Sarah’s mind kept churning about Colt’s condition. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No. He’s your usual narcissistic musician who’s been handed the keys to the world.”
He sounded pretty bitter, which struck her as odd. Perhaps it was the usual sibling drama. Every family had tension.
“I meant about his memory,” she explained. “Can I help?”
Mike stood up. “I wish there was, but if I were you, I wouldn’t get involved. Things tend to get complicated with Colt, and I’d hate to see you hurt.”
Sarah hadn’t been expecting Mike to say that either. Perhaps there really was some bad blood between the two.
“Well, goodnight, then.” Mike gave her a smile, flashing his deep, sexy dimples—exactly like Colt’s. Seriously hot.
She watched him leave down the stairs. Same swagger. Only this clean-cut version of Colt was the full package—law degree, smart, sexy as hell, and a suit.
Too bad I didn’t meet him first.
But then she realized that she had, yet she’d never even noticed him. She had only noticed Colt. Every damned inch of him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As planned, Sarah had called the insurance company in the morning and made an appointment during lunch to meet the agent and go over the damages. Basically, the police had chalked it up to a random act of vandalism because there was nothing missing. Well, except for Colt’s notebook. Other than that, there were no leads, no witnesses, no fingerprints. It was as if a ghost had waltzed in, turned the place upside down, and poofed into thin air. The media, who had stayed camped outside the house until she’d left for work in the morning, decided to make it into some ridiculous scandal everyone was talking about. “Are our city’s judges being targeted by a stalker? Who’s next?” Cue mystery music: dum, dum, duuuum… Ridiculous! Thank God, however, that Colt had not been dragged into this.
On Friday afternoon, after work, she called Ms. Luci to check on the rock star in question and was happy to learn that he’d apparently worked his butt off for her before taking off a little early for the weekend. She found herself wishing she could see him—only to check up on the guy, of course.
And, yes, she still had that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her feel all sorts of guilt over not telling him about Wright’s threats. Then again, what good would come of it? Colt was making small strides in healing, so why rock the boat?
Because you’ll feel better, and he really should know?
“Any idea where he went?” Sarah asked Luci while folding her clothes into neat piles on her bed.
“He didn’t say, dear, but I have his mobile number. Would you like it?”
Sarah thought it over for a minute. If she had it, she might use it, and if anything were to happen with this Wright situation, God forbid, it would only come in as evidence against her. Proof that she and Colt had a relationship outside the courtroom.
“No, thank you, Luci. I’m only concerned with his community service.”
“Uh-huh,” she said suspiciously.
“No. Really.”
“Uh-huh,” Luci repeated.
Oh, I get it. “Just because I asked about him and ate a cookie doesn’t mean anything.”
“Who said anything about my cookies? And you know I don’t believe in all that hogwash—my cookies are baked with love and nothing more.”
Now it’s my turn. “Uh-huh. Which is why you hold a mass wedding every year?”
“It’s good for business,” Luci argued.
“Uh-huh,” Sarah said with a grin.
“You are still planning to come, aren’t you? It’s in about a month, which might be enough time for you to come to grips with the fact that you have a crush on our famous Colt.” Luci snickered.
“I am not crushing on him. Why would I be?”
“Sarah, my child, I may be old, but I am not blind. That young stud is grade-A man meat. He’s hotter than my famous chipotle steak rub. He’s sex on a stick, and any woman with a pulse and two eyes would want a lick.”
Wow. That was pretty descriptive. “So you’re saying you think he’s hot.”
“Dios mío, que sí,” she said sweetly.
I assume that was a yes. “Then maybe you should date him.”
“Well, maybe I should. I have been secretly hoping you’ll extend his punishment.” She sighed. “Have you seen that man lifting bales of hay? Shirtless? Dios, he knows how to make a woman’s pulse soar. And that voice! He sang me a song last night that melted my chones clean off.”
“What’s a ‘chon’? Wait. Do I want to know?”
“A chon is underwear. And mine were smoldering.”
Sarah looked at her phone, wondering how she’d ended up on a call with a horny old woman.
