Lust on the Rocks

by Dianne Venetta

  He opened his eyes and smiled. “Come here.” He pulled her down to meet him, but based on their position, her breast ended up in his mouth as she fell to her elbows. “Perfect,” he hummed into her skin.

  She shook her head. “Where do you get the strength?”

  “Younger man,” he mumbled, his hot moist mouth as distracting as it was taxing.

  “You’re amazing.”

  “Ready for another go round?”

  “Not hardly.” Sam could only think of rest at the moment and with his help, rolled off of him and onto the plush cotton of her bed sheets. Her arms dropped to her sides, her legs fell flat and she rested, splayed open from exhaustion.

  # # #

  Come dawn, Sam woke to the sound of rain. Waves of it sprayed the glass of her patio sliders, scattered in sheets across the balcony floor, occasionally accompanied by the dull rumble of thunder. Outside it was gray, as far as the eye could see. Dismal. She wanted to go back to sleep as gray was not her favorite color.

  Vic nudged her from behind. “Hey, sleepy head. Time to get up.”

  She closed her eyes.

  “Man, it’s ugly out there. Guess my days of nonstop sunshine have come to an end,” Vic joked.

  Struck by the casual comment, Sam stilled. It struck too close to reality.

  “Lucky for me the view is so beautiful on the inside.” He leaned over and kissed the back of her head. Placing a hand to her hip, he said, “You know, when we finish with the Perry case, with Scaliano, I want us to take a trip.”

  “A trip?” She opened her eyes and alarm scurried up her side. Without turning she asked, “What kind of trip?”

  “A trip. You know, as in a lovers’ paradise getaway, just for the two of us.”

  Gusts of rain smacked the glass panes. The fan whirred cool air against her skin. This was not good. Vic was making plans. Making plans for the future, for the two of them…together. She pulled the covers up to her chin as longing poured into her heart.

  But they didn’t have a future.

  “I think we should head to the islands. You like it warm, I’ve never been. I think it will be fun.”

  Fun. Nothing was fun about playing with the fire of fantasy talk. People get burned. They get hurt.

  “You’ve been haven’t you?” Vic leaned over again and pressed the weight of his body into the curve of her hip. “Do you have a place in particular you like to go?”

  While she loved to feel him close, the solid wall of man behind her, make love to him while it stormed outside, this wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. He couldn’t continue to make plans for the years ahead. He couldn’t go on thinking they had years ahead. Together.

  They didn’t—couldn’t! She turned to face him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  So much for easing in slow, she mused sourly. “Vic—” she began, but paused. How did one say it? We can’t plan a future we don’t have? We can’t pretend we’re something we’re not? “I can’t think about the future right now—I need to stay focused on my case.” She groaned inwardly and thought, weak. That was weak.

  Lines creased across his forehead as he replied in mild offense, “I know that. I’m talking about afterward, months from now.”

  Staring into eyes that held an innocent zeal, were filled with hopeful desire, her heart lurched. Months from now he should be returning home, to his family, his life—not hanging around Miami waiting for her to join him on a lovers’ jaunt through the islands. Once the Perry case concluded there was nothing for him here. A fact she didn’t like admitting herself, but facts were facts and she was not a woman prone to ignoring them. Sam lifted to her elbows and said, “Vic, listen…” but hesitated, suddenly at a loss for direction. She’d never had to break up with someone before. In the past, her relations had ended naturally. When the passion ran cold, the players moved on.

  Break up. The mere words sounded foreign to her.

  He smiled and held up a hand. “It’s okay. I see you have a one track mind. Let’s say we put off talk of travel until the job of trial is complete.”

  But that doesn’t resolve the deeper issue.

  Vic patted her thigh. “Speaking of which, it’s time to get up. We have work to do.”

  Her gaze trailed his naked backside as he effortlessly slid off the bed and headed to the bathroom. Work. Together. Watching as he closed the door, she wondered how it would end.

