Rick Read online

  As stupefied as she was by what she’d done, a few pertinent details slipped through her consciousness.

  One, Rick’s jacket fell from her shoulders when she stretched upward, plunking down on the ground behind her.

  Two, her shoulders and arms may have been bare again, but the volcano of heat seeping from Rick’s body inoculated her against the cold air.

  Three, the man’s body was as hard as it appeared to be. Without a whisper of space separating their bodies, every solid inch of muscle and sinew molded perfectly against her.

  And last, but certainly not least, after a brief still moment, Rick kissed her back.

  All the nerve fibers in her body south of his touch, fired. The same wobbling sensation from earlier in the evening flowed through her again, and her hands gripped his shoulders for fear she’d fall.

  Rick dragged his knuckles across her cheek, then took her chin between his fingers and lifted her jaw, changing the angle of the kiss and giving him full access to every part of her mouth.

  Their tongues danced and twined, mated as if they’d done it every day of their lives. A strange sense of familiarity poured through her.

  As the stunning realization of that thought hit home, Rick broke the kiss, tearing his lips from hers so forcefully, a sucking sound whooshed through the air when they separated. He pushed her away and held her at arms’ length. If the frown hugging his forehead was any indication, he was confused about what had just happened.

  And unhappy.

  Maybe even a little angry.

  “Abigail.” His voice was rough and harsh in the still, quiet surrounding them. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “Yes, I do.” She winced.

  Jesus. Hard-up much, Abby?

  Rick shook his head, his hands softening their grip on her arms.

  “No, really,” she said. “I do. I’ve…I…I thought…”

  “Whatever you thought, forget it.”

  Hurt slammed up against mortification and anger.

  The anger won.

  “Why? If I’m not mistaken you were pretty into it a second ago. That was your tongue sliding down my throat.”

  The frown deepened into a scowl. He dropped his hands and took a step back. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  His eyes darkened, those drowsy lids pulling tight at the corners. “It just shouldn’t have, that’s all.”

  “You say one thing, Bannerman, but your body says another.” Abby shook her head and took a step closer, the champagne definitely giving her the courage she needed.

  Rick took two back.

  Now the hurt rammed to the front of the line.

  “Yeah, well, when a beautiful woman presses every inch of herself against a man’s body, it’ll react. Pure and simple.”

  And now the mortification blew forward.

  Apparently, her good sense had taken a vacation day, because instead of listening to it as it screamed for her to retreat with the little dignity she still possessed, Abby continued on.

  “I thought you liked me.”

  “I do.” His head bobbed up and down. “I do. You’re a great…kid.”

  “Kid?” She sucked in a breath and threw her shoulders back. “Okay, I’m gonna let that comment slide.” Hands on her hips, she nailed him with a piercing glare. “Why the brush off, Bannerman? I’ve been dropping hints left and right since we met about getting to know you better.”

  Another step closer made him retreat again. This time his hip bumped up against the railing.

  “I’m not repulsive,” she said, cocking her head at him. “Am I?’

  “No. You’re not. You know exactly what you look like, Abigail.”

  She nodded, her eyes trained on him. “I don’t have bad breath, or body odor, or some fatal flesh-eating disease.”

  Nervous laughter barked through his lips. “No. You don’t.”

  “So why the brick wall? I like you. You like me. We’re both more than adults. Both uninvolved—you aren’t involved with anyone, right?”

  He hesitated a bit before shaking his head. “No.”

  Relief flowed through her. “I know you’re attracted to me,” she said with a smidgen more certainty than she actually felt. “You did kiss me back, after all. I don’t see a problem here.” The moment she said it another idea formed, took hold, and rooted.

  “Wait. You’re straight, right? You flirt with everything with a vagina, so I figured…You don’t give off a gay vibe, and I’m usually attuned to guys who are. You’re not, are you?”

  Again, he waited a bit before saying, “No. I’m not gay.”

