Authors: Dianne Venetta
“An EP,” Diego stated.
“An EP, yes” she said and lowered into her chair. “A man trained in the dynamics of sudden cardiac death.” She grazed over Vic, refusing to address the protest she saw rising in his eyes. “I had our client’s medical records sent to his office by overnight courier and he promised to get back to me, first thing Wednesday morning.”
“What do we know about this guy? Does he have any experience?” Diego questioned.
She opened the slender file in front of her, which contained the man’s credentials, though it was unnecessary. She had committed the facts to memory. “Boat loads.”
An hour into strategy development, Diego begged for coffee. He rose from the chair across her desk and asked, “Anybody want anything?”
“I’ll take one,” Sam replied. “Black.”
“You got it,” he replied, chucking a smile in her direction. “Vic?”
He shook his head. When Diego was out of the room, he said, “This feels good, doesn’t it?”
Sam could almost feel Vic’s eyes wrap around her. His smile was intimate and familiar, his voice a mere caress. She agreed. Despite their differences over the pregnancy and the decisions to be made, she knew his heart was in the right place. It wasn’t fair to demand he feel as she did. Nor was it fair to allow the situation to come between them. “It does.”
“Do you think Raul has a good shot with the DA?”
“He sounded pretty gung-ho, which is unusual for him. He normally prefers to play it soft when it comes to flexing his muscle in criminal court.”
“Maybe he sees the merits of the case.”
“Maybe.” Old suspicion welled in her gut.
“Hey,” he said, the change of topic swifter than a finicky cat’s change in taste. “You doing anything for dinner tonight?”
Touched by the eager innocent tone of his voice, a warm foolish grin extinguished her suspicions. “Why?”
“Because I’d like to take you out. On a date.”
Her stomach flipped. “A date?” Laughter erupted in her throat. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all.” He uncrossed his legs and set his hands on both knees. “I want to pick you up at your place, drive you to a fancy restaurant, dine with you by candlelight, then take you home...” his devious gaze sparked a reaction in her belly, “and see if I can get past the front door.”
Delighted by his tease, Sam let loose a low chuckle and pulled forward on her leather armrests. “Now I know you’ve gone crazy.”
“It’s called crazy in love.”
The blunt admission knocked her clear off balance.
Crazy in love
? A scrambled maze of feelings rocketed through her—she wasn’t used to this kind of talk! It sounded like some syrupy romance novel, the silliness of kids. But looking at him, Sam had the unsettling feeling he was dead serious.
“What do you say? Can I pick you up around seven?”
With their disagreement over Jess’ situation logged a full chapter behind them, there was no reason not to accept.
Something she
wanted
to accept, in the worst way. “Seven,” she agreed, before her brain had a chance to digest the emotions coursing through her.
Seven.
For their date
.
Sam’s body was littered with nerves. Jess made fun of her; the only words they exchanged since their standoff over the impending conversation with Luke.
Irrelevant at the moment, Sam decided. It had waited this long, it could wait another day. Besides, arriving home with twenty minutes to spare, she had no time to think! Instead, she was consumed with what to wear. Like some silly school girl, she became fixated on picking the right outfit, the one
her
man would enjoy the most.
Sam shook the ridiculous notion from her head. As if a man cared.
She was no neophyte
. She knew men didn’t care what a woman wore—hell—she’d been out with men dozens of times,
hundreds
—
She slammed the door closed on further thought. There was no need to go into detail. This wasn’t about men, it was about Vic. She smacked her brain into submission.
And her.
Appraising her appearance in the full-length mirror once more, another tide of pleasure swept over her, immersing her in satisfaction. This was the one. She turned, and checked the rear angle of the elegant black sleeveless silk. A one piece, it had a wide banded scarf that tied at the waist and hung freely over long, matching, flowing dress pants. Her heels this evening were black and strappy and lined with crystals.
She gauged the appropriateness of her attire. Vic said he wanted dressy and this was it—not too sexy, not too tight, it was the perfect blend of sophistication and allure, suitable for the fanciest restaurant in Miami. Wherever that may be. Vic had refused to tell her where they were going. Only to dress for the best. Clipping oversized silver hoops in place, Sam inhaled deep and full, and steadied herself. She was ready.