  Would it be soon? Would it end badly? She rolled back over and allowed her thoughts to drift, to escape. The air was growing stuffy indoors. Outside it was heavy, wet and gray, but at least it was open. The rain was falling steady now, water pooling on her balcony floor, but she doubted it would last. Like every other tropical wind-storm, this too would pass and be replaced by hot sunshine and balmy breezes.

  It’d probably be dry by the time she left the office this afternoon. She heard the shower turn on and imagined his muscular body stepping in, soaking himself beneath streams of hot water, billows of steam rising around him. And then what? Work as if nothing was changing between them? Come home again to partake in another night of glorious sex?

  Sam felt a pinch of guilt. Had she led him to believe they had more in store than physical relations? Sure they said the “I love you” words but those didn’t have to necessarily tie them together long-term. Not for her, anyway. Did they for him? Did Vic intend to pursue a serious relationship with her?

  Sam had a horrible sinking feeling. She felt as though she were being dishonest, allowing Vic to think they had a future beyond the bedroom—which they didn’t. She didn’t want anything more, not from him, not from any man. Though if she did, Vic would be a good choice.

  Who was she kidding? Vic would be a great choice, for her or any woman! Her thoughts snaked around the concept. Any woman. Any woman but the kind who wants to remain single, the kind who wants to remain child-free. Something Vic needed. He needed marriage and family, something she couldn’t deliver. It wasn’t in her plan. Despite momentary distractions to the contrary, her life was about freedom. It was about pursuing her dreams and following her heart.

  The little voice inside her protested. What happens when your heart leads you down the path of love? How do you plan on ending a love affair while it’s still red hot?

  Sam pressed her head onto the pillow and closed her eyes. She listened to the erratic spatter of rain as it hit the glass, considered its sharp contrast to the steady stream of shower inside. How did one end the best relationship they ever had?

  She didn’t have an answer for that one. Not yet, anyway. But she would. It was only a matter of time.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Once at the office, Sam put some distance between she and Vic. Easy to do since both had a pile of files to work through as the Perry trial approached, not to mention the fact they hadn’t even begun to dig into the details of the criminal case. Scaliano would indeed pay for what he did—or more aptly didn’t do—to prevent a young girl from dying.

  Thoughts of Vic’s sister Anna floated into her mind. From the newspaper article at the library Sam could tell she had been a real beauty, gorgeous with her dark hair, big black eyes and olive skin. She definitely looked Italian. Marinelli. The name echoed in the back of her mind along with its connection to Vic. Sam felt a shiver up her spine. She couldn’t imagine those same black eyes, wide and panicked as she called to her brother through crystal blue water. What a horrible way to die. You were conscious, it was prolonged. You knew it was hap-pening…

  Sam shoved the visions from her mind. Anna was gone. She was lost forever to those who loved her. She made her last note for the day and closed the file. It was one more reason to count her blessings regarding her own sister. Jess was safe and sound and getting back into the swing of her life. All Sam could do now was bring the bastard to justice. That was her job, to serve the cause of justice. That’s who she was. She glanced up at her wall of diplomas, each and every one of them a badge of honor, honors she’d worked damned hard to achieve.
She was sitting on the brink of partnership and she wasn’t about to allow anything or anyone to stand in her way. Senior partner was her ultimate objective and this promotion brought her one step closer to the realizing the dream.

  Swiveling in her chair, Sam swept her gaze from wall to windows and cast it out over the bay. Biscayne Bay was breathtaking. Glorious. As she suspected, the clouds from this morning had cleared and the sun shone bright, dumping a mountain of glitter across the water’s surface. This was a cosmopolitan city and she drank in the sight of it. To her left the Port of Miami consumed Dodge Island, acted as the trade gateway to Central and South America, provided dockage to a host of cruise liners headed for the Caribbean, a mere breeze and Gulf Stream away. Beyond the port were Fisher and Star Islands. They were nestled close yet retained the ultimate in privacy and elegance, yachts waiting out back stocked and ready to whisk their owners off on another extravagant adventure.