“Now, do you want that number or not, child?” Luci offered.
Sarah winced, trying to make up her mind. “Yes. No! No, I’m good. Have a great weekend, Luci. Get some rest.”
“Will I see you at the Wade Charity Ball?”
Crap. Sarah had completely forgotten. Taylor’s husband, Bennett, was throwing his annual charity ball, and Sarah promised not to leave Taylor hanging with all of those people she didn’t know. Supposedly, Holly—their other best friend—was going to fly in for the event, too.
“I still have to shop for a dress in the morning, but I’ll be there,” Sarah replied.
“Oh, good. I’ll see you there, then, dear.”
“Bye, Ms. Luci. See you tomorrow.” Sarah ended the call and set her phone down on her nightstand.
Dammit. Against her better judgement, she really wanted to see Colt. Everything about him felt so much different than she’d expected. So much smarter and funnier, and sexier, too.
Stop, Sarah. He’s also reckless. Even Colt’s brother had warned her to stay away. And he’s right. The arrests, the constant bad publicity, Colt was a rebel.
But why don’t I see it? The Colt she saw sorta had his act together despite his condition. Something wasn’t sitting well with her.
Monday. She would ask him Monday what he knew about his condition and try to figure this out. In all honesty, however, the only thing that really mattered for them both were the next three weeks. Colt had to finish his service and keep them both out of the doghouse.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Sarah! Thank God!” Sarah’s friend Taylor waved from across the crowded ballroom floor of the Fairmont. It was a stunning historical hotel with huge crystal chandeliers, high ceilings, and gold-leaf trim, making one instantly feel like they’d been transported back in time. Tay looked equally stunning in a very expensive black beaded evening gown. She had her brown hair pinned up in teased-out curls that made her look elegant but edgy.
“Wow, Tay. You look…” Sarah suddenly regretted her decision to “grab whatever” from the dress shop. She wore a red dress—non-slutty this time—that was about as plain as you could get. Straight seams, hem above the knee, low backline, and spaghetti straps. She was going for simple and elegant, but now she felt kind of like a frumpy butt in a red potato sack.
Taylor swiveled on her heel to show off the gown. “Thank you. It’s a Babs Levine.”
Whoa. Those went for about twenty thousand.
Taylor continued, “And you look sexier than hell, Sarah. Have I ever mentioned that if you die, I want your legs transplanted onto my body?”
“Oh, Tay. Why wait until I die?” Sarah grinned. “Just give me Bennett and the legs are yours.” She leaned in closer to Tay so only she could hear. “’Cause if he were my husband, I wouldn’t need legs.” She tilted her head, loving every bit of messing with Tay. Yes, Bennett was gorgeous, but off-limits. Nevertheless, she and Holly made it a standard practice to screw with Tay’s head as often as possible. Tay had snagged the most eligible billionaire on the planet and women were constantly after him. “The legs only get in the way—if you know what I mean.”
Taylor’s mouth dropped open, and she play punched Sarah in the shoulder
. “Eeew…you have no idea how disturbing the visual is on that.”
Sarah nodded. “Which was the point. I’m hoping when you’re in bed with him tonight, the moment will be ruined by this little conversation and that image.”
Taylor gasped. “Oh, God. I am totally going to remember. You’re the worst.”
“Silence. You know you love me.” Sarah grinned, feeling a sense of accomplishment. The honest truth was they were more like sisters than friends. Same went for Holly. Sarah was a few years older than both of them, but they all grew up together, fought with one another, and spent way too much time at each other’s houses. None of them had sisters of their own, so that meant their bonds were that much more special. And that meant they really loved to fuck with each other.
Sarah smiled sadistically. “Was it really nasty? The image. Did I have holes, like after you pop off Barbie’s legs, or stumps?”
Taylor gasped and smacked Sarah’s bare arm again. “God. Stop it! And remind me to never compliment your legs again.”
“I’ll compliment your legs,” whispered a deep male voice into Sarah’s ear from behind. “Especially how well they wrap around my waist.”
