Courting Justice. Brenda Jackson
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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 needed 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