“I am, but I usually don’t have the time.”
“You work too much.”
“Early. I work early,” Sam said and followed him outside to the balcony and sat in the chair he pulled out. Always the gallant one, she mused, and settled in. Now outside, the full glory of the bay came into view, the sunrise bright, the warmth welcome. Motorboats drew streaks of white as they cut across the blanket of sparkling water. A sailboat dotted the scene here and there. Sucking in a nose-full of fried eggs and butter, her stomach emitted a sharp grumble.
“I heard that,” he said, and sat down across from her.
Sam suddenly realized she probably could eat the whole plate of food. “Okay, so I’m hungry.” She tossed the napkin into her lap. She flipped her face to his. “But this is still too much food.”
“Eat,” he commanded. “I’m Italian and where I come from, there is no such thing as too much food.”
She laughed, touched by the personal nature of his comment. It was a peek into the life behind the man, the upbringing that made him who he was today. A reminder of how little she knew about him.
“So where do we go from here?”
“Huh?” She grabbed her fork and sliced her egg in half, yellow yoke oozing free. Humidity and temperature still at bay, this would be a nice breakfast. “What do you mean?”
“Scaliano.”
“We nail him,” she said, and scooped a chunk of egg onto her bread. “One way or another we get him.”
Vic smiled. “It’s nice to be on the same side.”
The comment slid right through her. “I’ve always been on your side, Vic. But it would have been nice to know what I was fighting for.”
He eased back into his chair and fixed her with a knowing gaze. “You wouldn’t have let me near this case if you knew my history.”
“You’re right.”
Dark eyes burrowed in. “Has it changed?”
After last night... After they said the words...
Everything had changed. Growing accustomed to the warmth spreading through her at the thought of them together on new terms, she said, “Yes.”
A bolt of disappointment seized his features. “It has?”
“Yes,” she paused, taking him in. “But you’re still on the case.”
He brightened. “I am?”
“Yes,” she said, somewhat ambivalent over this new path they were on. Working together, living together…could go either way.
Vic picked up his fork and skewered the end of an egg, folding it over upon itself. “We make a good team.”
“I agree.” A damn good team. She took a bite and smiled as she chewed. Formidable.
Vic did the same, digging into his breakfast like a man starved.
Inside, the phone rang. Automatically, Sam scooted away from the table.
Startled, Vic asked, “You expecting a call?”
Sam swallowed quickly. “It could be Jess,” she replied and hurried into the kitchen. She grabbed the receiver from the wall. “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
“Hey, Jess.”
“Hey. I’m calling to let you know Craig and I are going to the beach.”
Of course she was, where there would be no mention of Luke. Their brother Craig might not even know about the pregnancy, let alone the string of trouble tied behind it! “What time should I expect you?”
“I don’t know, like, five, or so.”
“No later than six.”
“Whatever.”
Sam tightened her grip on the receiver. “See to it, Jess.”
“Fine.”
“Maybe we can have dinner together.” Sam glanced out at Vic, his gaze intent upon her.
“Yeah, maybe,” she said, followed by a harsh click.
Sam slid the phone from her ear. “Thanks for calling...” Once again, she had been effectively shut out. Jess ended the call without fanfare, without explanation. Sam carried the phone with her as she returned to the balcony. Not surprised by Vic’s concern, she could feel his frown as if it were carved into her own face.
He rose and pulled her chair for her. “What’s up?”
“Jess,” she said, and lowered into her seat, setting the receiver off to one side.
He helped push her in. “Bad news?”
“No, not really.” Her gaze held him as he sat down.
Reality seeped in, a mix of sadness and relief as she realized she could share this burden with Vic—now that the two were a couple. He would understand. And he would give her the sounding board she needed. “Actually, yes,” she said, and slid her napkin back into her lap. “I told you she’s pregnant, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that. She needs to discuss some issues about the pregnancy with her boyfriend, but she’s avoiding the confrontation.”
“Why?”
“Doesn’t want to face up to her mistakes.”
“Getting pregnant when you’re not married is a big one, I agree. But I thought you said her boyfriend knew.”
“He does. About the pregnancy.”
Vic screwed his expression. “What else is there?”
Sam blew out a sigh. “It might not be his.”
His face absorbed the shock. “What? She was cheating on him?”
She didn’t care for the disgust in his expression. Much as she agreed with Vic, it felt uglier coming from him. But never one to hide from the truth, Sam nodded. “Jess had a one-night stand and now she can’t be sure if the baby doesn’t belong to the other fellow.”
“C’mon. You’ve gotta be kidding me. What are the chances of it being his?”
“Fifty-fifty, by my count.”
“Does she even know the guy?”
“Yes,” Sam replied, but took a mental step back at his coarse reply. Maybe discussing this with him wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“So what’s she waiting on?”
Sam circled her hand around the cold base of her orange juice, the condensation wet and cold against her fingers. Good question, though she knew the answer. Fear. Jess was afraid. She peered at Vic and said, “She thinks if she gets blood work proving the baby belongs to her boyfriend, then she doesn’t have to tell him about the affair.”