  But more than a coveted place to live, Sam loved that Miami represented the lifestyle she adored. Fast and furious, sunshine and sass—this was her kind of town. What more could she want?

  A life with Vic in Pennsylvania? She shuddered at the thought. Not hardly. What then—a life with him here? Sam rapped the pen in hand against her armchair. It didn’t fit, she told herself. Not only did they want different things from life, this city wasn’t his style, wasn’t his pace. No matter how much she may care for him, love didn’t conquer all. That slogan was a fairy tale sold to little girls to keep them bright-eyed and searching for Mr. Right.

  A book missing from her library. Blowing a curl from her eyes, she rose from her chair and snatched the suit jacket from the hook behind her desk. Mr. Right Now agreed with her needs just fine. Changing gears, Sam assumed the strength of her legal persona and flushed it through her veins. Opposing counsel was scheduled to come in around three, which left her ten minutes—ten minutes to rally her forces and convene with Diego beforehand. She assumed Goldman’s request was a last-ditch effort at settlement, which she of course would deny, but professionalism demanded she grant him an audience.

  Besides, they had yet to learn of the brewing criminal charges and that little surprise buoyed her step. With a rap on her door, Diego strolled in, dressed in full suit and tie. Though he appeared the consummate professional, black a most becoming color on him, it wasn’t his preference. Unlike Raul who maintained a formal presentation at all times, Diego made it clear he was no monkey. Give him a fishing pole and bait hat any day of the week. Sam considered the image and laughed aloud.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Ignoring the injured look on his face, she replied, “You. If you weren’t such a damn good lawyer, I’d bet money you’d be a charter captain, cruising the bright blue waters of the Gulf Stream.”

  “You’re damn right I would be. Catching a sailfish too big to mount in my office, that’s for sure.” He swiped a glance out the window and around her office. “Hell, after Perry,” he said, hitching his coat up, slipping his hands into front pockets, “I just might retire and do exactly that.”

  “Forget about it. You’re not going anywhere if I have anything to say about it. And when I’m partner,” her tease turned electric and fired through her entire body, “I’ll have everything to say about it.”

  His expression lit up. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

  She grinned, pleased by the pride lighting up his smile. “It does.” And it felt good to be back on her game. Vic had caused her to slip and temporarily lose sight of the prize. He had derailed her with soft kisses, hot sex and yes...

  Love. Warm, sizzling, scrumptious love, but it was only a detour. A mad dash into fantasy, but not her final destination. And like all good fantasies, while thrilling and distracting, it must come to an end. There was no way around it. It was something she would have to broach with Vic and soon. Allowing it to continue would only hurt worse later on.

  She and Diego made quick rounds through her notes before heading to the conference room. This would be brief. She swung open the door and nearly tripped over her surprise. Vic stood behind a chair. “Vic,” she acknowledged, bucking against her skitter of pulse. She hadn’t invited him because this wasn’t a significant meeting—not to mention it would be much easier to simply forego his presence than deal with the slew of ambivalent emotions coursing inside her.

  “Sam.”

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she doled out to the others with smooth expertise as she decided, no problem. She could handle unforeseen circumstances.

  Harry Goldman sat between two of his partners, a pile of official looking papers tidily stacked before him on Baker Schofield’s polished wood conference table. Dark-suited, they offered no smiles, no other words, they were a wall of defiance.

  Sam expected nothing less. Diego made his way for one of the empty seats and not the one next to Vic. He extended an innocent hand to the seat located at the head of the table, indicating he had reserved the position of authority for her.

  Right next to Vic. Pushing past the unexpected fireworks in her chest she slid into her chair with measured precision. Vic and Diego mirrored her movements.

  “Shall we get started, gentlemen?”

  Polished smiles responded around the table, nodding in tacit agreement and despite the air of civility, she detected a cord of animosity. No surprise. Harry knew his case was losing traction but the consummate professional, he would reveal not a hint of weakness.

