Dangerously in Love

by Kimbrough, Michele

  In response, she touched his face where there was still a hint of his injury, a subtle bruising. “There was someone—was she worth the black eye?”

  He moved her hand from his face and pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist.

  “What is this, Sam? What are we doing here? Candlelight, wine, us. . .”

  “Nothing. Like I said, I just wanted to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  She closed her eyes for a while and when she opened them, stared at the ceiling. She sighed and pulled away from him.

  “You asked why there wasn’t a new Samantha,” he paused until her eyes, iridescent in the candlelight, met his. “I wanted to meet a woman I could be a better person for. But that woman is you. That’s why there hasn’t been a new Samantha. You’re the only Samantha.”

  She looked away again. “Hill,” she said, then wavered. She caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. He leaned in to kiss her but she stopped him. “Bill and I are getting married,” she confessed.

  He tried not to look affected, but he wasn’t doing a good job of it. He stammered a couple of times, making a valiant but unsuccessful effort to congratulate her, but the words never properly formed. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, struggling to compose himself, wanting to say something appropriate without revealing how utterly hurt he was.

  She reached in the drawer of the nightstand and placed her engagement ring on her finger. She’d taken it off earlier so she’d have a chance to tell Hill before he saw it.

  He swallowed hard. “You have a ring . . . Bob went all out. I mean . . . what I’m trying to say is, uh . . . I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, shifting his body from under the covers to the edge of the bed. “What I’m meaning to say, and doing a horrible job of it, is congratulations,” he said, trying desperately to smile. Maybe he could even muster a twinkle in his eyes if he tried hard enough. “Really. I’m happy for you and Bob.” His performance warranted an Academy Award nomination.

  “Are you really, Hill?” she asked, trying to glean his true feelings from his muddled response.

  When he saw how desperately she wanted his blessing, he managed to put his feelings aside. He crawled back into bed beside her. “Yes, Sam. I’m really happy for you.”

  He pulled her into a hug. Her body felt so amazingly good pressed against his. He didn’t want to let go, but he also didn’t want the embrace to linger too long—like the desperate plea that it was. So he was the first to let go. She held on a little longer. When she finally let go, he saw tears streaming down her cheeks. He wiped them.

  “Tears of joy,” she said. But he doubted it. He wiped the remaining streams of tears and propped up on the pillows behind him. Both sat quietly, avoiding eye contact.

  Now it was done. The tiny ray of hope he once had—the hope that they’d somehow reunite—was gone. He excused himself to go to the bathroom. He just needed a moment to recover from the sudden news she hurled at him. He didn’t know that Samantha and Bill were serious like that. Marriage? He’d dated Samantha for three years and they never discussed marriage. It had been only a year—a tough year—with Bill, and she accepted his proposal.

  When Hill returned from the bathroom, they looked at each other with awkward grins, as if they were naked strangers.

  “Are you happy?” he asked.

  She motioned for him to sit beside her. He did.

  “I am. I’m very happy,” she said.

  “Why doesn’t it seem like you are?”

  She offered a one-shoulder shrug while playing with his hair. “I guess I was hoping for a different reaction from you.”

  “What do you mean? I’m very happy for you.”

  “That’s just it, Hill. Somehow, I’d hoped you’d talk me out of it—say it was a mistake, that you and I belonged together instead.”

  “Well, I do feel all those things, darlin’. I was trying to be supportive. I know Bob is important to you.”

  “You never fought for me, Hill. You let me go as if I didn’t matter to you. I guess I needed know if I ever mattered to you.”

  “You did . . . I mean, you do.” He rubbed his face in frustration. “What do you want from me, Sam? You walked out on me, remember? Let’s not forget that. You wanted the lifestyle Bob offered. You couldn’t see your life with me anymore, once I became a mere ‘gardener’. Remember, that? I was good enough for you when I was a lawyer, wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. I was someone you could brag about to your friends. But not as a landscaper.”

