Fatal Justice
It is now, she thought. The second I saw you, I felt better. How was that possible? She worked up a smile for him and laced her fingers through his. "Yeah."
He brought their joined hands to his lips. "Will you do something for me?"
Anything. Anything at all. "Sure."
"I get that you're planning to torture me about how it went with Harry, but will you tell me if there's anything seriously wrong – "
Seeing the worry etched into his face she leaned over to kiss the words off his lips. "There's nothing to worry about."
"You swear?"
"What is this? Fifth grade?"
He released a long deep breath that sounded full of relief. "All day today, I just kept thinking, what if it's something really bad and all this time she's been ignoring it?"
"Your caring concern is ruining my plans to stab you with a rusty steak knife for subjecting me to the most thorough poking and prodding of my life – and as someone who's been through infertility testing, that's saying something."
He winced. "A rusty steak knife, huh?"
"That was just one of my many plans for you."
Shifting so he was on top of her, he pinned her hands to the pillows and kissed her. "What were some of your other plans?" he asked with a lascivious smile.
All at once, she remembered Angela's prediction. Here she was, horizontal under Nick exactly twenty minutes after she left Ang's house. Sam laughed at the accuracy of her sister's statement.
His eyebrows knitted with confusion. "What's so funny?"
She got him to release her hands and looped her arms around his neck. "We are."
Between kisses, he said, "How so?"
"One minute I'm stabbing you with a rusty steak knife and the next you've got me right where you want me."
"Mmm," he said against her lips, delving deeper in sweeping thrusts of his tongue that drove her crazy.
Sam curled her legs around his and pushed hard against his erection, drawing a deep groan from him. She drank him in, the scent of soap and cologne that was all Nick, the corded muscles pressing against her, the heavy weight of his arousal.
He tore his lips free and focused on her neck. "Are you going to tell me why you're over here contemplating the ceiling when you could be home with me eating the chicken I made you?"
Sam closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sensation of his lips on her neck. His softly spoken words sent a shiver of desire all the way through her. "I just needed some time to think."
"I was waiting for you. I looked out and saw your car on the street."
He was hurt that she hadn't gone to him first. She could hear it in his voice. "Make love to me, Nick."
Surprised, he raised his head to meet her eyes. "Let's go home," he said, starting to get up.
She stopped him. "No. Here. Right now."
Wincing, he said, "You know I hate having sex in your father's house."
"At least he's not here this time."
"I still say he's got this room wired. He'll know."
Unbuttoning his shirt, she fastened her teeth on his nipple.
He gasped. "Sam! The door's wide open."
"So? No one's here." She slipped her hand inside his pants and wrapped her fingers around him.
"God," he whispered, shuddering in surrender to her stroking hand.
"I want you. Hurry."
In their haste, they pushed clothes aside rather than removing them.
"Now," Sam said, her eyes closed as she guided him to where she needed him more than the next breath.
"Look at me."
She glanced up to find the hazel eyes she loved so much hot with desire and love. Tightening her hold on him she urged him on and released a long, satisfied sigh when he finally filled her. Without breaking the intense eye contact, she wrapped her legs around his hips to keep him still. Watching him, she reveled in the battle he fought with his control. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead, a muscle in his cheek twitched with tension.
". Come on."
When she released him, he seemed to go a little crazy, driving them both to a fast, explosive finish that left her feeling both drained and energized.
"Jesus," he muttered into her neck several minutes of heavy breathing later. "Are you trying to kill me?"
Aftershocks rippled through her as she tried to catch her breath, the weight of him on top of her filling her more than the physical act ever could with a sense of safety and security. "I was planning to kill you, but now I'm thinking I'll keep you around."
Rolling off her, he laughed. "Gee, thanks."
Sam reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed and covered them. Nuzzling his soft chest hair, she said, "I'm supposed to be working tonight."
"Well, don't blame me for getting sidetracked. I just came over to tell you dinner's ready, and then suddenly your hand was in my pants. What was I supposed to do?"
"Exactly what you did."
"What's wrong, Sam?"
"Nothing."
"Something."
He knew. He always knew. "The case. It's got me stumped. I can't seem to find my usual mojo on this one. Too many distractions."
"After what happened with Reese, I can see why you'd feel off."
"It's not that. I'm okay with that."
"How can you be okay with being kidnapped, held hostage at gunpoint, threatened? Not to mention watching him kill himself right in front of you."
She shrugged. "I'm a cop. Shit happens. You roll with it or you can't get up the next day and do the job."
"Still, it has to have impact."
"It's not what's screwing me up on Sinclair. None of the pieces fit. I keep trying to make them fit, but they don't. Now Julian's brother Preston has gone missing, too."
"That's weird."
"Tell me about it! First Julian is shot and it looks like it's connected to the Supreme Court nomination, but then when his nephew and the nephew's roommate are shot, too, where's the connection? No matter how I spin it, I can't see how anyone would have a beef with both of them."
"So you don't think Julian's murder is related to the nomination?"
"Not if the same shooter did his nephew."
"How soon will you know that?"
"We've put a rush on the ballistics report. In the next day or two, I hope."
"Did you hear that the family postponed Julian's service?"
"No, but I figured they would."
"The nephews were planning it. Graham called earlier to let me know that Austin wants to wait until Devon recovers."
