All the little things I shared with Reeve that I took for granted.
Until now.
Sadness that I haven't heard back from him washes over me. I can't waste an opportunity to let him know what I'm feeling.
I send him one more text.
I miss you.
Then I turn my phone off and try to go to sleep.
CHAPTER 16
REEVE
What a fucking day.
As I drive through my neighborhood, I heave an internal sigh over the work I need to get done tonight.
On my client's orders, I need to prepare a brief in opposition to the motion for sanctions against Tom Collier that Leary filed this morning and faxed to my office. She didn't waste any time, and as was my duty, I immediately forwarded it to Tom to review. In my e-mail to him, I explained that the law was on Leary's side, that he was under court order to attend the mediation, and by failing to do so was in contempt. I also explained that he would be best served to just roll over and pay the $10,000 she was asking for as recompense.
I'd like to say I took Leary's side in this out of some sense of guilt over what happened yesterday, but it's not that. Bottom line, the law's in her favor and there's no sense fighting a losing battle.
So why am I bothering to work tonight to get a brief prepared if the law is against me?
Because that douche Tom Collier is refusing to take my advice. We argued for thirty minutes on the phone, but he clearly doesn't care that he's going to lose this motion. Instead, he insisted I go ahead and file a motion for sanctions against her for what she did in Jenna LaPietra's deposition.
I spent another ten minutes trying to explain to the moron that technically, Leary didn't do anything wrong. Was it in poor taste for her to call him out like that on the record? Absolutely, but the only fix to that was to ask the judge to strike that portion from the record, which he would definitely do.
No judge would award sanctions for her behavior, and some judges--like Judge Henry, who was fond of Leary Michaels--would actually be amused.
Tom was having none of it and ordered me forward.
And because he is TransBenefit's representative, and TransBenefit employs me, I have to do what he says.
Within reason, of course.
I agreed to prepare the brief and followed up with a confirmation e-mail of same. I wanted it in writing that I was advising him not to do this and that he ran the risk of severely pissing off the judge and getting hit with harder sanctions than the $10,000. I did not agree to file the motion for sanctions against Leary. I told him it was frivolous and was pushing my ethical boundaries to do so, and if he had a problem with that, he could take it up with the partners at Battle Carnes.
He didn't respond, so I decided to wait the entire day to see if he would change his fucking mind.
Moron never did, so that's why I have to work tonight on a brief that will be an absolute waste of time and just piss Leary off even more.
Of course, I'm not sure I really care if I piss her off more. I'm still pissed at her, despite her apology voice mail. I'll admit, I warmed a tad when she texted me last night and told she missed me, but I held strong and didn't respond.
I wanted more time to think.
While logically I get why Leary was so upset, and I can even forgive her for trying to make me jealous by saying she was going out with Ford last night, the one thing I can't get past is the way my job and role in the LaPietra case trouble her. She's upset that I'm defending this case and is having a hard time reconciling that with her personal feelings for me. She's not easily handling that I wear two faces in this relationship.
And the truth of the matter is, if Leary was that upset over the adjuster failing to show at the mediation, what in the hell is she going to do when I pull out my surprise witnesses at trial, who will tear Jenna to pieces? She will never, ever forgive me for that. She'll never be able to understand I'm just doing the job that I'm not only paid for, but that my ethical duty demands I do.
So I didn't call Leary back because I'm not so sure we should continue. I'm not going to lie, I desperately fucking miss her. I couldn't stand not having her in my bed last night. Couldn't stand not waking up with her this morning.
But what's the point of going back to that?
I'm just going to lose it again in a few weeks.
I have a decision to make, and nothing about this day has given me any further clarity on the issue. I'm wondering if maybe I should call Cal and talk about it with him. Or maybe even Ford.
I didn't have a single qualm about Leary telling me she was going out with Ford last night. I trust her and him not to do anything. I know in my heart she was just trying to make me as mad as she was. And it worked for a bit, and then I recognized it for what it was--a failed attempt to hurt me so she could alleviate some of her own pain.
