by Lynn LaFleur
With the chair back between them, he reached for her hand.
She hesitated.
“Mary Beth, please let me finish.”
Reluctantly, she met him halfway. For the first time, she noticed the contrast in the color of their skin. She’d always been fair, the consummate redhead—pale-skinned, freckled, quick to blush, easy to sunburn.
Rico’s hand was twice the size of hers and several shades darker. Her hands were soft, his fingertips and palms calloused. She kept her fingernails short and natural. His were clipped, and even though he worked with grease and oil, his fingernails were scrubbed clean.
As different as they were, their hands fit perfectly. Holding his, she felt safe and protected. For one insane instant, an image flashed in her mind of a curly-headed toddler with red hair, blue eyes, and the dark olive complexion of her father.
A shiver of pleasure raced through her body.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. You threw me for a minute, but please go on.”
He laced his fingers through hers. “I don’t remember anything the judge said after he read the verdict and the door of a cell slammed shut behind me. If I could have killed you that moment I would have.”
“Rico, don’t.” She tried to pull her hand away from his. He held steady.
“We were both so young. I’d only had one girlfriend because I was in love with my cousin’s girl.”
“Your…your cousin’s girl? Pia Sarantella? The girl who…”
“Yeah, Pia, the girl who accused me of raping her, of almost killing her.”
“Did she…? You were in love…? Ohmygod.”
“That’s what made it worse. Pia knew I worshipped her. I would have killed to protect her.”
“Why did she accuse you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. The guy who attacked her boogied long before I got there. My cousin found her first, went a little nuts and took off. I guess after a while he tried to get help.”
He released her hand and rubbed his eyes. The fatigue of years spent wondering showed in his face. “I’ll never understand why he left her alone. If he’d stayed until I got there, things would have been different.”
For years, Mary Beth had wondered about that too. A familiar unease came back with the memory. If his cousin had stayed, Rico never would have been charged. “Did you ask him why?”
“About a hundred times. Said he didn’t know why.” Rico ran his hand across his brow. “I was so fucking scared Pia was dying. I picked up the knife and tossed it away from her, then I held her in my arms. I didn’t want her to think no one cared about her.”
“That’s when the police came in?”
He nodded again, and his eyes welled with tears. “I wanted to hold her until help came. I was covered in her blood. The paramedics did something and she woke up. That’s when the cops asked her if she knew who did it.”
“And she said you.”
“I couldn’t believe what she said. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t do anything but stare at her. She said it again and again. I knew I was fucked. I started yelling at her to tell the truth. Next thing, the cops were hauling my ass to jail. Like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.”
“Why do you think she said that?”
“I don’t know.” He stood and began pacing. “My cousin knew I didn’t do it. Tony told the cops he’d called me at home, that I couldn’t have done it and gotten back to my place before he called. They wouldn’t listen. They said the lab proved the semen inside Pia came from me, and that my fingerprints were the only ones on the knife and the flashlight.”
Another reason she believed in his innocence. It seemed odd to her that only his prints were found when no one had ever seen him with a knife or that flashlight. “I remember that, and wondered why your attorney didn’t raise the possibility that you’d been set up.”
Rico pushed back the strands of hair that had come loose from the band that held his ponytail in place. “Neither did I.”
“You should have testified, Rico. Everyone in the jury room said that if you were innocent, you would have taken the stand.”
“My attorney said no. Said the DA would chew me up and spit me out. That I was too young and too dumb, and would have ended up looking even guiltier. My cousin told me that was good advice, so I listened.”
“You listened to them and blamed me.”
He stopped, shoved his hands in his pockets and gave her a weak, sheepish grin. “Who else could I blame?”
“How about your cousin? And your attorney?”
“I couldn’t blame Tony. He paid for everything, and it was his girl, for crissake. They even broke up over it.”
She stood too and placed her hands on her hips. “Rico Zanini, if you tell me you thought it was your fault they broke up and you felt badly about that, I’m going to have to hurt you. No one can be that dumb.”
He walked back to where she stood. Gently, he put his hand on her shoulder and then caressed the side of her neck. “I wasn’t the smartest guy in the world, was I? I blamed you because I couldn’t make myself blame the people I should have.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“I let it eat at me for almost eleven years. Now I know the truth. It was never you.”
“What about your cousin?”
“Tony’s a stand-up guy. He did what he could, and hey, if it wasn’t for him talking to the suits at The Innocence Project, I’d probably still be rotting in my cell.”
Mary Beth took a step back. “Your cousin convinced the attorneys at The Innocence Project to take up your case?” She rubbed the tip of her chin. “Tony must be quite a guy. The Project receives thousands of petitions every year.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? He was the only one who ever believed I’d get a new trial. When I told him I’d heard about The Innocence Project, and that I’d written to them, he said he’d make some calls, that he knew some guys. It took awhile, but about a year later, one of their attorneys showed up and said they were willing to take a look at my case.”
She smiled then. “That’s some cousin you have.” She remembered Tony Zanini as a two-bit punk who swaggered around pretending to be connected simply because one of their relatives had been a low-level mobster. Even at eighteen, she saw right through his façade.