  Sam settled into the supple leather of her chair and asked, “What brings you out, Harry?”

  “This.” Harry Goldman slid his neat and tidy stack of white papers held together by a black clip across the table. “Motion for summary judgment.”

  Sam wanted to laugh in his face and from the corner of her eyes, could tell Vic and Diego were right there with her. “Word of advice: don’t waste the judge’s time.”

  “Give me one reason not to.”

  “I’ll give you three.” She placed her elbows onto the table and leaned into them. She held up a rigid forefinger. “Number one. Perry knew all applicable standards which it professed to embrace—those of the American Heart Association, American College of Sports Medicine, YMCA and a host of others—recommended AEDs in health clubs as early as 1986.” She cut the room with a smile. “For which they’ve yet to comply.”

  She thrust up her middle finger. “Number two. Several of your own health clubs currently employ the use of AEDs—a few renegade managers going out on a limb for their clientele, I imagine—which serves to foreseeable risk and remedy for medical emergency. On a silver platter, I might add.” Sam paused, allowing her words to sink in. “And number three,” she gestured with a coinciding finger, “the list of similar suits ruled in favor of the plaintiff is longer than my arm. But let’s not worry about them,” she said, infusing her tone with mockery as she dropped her hand to the table. “Let’s focus on our precedent-setting case—the one that will force every health club in the country to deploy and use AEDs.” She flushed all humor from her voice as her pulse kicked up a notch. “To save the lives of the very people who keep you in business.” Sam scanned the faces staring back at her, adrenaline pumping through her veins. No one said a word.

  No guts? Or no legs.

  Probably the latter, she mused and pushed past their silence. “But I thought we’ve been through this already.”

  “Cut through the crap, Sam. Name your price,” Harry said.

  “More than money, I’m looking for action.”

  He scoffed. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “C’mon, Harry. Action is a simple word. It means I want Perry to change their ways. Admit their wrongdoing and make amends. Permanent ones. Public ones.”

  “What are you talking about? You know if we settle, we’ll want the details of this case to remain sealed from the public.”

  “Now you’re getting it. Resolution of this case will take not only money, but full acceptance of guilt and a public apology.”

&nbs
p; “Whoa...” The lawyer pushed back from the table. “I might be able to coax Perry into a formal notice to the courts as to admission of guilt, but I see no reason why there needs to be any public disclosure.” He dipped his chin down toward his neck in that pompous style she was beginning to loathe and peered at her over the rim of imaginary bifocals, the pouches of fat beneath his eyes protruding more than usual. “And I assure you, Mrs. Albright will be financially taken care of.”

  “You’re damn right she will. And so will tens of thousands of other unsuspecting men and women. I’m seeking the mother lode, Harry. You want to settle, these are my terms. Full admission of guilt and a public apology to Mrs. Albright for your gross oversight in the death of her husband. Voluntary implementation of AEDs in every facility Perry owns, or has a financial stake in, and finally,” she continued, despite the balks she received, “I want ten million dollars for Mrs. Albright’s pain and suffering.”

  “Ten million dollars?” He leapt from his seat. “That’s outrageous! We can’t afford that kind of settlement agreement.”

  “But your insurers can.”

  Goldman froze.

  “Their butt is on the line, joined at the hip with yours.”

  The attorney pulled himself straighter and jabbed a finger to the table in a limp attempt at regaining his stature in this negotiation. “I don’t recall any deposition inferring you intended to go after insurance monies.”

  She lifted her shoulders in casual indifference. “What can I say?” She smiled with a wink. “I’m full of surprises.”

  Goldman’s skin turned a shade whiter, betraying his expensive tan. Probably choking on a string of expletives he wanted to hurl across the table, but the man knew better than to sling the first one at Sam Rawlings. She’d cut him to the quick and ground out every last piece, here and in the courtroom.

  Sam laughed inside. Bottom line, the man was finished.