He framed her face with his hands, saw the self-doubts that suddenly darkened her eyes, knew the unexpected fear that caused her pulse to flutter in the hollow of her throat. “Samantha, I’ve never believed in anyone like I believe in you at this moment.” A responding warmth seemed to shoot directly from her eyes into his heart. “Your father would have been so proud of you,” he added.
Her eyes narrowed and she stepped away from him. “Don’t ruin my day by bringing him into the conversation.”
She walked over to the table and placed her briefcase on top.
Tyler watched as she pulled her papers from the case, her movements jerky with suppressed anger. “Samantha, sooner or later you’re going to have to deal with your feelings about your dad. Sooner or later you’re going to have to forgive him. For your own sake.”
Her eyes flashed fire as she looked at him. “Right now, all I have to do for my sake is win this case. I don’t owe my father forgiveness. I don’t owe him anything.”
The conversation halted as an officer opened the door to admit Dominic. Immediately they focused on preparing Dominic for his days in court.
At precisely nine o’clock, the case of the State of Missouri v. Marcola began. Chester Sparks, clad in a beige suit with a bright salmon-colored tie, delivered his opening statement in his usual fire-and-brimstone style. Raising his voice like a minister casting out demons, he spewed saliva, his face red with exertion as he boomed to the jury. The jurists visibly shrank back in their chairs—whether dodging spittle or simply wanting distance, Tyler wasn’t sure.
As Samantha stood to begin her statement, Tyler’s stomach clenched with spasms of nervous tension. Samantha’s style was conversational, friendly. She eyed each of the jurists, smiling confidently, as if secretly telling them she knew they were brilliant and would agree with her assessment of the case.
Tyler began to relax as he watched the jury members respond to her. They leaned forward, listening intently as she calmly laid out how she intended to prove Dominic wouldn’t, couldn’t and hadn’t killed Abigail Monroe.
As she finished and walked back to her place at the defense table, she passed Chester. She whispered something to him and his face paled, then reddened. For a moment he seemed completely disoriented.
“Mr. Sparks? Your first witness?” the judge prompted.
“Yes, of course...” He thumbed through his paperwork and cleared his throat a number of times, his face reddening once again as he cast a furtive glance at Samantha.
Tyler leaned over to his partner. “You broke his concentration, destroyed his rhythm. What on earth did you say to him?” he whispered.
She grinned, her brown eyes sparkling mischievously. “I told him my underpanties were the same color as his tie.”
Tyler wasn’t sure whether to be appalled or amused. It was just the sort of improper behavior he didn’t approve of, and yet he couldn’t argue with the results. As a battle tactic, it was brilliant. Chester Sparks was still trying to regain his composure. Tyler leaned back toward Samantha. “You’re something else,” he whispered in her ear.
She flashed him a smile. “I’m only just beginning.”
“Tell me again...I was good, wasn’t I?” Samantha asked when they entered the house at the end of the long day. Filled with energy, she walked into the study where Virginia had left a fire burning. She flipped on the stereo, wanting music. She felt like singing, like dancing, like shouting out loud.
Tyler leaned against the doorjamb, an amused smile on his face as she kicked off her high heels and dug her toes into the thick carpeting. “You were good,” he agreed. “It went very well, but you’ve got to remember, this is just the first day,” he warned her. “It’s going to be a long trial. You’ll have good moments and there will be bad moments.”
Samantha shook her head as if to discount his warning. She didn’t want to hear anything negative. She wanted to celebrate. “Admit it, I kicked butt,” she said.
Tyler laughed. “You kicked butt.”
She nodded. “You hungry? I’m famished. Let’s go see what Virginia left us for dinner.”
Minutes later they sat at the table eating roast-beef sandwiches and digesting the events of the day. “I couldn’t believe it when Officer Winstead said he thought the 911 call was suspicious. It was like a gift from heaven falling in my lap,” Samantha said as she reached for more potato chips.
