Courting Justice Page 3

  “No thanks, I can manage,” she said, entering the room on wobbly legs and dropping down in the nearest chair.

  Mac and Sam hadn’t just given her a room at Dunwoody Cove. They had given her the mother of all luxury suites. She could have probably fit her modest-size apartment in here. She couldn’t believe the view she had of the ocean from her balcony, as well as how expensive the furniture looked. And the closets were big enough to accommodate a family of four.

  “You sure?”

  Rubbing her temples as she already felt a headache coming on, she met his gaze. “Positive. But thanks for asking.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  A few seconds passed, and then he said, “All right then. Do you want to talk about it?”

  She dropped her hand down in her lap and couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips. Sam would always tell them how whenever she got in trouble about anything, Angelo would begin their discussion by asking that question. Do you want to talk about it?

  “There’s really nothing to discuss, Angelo.” Bottom line, she’d made a fool of herself tonight. No big deal. No harm done. She drew in a deep breath knowing that it was a big deal since it was so unlike her. She glanced down at herself and decided to blame it on the dress.

  She had found enough courage to wear one of the outfits she’d bought shopping with Mac and Sam last week. For once, she had let Sam talk her into buying a couple of things she normally wouldn’t have purchased.

  She wasn’t vain, but she had to admit the dress looked pretty damn good on her. When she had walked into the ballroom and noticed the attention several men had given her, her head had swelled a little. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn something that had turned a man’s head, mainly because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone out of her way to impress anyone. That wasn’t her style.

  She could only assume the reason the attention had gotten to her was because she was going through this almost-over-the-hill, turning-thirty crisis. She was enjoying her last few days in her twenties, and it had been pretty heady stuff to draw the attention away from women a few years younger than she was.

  “You are aware that that man was deliberately trying to get you drunk?”

  Yes, she knew and would have eventually called him out on it. But dammit, she had enjoyed being the center of attention. And the Scotch had brought her out of her shell and made the never-have-anything-to-say-except-in-the-courtroom Peyton Mahoney more sociable. Besides, she figured she could handle the amount of Scotch he’d been giving her. She hadn’t expected her system to react so adversely, so soon.

  “You’re not falling asleep on me, are you, Peyton?”

  She chuckled at the thought and rested her head back against the sofa cushions. What woman in her right mind would fall asleep on DeAngelo Antonio Di Meglio, the “Italian Hellion,” and one of the most gorgeous men to walk the face of the earth?

  “No, I’m wide-awake,” she said, glancing over at him.

  He was still standing, and she couldn’t help the way her gaze scanned him up and down. He was amazingly tall and so well-built that when he walked into a room, women did a double take before going slack-jawed and drooling. She’d done that very thing the first time Sam had taken her and Mac home for the holidays. As soon as she’d seen Angelo, she’d immediately thought that Sam had one fine brother. The Di Meglio cousins, Damon and Maddox, were eye candy as well, but there had been something about Angelo that had managed to swoosh air from her lungs whenever she saw him. The man was so incredibly handsome it made her eyes hurt just looking at him.

  It might have been the beautiful, even tone of his chestnut-colored skin, or the gorgeous dark eyes that could hypnotize anyone. Or it could be the sharp angle of his nose, which bore his Italian ancestry, or his luscious-looking lips. His face was clean-shaven and his hair was cut low in the front but longer in the back so that the silky strands of his hair grazed the collar of his shirt. Tonight his hair had a rugged, unkempt look that made him appear even sexier. And last but not least, there was that diamond stud in his ear.

  “Maybe I need to undress you, after all, and get you in the bed.”

  She swallowed, knowing he hadn’t meant it the way it had sounded. He was playing the big brother role and quite naturally, since she was Sam’s friend, it would extend to her. It wouldn’t be the first time. She chuckled as she remembered when she, Sam and Mac had gone partying in Manhattan one year and had gotten plastered.

  “I’m glad one of us can find humor in tonight, Peyton.”

  She wiped the smile off her face. “Lay off, Angelo,” she said, straightening herself in the chair. “I told you I’m fine. So please forget about the big brother role. I can manage. Thanks for seeing me to my room.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “But you never did answer my question about what you’re doing here.”

  He paused a moment. “I come here often.”

  She nodded. And why wouldn’t he, with so many beautiful, single women in one place? Angelo was extremely rich just as he was extremely handsome. He would be a good catch for any woman.

  Even if he didn’t work a day in his life, he could still live off the trust fund he’d inherited once he turned thirty. Since she was one of Sam’s best friends she knew all about it. She knew that his paternal great-grandparents had come to this country from Sicily with little more than the clothes on their backs. They had worked hard, educated their sons and were proud when they went into practice together, opening the first Di Meglio law firm in the Bronx office above their father’s little Italian restaurant so many years ago. One of Angelo’s cousins still owned and operated the restaurant today.