“Hey, he was there for me when no one else was.”
“Okay.” She left him standing in the middle of the room. She walked to the wood stove, picked up a piece of oak and tossed it in with the others. She closed the door on a rainbow of sparks. “Why was it so important for you to tell me this tonight? It’s not like I didn’t know most of it already.” She walked to the pantry where she kept a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a couple of shot glasses. At the table, she turned his chair around so that they’d sit knee to knee and face-to-face.
“Sit.” She pointed to his chair and poured straight shots for both of them. “I want an answer. No bullshit, just an answer.” She touched the rim of her glass against his. “Mazel tov.”
He tossed back the shot as if it were water and pushed the glass aside. “Are you in love with Marty Trinidad?”
The shot of sour mash hit the pit of her stomach like a ball of fire. That was nothing compared to the way Rico’s question hit her. “What?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You heard me. If you’re in love with Marty Trinidad, I’ll get the hell out of your life right now.”
She licked her lips and shook her head. “Where in the world…” What a ridiculous idea. “Why would you think I was in love with Marty?”
“Because he’s in love with you.”
She sat up straighter. “No way. He’s my client, my friend.” She laughed softly and poured another shot into each of their glasses. “Marty needs my brain far more than the rest of my body.”
Rico pointed to the odd cast-iron coffeemaker on the stove. “He buys you presents, doesn’t he? The coffeepot, the wine the other night. He was going to take you to
Tahoe tonight too.”
“Marty buys everyone presents. He’s a generous guy. He’s got a lot of money, Rico, enough to spend any darn way he feels like spending it.” She tried but couldn’t stifle her annoyance. She leaned forward, close enough to poke his chest for emphasis. “Number one, do you think I’m so shallow that I’d fall in love with a man only because he was rich and bought me gifts?” She poked his chest a second time. “And two, even if I were, it’s none of your business. You have no right to come here at midnight and say that.”
“It’s not like that, Mary Beth. I just… I just…”
He looked so sincere, a part of her wanted to hug him. Another part wanted to smack him until he woke up. “You just what?”
“I don’t have the money Marty does. I never will.”
“Few people do,” she snapped back.
“But I’m not only a handyman either.”
“I know.”
“You know? You know what?”
“That you have a degree in accounting, and that you were quite the star tonight at The Tarot. Seems some cougars found you pretty hot.”
His face broke into a huge smile, flexing the deep dimple in his left cheek. “News travels fast.”
She smiled too. “You’re not in Queens anymore. Get used to it.” She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. She sensed there had to be more. “Asking me about Marty could have waited ‘til tomorrow.”
They both looked toward the living room, at the sound of chimes from the grandfather’s clock striking one.
Rico bowed his head, laced his fingers and rested his arms on his thighs.
Mary Beth saw he struggled to answer and wondered what he was thinking. What he said left her speechless.
Chapter Thirteen
“I love you, Mary Beth.”
He said it so quietly, she didn’t think she’d heard right. She moistened her lips. “Y-you… What did you say?”
Their gazes met and held. In his, she saw a depth of love so profound that if he’d shouted it across the canyons, she couldn’t have heard it more clearly.
Rico’s gaze never wavered. “I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you.”
“I don’t know what to—”
“You can’t tell me you didn’t feel something then too.”
She licked her lips again. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Was she shouting, or speaking as softly as he? “Yes, we connected on some level, but…”
Slowly, as if he feared a quick movement might jar her, he rose and pushed his chair aside. He held out a hand to her.
Mary Beth didn’t trust herself to speak. It was time—now.
She had to say something strong and final, something to erase what he’d said from both their memories. Where is the damn delete key when I need it? The litigator who hadn’t found herself at a loss for words in five years couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“This isn’t about the trial, Mary Beth,” he said. “This is about us now, not back then.”
She should have said, “There is no us now.” Instead she nodded, rose from her chair and slid her hand into his.
His fingers tightened around hers. “Are you willing to try?”
Mary Beth touched his face, and with a fingertip traced the scar that went from his lip to his eyelid. She couldn’t bring herself to think who and what had caused it. How unfair, and how strong Rico had been to survive the injustice done to him. “Yes,” she whispered “I’d like to try too.”
For the first time since he’d seen Mary Beth from the shadows in The Tarot Café the afternoon of the storm, Rico breathed without the boulder that had somehow lodged itself inside his chest. “Are you sure?”
Her smile wiped away any doubt that she meant it. They weren’t the same kids who’d met under the most unbearable circumstances. If nothing good ever happened in his life again, Rico had this moment. He wrapped his arms around Mary Beth and held her in a fierce hug. He’d never loved before, and now he loved her more than his own life.
Several moments passed before he sought her lips. He kissed her slowly, tenderly, with all the love in his heart. His body responded to her nearness, his shaft grew longer, thicker. He tried to ignore it. Mary Beth’s soft breasts pressed against his chest made that impossible.
She kissed his chin, his cheek, his jaw. “Isn’t this the part in the movie where the hero and heroine make love?” She nuzzled against him. “Rico, show me how you feel with your body. Make love to me.”
