Just One Taste...(19)

"Ridiculous as it sounds, I felt as if heaven had opened and let me  finally peak at what lay beyond its golden gates. I took the deal. Soon  after, my father was arrested on burglary charges and later sentenced to  fifteen years. He blamed me until the day he died, said I'd ratted him  out."

"Did you?"

"No, but I'm sure it was my lawyer's doing, so I was essentially the  cause. I didn't cry any tears over him, chère, and he died in prison a  few years later."

Vanessa knew better than to say she was sorry. "What happened to your mother?"

"My lawyer tried to get her into rehab, but she wouldn't stay. Years  later, I bribed her with a house if she'd get clean, which she did for  about three months. It's a routine for us now. Every so often she calls  me for money and I dangle the rehab as bait." He shook his head. "But  back then she lost custody, and I was handed over to the gentle nuns of  St. Francis, where I lived and finished high school.

"Once I applied myself, a strange thing happened … I succeeded. I got a scholarship to Tulane and moved to New Orleans."

"And you succeeded there, too."

He walked around the desk to lean against it, close enough that his leg  brushed her knee. "Yes," he said, staring down at her with an odd  mixture of need and self-deprecation. "I worked in a bar in the French  Quarter. I found not just bravado, but confidence. I graduated, went to  law school, passed the bar. Along the way, I learned another important  thing about myself. I learned I could read people, then play people. I  could get them to do what I wanted, to see my side of a case. I'd found  my niche-which I used to advantage. Female jurists flirted with me. Male  jurists considered me strong and sincere. I felt none of it. I had a  Porsche, a seven-figure income and no conscience.                       
       
           



       

"I was there to win. I wanted the judgment. The glory. The respect. The check," he added as if to bring home the point.

She met his gaze, not judging him as he undoubtedly expected her to do.  She might have grown up wealthy, but she had some idea of what it meant  to be poor and hopeless. "So you became a success and earned a lot of  money, but last night you said you were atoning. For what?"

"One of my first big judgments involved a woman who had cancer. Her  insurance company fraudulently denied her health coverage, claiming a  preexisting condition. I sued, on her behalf, for fifteen million  dollars. It was an easy win. The insurance company bigwigs were idiots.  Memos all over the place about systematically denying her coverage, so  they didn't have to fork over the bucks for her treatments.

"My fee for her pain and suffering was nearly five million dollars." His  voice deepened, quieted. "After the decision came down, I bought  Cristal and got drunk. She resumed chemotherapy."

"You couldn't have cured her cancer, Lucas."

He went on as if he hadn't heard her. "Six months later, she died,  leaving a devastated husband and young daughter. I didn't even go to the  funeral. I sent flowers. I'd already moved on to the next case." He  shook himself before continuing. "Then several months ago, her daughter  wrote me. She … thanked me. Said her father had gone through severe  depression after her mother's death, but the money had helped pay for  his treatment, and he was even dating again. Though she'd always miss  her mother, the settlement money had allowed her to attend college. She  wants to be an attorney, and she wanted to let me know that I'd been her  inspiration."

"That's wonderful," she said, though she could see where this was going. "You helped that family."

His gaze was hard and cold. "I used her, Vanessa. When the case was  referred to me, I saw that the insurance company was a local outfit. I  figured on their lack of sophistication and disorganization. But they  had one very important thing going for them-for me-they were  underwritten by a deep-pocketed, bigger company. One I could sue for  megabucks. Without that one catalyst, I would have passed off that  family without another thought."

Vanessa wanted to flinch. He was deliberately giving her the brutal truth. So she would understand him? So she would blame him?

She kept her face impassive.

"I never thought of that young girl. Not once. I had to look her name up  in my records. Brittany Ann Curry. She was thirteen when her mother  died. And do you know how many clients I've had just like that?" He  bowed his head. "Too many to count.

"I had become my father, taking all I could," he said as he rolled his  shoulders and met her gaze, his effort to escape the past and control  his emotions obvious. "Somewhere along the line, the winning and the  money and maybe my genes had taken over. I'd forgotten why I even became  a lawyer in the first place-to help people who couldn't help  themselves. So, I announced I was closing my practice and made plans to  move here."

"Why here?"

"Brittany started law school at Emory this past spring. Since the day I  got her letter I've been talking with her, offering study help and the  perspective of a practicing attorney. I've learned she's smart and  insightful, and so damn young and enthusiastic about defending truth and  justice." He smiled sardonically. "I was never that optimistic or  innocent, but I'm watching her and learning. She considers me her  mentor. One day I hope to actually be worthy of the honor."

If he expected Vanessa to be appalled or to reject him, he was going to  be disappointed. He'd gotten out of a dead-end life, and no matter what  he thought, he had helped people.

Whatever happened between them from this day on, she'd always admire  him. Who else had the strength and courage to examine his life with such  brutal honesty? To make wholesale and painful changes to find a more  meaningful purpose?

Though she'd never thought of herself as courageous, she'd made changes  to follow her own dreams, to make a life that was her own, one she could  be proud of. She'd never expected to meet someone she had something so  deep and basic in common with.                       
       
           



       

Someday, she'd make sure to thank him for reminding her she'd done the right thing.

She realized now where the coldness inside him had sprung from. That  didn't make it any less scary, but then so much about him was  frightening for a woman intent on simply keeping her business afloat,  repairing her relationship with her family and having a little fun along  the way.

The way he made her feel scared her. How she felt when she wasn't with him. How much she already cared about him.

Praying her knees would hold her, she stood. "That's it?" She laid her  hand lightly on his chest. "I thought you were in the Witness Protection  program or something. What's for lunch?"

Still seeming distant, he just looked at her. "Aren't you worried I'm playing you?"

She wedged herself between his legs. "No."

"I'm not easy to get along with."

She slid her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. She reveled in the softness. "Neither am I."

"You don't care about the kind of man I am?"

"Of course I do." She traced her index finger along his lower lip.  "You're smart. And interesting." She brought her face closer, so their  lips were mere inches apart. "Flawed and strong. Gorgeous." She brushed  her mouth over his. "Noble."

He tried to interrupt, so she kissed him again. "Brave. Fun. Charming."

"I don't need you to coddle me."

She smiled. "Yes, you do."

When she placed her mouth over his this time, she slid her tongue past  his lips. She seduced him out of the past and into the present.

Part of her recognized she was falling back on their already familiar  hunger and heat to block the feelings worming their way into her heart.  If she only loved him with her body, she could prevent herself from  caring too much. She treated her relationships casually out of a need  for protection. She didn't have a great long-term record. Her rapport  with family being exhibit number one.

Her reflections flew from her mind, though, as Lucas pulled her against  him. He certainly knew how to read people, since he always found the  spot on her that needed his touch the most. He knew whether to stroke  softly or firmly, slowly or quickly.

Now, he savored her lips as if she were the finest champagne, as if  knowing she wanted to offer him comfort and solace, a physical balm to  heal the past. His arms encircled her. Her heart began the familiar  pounding. Her stomach fluttered with desire.

She wanted his strength and intensity as much as she wanted to tap into  his tenderness. His mouth was heaven. His body hard and strong, yearning  to be explored. She craved the moment she could get him out of his  respectable suit. Her fingers tingled with need. She wanted him inside  her, under her, over her.