  The Di Meglio brothers made a name for themselves and pretty soon had made enough money to open an office in Manhattan and build the twenty-five-story Di Meglio Building. It was widely suspected that his family had had ties to the Mafia, especially since they were Sicilians—every last one of them. And they had money and plenty of it. Peyton had always thought the family spent money frivolously, especially when you considered the people who didn’t have any.

  “It’s a nice place,” she said, deciding to keep the conversation going. The room suddenly felt hot and stuffy, which was odd since the air-conditioning was on full blast.

  “I think so, too. Hopefully, you can see more of it tomorrow.”

  She frowned, not sure what that meant. She might decide to sleep off the hangover she’d probably have. She blinked when he walked over and eased down into the chair across from her in a move that was ultra-sexy. She couldn’t help noticing how the fabric of his slacks stretched across his taut thighs when he did so. She’d always thought he had a way about him that was smooth and ultra-cool.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asked.

  Her eyes moved from his thighs back to his face.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  When he just sat there and stared at her, she suddenly felt her entire body heat up. What on earth was wrong with her? She had gotten over her stupid crush on Angelo ages ago, she was sure of it. She’d stopped getting those funny butterflies in her stomach whenever he came within ten feet of her years ago. So why was her composure—the little she had left—weakening around him now? And what was this hot rush of desire that was overtaking her, prickling her skin, stroking her insides?

  She cleared her throat. “Aren’t you leaving?”

  “Not until you answer my question.”

  She frowned. What question was that? Then she remembered. “No, I don’t want to talk about it.” She’d almost made a major blunder by celebrating too much. It happened. She realized that some men were still assholes who would try to take advantage of a woman if given the chance.

  And then, because she felt a little put out by Angelo’s presence, by the way his being here was making her feel, she all
but snapped. “And you don’t have to babysit me. I’m not Sam. You’re her brother, not mine.”

  Evidently her words hadn’t offended him, if the smile that suddenly curved his luscious-looking lips was anything to go by. “Yes, you’re right. You aren’t Sam, and I am not your brother.”

  Peyton blinked. She might be wrong, but it seemed as if he was reiterating her statement for a reason. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other, Angelo. I’m here to have a good time. It’s my birthday present from Mac and Sam. I hadn’t expected to run into you here, but that’s fine. Although I appreciate your making sure I got to my room tonight before I threw up all over the place, the last thing I want is for you to play the big brother.”

  He threw his head back and chuckled. “Trust me, I don’t intend to play the role of big brother to you, Peyton. I had a reason for coming here.”

  She nodded and didn’t have to think twice about what that reason was. This was a singles resort, and the women outnumbered the men two to one. She’d heard from Sam that the media had dubbed him the new legal boy wonder. His name was now an everyday word on the lips of many…mostly women. She was surprised he wasn’t reveling in the publicity, milking his newfound popularity and fame for all it was worth.

  “Glad to hear it,” she heard herself say.

  “So, as you can see, you have nothing to worry about, Peyton.”

  He slowly rose from the chair as her gaze followed his every move. Damn, he did everything with the smoothness of a man who had it goin’ on and was comfortable in his own skin. And speaking of skin, she thought his coloring—the perfect blend of his Italian father and African-American mother—was simply beautiful. His features were all Italian, except for the fullness of his lips. They had to be the sexiest pair she’d ever seen on a man.

  For some reason she had always been a woman drawn to a man’s lips and believed they could tell a lot about him. She’d heard that a man with full lips, like the ones Angelo had, meant that he was extremely sensual and sexually demonstrative. Men with full lips were into physical pleasure, had high-energy and stamina when it came to passion and liked to keep their sex lives interesting. She could believe that about him after hearing for years about all his sex-capades from Sam.

  “I would ask you to walk me to the door, but I’m not sure you’ll be able to make it without falling flat on your face.”

  Peyton couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, it’s not that bad.”

  He chuckled. “Tell me that in the morning. I have a feeling you’re going to wake up with a hell of a headache.”

  “Like I said, I’m here for my birthday and I plan to enjoy myself and have a good time.”

  “And I want you to enjoy yourself and have a good time as well.”

  He had come to stand in front of her and surprised her when he reached out his hand to her, especially since he’d acknowledged earlier that she was in no shape to walk him to the door.

  She took his hand and stood. She felt a moment of light-headedness and reached out and flattened her hands against his chest. “Sorry, I guess I’m not as steady on my feet as I thought I was.”

  “That’s fine. I’ve got you and I won’t let you go.”

  It wasn’t so much what he said, but the sensual tone she heard in his voice that made her lift her gaze to his. And then, at that moment, her breath was nearly snatched from her throat and the very air she was breathing was suddenly suffused with heat of the most intense kind.

  She figured that it had to be the Scotch that was still in her system. Because, at that moment, when she stared up into his eyes, she could have sworn she saw hot-blooded passion in his gaze—intense, simmering heat. And the sight of it was torching her insides, churning desire through her veins and playing havoc with her senses.

  She swallowed as his gaze held hers, and seconds later she could barely breathe. She tried breaking eye contact with him but she couldn’t move. It was as if her gaze refused to cooperate and was glued to him. At that moment she became even more aware of the power in his masculine frame as he took a step closer, bringing his body next to hers.