  “Bullshit, Hill, and you know it,” she said, pinching his arm, then rubbing it where it had turned red. “And I’m still not convinced that you gave it all up because landscaping was your big dream.”

  “Why are we doing this right now,” he said turning away from her.

  “You loved the law,” she reminded him. She remembered how they both loved the challenge of a good legal argument, often pitted against each other—she prosecuted, he defended. But when it came to the fight to win, the high-stakes, the courtroom drama . . . that was right up Hill’s alley, and he devoured it. He was like a magician in the courtroom—captivating.

  Samantha continued, “I think you quit because of what happened with Crawford. And you were too lame to admit it. The State vs. Crawford will always be the case that haunts you. All of the great defense attorneys have one—the monster case.” She watched Hill sulk.

  She went on, “I’ve never known you to be a quitter, Hill. But that’s just what you did—you quit. You let one person, one case, one action, cause you to quit something that you loved, which made me wonder how long it would have been before you quit me—someone you didn’t love. That’s what it was about for me. Not because of landscaping.”

  “Are you finished? Are you finished with this monologue you’re having about ‘what’s wrong with Hill’? You sound like my father. First, I did love you. I do love you. But you’re marrying Bob, so. . .”

  “His name is Bill! Get it right, dammit.”

  “I know his goddamn name! Unfortunately. And . . . why are we arguing about this now? Huh? It’s over between us, I get it. This little thing here, tonight—this little tryst—was my kiss off. The last hoorah. The thank you for making it possible for you to leap into someone else’s arms. Really, I get it. I do. Your message is loud and clear, darlin’,” he said as he got out of bed and began dressing.

  “That’s not it, Hill. . .”

  “Yes, it is. You have a new life, Sam—with that little . . . fucker—Bob, Bill. You have a new future, Sam. Go be happy in it.”

  When he sat on the side of the bed to put on his shoes, Samantha stood beside him, running her hand through his hair, then around the nape of his neck, resting her palm against his cheek. She bent down and kissed his lips with the kind of passion that usually kept Hill coming back for more. And it pissed him off even more. He was pissed because that passion would no longer be his.

  “I love you, Hill. Always.”

  Hill stood up and walked out, slamming the door behind him, clearly exhibiting his genuine disdain.

  7

  Agent Reeves grabbed Mindy roughly by the arm. She wrenched her arm free of his grip, her face flushed with fear. He’d never manhandled her before. He pushed her, and she stumbled backward onto the chair. She felt a vulnerability she’d never experienced before. Reeves was furious.

  Perry burst into the room, grabbing Reeves’s arm and pushing him against the door. He held him there, one hand gripping his neck and the other pinning his arm to the door.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you, man? You don’t handle a woman like that,” Perry said through clenched teeth.

  “She didn’t do it. She fucked around and got fired.”

  “So what? That’s no reason to treat her like that.”

  “I’m tired of screwing around with this case, Perry.” For every step forward they took in this case, it seemed that something always set them back–like someone had been deliberately sa
botaging their investigation. But he knew that couldn’t have been the case, although if felt like it.

  “Calm the hell down.” Perry released his grip. “Go,” he shooed Reeves away. “I’ll handle this. Just . . . just go, man.”

  After Reeves stormed out of the room, Mindy stood and began pacing the floor. “What’s with him?” she asked, her voice quavering.

  “I have no idea.” Perry faced her. “So what happened?”

  “That bitch, Rosemary, fired me. I always knew she had it in for me.”

  “Why did she fire you, Mindy?”

  She gave him a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me.” She dug the devices out of her purse and placed them on the table. “I was fired before I had a chance to plant these.”

  Perry picked them up from the table then looked at her. “There are only three here. Where are the other four?”

  “That’s what I was trying to tell that asshole, Reeves. Rosemary woke me up out of my sleep and asked me to leave. She said they’d pack my things and send them to me.”

  “Dammit, Mindy. Where are the other devices?”

  “In my drawer. Inside my makeup case at the Church’s place.”