“He’s a rookie cop, too young to know you don’t volunteer personal opinion like that. Somebody will chew him up for his lapse on the stand.”
“And then the forensics guy admitted they’d made a mistake when they tossed the champagne bottle.” Euphoria swept over Samantha as she remembered the look on the jurists’ faces at this information. “If the jury had gone to deliberate tonight, I’d win.”
“Unfortunately, they don’t deliberate tonight and tomorrow Chester might have a good day.”
Samantha frowned at him. “Why are you trying to rain on my parade?”
“I’m not,” he protested. “I’m just trying to keep you firmly on the ground.”
Samantha looked down at her plate, finding the warmth radiating from his eyes uncomfortably evocative, the gentle caring in his tone surprisingly welcome. She tried to focus on the conversation, not his physical appeal. “I know today is just the first day and I got lucky with a couple of the prosecution witnesses. I know tomorrow might be a very different tale. But for tonight, I just want to ride my high. Is that so horribly wrong?”
“No, it’s not.” He smiled. “I remember the very first day of my very first case. I, too, had a good day and felt giddy with power, wild with success. Your father told me I was still wet behind the ears and had too much to learn to waste time feeling good about myself.”
Samantha nodded, remembering all the times her father had verbally kicked the confidence out of her. “He was good at deflating egos.” She stood and put their dirty dishes in the dishwasher. She didn’t want to think about her father. Tyler’s words earlier in the day about forgiveness had bothered her. She knew he was right; sooner or later she was going to have to come to terms with her anger concerning her father. But not tonight. Tonight she wanted to fly on wings of celebration.
Although it was nearly ten o’clock and it had been a grueling day, she was too wired to go to bed. Tyler stood and stretched and as Samantha gazed at him, warmth spread through her.
He’d spent the entire day in court sitting next to her, supporting her not only emotionally, but in every other capacity as well. All day long she’d smelled his scent, felt his body heat beside her. When she scored a hit with her cross-examination, he’d grabbed her hand as she sat back down at the table, his eyes warming her with praise.
“Don’t go to bed yet,” she said, knowing that was probably his intention. She reached out and took his hand. “Let’s have a celebration party.”
“It’s kind of late for guests.”
“A party with just you and me.” She tugged at his hand. “Come on. Come into the study and dance with me.” She felt his hesitation. “Please, Tyler. This has been the best day of my life, and I’m not ready for it to end yet.”
He smiled. “The lady wants to dance? Let’s dance.”
And they did. With the stereo blaring golden oldies and the fire blazing, they twisted and two-stepped, strolled and macarenaed. Samantha was surprised but pleased to discover that Tyler was a good dancer. He moved with a natural grace and rhythm. Before long they’d both shed their suit jackets. Tyler pulled off his tie and Samantha untucked her blouse.
While they danced, they discussed the high points of the day and plotted strategy for the following one. Samantha had never felt so alive. She didn’t want the night to end. She wanted to bottle her happiness to keep forever.
When the radio station began a soft, mellow tune, she moved into Tyler’s arms for their first slow dance. She didn’t want to think about all the reasons why she shouldn’t be in his arms—nebulous reasons that were so easy to forget a
s he held her close.
She coiled her arms up around his neck, able to feel his heart beating rapidly against her own. Suddenly she remembered the night when the brick had come flying through the window, the night she’d almost made love to him.
Oh, she’d wanted him on that night. His kiss had stirred the place deep inside her that had never been touched by a man; had called forth a response she’d never felt before.
She raised her head and looked at him, knowing she wanted that again. She wanted him to kiss her, sweep away all rational thought. She wanted to make love to him.
He must have seen her desire in her eyes, for she felt the catch of breath in his chest as he stared back at her. His arms tightened around her, his hands splaying across her back, then moving down to cup her buttocks. “Kiss me, Tyler,” she said softly. “Kiss me, then make love to me. I want you so badly.”
