Dangerously in Love (3 page)

Something was wrong. Caitlin looked at the clock. It was two in the morning, and Adam hadn’t made it to bed. She slipped into her robe and house shoes, heading for his study. She heard noises but wasn’t sure from where they were coming. She peered into the study. The lamp was on, and there were papers strewn across the desk, but he wasn’t in there. He didn’t usually work this late. She went to the other side of the house, near the pool entrance. Maybe he had decided to take a swim, clear his head. He’d been under a lot of stress lately. He didn’t talk much about his business, but she could tell things weren’t going well.

The house was too big to do an all-out search, so she stopped looking. Adam always did whatever he wanted anyway. He’d go to bed when he was ready.

She went into the kitchen and rummaged around for the ingredients to make hot chocolate. Rosemary managed the kitchen, so Caitlin was never sure where things were. She opened and closed cabinets and drawers, awakening Rosemary who lived in the large suite behind the kitchen.

“What are you looking for?” Rosemary asked.

“I just wanted to make some hot chocolate. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’ll make it for you.”

As Rosemary did her thing, chopping the chocolate, warming the heavy cream and half and half, adding a bit of cornstarch and a pinch of salt, Caitlin heard the noises again.

“I’ll be right back,” she said to Rosemary.

As she wandered down the hall, the voices became louder and more distinct. A woman shouted, “That’s it, baby! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” punctuated by moans of pleasure. As Caitlin got closer, she could hear the rhythmic thumping of a headboard against the wall and the slapping sounds of flesh against flesh. The woman was giving very precise instructions for Caitlin’s husband. “Right there!” she yelled.

“Is that it, baby?” she heard Adam say.

The bed wailed and groaned under the force of their thrusts, the headboard banging harder and faster against the wall. “Yes!” she yelled. Her moans were louder, more intense. Caitlin stood in the doorway, watching her husband screw the
help
. Doggie style.

She rushed back through the house and into the kitchen. Rosemary informed her that her hot chocolate was ready, but Caitlin wasn’t in the mood for it anymore. She grabbed a whiskey glass from the cabinet and poured a generous amount of Glenlivet scotch into it. She pulled open the steel-framed French doors and walked out onto her brand new patio. It was beautiful—her first time out there since Hill built it.

She sat on a uniquely designed hassock and sipped her drink. The moon’s beams squeezed through a small break in the meandering clouds to cast a yellow glow upon her weary face.  The vacancy in her eyes reflected her discontent. She folded her arms across her chest, one hand holding her liquor and the other balled tightly into a fist.

“Mrs.? Is everything alright?” Rosemary asked, clearly concerned about Caitlin’s well-being.

“Yes. Please get some rest. Don’t worry about me so much. It’ll give you wrinkles,” she said, forcing herself to smile when every ounce of her being wanted to scream. Rage may not have been the right word to describe what was going on inside her, but it wasn’t too far off the mark. This feeling—this indescribable burning inside Caitlin was so enormous, she could hardly contain it anymore. She masked it well, though. Sort of the same way she dealt with Adam’s undermining, passive-aggressive behavior. It was more like a subtle mind-fuck that craftily ate away at her self-worth day by day. A slow process, eroding any inkling of hope, joy, or desire she may have had in her life or her marriage.

She looked at Rosemary, who still stood watching her. “Tomorrow, I want you to fire Mindy.”

“Yes, Mrs. I’ll fire her now if you’d like.”

“She’s busy right now—screwing my husband. Fire her in the morning. But I don’t want her or Adam to know that I know about them.”

The hospital bill lay atop the pile of mail on Hill’s desk. He thought about adding the cost of his emergency room visit to Adam Church’s invoice. He hadn’t been back to the Church property since the beating, which had been three weeks ago. He’d sent Gabe and Ty to finish the structures they had erected on the grounds. Hill spent his time drafting designs for other projects, something he could do from a desk until his rib had healed enough for physical labor.

He opened a beer and kicked back on his sofa after a long and hot shower. He thought it odd how, during the quietest moments, he’d think of Samantha—wondering what she was doing and concerned about her happiness.

It was sometime around midnight, maybe a little after, when he awoke to find himself entangled in her sheets, buck naked, his hand cupping her butt. He was surprised that she had answered his call—primarily because she had that
Bob
issue. He was even more surprised that she’d invited him over.

“I just wanted this to be a treat for you, and to say thank you. But I’m okay with it if you don’t want to stay,” Samantha explained.

