Lust on the Rocks (43 page)

The small hands of his date clutched to him as he spun her in a tight circle whereby she squealed in delight.  Carefree and happy, her smile reached across the room—

And punctured Sam to the core. 
But how could he move on so quickly
?  How could he forget what they shared, the feelings that continued to tear at her heart?

Tears pricked the back of her eyes.  This was
her
big night,
her
celebration.  She shouldn’t be subjected to this blatant display of disregard for her feelings.

But truthfully, neither seemed to notice her, both content with where they were and with whom they danced.  Sam unhooked her gaze and allowed it to fall to the floor. 
What a fool she had been
.  If this didn’t remind her why office romances were not a good idea, she didn’t know what would.  The song ended and Sam took solace in her drink.

“You’re guzzling your gin,” Jennifer ventured in reproach.

“I am not.”

“You don’t want to get drunk tonight.”

She flipped her gaze to Jen’s.  “I can handle my alcohol, thank you very much.  And I resent your implication.”  She suddenly regretted inviting her pal.  Good sense aside, she couldn’t endure this masquerade sober.

“I’m only suggesting you take it slow.”

“Not my style.”

Propelled by instant decision, Sam handed the glass to Jen and took off.

“Sam?” Jennifer cried out in alarm.  “Where are you going?”

But she ignored her.  With marked determination, she strode between bodies and closed the distance between she and Vic to nothing, her insides rocketing in protest as she pulled up short, front and center.  “Hello, Vic.”

His eyes lit up.  “Sam.”

The thrill of confrontation popped through her nerves like a round of firecrackers as she attended to the woman by his side.  Sam eyed her up and down, making the instant appraisal women do. 
Who was hotter
?

Sam snapped her lens shut.  Didn’t matter.  She didn’t care and she was here to prove it.  Buried beneath a pound of makeup, her hair some kind of odd violet color, this fluff ball had nothing on her except a large bust bulging from an improperly-sized dress.

But Vic wasn’t particularly interested in breasts.  He preferred brains and brawn in his women.  She narrowed her gaze. 
Or did
.

“Congratulations on making partner,” he said.  “You deserve it.”

She nodded and with deliberate pause, agreed.  “I do.”

Jen appeared by her side, hovering like a nervous angel ready to pounce if the situation called for such dire action.

Flawless skin, eyes round and bright with the energy of youth, the young girl waited for introductions.  But they weren’t forthcoming.

Jen reached through the awkward silence.  “Vic,” she said, and extended her hand.  “Jennifer Hamilton.  It’s nice to meet you.”

He brightened as he made the connection.  “The doctor, right?”

“Yes,” she said, in that demure fashion of hers.

“It’s nice to meet you.”  His shake was brief but earnest, as though her were thrilled to finally make her acquaintance.  “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Surrounded by the sporty fragrance of citrus, Sam was submerged in a gray fog of want.  Like a thief in the night, the familiar scent stole her heart’s indifference, subjected her subconscious to days gone by—days and nights when she lay snug in his arms, lulled to sleep by the sensuous, succulent cologne he always wore.

With a ferocity that surprised her, Sam yearned for those days.  For his arms to wrap around her and pull her close.  She could almost feel the soft hair of his arms, the smooth skin of his torso as she lay cradled within his embrace.  Low in her belly, she flushed with longing.

An intense longing.

“I hope most of it good,” Jennifer replied, maintaining an anxious eye on her unpredictable friend.

“All of it good,” he confirmed, his date fidgeting in place.

Sam stifled her reaction to the memories swarming her insides.  This was madness!  They weren’t together anymore.  He was going home with someone else!  She eyed the young brunette, razors shredding her chest. 
With her
.

Jen smiled, effectively charmed.

Sam iced her emotions.  Another time, under different circumstances, she would have enjoyed their meeting, Vic and Jen. `But not tonight.  Not anymore.  “So,” she said, tearing herself free from the unfamiliar claws of jealousy, the stranglehold of yearning, “now that we’ve closed the coffin on Perry, are you heading back to Philly?”  She tapped her gaze upon his date. 
FYI, he’s not here to stay
.

“No.  I intend to see Scaliano’s criminal trial through to completion.”

Nothing less than she expected, but posed, “Why stay?  We’ve got it covered.”

“Because he’s hurt the people I love.”

The thump to her heart was quick.

“And my life is here, now.”

Her pulse skipped.

“As is the person I love.”

Direct and unmistakable, his pronouncement cut a void in the conversation.

One Sam couldn’t fill.  She stared, her mouth surely agape. 
Why had he gone there
?

“You’ll get him, Vic, I know you will.”

Spoken with an intensity Sam wouldn’t have imagined the girl capable of and laced with the luscious undertones only a Latin accent could deliver, the words of encouragement sliced Sam’s heart in two. 
That was her role
.  She was supposed to be the one cheering him on to victory, in his case, the victory of his lifetime.

Jennifer placed a hand on Sam’s arm.  Warm and secure, it promised reinforcement troops were manning their stations, ready for combat if she needed them.

But Sam wasn’t cheering him on.  She had severed the connection between lovers, the lifeline between loves.  And now she was sorry.  Like a wrecking ball to her chest, regret hit home with crushing precision.

“Will you excuse me?”  All eyes turned to the petite stranger by Vic’s side.  “I think I’ll go find Diego.”

“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 can’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
.”