“Vic’s here!”
Jess’ voice ricocheted through her bedroom and broke her calm like a shatter of glass. Nerves sputtered and popped. Damn it, why was this so difficult? It was dinner with her lover, a man she
knew
.
“And he’s got flowers!”
Sam nearly tripped as she whipped her head toward the living room.
What
? A flurry of silliness skirted through her pulse.
Flowers
? She giggled. What was he doing?
This was crazy...
Crazy in love
.
She quickly struck the thought from her mind and admonished her juvenile reaction. They were two con-senting adults involved in an affair—granted a passionate, exciting, fabulously delicious one—but an
affair,
nonetheless.
There was no room for giddy and silly. They weren’t going to the prom.
But excitement flung through her limbs, refusing to be subdued by good sense. Was there? The image of Vic standing in her living room, a bouquet of flowers in hand drew a smile onto her lips.
Enjoy it, she decided. Enjoy the moment, experience the pleasure, accept it as it comes. One never knows what life has in store. Pulling one more breath of air into her chest, she pushed through her bedroom door and froze, the breath flushed clear from her lungs.
“Oh my God...” She felt a brush of light-headedness.
“They’re for you,” he said proudly, decked out in a formal black suit and tie, his smile rivaling the brilliance of the sun.
She gaped at him.
For me
?
In his hands had to be fifty of the most beautiful, delicate, perfectly formed roses she had ever seen. A spray of baby’s breath encircled the bunch, the bundle wrapped in ruby red tissue. She could smell them from here, the distinctive perfume saturating her condo. She tried to register the moment, her heart swishing in a sea of confusion. “
They’re beautiful
.”
“Where would you like me to put them?”
“Uh...” Put them? All of them? Together? She glanced at Jess across the sofa, who was staring at her older sister as though she’d grown horns from her head.
“They need water,” he nudged, more love in his eyes than she was comfortable acknowledging. “Do you have a vase?”
The sensible question jarred her into action. “Let me have them.” At once, she crossed the room and took the oversized bouquet, the thick, cloth-like paper velvety soft within her embrace. She stumbled again, her gaze darting from man to flowers and back again. “I’ve never seen anything so extravagant.”
“I’ve never met anyone so extravagant.”
Her cheeks stung hot as she smiled, her insides turned to goopy mush. “
Thank you
,” she murmured, suddenly at a loss.
“You’re welcome.” Vic leaned over and pecked a respectable kiss upon her lips, as though decorum mattered with Jess looking on.
Sam retreated into the kitchen, ignoring Jess’ mouth agape stare and searched for a vase in her pantry. Did she even have one large enough to hold them all?
“Those must have cost you a fortune,” Jess leveled.
Vic smiled. “Worth every penny to see your sister speechless.”
Jess slid a knee onto the sofa and crossed her arms over her chest. “So where you taking her to dinner?”
“It’s a surprise,” he whispered, loud enough so Sam could hear.
“A surprise?
“Yep. I like to keep her guessing.” He winked. “Keeps the romance sizzling.”
“Oh,
brother
.” Jess whirled around, and dropped herself onto the sofa. Snatching the remote, she clicked through muted channels without another word.
Working with the largest vase she owned, Sam watched the exchange with amusement, but her hands ceased their busy work as it hit—Jess was jealous. Or envious. Did it matter? Empathy took a bite out of her thrill and her heart fell. Poor thing. Romance was not on her menu for the evening. Not even close. Luke was coming over.
Sam eyed the bouquet in the sink like an unwelcome intruder then glanced at the back of Jess’ head. Ambivalence dimmed her excitement. It didn’t seem fair. She wasn’t even in the market for romance, yet here she was, elbow-deep in flowers while Jess was wallowing in the doldrums.
But what could she do? A burst of excitement raced through her mind, whisked through her heart, and pushed regret aside. Nothing. There was nothing she could do.
Except move along with her evening. With Vic.
Sam hurried her movements and hoisted the stems up and then deep into the V of the crystal vase, stuffing and fluffing the arrangement into a passable display. The sweet aroma swirled around her, tempting her to linger, but she didn’t want to rub Jess’ nose in her happiness any longer than she had to, gorgeous flowers or not.
