Lust on the Rocks Read online

  LUST ON THE ROCKS

  Dianne Venetta

  Copyright 2011 by Dianne Venetta

  All rights reserved

  ISBN 9780983246435

  Acknowledgements

  In every book it’s said there’s a piece of the author within the characters, the drama, and while that may be true, it’s not entirely so. Samantha Rawlings is a complicated woman, drawn from several different people—several very different people—the least of which is me! (Probably why it’s been so much fun to write her.) Now I won’t divulge the “who” from whence the inspiration came, but I will acknowledge a few who helped to create her story.

  First and foremost is Janet Warwick, my feisty savvy lady lawyer friend who helped give authenticity to my courtroom scenes and legal scenarios. Like Sam, this woman is an ace when it comes to the courtroom and I’m grateful for both her friendship and her advice.

  As usual, no book ever makes it to the shelf without editors and beta readers and mine are some of the best! From my beta reader friends and family to authors Roxanne St. Claire and Kylie Brant, my sister Stephanie Sherman and my mother Joan, this novel has made the rounds, each and every time growing stronger and better.

  And speaking of Sherman sisters, I must mention Merceditas and Skye—two of the best!

  Thank you one and all.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my father, a man whose lust for life is unmatched, whose capacity for love is unsurpassed and whose support is—and always has been—steadfast and steady.

  If I can live my life half as well as he has lived his, then I’ll have lived some exciting times.

  Chapter One

  “I want you to consider Victor Marin for the Perry case.”

  Samantha Rawlings stiffened, and forced her fingers to finish removing the dark fuzz of lint from her cream linen skirt. With cool precision, she settled both arms along the wide fabric armrests of her chair and locked her attention onto her boss, Raul Martinez. “Not necessary, Raul. It’s covered.”

  “He has experience in the area.”

  “As do I,” Sam replied, wondering why he would suggest involving a new hire on the firm’s powerhouse complaint. Raul may be the senior partner of Baker, Schofield, Martinez and Brown—one of Miami’s top legal firms—and he may have the authority, but this was her case and she would try it as she saw fit.

  “I’m merely suggesting you take advantage of his insight. It may prove fruitful to your case.”

  “I’m always willing to listen.”

  Raul’s dark brown eyes registered the deflection. “But not inclined to include him for trial?”

  The Perry Fitness case was hers, and there was no room for the new guy to work it with her. She might want to get close to Victor, but only in the most personal of terms. Her business affairs were something else entirely.

  “Victor won a substantial settlement from a casino out of New Jersey. One of their patrons died on the premises.” He paused. “From sudden cardiac death.”

  Sam shifted her weight and fought a rising tide of misgiving. Heart attacks were not rare occurrences. People collapsed in all sorts of places unfortunately, casinos notwithstanding. “I’m well versed in the arena, Raul, from the statistics to the complications and I’ve already consulted Diego on the case.” Diego Rodriguez was her in-house ally and extremely skilled in trial work. “We’re still working up the history now, but if Perry has been found culpable before, as I suspect, it’s going to cost them.” Cutting corners to boost profits shouldn’t come at the expense of people’s lives.

  Not in her courtroom.

  Raul interlaced his fingers and set them to rest on a manila folder. Despite the steam of summer, his formality seldom changed. From his cufflinks to the perfectly formed knot in his silk tie, the man reigned supreme over Baker, Schofield, Martinez and Brown in both title and appearance. A full head of gray hair and expensive haircut only accentuated his vitality.

  “I know you and Diego work well together, but he’s heavily involved in the Esposito trial. You may need the extra hand.”

  “Diego says that’ll be wrapped up within the month.”

  Curiosity churned in Raul’s eyes like a storm on the horizon. “Is there a problem, Sam? I was under the impression you were pleased with Victor’s performance.”

  “I am. He’s sharp, aggressive, and I think he’ll make a great lawyer someday.”

  Raul’s brow raised in question.