Sarah turned to find Colt Young, his long hair pulled back with bits of loose strands framing his face—so sexy—and his scruff a bit scruffier since the last time she’d seen him, making the gold in his gorgeous hazel eyes pop.
“Colt, what are you doing here…” looking so fucking hot? And wearing a tux?
He smirked and jerked his head toward the general direction of the crowd. “I’m here with my date. What are you doing here?”
Sarah’s eyes tried to home in on the woman he’d come with, but he’d only gestured toward a crowd—a huge crowd—with one hundred different beautiful…
Oh, crap. Sarah’s innards took a dive right along with her confidence. Kristy Givens. Six feet of blonde womanliness—size two bod, size D boobs, and size S lips (silicone implants.) She’d been on every cover of every major magazine known to mankind—Elle, Vogue, Sports Illustrated—and she was hotter than hot.
Sarah gulped down the sour lump in her throat, watching Kristy G.—as the tabloids called her—chatting with a couple of older men, who were obviously adoring her talents while she was busy adoring them for adoring her.
“Sarah?” Colt said, his voice deep and low, which she now loathed the sound of.
“What?” she snapped.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Sure. I’m great. It’s so nice to see you, Colt. Enjoy the event.” She turned and gave him her back.
Taylor had stood there staring the entire time, and now she’d evolved to flat-out gawking. “That was Colt Young.”
“Yes, I know. Is he gone?” Sarah asked, mouthing that last part.
“Uh-huh. That was Colt Young,” Taylor repeated.
“Yes. I’m aware of that. What is he doing now?”
“He’s over on the other side of the room, talking to some people—oh, wait. Now he’s taking pictures with them.”
Sarah let out a sigh of relief.
“And why didn’t you introduce me?” Tay asked. “He’s probably the only person at this party I actually wanted to meet.” Tay leaned in to whisper, “And I’ve been dying to meet the man who made my nunlike friend Sarah get dirty in a bathroom.”
Sarah groaned and began massaging her temples. “He’s a defendant in a case I presided over. I don’t exactly think we should be socializing.”
“Well, I’d socialize with that any day.” Taylor wiggled her brows. “If I weren’t already married to the hottest man alive and eight months pregnant. Speaking of, let’s go find some food.”
“I love food,” Sarah said absentmindedly, trying her best not to look over at Colt through the crowd.
The two women made their way to the long table beside the crowded bar. It was filled with the usual types of froufrou finger foods—caviar, cold shrimp, puff pastries, and, of course, dessert. Taylor went straight for the bite-sized cheesecakes while Sarah scored a glass of champagne from a roaming waiter.
“So where is Bennett?” Sarah asked.
“I dun-now,” Taylor mumbled with a full mouth, holding a small plate piled up with goodies. “Over there somewhere.”
Sarah scanned the room and spotted Bennett, who stuck out like a sore thumb with his height, as did Colt.
Dammit. I have to stop looking at him. But seeing the man in a tux was torture.
“Taylor, and Sarah,” said a familiar female voice.
“Luci! So glad you could come!” Taylor said, bending down to give the old woman a peck on her cheek. Luci wore a black, hand-embroidered, Mexican-style dress that reached her ankles. She had her long white hair pulled up in a twist with a gem-encrusted comb sticking from the top. “Now that’s an adorable outfit. I love it.”
“Thank you.” Luci fanned out the sides of her dress to show off the elaborate floral stitch work. “My mother made this dress. She gave it to me before she passed away, which makes it quite old. But I’m not getting any younger, and I want to enjoy my things.”