  Was it his hardened erection she felt that made the nipples of her breasts rigid in response and caused her to take on a whole new breathing pattern? She blinked and quickly concluded that yes, it was definitely an erection—an arousal of the most intense kind. And instinctively, her body seemed to inch closer. She felt the hot throbbing at the juncture of her legs, and thanks to the thin material of the dress she was wearing, she suddenly felt like a naked body plastered to him.

  She shivered. Oh, God. She felt a pang as if she’d been stunned. Another sensuous tremor jolted her, making her shiver again.

  “Are you cold, Peyton?”

  He must have felt her quivering. She bit down on her lips to bite back the feelings of shock. His erection meant he was attracted to her. Why? Sam had teased her about the dress drawing male attention. But arousing the likes of Angelo Di Meglio? Come on? Really?

  She shook her head, knowing she was way off base. There had to be another reason he had a hard-on. “No, I’m not cold,” she said, aware that her denial hadn’t sounded convincing.

  He tightened his arms around her anyway, and the warmth of his touch was almost startling, and definitely unexpected. There had to be a reason she was reacting to Angelo this way. She quickly figured out that since she hadn’t had a real serious date in months, her body must be starved for attention and affection. Yes, that had to be it.

  She leaned back and glanced up at him. “Angelo?”

  “Yes?”

  He’d only responded with that one word. Why did he have to sound so mouthwateringly sexy when he’d said it? Why did her breath continue to catch that way? And why had he suddenly moved his hands to rest in the center of her bare back? And why had a warm rush of desire trickled over her skin the moment he’d touched her?

  She wanted to ask him what was going on. Why were they embracing in what seemed like a sensual cocoon? Instead she replied, “Nothing.”

  Peyton was tempted to close her eyes and wrap herself up in the sensations that were overtaking her like a summer breeze on a hot July night. But she knew she had to keep her eyes open and try to figure out what was happening to her. Why had the palms of her hands, which were flattened against his chest, lifted of their own accord and wrapped themselves around his neck?

  “Peyton?”

  He said her name and for the life of her, even though she was staring into his face, she didn’t see his lips move. “Yes?”

  “Think about what you said moments ago.”

  What had she said? She couldn’t remember. It was as if her mind had suddenly gone blank and the only thing she was focused on was him. Peyton couldn’t say that she was seeing him in a whole new light, because she’d always been aware of just how overpoweringly sexy he was—how breathtakingly handsome. But she was confused about her reaction to him—her deep-in-the-belly kind of attraction. Of course she had been drawn to him years ago when they’d first met. What woman wouldn’t be drawn to such a sexy hunk?

  But that had been more than seven years ago and the attraction had quickly worn off when she’d known she was way out of his league. Sam had already told them about her brother. Peyton had known about the revolving door to his bedroom and about the women who threw themselves at him. She hadn’t wanted to be one of them, figured she didn’t have a chance even if she’d wanted to.

  Besides, she’d never fit into his world and preferred her own life anyway, thank you very much. She’d been proud of her humble beginnings in the South Side of Chicago. Times had been hard, and she’d had to be tough. But growing up with very little had taught her how to appreciate much. She didn’t need a lot of money to be content.

  And speaking of content, why did it feel so good being in his arms this way? Why was she in his arms anyway? Thinking she nee
ded to come to her senses and quick, she made a move to step back, but his hands on her back tightened, making it impossible to retreat.

  “DeAngelo?” And why did she feel it necessary to call him by his first name and not the shorter version she usually used? And why did doing so sound so right at that moment?

  “Yes?”

  His single-word response packed a wallop, and she drew in another deep gulp of air. “What did I say? I can’t remember. And just what is going on here?”

  She’d tried sounding a little annoyed, but the feeling truly wasn’t there. She was overwhelmed by sudden feelings of lust and yearnings that she hadn’t indulged in in a long time. She felt warm, and her body was getting hotter by the second. He had opened the French doors to the balcony and the gentle June breeze was coming through but was doing nothing to cool her off.

  Her brain was warring with competing emotions. One side kept reminding her that this was Angelo, Sam’s outrageously sexy brother—the one who made her do a double take the first time she’d met him. But then the other side of her brain, the one that had a few screws loose on occasion, reminded her where she was and why. This was a singles resort, and she was here to celebrate her birthday. If she was going to get buck-wild, then shouldn’t it be with someone she knew?

  Peyton blinked when he reached out with his thumb and touched her bottom lip moments before he leaned in close to her—so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her mouth.

  “I can show you what’s going on here, a whole hell of a lot better than I can tell you, Peyton,” he said, his voice dropping an octave to a sensuous low.

  And then, before she could draw another breath, his mouth slanted across hers.

  * * *

  Angelo hadn’t known just how much he wanted Peyton until he got his first taste of her, and then it was on. He wasted no time kissing the confused look right off her lips. It was obvious she hadn’t expected it, but she would find out soon enough that he was full of surprises.