  Sam pulled her top leg in, bracing her body against the chair as she leaned forward. “I want to nail this one, Raul. It’s an important case and likely to be precedent-setting. I can’t be distracted by training the new guy—not on this one.”

  “I see.”

  “Besides, my understanding is that as soon as we tie up Morgan-Baxter, Vic’s digging into an HMO case. Vic doesn’t have time to work Perry with me.” Nor the experience, but voicing that would only insult Raul.

  “I’m not asking you to recuse yourself. Simply bring him up to speed and consider what he has to say. Listen to him. Allow him to assist you with discovery, pretrial motions, sit alongside you in court when the time comes.”

  Alarms started to sound. She needed no assistance. Where was this coming from?

  “It’s worth a listen. His experience could prove invaluable.”

  She heard a distinct retreat in Raul’s voice.

  Good. Sam pulled back into her chair and relaxed her demeanor. The air-conditioner kicked on. Her tension eased. “I appreciate the advice Raul and I’ll take it into consideration. I’ll talk to him, though I reserve the right to try this case my way.”

  He smiled. “As always.”

  Though he had given in, Sam didn’t like the note of victory she detected in his voice. It meant the discussion wasn’t over. “Listen, if it’s all right with you,” she rose from her chair. “I need to get back to work.”

  “Of course.”

  Taking no comfort in the concession, her mind launched into high gear. Something was going on around here. Like a pirate too close to the plank, she knew something was lurking beneath the surface. But what?

  Good sense evaporated. “Raul, is there something—”

  “Yes?” he asked with soft expectation.

  The glimpse of premeditation staring back at her sent Sam’s body shock-still. His tone was too cool, too deliberate. There was more to this—more than his pretense of helpful unity among associates, the man had an agenda.

  She held his gaze. “Nothing, Raul.”

  He pulled his hands from the ebony desktop and set them on the smooth leather armrests of his chair. His smile was nothing if not gracious, accommodating, befitting that of a patriarch. “If you’re sure.”

  Sam wasn’t sure about anything at the moment. But she knew how to avoid a trap. “I’m sure.”

  “Very well.”

  Without another word, Raul waited for her to make her exit. No more arguments, no more questions, he was giving her lead time. For what, she didn’t have a clue, but experience taught that he’d be back.

  As Sam headed back to her office, speculation consumed her. Had Diego miscalculated? Was that what bothered her? Maybe she was ornery because Raul had interfered with her caseload, veered into her lane like oncoming traffic, blind-siding her with a full blast of headlights.

  Passing her secretary with an absent nod, Sam strode into her office and rounded the corner of her desk. She stopped short. Unable to indulge in her prized view of Biscayne Bay and the Atlantic Ocean, glittering like a sheet of aquamarine crystals out the thirty-second floor windows, suspicion gnawed. Something wasn’t right. She shuffled through a stack of new phone messages, interested by none.

  Maria Jimenez breezed into her office, the t
ight maroon skirt wrapped around her hourglass hips moving with unbelievable ease as she carried a stack of files hugged close to her chest. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing.” Ditching the pink sheets of paper, Sam glanced about the office. Regal blue lampshades and plush navy carpeting, diplomas organized on her wall, it looked like any other in the firm.

  Maria dropped the folders onto the edge of the desk. “These are the files you requested.”

  “Thanks.” Sam whipped a hand to her hip and asked, “What’s up with Diego’s schedule? I thought he and Stevens were almost finished, but Raul says they’re still deep in it.”

  “I don’t know.” Saucy eyes sharpened and her Spanish accent thickened. “You want me to find out?”

  Sam shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.” She wasn’t sure what she wanted or from whom. No sense sending Maria out unarmed.

  “So what did Raul want?”

  She looked at Maria, the question crystallizing in her brain. What did he want? Was he setting her up? Did he have an agenda? Sam’s gaze wandered to the red leather chaise sequestered in the corner. A bit loud and far outside the dignified image Raul was cultivating for the firm, it was the only piece of décor in her office that hinted to the woman within. She insisted it gave fire to her thought process and was largely responsible for her wins. Who could argue with such logic? Certainly not Raul, so he allowed the one item to stay.