Sarah loved how Luci stood out, uninterested in the opinion of others, wearing her funky handmade dress when she could afford to wear anything she wanted. According to an interview Luci had done a while back, she grew up poorer than a church mouse, but her late husband had been well off and ensured she and her three children were well taken care of. Still, it was a sad story because Luci had been wildly in love with her husband, Jeffrey. They’d met when he came into her small bakery and sat on a tray of birthday party cookies she’d left out to cool. Why they’d been set on a chair, who knew? But even today, the frosting-covered jeans he’d worn—with a little yellow smiley face on the back—were on display in her café, a tribute to him. The article had gone on to say that Luci’s only wish in life was that everyone had the opportunity to experience the kind of love she’d had with Jeffrey. The story had nearly brought tears to Sarah’s eyes and ended up getting national coverage. Still, as demand went through the roof for Luci’s famous Cupid cookies and she could’ve sold her business or gone into mass production, she kept on baking everything herself right there in her little café in St. Helena. Sarah supposed it made sense; it was never about the money.
“Well, Luci,” Taylor said, rubbing her giant pregnant belly, “if I look as good as you when I get to be your age, I’ll be very lucky.”
“Well, dear, the trick is doing your Kegels,” said Luci.
Taylor coughed, nearly choking on a piece of pie.
Luci went on, “Helps keep everything feeling nice and tight, which, as us ladies know, makes us feel feminine and desirable.”
“Amen to that!” Sarah chugged down her bubbly and raised her hand in the air to get the waiter’s attention. He came right over, only this time Sarah grabbed two glasses. “The other one is for my friend there.” Sarah glanced at Taylor, and the waiter kind of grimaced.
“So,” Luci turned her attention to Sarah, “aren’t you looking nice this evening. What lovely legs you have.”
Sarah gave Taylor a knowing look to remind her of “the image.”
Taylor narrowed her eyes in warning. “Oh boy. I need to pee. Again. Be right back.” Taylor headed into the crowd, toward the restrooms.
Luci didn’t waste a moment laying into Sarah. “Did you see our Mr. Young in his tuxedo? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man who looks as attractive dirty as he does all cleaned up.”
Sarah understood Luci’s passion for matchmaking, but she was barking up the wrong tree.
“Sorry,” Sarah replied. “Didn’t notice. I was too busy doing my Kegels.”
“Then someone needs more champagne.”
Sarah finished off her second glass and set it on the edge of the appetizer table. “Great suggestion.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were angry,” said Luci, eyeing her with suspicion.
Dammit. What was with this woman? “Yes. Okay. Yes, I’m angry because?
??” Wait. Why was she feeling so pissy?
Sarah sighed, realizing she was a little jealous. Colt showed up with a gorgeous woman, and she was goddamned jealous! I’m being ridiculous. He’s not mine. We had casual drunken sex. Nothing more. But still, Sarah felt the sting.
Sarah drew a deep breath. “I’m fine, actually. Sorry for the attitude.” Sarah suddenly spotted Colt’s brother shaking hands with…
Judge Wright? Whoa. She wasn’t exactly surprised to see them here at the ball—San Francisco was, after all, a very small city, and Bennett invited just about anyone who had a healthy checkbook, a publicly held office, or important business ties. She was, however, shocked that Wright and Mike were chitchatting. Her immediate gut reaction wasn’t a good one. The way the two were going on, laughing and talking, they seemed like old friends.
As Sarah stared, Jack came up to say hello. Jack, Taylor’s older brother, was like a brother to Sarah, too.
“Hey, Jack.” She gave him a hug, noticing how thin he looked. He was a tall, very handsome man, but he’d been dumped by his wife—a late blooming lesbian—almost two years ago. He still hadn’t quite recovered from the heartbreak.
It took all of three seconds for Luci to start grilling him about his love life.
Oh boy. Luci is on a mission. Good. Let her hassle Jack. Better him than her.
“Excuse me, guys. I need to go say hi to someone from work.” She suddenly wondered how close Mike and Wright were. Because if they were good friends, Mike might be able to help her with this blackmail situation. He seemed like a good guy and would probably be interested to know what Wright was up to in terms of Colt.
“By all means, dear.” Luci grinned. “Jack and I are going to dance, aren’t we, Jack?”
Jack dipped his head. “I’m sure I’m too slow to keep up with you, but I’d love to.”
Jack sauntered off with Luci, and Sarah turned her sights to Mike and Wright, walking over and butting right in. “Mike, Judge Wright, I had no idea you two would be here.”