Lust on the Rocks

by Dianne Venetta

  “No problem.” With a hand to the small of her back, he reassured with a suggestive wink, “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

  She nodded, then eagerly hurried off.

  Sam wanted to do the same. She wanted to run, to escape this regrettable face-off she had undertaken. Vic’s presence was closing in on her. His overture squeezed the breath from her lungs. His affection for another sucked the blood from her veins. She couldn’t take another minute. “I need another drink.”

  “No you don’t,” Jen whispered.

  Tears burned behind her eyes as she hitched a rebellious chin. “Yes, I do.”

  Jen flashed a look of vexation, but without another word to either of them, Sam turned and walked away. She controlled her pace, but rather than aim for the bar, she fled for the nearest exit, her insides coming unwound as she hurried outside.

  Damn him, damn him, damn him—what was happening to her? Who was this woman running for the door? Sam sailed out onto the patio and grabbed hold of the warm metal railing. This was supposed to be the greatest night of her career—her life! Why was she running for cover?

  And running scared. Which was the worst of it. The truth. She was running scared—from him, from herself. This whole damn fiasco was her fault. She was the one holding on, not him. She was the one pining for more, not Vic.

  The person I love.

  Really? Does your little senorita know that?

  Self-disgust unfurled in her gut like a banner of proclamation, announcing her failures to the world. This was her problem. He was quite content with his new title; bachelor extraordinaire, lover of women, prosecutor of injustice.

  Her insides rolled and swayed. The gin and champagne suddenly realized their incompatibility and promised a stress-induced hurl. She whipped her head around the empty open air terrace. And where the hell was Jen when she needed her?

  Staring into the black of night, the ocean’s only discernible presence marked by the hint of salt in the air, she had expected her stone wall of support to trail her outside. But Jen did no such thing. She had left Sam to her own device.

  Bad idea. She was in trouble.

  Shivering in the balmy night air, Sam willed her strength to return—her sense of direction, her inde-pendence—anything which resembled the old Sam! That woman she loved and adored, the one who seemed to have abandoned her weeks ago. Hell, she didn’t recognize herself anymore, tonight’s debacle the proof of her total demise.

  To say she longed for the man’s company was an understatement! She had wanted to push that girl aside and grab hold of her man—her man—as in possession, for life, ‘til death do we part.

  But she didn’t. Wouldn’t.

  Couldn’t.

  Discouraged by the power of her need, her desire, her mind tumbled in fear. Her heart ached something ferocious and her body yearned something fierce. How had he managed to turn her life inside out? Sam cried out into the night, “Damn you, Vic!”

  But the twinkling cityscape sat mute, silent against the inky black night giving her none of the satisfaction she sought. No release, no response, it felt like everyone and everything had turned their back on her.

  “Damn you, damn you, damn you!”

  “What have I done now?”

  She whirled around. Adrenaline sprayed her chest, coursed through her limbs as shock and surprise locked in her throat. “What are you doing here?”

  In the same quiet voice, Vic replied, “When the most beautiful, magnificent woman in the party leaves, carrying my heart with her, I don’t see any reason to stay.”

  “Vic,” she murmured, terrified he would come closer, sure he could see the pounding of her heart. Out here in the dark of night, his black tie apparel combined with the intensity of his stone-still expression made him seem almost ominous. “Please, I want to be alone.”

  “I don’t.” He took a step toward her.

  She backed into the railing, fear making a fresh stampede through her chest. “Listen, we talked about this—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “As I recall, you never gave me the chance to talk.”

  “Vic.”

  “Sam.”

  She felt pinned. Why wasn’t he listening?

  Fixing her in his dark gaze he said, “This isn’t necessary.”

  Sam glanced about the patio deck. “What?”

  “This.” He held out his palms and a smile crept onto his lips. “You, standing there, looking like you’re about to jump.”

  “I am not.”

  Vic grew serious. “I hope not.”

  She stared up into his face, drawn to the dots of light reflected in his eyes. Beneath the line of black lashes, beneath the shade of his well-defined brow, they became her focal point.

  “Because I need you.”

  “You don’t need me,” she blurted, angst running wild through her chest.

  “I do.”

  “I’m not right for you.”

  “You’re afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” she snapped.

  But her reply was too quick and he eased back into a smile. He lowered hands to hips. “Always so tough, aren’t you.”

  Sam said nothing, but shoved herself away from the edge. She was beginning to feel ridiculous. Breathe, damn it. Breathe!

  “It’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

  “Vic,” she pleaded, heart skittering. “We love each other, great. But we don’t have a future together and—”

  “And what,” he challenged point blank.

  “And you need one.” The admission bit into her as her heart cried foul.

  Vic didn’t say a word.

  Her chest split open as the mark found its home. So she was right. He couldn’t deny it. He didn’t even try.

  “You’re afraid, Sam.” His expression softened, opened to her. “And I should have seen it before. But I didn’t. I missed it. It took being away from you to finally realize what this is all about.” He chuckled. “And Diego.”