  Why was he challenging her now?

  “Never mind. None of my business,” Maria mur-mured, but her black eyes blazed the third degree.

  “Actually,” Sam sighed. “I have no idea.” Had he wanted to revoke confidence with her performance? Express disapproval at her budding interest in Vic? He frowned upon office romances, but over the years had come to allow her some wiggle room on the subject. But pushing another associate on her, overriding her authority...

  It wasn’t his style.

  “You think it’s good news or bad?”

  Misgiving pinched her chest. “You tell me,” she pitched back. “He wants Vic to assist on the Perry case.”

  “What? Why would he want to do something crazy like that?” she whipped back.

  “My question exactly.”

  “Is it Diego’s schedule?” She packed on a matter-of-fact attitude and waved a finger through the air, gold bangles jingling. “I’ll call Suzette right now. She’ll tell me what’s going on over there in two seconds.”

  Sam surrendered to a small smile. Maria; her paralegal-secretary-extraordinaire. The woman was a pint of sass packed into a Latin man’s voluptuous fantasy: long black hair and big brown eyes, full pouty lips and enough makeup to make a cosmetician swoon. Damn sharp when it came to following instructions though, making Maria the best assistant since Moses. And indispensable. No doubt she would plunder the information in no time if asked. “Don’t bother, Mare. I’ll ask him myself.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Sam dropped to her chair, careful not to disturb the neat stacks of paper she had arranged on her desk in the form of a triangle. She was visual and these piles represented the three litigants in her current case. Details she needed to keep close for the conference call she was about to make. When the lies took wing, she intended to swat them like flies, pulling facts and figures from the sheets at her fingertips.

  Sam pulled a business card from the top pile and handed it to Maria. “Get these guys on the phone for me, will you? They’re expecting my call.”

  “You got it.”

  “Beep in when you’re ready.”

  “Yes Ma’am.”

  As Maria exited the office, Sam began formulating her plan of attack—at present, aimed at securing her settlement. Soon enough, she’d target Raul’s sudden generosity and his chosen benefactor. Taking her place among the elite group of women perched high atop their male-dominated fields was the crown of her achievements and she wasn’t about to jeopardize it. Not for anything or anyone.

  Sam stilled.

  Wait a minute. Maybe Raul’s suggestion for including Vic on the Perry case was a test. She looked up from her notes. Her mind slashed through the possibilities. Perhaps he wanted her to do more than consult him on strategy. Maybe Raul wanted to see how she handled the role of mentor to a junior associate. Speculation mounted as pressure built inside her. Senior partners carried out the task every day, right? Makes sense they’d want to see how she’d do before they granted full partnership.

  Her breathing paused. Sam squeezed her eyes shut. Shit.

  Did she screw up?

  Chapter Two

  “I told you!” the elderly woman cried from the stand. “I set up no such meeting between the two of them!”

  Victor Marin leaned over the partition. “That’s not what your phone log says. It says you made several calls to the Senator in the weeks leading up to the transfer of funds and several the day of. Two of them were to his cell phone.”

  “It was fundraising!” Delicate cheeks flushed bright red within a frame of perfectly-coiffed silver hair. Like a trapped animal, her frightened gaze sought the judge, counsel, anyone who could help rescue her from the jaws of interrogation.

  Samantha Rawlings’ focus shot to the jury, taking satisfaction in how deeply engaged they were in the process. Each and every one of them sat riveted upon Vic’s every move. Throughout the entire proceedings, it seemed they couldn’t get enough of him.

  She savored a private smile. It was an allure she understood all too well. Pushing six-four, he had a striking presence. Not only his size, it was also his eyes. Almost black, yet lit by sparks of fire. Factor in his short-cropped hair, sharp-featured nose, and the chiseled edge of his jaw line and Vic reminded her of a bird.