  Perry shook his head, peeved but trying not to let it show.

  “Unless they snoop through my things, they’ll never find them. Hell, if Rosemary is doing the packing, she wouldn’t even know what they are.”

  “That may be true, but we have to be sure Adam doesn’t know about them. That’s the key.”

  “Well . . . you know, I couldn’t plant them with Rosemary looking over my shoulder every minute.”

  “It’s okay.” He patted her on the shoulder. “But for your safety, we’re going to have to move you, just as a precautionary measure.”

  “I’m good with that if you’re going to give me an allowance.”

  8

  Another weekday began, just like the ones before it and probably like many others to follow. Hill and his crew arrived early at the Church property. Ty finished the gabion waterfall structure that would send water flowing into the massive swimming pool. Gabe built retaining walls. And Hill, after noticing how Caitlin’s high-heels dug into the ground, making it difficult for her to walk as she strolled around the property with Adam, decided to lay a granite pathway.

  It was hardly ten in the morning, and the heat was already scorching as Hill knelt on the ground, measuring and placing the granite slabs in the dirt. A pleasant floral scent drifted toward him. He closed his eyes for a moment, indulging in the fragrance. When he opened his eyes, he saw a pair of yellow peep-toe stilettos in front of him. His eyes moved up from the slender ankles to the shapely calves and toned thighs, to a sheer miniskirt cinched around a small waist where a pair of beautifully manicured hands rested. He looked up further to see Caitlin staring down at him. He wiped his forehead with the back of his dirty hand then wiped his hands on his already grungy work shorts. He stood, smiling at her as he did.

  “What can I do for you, Mrs. Church?”

  “You can start by calling me Caitlin. Or Cate. I prefer Cate.”

  The hint of Spanish accent enticed him. “Okay, Cate. Do you need something?”

  Caitlin folded her arms across her chest, rubbing her bare arms slowly, probably not even realizing she was doing so. “Take a break. Come sit with me.”

  Hill grinned from ear to ear, but the thrill of her request was thwarted by thoughts of Adam lurking. He glanced around, particularly in the vicinity where Adam often sat.

  “He’s not here,” she said, aware of Hill’s sudden concern. “Adam’s out of town.”

  “I like your husband so much better when he’s not around,” Hill said, smiling.

  Caitlin chuckled. She motioned for Hill to follow her to the patio. Her hair blew in the breeze as he followed closely behind, observing the sway of her hips and the glide of her stride, until she stumbled and fell. He tried to catch her, but she had fallen forward just out of his reach.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “I guess I am,” she said, her head throbbing, her voice unsteady.

  “Can you sit up?” he asked.

  She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that her head felt like it wanted to explode. She rolled over and managed to push herself into a seated position. Then she nodded. “Yeah, I can sit.”

  “Good,” he said.

  She looked into his fabulous brown eyes and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said, trying to shift his focus away from her boobs, which were as visible as if she were naked. “Let’s try to get you on your feet.”

  She was too woozy to stand on her own and feared she’d collapse if she tried. He held her hands and pulled her to her feet. She fell against him. Her face pressed into his hard chest. He was solid, a concrete wall. Immovable. He adjusted her blouse to conceal her breasts, then wrapped his arm around her and led her to the patio where he lowered her into a chair.

  “Have a seat,” she offered while rubbing the grit from her elbows. “I really like this patio you built. When you sketched it, I never imagined it’d be so beautiful.”

  “It really does give an amazing panoramic view of your entire property from this location.”

  “It does,” she admitted, crossing her long shapely legs, now scraped from her fall. Her fragrance wafted on the breeze, teasing him.

  They lapsed into silence. Rosemary brought a tray containing a pitcher of iced tea, two glasses, sugar and cream, and tropical fruit. She handed a warm towel to Hill so he could clean his hands and then grabbed the first aid kit to tend to Caitlin’s scrapes and scratches.