Forgoing any more fuss, Sam pushed the hair from her face and toned down her delight as she rounded the counter. “Jess, if you need me, I have my cell phone, okay?”
Her sister put the remote down and replied with a chopped sigh, “Yeah.”
“I’ll see you later, all right?”
“Hopefully, I won’t be up.”
Sam allowed the dart to pass.
“Ready?” Vic asked, his voice eager.
She looked up at him. Pumped, primed, the man was ready for action. “Yes,” she nodded, and found herself looking forward to the evening with more excitement than she imagined possible.
When the door closed, Jess was swallowed in tears. Relief crashed in. What if they had seen her cry—she’d have been horrified!
They’re beautiful
. The words scratched across her heart.
I’ve never seen anything so extravagant
. Jess jammed herself into the sofa and hugged her body tight. She tried to shut out visions of Vic and the love he wore on his sleeve like a badge of honor.
I’ve never met anyone so extravagant
.
Smiling, winking, the two of them made her want to puke! Vic could have cared less if she existed, only humored her by acknowledging her presence, because he was so wrapped up in Sam he couldn’t see straight.
Her sister’s happiness chapped her mood. The stupid grin, the shy schoolgirl routine. Jess’ heart wailed—it wasn’t fair!
Luke’s image popped into her mind. He used to have that same whooped look, but not anymore. Now he looked sad, depressed, acted like it was all
her
fault. Jess hugged her arms tighter. Well, it
wasn’t
. It takes two to have sex. She didn’t do this to herself.
He helped!
Brad’s face butted in and she pressed her eyes shut. Go away! You were
one
night—one lousy night I have to pay for by telling Luke. Jess flung an arm out and slammed it into the pillows. Damn it! Disgust roiled through her belly as tears streamed down her face.
Because Sam was making her. Because it was “the right thing to do.” Jess’ eyes burst open. She yanked her arm back from the pillows and locked both into a clenched knot over her chest.
What did she know, anyway? Sam wasn’t going through this. No. She was flitting about on a date. Walking around like some dimwit with her head in the clouds.
What happened to her
? Sam didn’t do silly. She was tough—a bitch. Hell on wheels. A sudden sweep of clouds outside doused the living room in gray, silent images bounced and flickered on the television screen as the threads of her mind frayed.
What happened...? Jess sucked in a nose-full of sniffles. How did it come to this?
But deep in her heart, Jess knew exactly what happened. Her sister was falling in love. A man was ga-ga over her and she was lapping it up.
She was happy
.
Happy. The sliver of truth floated in on a whisper and wound itself around Jess’ heart. Everything she wasn’t. A fresh round of tears pushed free and rolled down her cheeks. Jess dropped her head. Because she got pregnant. Too drunk to care, she didn’t insist Brad use a condom. Or Luke. Because she thought she knew her cycle. Understood how biology worked. Believed that if he pulled out in time there would be no problem.
But she had been wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
A slight error in judgment which bore major con-sequences. Not for Brad and not for Luke, no matter what Sam said. It was she and she alone who suffered. Jess peered at the door with trepidation, as though it would jump out at her.
But it wasn’t the door she was afraid of it was Luke. Soon he would walk through it, and all hell would break loose. She squeezed her eyes shut.
It wasn’t even an hour before the call came up from the doorman. Luke was here. Then the man asked, “Should I let him in?”
Jess almost replied no. Send him away. Far, far away. But because that wouldn’t solve anything, of course she agreed. Did she have another choice?
Luke was quiet, solemn. There was no light in his eyes, no warmth. He was here because she asked him to come. Because they had to talk.
Luke sat on the edge of his seat, situated across the table from her. He didn’t join her on the sofa. Didn’t console her, didn’t tell her everything would be okay. He didn’t so much as touch her. “Do you want me to go with you?”
Behind him the night was dark, the view non-existent. Though she knew evenings on the twenty-first floor of Sam’s building were a sight to see, from big city lights to the Port of Miami, homes dotting the islands around the bay, right now it only held blackness. “No,” she murmured, unsettled by the absolute quiet of Sam’s home. No noise, no distraction. Nothing but calm.