His mouth captured hers with fiery hunger. There was no pretense of dancing anymore. Although the music swirled around them, their feet stopped moving the moment the kiss began.
Samantha returned the kiss with a hunger of her own, tangling her tongue with his, an active participant in stoking the flames of passion. He pulled her closer against him and she felt his desire, bold and thrusting against her.
As the kiss came to an end, she leaned her head back, allowing his lips access to the length of her neck. Shivers of delight raced up her spine as he nibbled and licked and teased her skin.
While he loved her throat and ears, she worked the buttons on his dress shirt, wanting to see his chest, feel it naked beneath her fingertips. When she’d unfastened the last button, he shrugged out of the shirt, exposing his beautifully muscled chest dusted with dark, curling hairs.
She started to unbutton her own blouse; but paused as he caught her hands in his. “Let me,” he whispered. Almost reverently, he unfastened each button, pausing to kiss each inch of skin he exposed.
As her blouse fell to the floor, Samantha’s knees weakened and she sank down to the carpeting in front of the fire.
Tyler joined her, taking her in his arms as his fingers worked the hook at the back of her bra. When the wispy material joined her blouse on the floor, he sat back for a moment and simply looked at her, his eyes blazing with a flame to rival the fire. “You are so beautiful.” His voice was low and husky.
He reached for her, pulling her beneath him as they stretched out full length. His chest warmed hers, his coarse chest hair providing erotic stimulation against her nipples. He kissed her again—a deep, soul-searing kiss that stole away her breath and any lingering doubts she might entertain.
With trembling fingers, she reached for the snap and zipper of his slacks. She knew if she touched him there, she would cross a line and there would be no going back for either of them. And that was what she wanted.
No doubts. No regrets. She felt as if she’d lived half her life just waiting for this moment to happen with Tyler. It had always been as inevitable as her next breath.
As her fingers moved to unzip his slacks, he moaned, a sound that elevated Samantha’s desire to new heights. She was in uncharted territory now. She’d never known desire could cause such an ache, never before known this kind of longing for fulfillment.
He kicked off his slacks, leaving himself clad only in a pair of cotton briefs that did little to hide his bold need.
A niggling fear whispered through Samantha as she removed her skirt and pulled off her panty hose, leaving only a pair of lacy coral-colored panties. She knew she was about to give to Tyler a piece of herself she would never be able to retrieve. It scared her—and thrilled her. She reached for Tyler once again, wanting him to get on with it before she changed her mind, to possess her before her sanity returned.
He moved away from her slightly and propped his elbow up beneath him. “Slow,” he said as his fingers danced across her collarbone, then stroked her breasts. “We’re going to take this very slow.” She shivered at the promise in his voice, at the heat of his gaze.
He dipped his head and captured one of her nipples between his lips, his tongue flicking at the turgid tip while his other hand slowly caressed the flatness of her abdomen.
Samantha felt as if she’d lost all control of her body and mind. She was nothing but a quivering mass of nerve endings. Each touch, each caress sent her higher.
When he finally touched the silk of her panties, she arched up to meet his hands, fear succumbing to need. Gently, he pulled the panties off her hips and down her legs, tossing them aside.
She’d always thought she would be embarrassed to be completely naked with a man. But Tyler didn’t give her time to be embarrassed. When he touched her again, a sob caught in her throat—a sob of surprise and of splendor.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, and then his mouth covered hers.
He stroked her until she thought she would lose her mind. Any control she had left snapped beneath the mastery of his caresses. He knew just where to touch, just where to kiss to take her to heights she’d never climbed before. Selflessly he plied her body with kisses and caresses until she reached the pinnacle and spun into the blackness of utter sensation.
When he started her on the same climb again, she stopped him, this time wanting him with her. She wanted him to lose control, lose himself in her. She reached down and touched the waistband of his briefs and in that instant, she knew his control had snapped.