  Before she could utter another word, Rick beat her to it. “Look, everything you’ve said is true. I do like you, and yes, I’m attracted to you. What red-blooded guy with a pulse wouldn’t be? You’re gorgeous and smart and—Christ.” He shook his head a few times.

  She couldn’t help it: a huge smile pulled at her lips.

  “But we’re not gonna do this.”

  “Why not?” Good Lord, did that whine come from her?

  “We’re just not,” he said, voice firm and resolute. “We’ll chalk this whole scene up to getting a little carried away with some harmless flirting fueled by too much to drink. You probably won’t even remember much of it in the morning—”

  “Yes, I will.”

  The heat rising up her neck and face now competed with the chill sluicing down her spine. She folded her arms across her chest, hugging her upper body against the night air.

  Rick shook his head again and dropped his chin. Night had decided to descend, so she couldn’t see his face clearly. Was he trying to stifle a smile?

  When he lifted his head a moment later, though, his features were blank.

  “Go inside, Abigail. Have a slice of cake, a cup of coffee. Get warm. Forget this happened.”

  She should listen to him, she really should. But for whatever reason, her brain wasn’t receiving the memo.

  “I could warm up right here,” she said, dropping her voice a level and hoping she sounded seductive and not like she was choking on something. “If you’d put your arms around me.”

  This time when she stepped closer, Rick purposefully shot out of her way. He sidestepped, stooped, grabbed his tuxedo jacket from where it’d fallen from her shoulders, and slid it back on.

  “You know what?” He stepped backward. “I’ll go in. I could use a cup of coffee, myself. You stay out here all you want.”

  In the time it took her to register he was running away from her, he was gone, back through the ballroom doors and lost in the wedding guest throng.

  Abby fisted her hands on her hips again and blew out a breath heated with frustration.

  That had so not gone as planned.

  Chapter Two

  Present Day

  “You know, Abs, this room is perfect for you.” Kandy’s gaze glided around the space, her discerning eye raking over her sister’s office furnishings.

  “How so?” Abby asked.

  “It’s smart and sleek and all business.” She grinned at her younger sister. “Like you.”

  When she’d opened her family law practice eighteen months ago, Abby had rented a single room in a fourth-floor industrial walk-up in a commercial district of lower Manhattan. The space had been cramped and, according to Gemma, soul-less. But it was affordable. By scrimping on costs and hoarding every available dollar she could squeeze out of her monthly budget, sometimes forgoing breakfast and lunch, Abby had saved enough to move recently to a bigger office in a more prestigious area of town.

  The first client to walk through her new door had changed Abby’s professional life for the foreseeable future.

  Sixteen-year-old Shalinda Davis wanted to be declared an emancipated teen from her controlling, alcoholic mother. The six-foot, mixed-race teen had graced the cover of Teen Vogue twice and was destined for a spectacular modeling career. The only stumbling block was Calista Davis, who viewed her daughter
as her own private ATM. Shalinda’s manager had been a college fringe friend of Abby’s, who’d asked the family lawyer to help them achieve the girl’s emancipation.

  Abby had agreed and, after winning, the teen and her agent had publicly lauded Abby’s efforts and included a bonus large enough to pay the rent on her new office space for six months.

  Within a week, Abby’s appointment book was filled.

  Armed now with a secretary she adored and a paralegal she couldn’t imagine practicing without, for the first time since passing the bar, Abby was content.

  Well, maybe content wasn’t the right word. Secure was more accurate.

  The monthly rent, payroll, and office expenses were all paid now without the need to skip any meals. At thirty-two, she could sit back and see all the sacrifices she’d made had been worth it.

  Kandy laughed. “Sweetie, you know it’s true.” Her piercing blue eyes—twins to Abby’s—warmed, as she smiled. “You did this. All of this.” She circled a hand around the room. “All by yourself. You should be proud. We all are. I could hear Mom beaming through the phone this morning when I told her I was taking you to lunch. She wanted to tag along but had an appointment she couldn’t change.”