Just as I turn onto my street, my phone starts ringing. Because it's hooked up to my Bluetooth, I hit the Accept button on my steering wheel, and the call connects through my stereo speakers.
"Reeve Holloway," I say.
"Mr. Holloway, this is Rhonda Valasquez. I'm returning your call from last night."
"Yes," I say with immediate recognition. "Thanks for calling me back."
"You said on your message this is about Dr. Summerland and a lawsuit against him?"
"That's right. I represent Dr. Summerland and his insurance carrier," I say by way of further explanation. "I'd like to talk to you about the case if you have a moment."
She's quiet a moment and I almost prompt her response when I see my house coming into view and Leary's car sitting out front. Leary is sitting on my front porch steps.
Although my heart starts racing with a mixture of desire for her as well as anxiety over what we could possibly say to each other, I give my head a shake and turn my attention back to the phone call.
Pulling into my driveway, I stop the car and put it in park but leave the engine running. "Ms. Valasquez?"
"I won't help Dr. Summerland, if that's what you want," she says abruptly.
I'm surprised by the venom in her voice, and I go on high alert. "No, I don't expect that. I'm just doing some more investigation into this case and wanted to ask you about your nurses' notes."
"Is this about his surgery on Jenna LaPietra?" she asks hesitantly.
"Yes," I say, my throat suddenly going dry. I glance over at Leary. She's stood up from the porch and watches me as I sit in the car. "I'd love to talk to you. Maybe I can come by the hospital and we can meet on one of your breaks."
She gives a wry laugh. "I don't work there anymore. Dr. Summerland had me fired after that surgery."
"Fired?" I ask in confusion.
"Look, I don't have anything good to say about your client, Mr. Holloway. I'd appreciate it if you leave me alone."
The click in my ear is resounding as she hangs up on me. She made it emphatically clear that she wouldn't talk to me, and she was also equally clear that she has nothing good to say about Dr. Summerland.
That means it's imperative I talk to this woman, and I'm just going to have to keep after her. I'll get our investigator on it, find out if she's working somewhere else or, at the least, get an updated and accurate home address.
Sighing with fatigue, I turn my car off.
Now it's time to deal with Leary.
As usual, she looks completely stunning. It's a brisk day for early November in the Carolinas, and she has on a cherry-red wool coat with big black buttons down the middle. Her hands are in her pockets, and she's dressed casually, with a pair of faded jeans tucked into black riding boots.
I traverse the sidewalk toward her, and as I get closer she gives me a tentative smile and says, "Hey."
"What are you doing here?" I ask her, my tone bordering on polite but flat.
She gives me a chastising look. "When you wouldn't return my call or texts, did you honestly think I wouldn't come?"
I brush past her and trot up the three steps of my front porch. Mr. C
hico Taco starts his booming barks from inside. Fingering my house key, I struggle to maintain some emotional distance, but when I turn to look at her, I know it will be next to impossible to do so. Her soft-brown eyes stare up at me in contrition, and I fully accept her regret over what she did.
"Listen . . . come on in and we can--"
"Reeve . . . hey, wait up," I hear from my left. Turning I see Vanessa jogging across her yard toward me, holding something in her hand. She's wearing workout clothes--skintight leggings that come to midcalf and a sports halter top that comes to midstomach. The fact that she's out in the cold wearing that tells me that it's calculated.
She pushes right past Leary, still standing on my sidewalk, and bounds up the steps, her long blonde ponytail swinging jauntily. Her hand extends. "Here, I'm returning the sweatshirt you let me wear this morning because it was so cold out."
I groan mentally over the insinuation in her tone, and based on the sly smile on Vanessa's face, there's no doubt she did this in front of Leary for a reason.
Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I see Leary heading across my yard for her car. Her back is rigid and anger radiates off her.