  A falcon. Yes, she thought, pressing the tip of her sleek silver pen into the yellow note pad spread open before her. If he were an animal, he would be a bird of prey. Struck by the assessment, Sam felt an odd alliance with the jury. One couldn’t help being drawn to him. Wary, but mesmerized. Another smile pulled at her. Definitely mesmerized.

  Vic hovered closer to the witness and scowled. “You’re lying.”

  Petite within the confines of the witness stand, Morgan’s secretary recoiled, but Vic wasn’t buying her lamb-on-the-butcher-block routine. “Covering for Morgan can send you to jail,” he said. “For years.”

  The gavel slammed the room into silence.

  “Enough!” Judge Chavez flashed an angry look to the twelve men and women seated to his left, a gust of speculation blowing across the packed courtroom.

  Vic murmured, “It’s a favor he wouldn’t return.”

  “The jury will disregard the defense’s last state-ments,” Chavez said to the jury, then swung his wrath toward Vic. “Not another word, counselor.”

  Sam was on her feet. “Your Honor, may I approach the bench?”

  A muffled wave of whispers rippled through the gallery behind them, packed full today because this case had been feeding the front pages for weeks. Hijacking an employee pension fund was bad enough, but a senator?

  Vic cast a glance toward her in an appeal for support, but her glare told him to back off. She had seniority here and he’d better respect it.

  Judge Chavez approved her request with a nod of his head, but just over his reading glasses, his cold gaze burned a path straight for Vic.

  Sam strode over to the elevated perch that towered over the federal courtroom, Vic close on her heels. Chavez’s black eyes were popping mad, his lips set in a hard line. Even the brown of his skin seemed to redden with fury.

  Damn, she mused. Vic did have an effect, didn’t he?

  Opposing counsel joined them.

  “Your Honor,” Sam controlled her tone as she eased into her appeal. “First let me apologize for my associate’s egregious violation of your courtroom. I assure you it won’t happen again.”

  Chavez cupped a hand over the microphone and leaned forward. “You’re damn right it won’t.”

  “Your Honor,” V
ic interjected. “The witness is holding back.”

  “Another word from you,” Chavez growled, “and I’ll have your butt hauled out of my courtroom by force.” Then he addressed Sam. “He’s finished here. I want him out.”

  The air in the courtroom grew thick with speculation, curiosity clinging to her backside.

  But she wasn’t bothered. She had been here before and enjoyed the pressure. It meant people were paying attention. Sam grew somber and leaned in. “I understand, Your Honor. I’ll take it from here.” She paused, tempering the charge of the battle coursing between them. “But if I may be so forward as to ask your permission that he stay on as an observer?”

  Vic opened his mouth to reply, but Sam clamped a hand on his forearm.

  Chavez balked. “What?”

  “He’s a good attorney, your Honor, just a bit overzealous at times.”

  “Overzealous is an understatement, Sam.” His gaze hardened behind the black rim of his glasses. “Even a first-year law student knows not to harass the witness.”

  Sam lifted her shoulders in an attempt at forgiveness. “He got carried away?”

  “You’re much too generous on his behalf.” Judge Chavez allowed a small smile for her benefit, then cut back to Vic. “As for you. You, young man, are severely lacking in good judgment. Harassing an old woman on the stand not only injures the dignity of my courtroom, but it breeds contempt for our entire system of justice.”

  One of the attorneys next to them chuckled under his breath. Which had to grate on him, Sam thought. But to Vic’s credit, he remained immobile. And in control, she noted, with another rush of satisfaction. The man is good.

  “Don’t play guessing games on my time. You have questions,” Chavez belabored, “you ask them. Can’t get a witness to answer? Get smarter.”

  Vic bristled, but pasted a smile on his face. “Yes sir.”

  “Very well,” Chavez said. With his look of distaste securely intact, he held Vic in his scope for several seconds more before returning to Sam. “Maybe he can learn something from watching a seasoned professional such as yourself.”