“No harm, no foul.”
Sam pitched a nod. “Something like that.”
“What about you? Is this one of those cases where you think lying is okay? A simple case of self-preservation?”
The reminder hit hard, but she held firm. “In her mind it is.”
“Did you set her straight? As the older sister, it’s your job to set a good example.”
“I did,” she said, but was bothered by the force of his opinion. She knew he meant well, but of all people Vic was the last person she’d expect to jump on someone else for lying, for keeping secrets. Until yesterday, he’d been the master of deceit.
“As if I would do anything else.”
The two locked gazes.
Sunlight poured onto the balcony, hot and white, quickly diminishing the appeal of their al fresco breakfast. Sweat formed lightly across her neck and back. Neither moved.
“I didn’t say you didn’t, Sam.”
She squinted beneath the glare. “No?”
“No.” He quieted and reeled-in his tone. “All I said, was it’s your job to do so.”
Despite herself, Sam took offense. Withdrawing her hand from the glass, she jammed it into her lap. “Looks like I failed sisterhood 101 then, doesn’t it?”
The ambiance cinched tight as Vic hovered on the edge of a comeback. But whatever he intended to say, he kept it to himself. Instead, he brought the glass of juice to his mouth for a swallow.
Sam riled against what felt like his tacit agreement.
And she resented it. “No response?”
He shook his head. “Without a sister, I’m not in a position to judge.”
The kick to her gut landed square and center. “Vic, I’m sorry.”
�
�Don’t be.” He finished chewing and slugged back another swallow of juice.
“Well I am. It’s just this whole thing with Jess is driving me crazy. She has decisions to make, but she’s avoiding them. I don’t know how to get through to her.”
“Decisions. Like telling her boyfriend she cheated on him? Or what to do about the pregnancy?”
Sam felt the zing, but ignored it. “Both.”
Vic’s gaze iced over. “And what are you going to advise her to do?”
Taken aback by the abrupt chill, she responded, “Well, she’s only twenty-one...”
He said nothing and dumped his gaze to his plate.
“She’s too young for marriage, Vic.” For the second time this morning, Sam felt a distinct exclusion. First from her sister, now from boyfriend. Boyfriend.
The two people closest to her. She shouldn’t, damn it. She was only trying to help! Why should she feel on the defense? “I’d rather not see her throw her life away over one mistake,” Sam said coolly. “And time is running out.”
Vic picked up his head and leveled his gaze at her. “Sorry, but I’m Catholic.”
Sam suddenly remembered why she remained single. No second opinions. “And what? Catholics don’t have abortions? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“I’m not saying anything of the kind. What I am saying is that abortion is a choice for life—and I don’t mean pro-life.”
Sam glared at him. “Easy for you to say, it’s not your body.”
“This will affect more than her body, Sam. This will affect her heart, mind and soul and for a very long time.”
“Since when did you become an expert on what affects a woman?”
Vic removed the napkin from his lap, deposited it onto the table and leaned forward. Staring at his dark brown eyes, Sam felt oddly drawn to him, yet on guard. It was as though she could feel him coming at her, his intentions unclear.
“Listen,” he began, treading lightly as he spoke. “My mom volunteers for a shelter back home. She’s worked with these girls. She’s heard back from them years later. Abortion is a decision they regret. Forever.”
She understood where he was coming from, agreed with him on one level, but she also believed in a woman’s right to choose. And she believed choices had consequences, both positive and negative. This wasn’t Anna they were discussing. It was Jess. But nothing she could say at the moment would bridge the gap forming between them. “So is having a baby they don’t want.”
“There’s a ton of people waiting for newborns, all fully-screened and with the means to raise a child. We could make some calls. Your sister’s baby would be well-cared for, you can promise her that.”
Her heart fell a notch. People better suited than Jess, is what he meant. “You’re suggesting adoption.”
“Yes.” He picked his shoulders up and pushed them back. “Yes, I am.”
She unhooked her gaze from his and glanced out over the bay. The glare had eased and heat began to fill the breeze, pulling her thoughts to Jess and Craig, spending time together at the beach. Really the only suitable place to be on a day like today, but would she be able to enjoy it? Would she surf with Craig? Would they rent Jet Skis? Or would they simply hang together, enjoying the company of family…
Momentarily forgotten, Sam returned her attention to Vic. “My guess is she’ll go with an abortion, but I plan to discuss it with her when I get home this evening.”
“And you’re in agreement?”
Memory sliced a soft incision. Sorry, but I’m Catholic. Then the blade poked. It’s your job to set a good example. Sam didn’t want to have this conversation with him. It was clear they were not on the same page—maybe not even the same chapter—and she didn’t want to expend any more effort than she already had on this fruitless conversation. “This is not my decision to make.” Resentment twinged and she glanced away. An avoidance tactic, she knew—but he didn’t.