  “Diego?” she exclaimed. How did he fit into this?

  Vic nodded. “He gave me a crash course in Sam Rawlings, 101.”

  Momentarily stunned, she asked, “What are you talking about?”

  “You date, you don’t commit. You play, you don’t pay.”

  Ouch.

  “You’re a devoted career woman. An independent. You don’t run in a pack.” Through the dim light, she could see a hint of sadness enter his eyes, extinguishing the spark of desire that existed only moments before. “And you don’t mate.”

  She didn’t like the picture he was painting. It made her seem cold, indifferent. Unfeeling. Which she wasn’t. Quite the contrary. She felt everything and felt it to her core. But mating? Her heart slowly swung to a close. No. She didn’t mate.

  “You’re afraid of commitment, Sam. It’s an age old problem and one I intend to solve for you.”

  The nerves were back, firing and spitting, creating general chaos in her stomach. This had to end. Here and now. She couldn’t take this fuzzy boundary stuff another minute, the pendulum swing of emotion. Nor could she endure the temptation he presented, everything she couldn’t have. “Fine.” She steeled her voice as best she could. “I’m afraid of what you want from me. I can’t deliver and I believe it’s better you learn it sooner rather than later. Better for both of us.”

  “Bullshit.” He stepped closer and scores of mutinous jitters broke free and raced up her spine. “I’m calling your bluff.”

  “Stop,” she said.

  He ignored her and continued his path toward her. “We’re good together and you know it.”

  “Vic,” she protested, her legs threatening to give way as she rammed her backside against the railing once again.

  “What Sam?” He came to within inches, flecks of light in his eyes, intention burned in his gaze. “What is it that’s got you running?”

  “I’m afraid of what you want from me.” She grabbed hold of the bar behind her. “I can’t do it. I c
an’t be that woman... The one you need.”

  Vic smiled. “Why Sam Rawlings, I never thought I’d hear you say the word can’t about anything.”

  “I’m serious, Vic.” It pained her to admit it but she needed him to hear her, to know the truth. “I’m not the kind of woman that can give you what you need—the kind of life you need.”

  Vic took her face in his hands, his grasp warm and unsettling. “You do it every second I’m with you.”

  In the distant background, her mind recognized the sounds of music, laughter, a room full of well-wishers here to celebrate her success, her achievements, her future. Yet without Vic, it felt hollow, meaningless.

  But she was grasping at air, wasn’t she? She was dreaming the impossible. Hope warred with fear. “You need kids, Vic. And lots of them.” She pushed as hard as she could. “I don’t. Chaotic, impulsive, they’ll turn your world upside down—they can’t help it. That’s who they are.”

  “Exactly what I’m hoping for.”

  “I mean it.” Resolve teetered, but she kicked it up a notch. “Life as you know it will change, Vic. Once kids enter the picture, life isn’t fun and games anymore.” Sam recalled Patty’s ordeal with Blake’s stroke all too well. “It’s work. Commitment. Duty.”

  “Who are you trying to convince?” A small smirk pulled at his mouth, but she knew the pain behind the desire. His motivations didn’t stem from happy and carefree—they were driven by sorrow and grief.

  By need. She tightened her hands around the railing. “I mean it, Vic. You don’t understand. Your life will be turned upside down—forever.”

  He stilled. “My life was turned upside down fifteen years ago. Forever. I want it turned right side up again.”

  Vic moved toward her and every cell in her body ran for cover. He reached around her body and gently pulled her hands from their death grip, enfolded them within his own, and clamped down tight. The connection felt warm, secure. Right.

  The black of his eyes became fluid. “Sam, being with you is the first real joy I’ve had since Anna died. I want it to continue. Wherever it leads, wherever it takes me, I want to follow. I need you, Sam. More than I ever dreamed possible. I need you. You.”

  Locked within his grip, she ached for it to be true. Sam longed to follow the impossible dream and live a life with him. Her throat grew taut. But she didn’t do fairy-tales. She lived in reality.

  “Tell me you’ll give us another shot.”

  Tears filled her eyes. Her heart pounded. For once in her life, Sam didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t bear the thought of walking away, but the thought of staying unsettled her even more. “What if I can’t?” she whispered, her throat now painfully constricted. “What if I’m not cut out for it?”

  “I’m only asking that you try.”

  She shivered. Marriage, family. She knew what he wanted. He may say it was only about her but she knew better.

  But what did she want? Staring into the now familiar dark eyes, the ones she gazed at through the moonlight, stared into across the courtroom, opened to in the bedroom, could she continue? Could she look into these eyes for years to come? Could she face the future, come what may? Kids? Her heartbeat felt like it vanished, carrying her breath away with it.

  This was it. Her last chance. Vic was asking her to try again, knowing what lay ahead. Knowing it might not work but still wanting to try. For everything.