Pushing past Vanessa, I leap off my porch, and in three strides I have Leary by the arm. Pulling her around, I immediately start walking back toward my house. "Oh, no, you don't," I tell her firmly. "You came over to talk and we're going to talk."
She tries to pull away from me and hisses, "I don't want to talk. It was a mistake coming here."
I don't let her go, and her attempts to struggle with me are futile. I don't say another word to her but lead her right up the porch steps to my door and past Vanessa, causing her to have to take a step backward or get plowed over.
Grasping my key solidly in one hand and Leary's arm in the other, I don't even turn around when I say, "Vanessa, you can go home now. Thanks for bringing my sweatshirt back."
I manage to deftly slide the key in, turn the lock, and open the door, all while keeping my hold on Leary's arm, who's still trying to twist and turn out of my hold.
Chico greets us at the door, but I push past him, dragging Leary along.
After the front door is slammed, I utter a curt "Sit" to Chico, who dutifully does so, then point to my couch and tell Leary, "You, too. Sit."
Her eyes narrow at me and I glare back at her, keeping my finger pointed toward the couch. She doesn't move.
"You can go sit, Leary, or I will make you sit. That will probably involve tying you up, but I'll make it happen one way or the other."
Her nostrils flare and I don't miss the subtle darkening of her eyes, but she stands her ground. Leaning in toward me so I catch her fragrance, she whispers, "You can go to hell."
She whirls away and heads for my door. My arm snakes out, and I once again grab her by the elbow. I think briefly about depositing her on the couch and sitting on top of her to make her stay, but one tiny whiff of her smell when she leaned in toward me, and that thought is abandoned.
Instead, I pull her toward me roughly, so hard she slams into my chest. One hand goes to the back of her head to hold her still while my mouth slams down to hers, my arm going around her waist to pull her lower body into me. I immediately start to swell hard with hunger for her, and I can't seem to give a damn that I'm angry with the woman.
Nothing seems to matter except her mouth against mine, my cock pressed into her lower belly and yes . . . right there . . . her hands slide up my chest and curl around my neck until she's trying to pull me even closer to her.
We kiss like starving fiends, breath coming faster, grunts and moans floating around our tongues. Spinning around, I pin her up against the wall with my body, shove my thigh in between her legs, and kiss her even harder.
I know we should be talking about something, but for the life of me I can't remember what was so important. What could be more important than this?
Than tasting Leary right now.
Possessing her.
Making her mine again.
Again? She's not mine now?
I rip my mouth away from hers, and my chest seizes when she gives a disappointed moan. Her eyes flutter open but they're clouded with lust.
My hands come up to grasp onto the sides of her face, and I lean in slightly so she can feel the true weight of my stare. Even though I'm slightly out of breath, I manage to tell her, "I did not sleep with Vanessa last night."
Leary blinks at me. A little of the fog dissipates from her eyes. Her pelvis tilts and seeks me out.
Shaking her head to make sure she understands me, I repeat, "I didn't sleep with Vanessa. You got me?"
She nods, her pink tongue sneaking out to lick at her lower lip. Her eyes focus on my mouth, and I know she's not fully engaged with me.
"She texted me at work today that she took one of my sweatshirts when she walked Chico. She was just returning it."
"Okay," Leary says testily. "I got it. Now can you just fuck me?"
I grin at her before leaning in to kiss her again. This time a bit softer. My fingers come up and work the buttons of her coat open, then I'm sliding it from her shoulders. She's wearing a simple cream-colored turtleneck tucked into her jeans with a wide black belt. It's amazing how, even in jeans, she can still look elegant and classic.
Bending down, I curl my hands under her ass and hoist her up. Her slender legs wrap and lock around my hips, and her head tilts to the side to kiss along my jawline. I walk her back toward my bedroom, giving a sharp "Stay" to Chico when he gets up to follow us.
