shaken, unsure of himself.

  She returned her attention to Vic. And he was feeling the stress. Understandable, but unacceptable. Sam ex-pelled her breath and rose in one swift motion. “I’m through here.”

  Both men looked up in surprise. Vic’s expression grew tight while Diego simply lifted up from his seat and asked, “Where do you want to go from here?”

  “Let’s see what Dr. Herrera has to say this afternoon.” He was scheduled to undergo the same question and answer session that Dr. Pope had just endured.

  And failed, in her opinion. “Until then, I’ll make some phone calls and see what else we can come up with in the way of expert testimony,” she said. “In case Vic’s key witness evaporates before our very eyes.”

  Vic’s expression registered the hit.

  Sam hadn’t meant to be so nasty, but damn it if she didn’t feel the pressure, too. This was her case, not his. She was the one with a personal stake in the outcome, not him.

  He was merely here at her discretion.

  Vic must have sensed it, because a wave of humility swept his features. “Dr. Pope will come through, Sam.” His voice was quiet, his demeanor calm. “I’ll help him sort through the garbage and keep his objectives clear.”

  “You do that.” She turned to take her leave. “But I still intend to find a better option.”

  Sam returned to her office, breezing by Maria without a word.

  “You got a minute?”

  She
stopped short, startled by the sound of Vic’s voice, and turned. She offered a small smile, despite the ambivalence sloshing through her belly. “Of course. Come in.”

  Snaking hands into his pockets, Vic hooked his gaze onto hers and said, “I came to apologize for the other day.”

  Sam tensed.

  “I was out of line. I overstepped my boundary and said some things I shouldn’t have.”

  She nodded. The scene in front of Diego came barreling to the forefront of her mind. “You did.”

  “I feel strongly about this case and...” He shrugged, but didn’t pursue further explanation. None was necessary. “It got the better of me, I guess. But I assure you, it won’t happen again.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” she said, more interested in what he wasn’t saying at the moment. Like what drove him, what incited such a vigorous attack in the first place? But this wasn’t the time. “I understand your enthusiasm and I appreciate it. Our client needs a passionate defense.”

  “She has one,” he said, and pushed back his shoulders.

  “But it must be a focused defense. Dedicated to her needs and wants and not distracted by competing issues.”

  “Mrs. Albright couldn’t ask for a more dedicated team. I am one hundred percent committed to this case and to seeing justice is served.”

  “I believe you,” she said, touched by his genuine sense of protection.

  “But you’re in charge. And though it seemed like I lost sight of that fact—I haven’t. Insubordination doesn’t fly with me on any level or from anyone, including myself.”

  Sam’s insides went soft. God, he was so endearing, the way his staunch defense melted into chivalrous grace. His frank recognition of fault was disarming—shocking, even. She could count the number of men she knew on one hand willing to admit culpability, but to admit it without the slightest reservation and with complete humility was almost unheard of.

  Until now.

  Here stood a lot of man. Tough on the outside, tender on the inside, Vic had shown himself to be smart and passionate, strong and sensitive. She may not know his whole story, but she liked what she did know. “That’s quite an admission,” she said, and tried to stem a surge of fresh personal desire. “And I appreciate it. It’s too seldom people acknowledge their mistakes.”

  “You deserve better, Sam. You gave me a chance. The last thing you need is for me to spit it back in your face.”

  She wrinkled her nose at the imagery.

  Vic smiled, the first since he entered her office. “A little crude, I know, but it’s how I feel. I have a lot of respect for you and...” A tinge of embarrassment colored his tone as he added, “Well, I just wanted you to know.”

  “Likewise,” she replied and if she had been sitting any place but here, she would have walked over to him, taken his face in her hands, and kissed him. But the confines of their professional space would not allow it, so she went with the next best thing. “Let’s say we do dinner this weekend.”

  Vic’s face relaxed into a naughty grin. “Let’s.”

  # # #

  “I want you to do a little digging for me,” Sam said, rigid and uncomfortable as she sat behind her desk.

  Notepad in hand, Maria was comfortably situated across from her, dark hair swept back high behind her head, her suit today a subtle, smoldering gray lavender. “Okay,” she replied. “What are we looking for?”

  Sam smiled. That was the tricky part. “I’m not sure.”

  Maria’s brow rose in question.

  “I want you to find out everything there is to know about one Frank Scaliano, current Commander-in-Chief of Perry Fitness.” Her secretary scribbled feverishly as Sam spoke. “Where he was before Perry, any prior lawsuits or complaints against him, his reputation among co-workers, the industry in general—I want the works.”

  Maria glanced up as she wrote. “Are we looking for anything in particular?”

  “Not necessarily. I want it all.” Her gaze drifted to her wall of diplomas, her awards, the paper and frames that underscored her ability as a skilled attorney; an ability she prided herself on. Once Maria collected the information, she could sift through it and see if anything jumped out at her. Because as sure as she was sitting here, she knew there was a layer to this case she had yet to peel, yet to undercover and by God she would. She’d get to the bare bottom of this case, expose every negligent detail before all was said and done if it was the last thing she did.