" he recovers. It sounded pretty bad when I was at the hospital." She paused, contemplating how this changed her plans for the weekend.
He massaged her shoulder. "Since you're waiting on ballistics and now we don't have to go to Boston, maybe you could take some down time to recharge?"
She smiled up at him. "I thought that's what I was doing."
"I mean down time. An actual night off with a full eight hours of sleep and everything."
"I need to get in some computer time after dinner."
"That can be arranged."
Pressing her lips to the soft skin under his jaw, she said, "How was your day?" She didn't see so much as feel the change in him, the tensing of previously relaxed muscles.
"Fine."
"And?"
"And what?"
"And what else?"
Laughing softly, he hugged her even closer to him. "I should be freaked out by how well you read me."
"Likewise. Spill it."
"Let's talk about it after dinner." He helped her to sit up and located her bra under the blanket. Handing it to her, he watched her put it on.
Her cheeks heated under the intensity of his stare. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Why?"
"Because. It leads to trouble."
One minute she was attempting to hook her bra, the next she was once again spread out beneath him.
"I love your brand of trouble," he said, capturing her mouth in a deep, sensual kiss that started her motor running all over again.
She sighed against his lips. "At this rate, I'll never get anything done tonight."
"You'll get me done."
Sam laughed. "I thought I'd already checked you off my to-do list."
Smiling, he kissed her nose and then her lips. "Consider this an encore."
"So what gives?" she asked as they lingered over a second glass of wine after dinner. The sex, the food, the wine, . The combination had mellowed her after the crazy day, even if the tabloid reporters positioned outside his house had rattled her on the way in. This is what had been missing from her life before he'd come into it. Balance. In the past, she would've been too focused on the case to take a moment for herself in the midst of it.
He sat back in his chair, suddenly interested in the play of his fingers over the stem of his wine glass.
"Uh oh," Sam said, watching him. "This doesn't sound good."
"I haven't said anything yet."
"Exactly." She noticed the tension had returned to his face, and her stomach twisted with fear.
"They want me to run."
"For?"
"The Senate. In the general election in November."
Sam sat perfectly still, processing what he had said. She didn't allow an ounce of emotion to show on her face.
After a long moment of silence, he glanced at her. "Say something, will you?"
"You said a year. You said we can do anything for a year."
"I know what I said. It was the truth at the time."
"And what's the truth now?"
"I don't know yet. I guess that depends on you."
"On Why on me?"
He reached for her hand, linked their fingers. "Because I promised you a year, and this would obviously be much more. Seven in fact. Much of this year campaigning and then six years in office if I win."
"You'd win," she said in a dull, flat tone. "That's why they want you to run. No one can beat you."
"So they said." He scooted his chair closer to hers and brought their joined hands to his lips, a gesture so totally his that Sam's heart ached with love. "Has it been so bad?" he asked with a cajoling smile. "This last month?"
"It hasn't even really started yet. And the press. They're outside your house and chasing me down the street."
"I know they're a pain, and you hate the intrusion. I do, too. But they'll lose interest in us. Eventually."
She pulled her hand free of his and got up to pace the kitchen. "They won't, Nick. It's only going to get worse."
"I don't have to do it. I can say no to them. There's plenty of other stuff I can do that would simplify things for us."
The statement stopped her in her tracks and served to clarify the debate – at least for her. She turned to him and studied the handsome, earnest face she loved more than anything. "Is that who we're going to be?"
His eyebrows knitted with confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Are we going to be people who do what's easy? Or are we going to be people who take a chance to be more than we thought we'd ever be?"
He stood up and held out his hands to stop her from pacing. "What are you saying?"
She smiled as a sense of peace came over her. "Run, Nick. This is your destiny. It's who you were meant to be."
Perplexed by her sudden change of heart, he tilted his head with inquisition.
"You don't see it, do you?" she asked.
"See what?"
"The way you've changed in the last month. How you carry yourself, the confidence."
He released a choppy laugh. "Yeah, right. I feel like a total fraud. As if I'm playing the part until the real guy gets back."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "You the real guy. You're a United States senator, Nicholas Cappuano. That's who you are now."
"But Sam, the press…"
"We can handle them. We'll toss them an occasional bone to keep them off our backs."
His hands landed on her shoulders. "Are you sure, babe? We don't have to decide anything tonight."
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life, except that I was meant to spend it with you. Run. Win big. Make me proud. Just don't expect me to make any speeches."
"I wouldn't dream of it." His grin lit up his face. "You never cease to surprise me, Samantha. Just when I think you're going to freak, you go all Zen on me."
Flashing her most dazzling smile, she went up on tiptoes to kiss him. "It's my goal in life to keep you guessing."
"So far, you're succeeding brilliantly."
When he tried to kiss her with more serious intent, she dodged him. "No way, buster. I have to get back to work."
"All right," he said with a dejected sigh. "Be that way. I cooked I get stuck with the dishes. I see how this is going to be."
"Such is the glamorous life of a United States senator, and by the way, no one said we were running a democracy at home, too."
"She giveth and she taketh away."
Laughing, she refilled her wine glass and took it with her. Over her shoulder, she said, "Come visit me when you finish kitchen duty."
"Yeah, yeah."