Courting Justice

“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?”