  “Okay.” Maria finished her scribble with an exaggerated dot of her pen into the yellow legal pad. “How far back should I go?”

  Good question. “Let’s say we search the last twenty years.”

  “Whoa…” Her eyes widened, her pen paused midair. “That might take a while.”

  Sam waited through her hesitation.

  With no elaboration, Maria instantly clicked back to business. “I’ll call research and get them started right away.”

  “No.” Sam’s breathing slowed, and she pulled the noose tighter. “I want you to keep this to yourself.”

  Black eyes sharpened in response.

  “I don’t want it getting out that I’m looking into Scaliano.”

  “Why not?” she asked defensively. “It’s your case. You can look into anyone you want.”

  Sam nodded, tamping down a sudden surge of excitement. “Trust me on this one. It will only complicate matters if it’s made public.”

  Casting a skeptical glance around the office, Maria said, “Okay, you’re the boss.”

  “Thanks, Mare.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Are you still thinking about Jessica?”

  How did she do it? Sam wondered. Standing in front of the lavishly dressed store window, Jennifer Hamilton bore not a strand of hair out of place, or smudge on her face. It had to be ninety-five degrees out, the air soupy, yet her best friend stood flawless in a crisp white linen halter dress and flat leather sandals like a model posed for a photoshoot on along Miracle Mile.

  Sam on the other hand was feeling the heat and her hair was reacting, more wild and curly than usual. But the humidity did that to her, every time. “Jen, I think it’s fair to say I’ll be consumed with thoughts of her for quite some time.”

  “You can’t make this decision for her.”

  “No?” Sam challenged.

  The concern staked in those blue eyes of her pal’s was unmistakable. Jen shook her head, straight, shiny brown hair swishing across her shoulders. “It’s not yours to make.”

  And it wasn’t fair.

  Practically sisters themselves, Jen knew a part of Sam felt responsible for Jess’ predicament. She had a hand in raising her, helped nurture the girl through menstruation and teenage rebellion, single-handedly convinced her college was the best route...

  What happened?

  The damn pregnancy was so unexpected—so complicated—Sam almost wished it were an illness. Then she could send Jess to the doctor and cure the girl. “The kid needs help.”

  “She also needs to learn to stand on her own two feet. There are consequences for her actions, which she’s learning now. I think you should give her credit for coming to you from the start.”

  “What choice did she have?”

  “She could have hidden the fact. She could have aborted the baby without recourse. Or, she could have run off with her boyfriend and set up house.” Jennifer smiled and took a step toward Sam. “But she didn’t. She came home to you.” She placed a light finger to Sam’s chest. “Her big sister, her hero, for the moral support she knew you’d supply.”

  Calculations started to fire in Sam’s mind. Allowing her gaze to wander through the window, feasting on the decadent chocolates boxed in gold, Sam recalled an organization set up to help unwed mothers. She could send Jess there for counseling, for direction, then the two of them could go over her options, decide which way she should go.

  “You can’t fix this for her.”

  Sam cut back to Jen. That’s exactly what she wanted to d
o. What she had always done. “But I’m a fix-it kinda gal.”

  “I know.” Blue eyes melted as they reached out and embraced Sam. “But you can’t this time. Please, don’t fix it.” She set a gentle hand to her forearm. “Jessica needs to stew on this one. She needs to feel the significance of her situation and act accordingly.”

  Dr. Jennifer Hamilton was her best friend and damn smart, but worse, she knew how Sam’s mind worked. She knew if left to her own device, Sam would step in and take over the decision process, solve all Jess’ problems to her satisfaction, and get the girl back on track.

  And why not? She made a mistake, used poor judgment, but this miscalculation could cost her a lifetime—if she didn’t handle it correctly.

  Jennifer slipped a hand around the brown shoulder strap of her purse and assumed her “I-know-what’s-best” doctor stance. “You know I’m right.”

  “I know nothing of the sort.”

  She gave a nod toward the elegant Mediterranean building, its display window spotless and clear. “You’re as transparent as this window.”

  “I am a master of emotional disguise.”

  “Maybe in the courtroom,” Jennifer tossed back. “But not with me.” As though to underscore her point, she nailed Sam to the wall with an eye-full of reproach, then dropped her to the sidewalk with a splat. “Seriously Sam, you need to butt out. Hold her hand, but let her do the contemplating. Let her do the decision-making. If you don’t, she may end up with regrets later in life, the what ifs over the road not traveled and end up blaming you for them.”

  Sam hadn’t considered that angle. She honed in on the possibility. Maybe Jen had a point. Maybe she had been too busy problem-solving to see it.

  “This must come from her. Be there for her, hold her hand, but let her do the deciding.”

  “Hmph.”

  With an air of defiance, Jen lifted her chin ever so slightly and turned. “I need some new sandals.” With a pivot of her heel, she resumed her leisurely stroll down the sidewalk.