With a frantic movement, he shed the last barrier that existed between them and moved on top of her. As he entered her, his eyes held hers, speaking in a language as old as time, showing his loss of control as wonderment stole across his features—wonderment that turned into confusion.
He stopped all movement, frozen in shock. “Samantha, you’re—”
“Shh, don’t say it, and don’t stop.” She wrapped her arms around the broadness of his back, trying to physically pull him closer, more tightly into her. Before he could make a move, she arced up to him. A dizzying stab of pain riveted through her. Tears sprang to her eyes as the pain subsided and pleasure swept through her. “It’s okay,” she whispered breathlessly. “Please...love me.”
Tentatively he moved against her. “Yes...” she moaned. “Oh, yes.” She watched as the surprise melted from his eyes, dissolving with each move of her hips against his. Then she closed her eyes and lost the last of herself.
It wasn’t until he’d rolled off her and her breathing had slowly returned to normal that she opened her eyes and gazed at Tyler. Once again he was on his side, his elbow propped beneath him as he gazed at her, his expression impossible to read.
“My, my, Mr. Sinclair. You do know how to throw a celebratory party,” she said lightly. She frowned when he didn’t respond in kind. “Tyler, please. Please, don’t say anything.” She sat up and pushed her hair away from her face. “Don’t insult me by telling me what a mistake we just made. It wasn’t a mistake.” She eyed him defiantly. “I wanted to do it.”
The waning firelight had cast his features in dark shadow, making it impossible for her to guess what he was thinking, what he was feeling.
“Why me?”
“Why not?” she countered flippantly. “I had a whim, you were handy, and I didn’t notice you protesting too much.” She stood and walked over to where her panties had landed.
Aware of his gaze, she pulled them on. “You’ll have to excuse me, I don’t know much about after-sex etiquette. Do we kiss now? Say good-night? Have a cigarette?” She spied a telltale muscle clenching in his jaw. She knew she was being too glib and was making him angry. But, what did he expect? That she whisper how much she loved him? That she tell him she’d felt the earth move and a piece of him crawl into her heart?
No way. She’d always known she wasn’t the kind of woman Tyler could love. He could desire her, want her again and again, but she would never own his heart—and she would never allow him to own hers. She’d learned a long time ago that loving somebody gave that person the power to hurt. Her father had taught her well; sh
e would never allow anyone to have that power over her again.
“I still don’t understand,” he said.
“What’s to understand? Don’t make this into something it’s not. It’s no big deal.” They both jumped as the phone rang.
Tyler leaned over to pick up the receiver from the phone on the coffee table. As he answered, Samantha grabbed her blouse from the floor and pulled it on.
“It’s for you,” he said.
She took the receiver from him, wondering who would be calling at this time of night. “Hello?”
“Sam, got some news for you.” Bones’s deep voice whispered across the line.
“What?” She frowned, trying to shift mental gears.
“Word on the street is that there’s a target on your head.”
“Pardon me?” Samantha wondered if she’d heard him correctly. “Why?”
“Somebody wants you off the Marcola case real bad. And right now.”
A chill raced up Samantha’s spine. “Who?”
“Don’t know. The only thing I do know is that whoever it is, they’re offering five thousand big ones to put you out of commission. That’s all I know.”
“You’ll tell me if you hear anything else?”
“You know it.” Without saying goodbye, he clicked off.
Samantha replaced the receiver slowly, trying to digest what she’d just learned. She turned to Tyler, who’d pulled on his slacks and was buttoning his shirt. “That was Bones,” she said. “He had some news for me.” Tyler waited expectantly. “It seems somebody has put out a contract on me. Someone wants me dead.”
Chapter 9
“Somebody wants me dead.”
Samantha’s words haunted Tyler for the remainder of the night and continued to worry him through the boring, forensic morning testimony.
After Bones’s chilling phone call, Tyler and Samantha had talked, trying to figure out whose toes she might have stepped on, who the threat might have come from. But there were no answers.
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