"We definitely have a don't-ask-don't-tell policy about my personal life. But I know he's up to something."
"Maybe he just wants to meet me-professionally speaking."
"I doubt it. He knows who you are." When he flinched, she grabbed his hand. "I didn't mean that in a bad way. Though maybe for him you're-" She stopped herself, wondering how to tell him she thought he was amazing, but her family wouldn't be so enthusiastic. "He thinks you're beneath him, and don't be offended by that because most everyone is. Before the fund-raiser-before I knew who you were-he made some comments about you."
"The ambulance chaser."
Out loud-again-it sounded even worse. "Yes."
"Though my sins may be long and varied, Vanessa, I never did that. I never hung out in hospital waiting rooms. I never paid chiropractors to lie on the stand. I never did cheesy television ads to attract people who were hurt, vengeful and poor." He smiled ironically. "But then I never had to. I got a few big judgments, and the clients rolled in. It's no more noble, just less publicly demeaning."
She didn't like how blasé he sounded, how unconcerned about her father's perception of him. He had no idea of the power and influence of Joseph Douglas. "I don't want you anywhere near my father. He could make things difficult for you if he wanted to."
He laid his hand over hers, then picked it up and kissed her palm, his gaze connected with hers the entire time. "I was thinking we could fly down to Miami and have dinner."
"You're not listening."
"I am."
"My father-"
"Doesn't concern me. I'd much rather kiss you … ."
Which he did with head-spinning thoroughness. And by the time they walked into the club a few minutes later, she'd set aside her worries about her father. If any man could handle Joseph Douglas, it was Lucas.
Even on a Wednesday the club was already packed, but when the bouncer checked her ID and took her tickets, he directed her and Lucas to a reserved table in front. Clearly, Mia's bribe to get the tickets had been a good one.
Once they were seated they ordered drinks-whiskey for Lucas, wine for Vanessa-and she glanced around the club. The small tables scattered in front of the stage were filled, and people stood two to three deep at the bars located on opposite sides of the room. Everything was dark paneled and understated. No thumping base, no neon lights. In fact, the only lighting came from canned spotlights recessed into the ceiling, casting pale light on the burgundy carpeting.
"What kind of music does Peter's band play?" Lucas asked.
"They do standards. Lots of Sinatra and Tony Bennett. It's great."
He leaned close and his warmth enveloped her like a soft blanket. "No rap, techno or pyrotechnics?"
"Afraid not."
He slid his hand up her bare thigh. "I'll do my best to muddle along."
"I like dance music and all, but sometimes it's great to hear-" She stopped as his fingers slid beneath the hem of her skirt. "You're going to be good, aren't you?"
He smiled and his hand moved higher. "No."
Vanessa clamped her legs together. "Mia had to bribe Peter's manager to get these seats."
"So you told me." Lucas accepted their drinks from the waitress, then handed hers over. With one hand wrapped around his glass, his other hand returned to its heart-quickening spot.
"We're awfully close to the stage," she reminded him.
One of his fingers glided beneath the edge of her panties. "Close to the action."
Vanessa squirmed. Jeez, the man could make her purr way too quickly and easily. She wasn't crazy about handing over that kind of control.
His finger brushed her labia, and her stomach clenched.
Then again, going with the moment wasn't such a bad thing.
"Hi, Vanessa."
Vanessa's eyes popped open. Staring up and across the table, she saw Tracy Spillman and Brett Riverside.
They'd dated on and off since high school and still made a striking Barbie and Ken kind of couple. Tracy and Vanessa had once been pretty close, but her feud with her family had basically cost her the friendship. Brett was an associate at her father's firm, so his side on the conservative Douglases versus the Lone Rebel Douglas had been a foregone conclusion.
She remembered she'd once been taught manners and rose to her feet, hugging Tracy and kissing Brett's cheek. "It's great to see you both." Not really, but what else do you say? She felt Lucas stand beside her. "This is Lucas Broussard. He's a new attorney in town."
Brett, his gaze as cold as ice, exchanged a brief handshake with him. "I know who he is."
Damn, damn, damn. Not now, Brett. Please don't be an ass now. "Did you meet at the fund-raiser? I thought it went really well, didn't you, Tracy?" With her eyes, she implored her old friend to help.
Either Tracy didn't care or she was too dense to detect the tension. "Your mother seemed pleased," she said, taking extra care not even to acknowledge Lucas.
"She was. Lots of money raised for the children's hospital, I understand. Well, I'd invite you guys to join us, but I don't see any empty chairs to-"
"We wouldn't stay anyway," Brett said.
Then go the hell away, Vanessa wanted to say. What had they come over for anyway? Thankfully, her upper-class arrogance came to the rescue. As she lifted her chin, she linked her arm with Lucas's. "Then isn't it convenient I didn't extend the invitation?"
Lucas, she noted, still hadn't said a word, but as Brett started to turn away, he asked, "Is Douglas that afraid of me, Riverside?"
"You wish."
Vanessa had to clamp her teeth together to keep her jaw from dropping. It was like a fight at fourth-grade recess.
"I'm not suing any of your clients," Lucas said. "At least not at the moment."
Brett puffed his chest out. "We're not afraid of you."
Lucas's eyes gleamed. "Maybe you should be."
Brett held that fierce gaze for a moment or two, then spun away. He grabbed Tracy by the hand and stalked away.
Vanessa trembled with anger and embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. I don't know why they even came over to talk to us."
Lucas put his arms around her waist, pulling her close as he looked down into her face. "To hurt me."
She laid her hands on his chest, surprised to find his heartbeat was slow and steady, not racing like hers. "We used to be friends. What's with people?"
"Exactly what I told him. They're afraid."
"While I can imagine you as a scary guy, that's still no excuse to attack somebody."
"They obviously think I deserved it."
She searched his gaze carefully. "But you don't think that, do you?"
He held up his hands. "I'm not bleeding. I'll live." He sat, pulling her into her chair next to him. "Forget them."
"You don't deserve to be attacked."
"Maybe. But at one time-"
"Damn it, Lucas, stop." She wrapped her hand around his wrist. "You're the kindest, strongest, most noble man I've ever known."
"Considering you used to hang around jerks like Brett Riverside, I'm not sure that's a compliment."
She glared at him. "You're making light of this."
He cupped her cheek. "My own vigilante." He pressed his lips to hers. "Your faith in me is, quite simply, amazing."
Looking into his deep green eyes, she finally saw some of the hurt he'd been holding back. Her heart flipped over. Crazy emotions surged through her veins, feelings she suppressed. Though, she still wanted to knee Brett in the balls. If he still had any, that is.
Lucas ran his tongue across her bottom lip. His hand slid under her skirt. "Speaking of amazing … "
"We're having a tender moment here."
"I'll be tender."
Thankfully for her sanity, and much to the frustration of her libido, the announcer chose that moment to introduce the band. Lucas was forced to move his hand so he could clap. Vanessa was so thrilled to see Peter decked out in a tailored, pin-striped suit and cool hat, she laughed aloud. The five members of the band were equally entertaining. They even had one guy who held an old-fashioned glass and cigarette while he sang, à la Dean Martin.
In the middle of "Luck Be a Lady," she realized a major consequence of the confrontation with Brett. "My father's going to know about us now," she said in Lucas's ear, when the band took a break. She was trying to remain calm instead of giving in to panic.
"Is that a problem?" he asked, his brows raised.