“I’ll, uh . . . I can suffer through this,” Hill joked. Making love to Samantha was hardly something he needed to suffer through. He hadn’t any idea why she was thanking him, though. He wanted to ask but decided not to—just in case it had something to do with
Bob
. He didn’t want to hear that guy’s name. He was happy just to bask in her company and feel her warmth next to him again. He caressed her creamy brown skin. Her naturally kinky brown hair, now relaxed and dyed auburn, was pulled into a ponytail.

“So who’s the
new
Samantha, Hill? My replacement. You never talk about your relationships. It’s okay if you do, you know. You can share that part of your life with me. You certainly know about mine.” She grinned at him.

“Nothing to tell. There isn’t a new Samantha. You’re irreplaceable, darlin’,” he said.

In response, she touched his face where there was still a hint of his injury, a subtle bruising. “There was someone—was she worth the black eye?”

He moved her hand from his face and pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“What is this, Sam? What are we doing here? Candlelight, wine,
us
. . .”

“Nothing. Like I said, I just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

She closed her eyes for a while and when she opened them, stared at the ceiling. She sighed and pulled away from him.

“You asked why there wasn’t a new Samantha,” he paused until her eyes, iridescent in the candlelight, met his. “I wanted to meet a woman I could be a better person for. But that woman is you. That’s why there hasn’t been a new Samantha. You’re the
only
Samantha.”

She looked away again. “Hill,” she said, then wavered. She caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. He leaned in to kiss her but she stopped him. “Bill and I are getting married,” she confessed.

He tried not to look affected, but he wasn’t doing a good job of it. He stammered a couple of times, making a valiant but unsuccessful effort to congratulate her, but the words never properly formed. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, struggling to compose himself, wanting to say something appropriate without revealing how utterly hurt he was.

She reached in the drawer of the nightstand and placed her engagement ring on her finger. She’d taken it off earlier so she’d have a chance to tell Hill before he saw it.

He swallowed hard. “You have a ring . . . Bob went all out. I mean . . . what I’m trying to say is, uh . . . I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, shifting his body from under the covers to the edge of the bed. “What I’m meaning to say, and doing a horrible job of it, is congratulations,” he said, trying desperately to smile. Maybe he could even muster a twinkle in his eyes if he tried hard enough. “Really. I’m happy for you and Bob.” His performance warranted an Academy Award nomination.

“Are you really, Hill?” she asked, trying to glean his true feelings from his muddled response.

When he saw how desperately she wanted his blessing, he managed to put his feelings aside. He crawled back into bed beside her. “Yes, Sam. I’m really happy for you.”

He pulled her into a hug. Her body felt so amazingly good pressed against his. He didn’t want to let go, but he also didn’t want the embrace to linger too long—like the desperate plea that it was. So he was the first to let go. She held on a little longer. When she finally let go, he saw tears streaming down her cheeks. He wiped them.

“Tears of joy,” she said. But he doubted it. He wiped the remaining streams of tears and propped up on the pillows behind him. Both sat quietly, avoiding eye contact.

Now it was done. The tiny ray of hope he once had—the hope that they’d somehow reunite—was gone. He excused himself to go to the bathroom. He just needed a moment to recover from the sudden news she hurled at him. He didn’t know that Samantha and Bill were serious like that. Marriage? He’d dated Samantha for three years and they never discussed marriage. It had been only a year—a tough year—with Bill, and she accepted his proposal.

When Hill returned from the bathroom, they looked at each other with awkward grins, as if they were naked strangers.

“Are you happy?” he asked.

She motioned for him to sit beside her. He did.

“I am. I’m very happy,” she said.

“Why doesn’t it seem like you are?”

She offered a one-shoulder shrug while playing with his hair. “I guess I was hoping for a different reaction from you.”

“What do you mean? I’m very happy for you.”

“That’s just it, Hill. Somehow, I’d hoped you’d talk me out of it—say it was a mistake, that you and I belonged together instead.”

“Well, I do feel all those things, darlin’. I was trying to be supportive. I know
Bob
is important to you.”

“You never fought for me, Hill. You let me go as if I didn’t matter to you. I guess I needed know if I ever mattered to you.”

“You did . . . I mean, you do.” He rubbed his face in frustration. “What do you want from me, Sam?
You
walked out on me, remember? Let’s not forget that. You wanted the lifestyle
Bob
offered. You couldn’t see your life with me anymore, once I became a mere ‘gardener’. Remember, that? I was good enough for you when I was a lawyer, wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. I was someone you could brag about to your friends. But not as a landscaper.”