  Abby rolled her eyes. “Of course she couldn’t.” She made a display of checking her desk calendar. “It’s the beginning of the month. Time for her highlights to be freshened. God forbid she push a hair appointment back a day.”

  “Abs.”

  Even though she was barely a year older, whenever Kandy used that mothering tone, Abby grew ashamed.

  “She really is proud of you.” Kandy reached across the desk and squeezed her sister’s hand.

  “I know. I—”

  A loud, angry voice filtered through the closed office door.

  “What’s that?” Kandy asked. Before they could reach the door to the reception space, it was thrown open.

  Irate was too tame a word to describe the man who burst into the office. In his late thirties, with drab blond hair and gray streaks threaded through his temples and several weeks from a needed trim, the guy’s face was a furious jumble of bloated rage and determination. Blue and gray mechanic overalls covered his almost six feet. The full frontal zipper of his grease-covered uniform strained against a bulging gut.

  “You can’t go in there,” Abby’s receptionist, Verna Moren, cried. When she spotted Abby, the woman said, “I’m sorry. He bolted right by me.”

  “It’s all right, Verna.” Abby took a mental and physical breath. “Mr. Genocardi, you shouldn’t be here.”

  “Don’t tell me where I shouldn’t be, you bitch! You know damn well why I’m here.”

  Kandy’s gasp echoed through the room. Abby ignored it, keeping her eyes trained on her irate intruder.

  The man threw a crumbled paper at her head. It bounced off her torso and landed at her feet. “You made my Lila take out a restraining order on me. Me! Her husband. You had no right. No right to come between a man and his family.” His hands fisted at his sides, the livid mottling in his face deepening to the color of a fresh eggplant as he bellowed.

  Abby’s gaze flicked to Verna’s and, after a subtle nod, trained back on the screaming man.

  “Mr. Genocardi,” she said, her voice calm, low, and forged in steel. He had a good four inches and a hundred pounds on her, but Abby wouldn’t show any sign of weakness or fear to him. “Please lower your voice. You—”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, you bitch! Who the hell do you think you are?”

  He took several steps closer, but Abby stood her ground, her gaze never wavering from his angry eyes, and kept speaking over his tirade.

  “—know why your wife took out the TRO. The last beating you gave her sent her to the emergency room. You’re lucky she didn’t press charges right then and have you arrested. The judge ordered you to keep away from her until your court date, so I suggest you calm down and go back to work. Being here isn’t helping your case.”

  It was as if she hadn’t spoken.

  “You can’t keep me away from my wife. My boy. They’re mine. I don’t know what Lila told you, but I didn’t do nothin’ to her she didn’t push me to. Screeching and bitchin’ about her rights and shit. Her only rights are the ones she gets from being my wife. No stupid piece of paper is gonna keep me away from my family, you understand me?”

  He closed the space separating them at the same time three security guards rushed into the room. When he raised a hand to strike her, Abby took a quick, full step backward, thankful she’d slipped out of her heels and into her office slippers. Two of the guards subdued and restrained the man before he could make contact with her.

  Genocardi bucked and fought as they pulled him from the room, cursing and screaming threats as they did.

  Abby let out the breath she’d been holding and laid a hand over her stomach.

  “Thanks, Ed,” she said to the remaining guard.

  “Twice in a week is a record around here,” he said, shaking his head, but grinning at her. “BTW, cops are on the way. They’re gonna ask if you want to press charges.”

  “What does he mean, twice in a week? Good Lord, Abby, this has happened before?”

  Abby spun around, concern showering through her at the fearful wail in her sister’s voice. Kandy’s color had blanched from its glowing pregnancy rosiness, and her hands trembled.

  “Sit down, Kan.” Abby took her arm and shunted her back to her chair. “Let me deal with this.”

  “Abby—”

  Ignoring her, she turned back to the security guard. “I really don’t want to press charges, but I think I should. Mr. Genocardi needs a wakeup call, and maybe forty-eight hours in lock-up will help him realize it. Let me know when the officers get here, please.”