He felt something brushing against his leg and looked down to see Ruskie and one of the kittens marking the legs of his jeans with their scent. He frowned. “Shouldn’t they be chasing mice?”
“Are you kidding me? That’s their way of saying they’re going to try too.” She tweaked his chin. “You got off to a pretty rough start with them.”
He released Mary Beth long enough to open the sliding glass door and free the cats. “Leave it open about that much.” She held her hands six inches apart. “They like to come and go at will.”
Rico nodded. Everyone and everything deserved the right to live free.
As the last ball of fur left the room, Rico saw the lights dim. He turned to find Mary Beth waiting at the entry to the short hallway that led to her bedroom. She watched him and in her gaze, he saw a touch of the innocence she’d brought to the courtroom that first day, as well as the wanton desire of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and from whom. His breath caught. She wanted his body to tell her what he felt. Tonight he’d make it sing.
Without hesitation, he crossed the room and took her hand.
Inside her bedroom, Mary Beth nodded toward the bed and reached for a fireplace lighter that sat on the edge of the mantle. “I want to watch us make love, Rico, by candlelight.”
He sat on the edge of the bed marveling at the grace with which she drifted from candle to candle. After she’d lit half a dozen or so, she doused the flame on the lighter and laid it back on the mantle.
Rico had toed off his boots while she lit the candles. Now barefoot, he walked soundlessly across the floor. The light of the quarter moon, coupled with the glow of the candles, cast a perfect light. Standing before him, Mary Beth looked like an angel—an angel with a mischievous gleam in her eyes and a sweatshirt that belonged in a rag bag.
“I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful than you look right now.”
She slid her hands across his chest and over his shoulders. Her arms encircled his neck as she rose to her tiptoes and kissed him. In his arms, she felt so tiny, so vulnerable.
Her lips moved over his, her tongue swept into his mouth. Rico pulled her body close. He shifted his hips from side to side, brushing his cock against her mound.
She moaned…a soft sound of surrender.
He loved that sound. He gripped her cheeks and drew her closer to his rod. Her ass was round and firm and filled his palms perfectly. He tightened his grip and dropped kisses down her throat. He could spend a lifetime tasting her skin and never tire of it.
He loosened his grip, long enough to grasp the bottom of her sweatshirt. “You are so hot—even in this thing.”
“Hey, it’s comfortable.”
“Hey, it’s gone. Raise your arms.”
Once he tossed her sweatshirt on the floor, she reached behind her back and unlatched her bra. He whisked that out of her fingertips and dropped it alongside the shirt. The soft skin of her breasts shone ivory in the flickering light, with firm little cherry nipples and tantalizing pink areolas surrounding them. Like two small bowls of whipped cream topped with maraschino cherries. Her breasts were art, small in his hands, perfect in his mouth.
He ran his fingertips lightly from the nipples outward, and then back again. Mary Beth’s heart pounded against his thumbs, gooseflesh rose. He knew she held her breath. Was she anticipating what would come next?
“What’s down here?” He loosened the ties on her sweatpants. They fell from her waist to her knees. Under them, she wore a pair of bikini panties. “Hmm
, these have to go too.”
She sucked in a deep breath. “Good luck getting them over the leg warmers.”
“No problem there.” He swept her up and into his arms, carried her across the room and laid her on the bed. “Now you see them.” He grabbed the bottom of each pant leg, along with the leg warmers, and zipped them off. “Now you don’t.” He flung them over his shoulder and onto the floor.
She giggled. “Just like magic.”
No, seeing her lying on the comforter, dressed only in her panties and goose bumps—that was magic.
He’d seen her naked twice before. Each time, his sight had been clouded by anger and jealousy. Tonight he saw her with only love in his heart. His eyes feasted on those luscious breasts so ready for his mouth, the flat stomach, flared hips.
A moment later, the bikini briefs landed next to the leg warmers. Naked, Mary Beth was a goddess.
His goddess.
His gaze swept from her eyes, the irises dark with desire, the lids half closed. He took in every inch of her, all the way to her toes before journeying back up her body, past a mound of bright titian curls, and the fragrance of her desire. His throat tightened, his heart banged against his ribs, his cock grew harder.
How easy it would be to take her fast. He knew if he entered her now, he’d come in seconds. He had to push aside his own need and take care of hers first. He’d promised himself he’d make her body sing. This was only the first verse of a song he intended to play all through the night.
“Are you comfortable?”
Mary Beth lay on her back, her head resting on a pillow. “What do you think?” She spread her legs to give him a glimpse of what lay ahead. “But it doesn’t seem fair.”
His mouth watered at the thought of parting the pink slit she’d flashed at him, of driving his cock deeply inside her. He couldn’t drag his gaze away. “What’s not fair?”
She squirmed a bit, then ran her hands along her breast and over her stomach. “That I’m lyin’ here nekked as the day I was born,” she drawled, “and you’re still wearin’ your jacket. Talk’s cheap, cowboy. Gonna put your money where your mouth is?”