  Caitlin reached out, resting her hand on Hill’s thigh. This man was a mountain. Solid muscle. “Would you like a glass of iced tea?” she asked.

  Hill looked down at her hand and placed his atop hers. It was softer than he’d imagined. He thought about pulling her onto his lap but resisted the urge. Instead, he opted for the glass of iced tea, nodding in response to her offer.

  She removed her hand from his thigh and, after pouring the iced tea, handed him the glass. Their fingers touched briefly in the exchange. She smiled, uncrossing her legs as she leaned forward.

  “Would you like some?” she asked.

  Hill raised an eyebrow. Some of what? he thought. His eyes had fallen to where her legs had spread, her Brazilian wax evident. A deliberate advertisement of what she was offering? Or was she simply unaware of her exposure? He wasn’t sure, and his mouth watered at the thought of caressing her legs, rubbing her thighs, feeling himself between them.

  Had it suddenly gotten hotter? Was he the only one sweating? She seemed immune to the heat, as if she had a personal air conditioner keeping her cool. Hill was sweating, and his hands felt grimy despite using the warm towel to wipe them. He was sure he probably smelled funky from the sweat. Still, she seemed to have been luring him in, the way she looked at him with her sultry brown eyes framed by long dark eyelashes. Her lips, red and pouty and plump, invited him to kiss them. He tried to tear himself away from her, but it seemed nearly impossible.

  “Some?” Hill managed to ask. He didn’t want to be presumptuous.

  She gathered some of the fruit into a ramekin. “I just thought you’d like a taste,” she said.

  More than you know, he thought. But he was interested in more than a taste. He wanted all of her—every bit of her. From her luscious lips to her titillating breasts. He swallowed hard as his mouth watered at the thought of tasting her. He licked his lips slowly and watched her cross her legs again, revealing herself in the process. She leaned forward a little, exposing her cleavage, rubbing her hand along her shin.

  “I thought you might be hungry,” she said, waving for Rosemary who arrived on the patio promptly. “Hilton doesn’t want any,” she continued. “Even though the beautiful spread was handed to him on a silver platter.”

  “Hilton, you don’t like?” Rosemary asked.

  “I do. Very much,” he
managed to say to Rosemary. He returned his gaze to Caitlin. “As desirable and tempting as your spread was, I’m too filthy to indulge myself in something so elegantly delivered on a silver platter. Besides, I think this is my cue to get back to work.”

  Rosemary took the tray and disappeared inside the house. Caitlin stood, the wind blowing her skirt and hair. “Thank you, Hill, for helping me after my fall and sitting with me. I enjoyed your company. Just let me know when your appetite arouses you, and I’ll be happy to oblige,” she said, holding her hand out to him.

  Hill took her hand in his. He was so tempted to pull her body against his and kiss her with passion.

  “I don’t want to keep you from your work,” Caitlin said.

  “Thank you for the. . .” he hesitated. What did he want to say to her? What did he want to convey? It was clear what she was offering. Or was it? Maybe he was misinterpreting her actions. Maybe she was truly only offering iced tea and tropical fruit. After all, anything else she had belonged to her husband. He continued, “. . . for the tea. It was refreshing.”

  “Maybe next time, you’ll bring your appetite,” she smiled as she walked into the house.

  9

  Soon the sun was setting, and all Hill could think about was Caitlin—her floral scent, her soft hands, her teasing and innuendo. Her flirtation hit Hill below the belt, quite literally. She’d caught him by surprise, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Even if he had accepted Caitlin’s advances, what could he have done about them? He wasn’t going to screw her in her husband’s backyard.

  Besides all of that, he was still reeling from the bad news Samantha had given him after a romp for old time’s sake. At least that’s what he’d thought it was. But it was really a kiss off, one that he didn’t appreciate. He shook off his thoughts from Samantha and refocused on Caitlin.

  “If you’re thinking about that Church woman, Hill, you need to know she’s bad news,” Ty said.

  “No, I’m not. Just thinking about our upcoming projects.”