“Life is sacred, Sam.” He reached over for her hand, but she didn’t give it to him. “Take it from me, when it’s lost, it’s gone forever.” His solemn tone willed her to listen. “But the hole it leaves in your soul that stays for good. Don’t let her do something she’ll regret.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Seven-thirty in the morning, Sam stood behind her desk as Diego and Vic entered her office together, expected. No one but a few staff members on premise, the halls of Baker, Schofield blared in silence as their trial date loomed. With their expert witnesses falling apart, priorities had shifted. “I’ve spoken to Raul about the possibility for criminal charges,” Sam announced. “He seems eager to pursue them. He’s going to call the DA’s office today about bringing charges against Scaliano.”
“Good.” Vic’s smile radiated pleasure, clearly pleased by the turn of events and where she didn’t blame him, she couldn’t lose sight of the consequences involved.
This was serious business. They were talking about a man’s freedom, his future. She never reveled in the misery of others. To her, on a deeper level, people were one in spirit, reflections of dark and light. To punish one, hurt them all.
Sam digested the moment, the significance. But sometimes life required tough choices and though she couldn’t share Vic’s exuberance, she understood what this meant to him. What it meant to her. She and Vic were partners in this and she wanted justice as much as he did.
For Anna.
“There still remains the matter of expert testimony,” she continued. “But I believe I may have solved our problem.”
“How so?” Diego asked. Taking a seat in one of the stately winged chairs, he pulled one ankle to rest atop the opposite knee. Dressed in his usual navy slacks, white shirt and blue tie, he was all ears.
“I’ve found a new expert.”
Vic stiffened, about to object, but said nothing. Good. While she was sensitive to his connection to their floundering Dr. Pope, business was business, and she was a woman with a case to win. Sam watched as he took his place next to Diego, nearly identical in dress. “Dr. Jose Rivera. He’s a cardiologist out of Atlanta who specializes in electro-physiology.”
“An EP,” Diego stated.
“An EP, yes” she said and lowered into her chair. “A man trained in the dynamics of sudden cardiac death.” She grazed over Vic, refusing to address the protest she saw rising in his eyes. “I had our client’s medical records sent to his office by overnight courier and he promised to get back to me, first thing Wednesday morning.”
“What do we know about this guy? Does he have any experience?” Diego questioned.
She opened the slender file in front of her, which contained the man’s credentials, though it was unnecessary. She had committed the facts to memory. “Boat loads.”
An hour into strategy development, Diego begged for coffee. He rose from the chair across her desk and asked, “Anybody want anything?”
“I’ll take one,” Sam replied. “Black.”
“You got it,” he replied, chucking a smile in her direction. “Vic?”
He shook his head. When Diego was out of the room, he said, “This feels good, doesn’t it?”
Sam could almost feel Vic’s eyes wrap around her. His smile was intimate and familiar, his voice a mere caress. She agreed. Despite their differences over the pregnancy and the decisions to be made, she knew his heart was in the right place. It wasn’t fair to demand he feel as she did. Nor was it fair to allow the situation to come between them. “It does.”
“Do you think Raul has a good shot with the DA?”
“He sounded pretty gung-ho, which is unusual for him. He normally prefers to play it soft when it comes to flexing his muscle in criminal court.”
“Maybe he sees the merits of the case.”
“Maybe.” Old suspicion welled in her gut.
“Hey,” he said, the change of topic swifter than a finicky cat’s change in taste. “You doing anything for dinner tonight?”
Touched by the eager innocent tone of his voice, a warm fooli
sh grin extinguished her suspicions. “Why?”
“Because I’d like to take you out. On a date.”
Her stomach flipped. “A date?” Laughter erupted in her throat. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all.” He uncrossed his legs and set his hands on both knees. “I want to pick you up at your place, drive you to a fancy restaurant, dine with you by candlelight, then take you home...” his devious gaze sparked a reaction in her belly, “and see if I can get past the front door.”
Delighted by his tease, Sam let loose a low chuckle and pulled forward on her leather armrests. “Now I know you’ve gone crazy.”
“It’s called crazy in love.”
The blunt admission knocked her clear off balance. Crazy in love? A scrambled maze of feelings rocketed through her—she wasn’t used to this kind of talk! It sounded like some syrupy romance novel, the silliness of kids. But looking at him, Sam had the unsettling feeling he was dead serious.
“What do you say? Can I pick you up around seven?”
With their disagreement over Jess’ situation logged a full chapter behind them, there was no reason not to accept.
Something she wanted to accept, in the worst way. “Seven,” she agreed, before her brain had a chance to digest the emotions coursing through her.
Seven. For their date.
Sam’s body was littered with nerves. Jess made fun of her; the only words they exchanged since their standoff over the impending conversation with Luke.
Irrelevant at the moment, Sam decided. It had waited this long, it could wait another day. Besides, arriving home with twenty minutes to spare, she had no time to think! Instead, she was consumed with what to wear. Like some silly school girl, she became fixated on picking the right outfit, the one her man would enjoy the most.
Sam shook the ridiculous notion from her head. As if a man cared. She was no neophyte. She knew men didn’t care what a woman wore—hell—she’d been out with men dozens of times, hundreds—
She slammed the door closed on further thought. There was no need to go into detail. This wasn’t about men, it was about Vic. She smacked her brain into submission.
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