  Vic wanted the whole package.

  What could she say? What could she possibly say to change his mind? Or hers.

  Deep in the throes of her heart, a secret wish escaped. Softly floating, it sought to be set free. This was some-thing she wanted. This man.

  Children. Family. She had been raised surrounded by family. It had been the most difficult time in her life. The lump welled high and tight in her throat. But it had also been the most important part of her life.

  If only she could trust it to work.

  His eyes moved back and forth across hers. He squeezed her hands. “Tell me you won’t give up on us, Sam.”

  Nudged from somewhere in the night, from deep in her soul, she murmured, “No guarantees.”

  Her agreement was like a match to his smile. “Life doesn’t work on guarantees, Sam. It works off energy.”

  Chills raced across her skin. The advice she gave him that day in her condo, after his beach trauma. She nodded and a hot tear slipped free. And then she smiled. She couldn’t believe she was doing this—fear suddenly kicked in her chest and screamed this was crazy!

  But she was. “Okay,” she uttered. “Okay.”

  Vic withdrew his hands and cupped them around her face. “I love you, Samantha Rawlings.” He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her lips. “No matter what happens, I love you.”

  Trembling, she whispered, “Me, too.”

  And meant it. With the power of the universe, she meant it.

  Vic curved a finger and brushed an errant tear from her cheek. “May I have this dance?”

  Anxiety collided with yearning.

  “Dance?”

  “Yes, you know, as in two people move about the ballroom, swept away by the music?”

  Sam emitted a half-groan, half-chuckle. Locking onto the playful tease, she smiled. “Dance.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine.” A tingle of excitement zipped up her spine. “We’ll dance.”

  Vic took her by the hand and trepidation shot into his eyes. “You’re trembling.”

  “I’m scared, damn it,” she said, nervous laughter injected into their midst. “I thought we went through this.”

  He grinned at her admission, leaned over and grazed her nose with his, a gesture she had come to adore. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

  Exactly what I’m afraid of, she thought, but the choice had been made. She was following her heart, wherever it may lead. Vic laced his fingers through hers and with a slight tug, led her back into the ballroom. Their entrance, though marked by a few curious observers, was mostly ignored.

  He swung her onto the floor in a willowy spin and clasped her left hand in his right, the other diving low and solid to the small of her back. When he pulled her close and kissed her, soft and full and blatantly lustful, her sensibilities scattered like confetti. Let the celebrations begin!

  Over his shoulder, Sam spotted Jen, and the two shared a smile. It only crossed a room, but it could have crossed miles. She was the one person here who understood the significance of this moment... And could share it with her.

  Jen set her champagne glass down on a nearby table, then put two fingers to her lips and blew Sam a kiss. She waved goodbye. You’re on your own now.

  Thrilled and scared to death at the same time, Sam turned to Vic. “Looks like I’ve been abandoned by my date.”

  “Me, too.” He cast a glance over her shoulder and she followed his line of sight. The petite brunette he escorted this evening was walking toward the dance floor on the arm of a fellow attorney.

  Flustered, Sam had completely forgotten about the girl. “Won’t she mind?”

  “Diego’s cousin?” Vic lifted his brow. “I doubt it.”

  Diego’s cousin. Relieved excitement coursed through her body. She should have known. Seemed like the man had hundreds of them, though she was only familiar with one and that was her friend Sydney Flores—a six foot volleyball player and complete opposite to the young woman here tonight. Sam looked into Vic’s eyes and replied, “Well then, I guess that just leaves you and me.”

  “Together.”

  “Alone.”

  He grinned. “Not for long, I hope.”

  “What?”

  But the gleam in his eye warmed her heart.

  “You’re not fooling me.” He winked and patted her behind. “Your body is made for children.”

  “Bite your tongue.”

  “It’s in your blood.”

  “Blood line, maybe.” She tried to scoff, but Vic hugged her to the rock of his chest, his strong arm insistent.


  “No. Your blood. I’ve got your number, lady. I hap-pen to know what you do in your spare time. For fun.”

  “Hmmm…” Sam knew he meant her mentor program, but her thoughts preferred the more salacious. “Speaking of which,” she lowered her voice. “My well’s been running a little dry of late.”

  “I can take care of that.” He pecked her with a kiss, then carried her across the floor with another spin. Whether she was dizzy from the dance or from the emotional roller coaster she had been riding, either way she was good with it.

  With him. With them.

  With the whole package.

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  About the Author:

  Dianne Venetta lives in Central Florida with her husband, two children and part-time Yellow Lab Cody-boy! An avid gardener, she spends her spare time growing organic vegetables, surprised by what she finds there every day. Who knew there were so many amazing similarities between men and plants? Women, life and love and her discoveries provide for never-ending fun on her blog: BloominThyme.com.

  Look for Dianne Venetta’s other novels:

  JENNIFER’S GARDEN

  WHISPER PRIVILEGES – coming summer 2012

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