  “You got it, Miss Laine.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Verna said after he’d gone. “He came in screaming, and before I could stop him, flew by me, hell bent on getting to you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Abby squeezed her secretary’s shoulder. “You did the right thing by calling security. And it’s obvious Lila Genocardi did the right thing by taking out the restraining order. Her husband’s like a bomb, and he needs to be defused before something tragic happens. Do me a favor, and call her to make sure she’s okay.”

  Abby took a silent breath and turned to deal with her sister.

  “Abigail June Victoria Laine.”

  “Uh-oh.” Abby shook her head and glanced down at her slippered feet, hands fisted on her hips. “I’m in for it now. You never call me by my full name unless you’re royally pissed.”

  Kandy pushed up from the chair and grabbed her into a bear hug. “What I am is terrified.” When she pulled back, Abby was dumbfounded to see tears in her sister’s eyes. “What if he’d had a knife, or God forbid, a gun? And this has happened before. The security guard said so. Abby. Good Lord, what if—”

  When she stopped, a heart-wrenching sob croaking from her throat, Abby almost lost it herself. Not because of the situation with Genocardi. Unfortunately, she was used to dealing with irate spouses. He wasn’t the first husband to accost her about one of her clients, nor would he be the last.

  What upset Abby was seeing Kandy, the one sister the rest of the family always depended on to be steady and in control, dissolve into tears formed from worry.

  Before she could calm Kandy’s anxiety, her sister sniffed, then said, “I’m having Josh assign someone to protect you right now to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

  “Kan, no. I don’t need your husband stationing one of his underlings here. I’m fine. Really.”

  “Fine? Fine? You call what just happened fine, Abby? Are you crazy? It’s you, Verna, and Phoebe here. Three women. Against who knows what kind of maniac? No. I’m calling Josh—”

  “Don’t. Please, Kan.”

  The last thing Abby wanted was her private investigator brother-in-law ordering one of his men to protect her. As much as she loved him, and God knows she did, hi
s presence or any of his big, hulking, muscle-laden male employees would make the frightened and anxious female clients she dealt with daily more panicked than assured.

  She explained this to her sister.

  “I love you for offering,” Abby said. “But we’re safe here. Really.”

  Kandy didn’t appear all that convinced, but she capitulated in the end. “I’m sorry for blubbering,” she said. “It’s the damn hormones. I cry at the stupidest things these days. I hate this.”

  Abby dragged in a silent sigh of relief, then crossed to her desk and grabbed a box of tissues.

  Kandy blew her nose, wiped her eyes. “Sweetie, I’m worried about you.”

  “There’s no need to be. Little incidents like that”—she swiped her hand nonchalantly at the closed door—“are par for the course. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. At least here I have built-in building security. I didn’t in the last place.”

  “And that does nothing to make me feel better about your safety. Absolutely nothing.”

  Abby reached out and tugged her sister into her arms again. With her fingers trailing up and down Kandy’s back, she said, “My safety is fine, Kan. Now—” She pushed back and smiled into her sister’s anxious face. “I’m starving, and I’d bet my niece is, too.” She rubbed a hand over Kandy’s protuberant abdomen. “Let’s order some lunch while I wait for the cops. Craving anything in particular this go around? It was Thai food with Ben, wasn’t it?” she asked, referring to Kandy’s first pregnancy.

  “Josh thinks it’s another boy,” she said, absently, swiping the tissue under her nose again. “Everyone else from Mom to my mother-in-law thinks it is, too. You’re the only one who’s mentioned a girl.”

  Kandy moved across to the office sofa and plopped down while Abby scrolled through the food options on her cell phone, happy the diversionary ploy had worked.

  She didn’t need her pregnant sister preoccupied with worry. Abby wouldn’t let the Joseph Genocardis of the world scare her. That’s what the court system was for. She had enough to be concerned with keeping her clients safe and helping them get out from horrible living situations. Dealing with bullies was part of the job, and Abby had enough confidence in herself, and faith in the judicial system, to know she’d be fine.