“Bullshit, Hill, and you know it,” she said, pinching his arm, then rubbing it where it had turned red. “And I’m still not convinced that you gave it all up because landscaping was your
big dream
.”

“Why are we doing this right now,” he said turning away from her.

“You
loved
the law,” she reminded him. She remembered how they both loved the challenge of a good legal argument, often pitted against each other—she prosecuted, he defended. But when it came to the fight to win, the high-stakes, the courtroom drama . . . that was right up Hill’s alley, and he devoured it. He was like a magician in the courtroom—captivating.

Samantha continued, “I think you quit because of what happened with Crawford. And you were too lame to admit it.
The State vs. Crawford
will always be the case that haunts you. All of the great defense attorneys have one—the monster case.” She watched Hill sulk.

She went on, “I’ve never known you to be a quitter, Hill. But that’s just what you did—you quit. You let one person, one case, one action, cause you to quit something that you
loved
, which made me wonder how long it would have been before you quit me—someone you didn’t love.
That’s
what it was about for me.
Not
because of
landscaping
.”

“Are you finished? Are you finished with this monologue you’re having about ‘what’s wrong with Hill’? You sound like my father. First, I did love you. I do love you. But you’re marrying Bob, so. . .”

“His name is Bill! Get it right, dammit.”

“I know his goddamn name! Unfortunately. And . . . why are we arguing about this now? Huh? It’s over between us, I get it. This little thing here, tonight—this little tryst—was my kiss off. The last hoorah. The
thank you
for making it possible for you to leap into someone else’s arms. Really, I get it. I do. Your message is loud and clear, darlin’,” he said as he got out of bed and began dressing.

“That’s not it, Hill. . .”

“Yes, it is. You have a new life, Sam—with that little . . . fucker—Bob, Bill. You have a new future, Sam. Go be happy in it.”

When he sat on the side of the bed to put on his shoes, Samantha stood beside him, running her hand through his hair, then around the nape of his neck, resting her palm against his cheek. She bent down and kissed his lips with the kind of passion that usually kept Hill coming back for more. And it pissed him off even more. He was pissed because that passion would no longer be his.

“I love you, Hill. Always.”

Hill stood up and walked out, slamming the door behind him, clearly exhibiting his genuine disdain.

Agent Reeves grabbed Mindy roughly by the arm. She wrenched her arm free of his grip, her face flushed with fear. He’d never manhandled her before. He pushed her, and she stumbled backward onto the chair. She felt a vulnerability she’d never experienced before. Reeves was furious.

Perry burst into the room, grabbing Reeves’s arm and pushing him against the door. He held him there, one hand gripping his neck and the other pinning his arm to the door.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, man? You don’t handle a woman like that,” Perry said through clenched teeth.

“She didn’t do it. She fucked around and got fired.”

“So what? That’s no reason to treat her like that.”

“I’m tired of screwing around with this case, Perry.” For every step forward they took in this case, it seemed that something always set them back–like someone had been deliberately sabotaging their investigation. But he knew that couldn’t have been the case, although if felt like it.

“Calm the hell down.” Perry released his grip. “Go,” he shooed Reeves away. “I’ll handle this. Just . . . just go, man.”

After Reeves stormed out of the room, Mindy stood and began pacing the floor. “What’s with him?” she asked, her voice quavering.

“I have no idea.” Perry faced her. “So what happened?”

“That bitch, Rosemary, fired me. I always knew she had it in for me.”

“Why did she fire you, Mindy?”

She gave him a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me.” She dug the devices out of her purse and placed them on the table. “I was fired before I had a chance to plant these.”

Perry picked them up from the table then looked at her. “There are only three here. Where are the other four?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell that asshole, Reeves. Rosemary woke me up out of my sleep and asked me to leave. She said they’d pack my things and send them to me.”

“Dammit, Mindy. Where are the other devices?”

“In my drawer. Inside my makeup case at the Church’s place.”

Perry shook his head, peeved but trying not to let it show.

“Unless they snoop through my things, they’ll never find them. Hell, if Rosemary is doing the packing, she wouldn’t even know what they are.”

“That may be true, but we have to be sure Adam doesn’t know about them. That’s the key.”

“Well . . . you know, I couldn’t plant them with Rosemary looking over my shoulder every minute.”

“It’s okay.” He patted her on the shoulder. “But for your safety, we’re going to have to move you, just as a precautionary measure.”

“I’m good with that if you’re going to give me an allowance.”