Next follows a struggle between the two of us trying to undress each other. We fumble with buttons, zippers, and her bra clasp. Shoes get in the way; socks prevent a sexy disrobing.
None of that matters, though, because in moments Leary is on top of my bed and I'm on top of Leary, my cock resting heavy and pulsing with need across her pelvic bone.
I kiss her again, starting off slowly, but almost instantly, the lust flows hotly again between us. Her hips flex against me, rubbing her bare pussy all over my cock. Her wetness seeps through her folds, coating my shaft slick and driving me delirious with need.
Looping one arm under the back of her leg, I hoist it up and spread her wide. Fisting my cock, I line up, watching in fascination as I push just the tip in with a slight movement of my hips. I take a moment and marvel at the beauty of my thickness just nestled in between those pink lips, knowing that I'm getting ready to sink into her heaven.
My gaze comes back up to her, and her eyes are pinned on me with anxiety. "Are you okay?" I ask her, holding my body absolutely still.
"Do you forgive me?" she whispers, and it all comes back to me.
I pushed her right into my bed without giving any thought to resolving things between us. My mind scrambles . . . what the fuck am I doing?
Should I stop or should I push inside her?
Do I accept things the way they are and just wait for the day she truly hates me for what I'll do to her case?
Or should I man up and cut things off right now?
My cock jerks in rebellion over the thought of pulling away from Leary, at least physically, so I completely succumb to my lust and need for her and slam my way inside without answering her question.
Leary's neck and back arch off the bed, her head tilts back, and she groans in approval over my invasion. I pull out and thrust back in hard again, my entire body shuddering over how good her tight pussy feels around me.
Once more . . . slide out, slam back in, and Leary lets out a tiny whimper of pleasure.
My hand strokes up the side of her body, over her breast, past her collarbone, and I wrap my fingers around the front of her neck. Leary's eyes snap open, looking at me in curiosity. I give a small squeeze to her slender throat and grind against her, my breath huffing out with exertion.
I pull out and slam back in, hard and deep, my fingers squeezing just a bit harder so I know I have her attention.
"There's nothing to forgive," I tell her quietly. Slide
free, almost to the tip . . . pump back in to the hilt. "But you need to promise me a few things."
She nods at me, her mouth open slightly, her eyes clouding over again as I keep tunneling in and out of her. God, she's so fucking sexy, and it's taking all my control not to just unleash a fury of need on her right now.
I pull out one more time, push back in, not so fast, but so deep that my pelvis grinds harshly against hers. I rotate my hips once more, grinding again. Leaning my face toward hers, I snag her lower lip between my teeth and give her a bite before letting go. I lick gently at her lip then pull back just enough so she can see my eyes.
I'm not sure what type of desperation they're showing, but before I can finish her and me off at the same time, I have to know I have a fighting chance with her for the long haul. I need to know that she accepts me for what I am, otherwise I'm dooming myself.
"You need to promise me you know--deep in your heart--that nothing I do on this case is done to hurt you personally."
"I do," she murmurs. "I know that."
I reward her with a few more luxurious thrusts of my cock.
"Promise me, Leary," I breathe against her lips. "No matter what happens during the trial, you know and accept I'm just doing my job."
I stroke deep inside her and she moans. I've lost her to the pleasure, so once again I still inside her body. Curling my hand, I now hold her by the back of the neck. I pull up, causing her head to rise off the pillow. A swift kiss . . . another bite to her lip. "Promise me, baby. You know I'm just doing my job. I'm not trying to hurt you."
"I know," she assures me, and she contracts her muscles around my dick, causing me to groan. "I know and I promise."
Leary's arms come up over my shoulders and wrap tightly around my neck. She pulls me to her face and kisses me deeply, sweetly swirling her tongue against mine. My hips start moving again, unable to hold still against this onslaught.
Our breathing picks up . . . our kissing turns deeper . . . our hips move in synchronicity, mating my cock with her pussy on the most profound level imaginable.