Courting Justice

Chapter 2

Angelo entered the huge ballroom and glanced around. It was “Getting to Know You” night and the place was filled wall-to-wall with people, mostly women. All of them appeared ready, willing and available. After all, this was a singles resort. There was a time when a scene like this would have excited every sexual bone in Angelo’s body. And the Di Meglio nose—which could detect a woman a mile away—would be sniffing like crazy, zeroing in on his next conquest.

It had been three weeks since he’d won the Russ case, and women were still throwing themselves at him. He’d told them that his playboy days were over, but they still didn’t believe him. Some thought that tempting him with sexual favors would do the trick. And he was still shaking his head at the number of brazen propositions that had recently come his way.

As he perused his way around the ballroom, he was very much aware of the eyes that turned to follow him. But while they were watching him, he was scanning the room for someone else. Tonight his focus was on finding one particular woman. Thursday was her birthday, and he intended to help her celebrate. In fact, whether she knew it or not, he intended to spend all of his time with her, if that’s what it took. He was determined that by the time they left Dunwoody Cove their relationship would have moved to a whole new level—sexual, that is. She would no longer see him as the brother of one of her closest friends. Instead, he planned on being a whole lot more.

He suddenly heard that throaty laughter of hers and his head spun around in that direction. Even in dim light his gaze focused on Peyton sitting on a stool at the bar with several men standing around her. Already she’d acquired a fan club. She had been at the resort two days before he’d arrived and that might have been two days too many, he thought. But he would remedy that very soon.

Now that he’d arrived he wouldn’t waste any time staking his claim…but subtly. He wouldn’t rush her, but he intended to be thorough in his pursuit. Two weeks would just be the start of things—the groundbreaking for their relationship, so to speak. He had decided that the best approach was to get her away from her life in Oklahoma—here, unsuspecting, alone and with him.

First he had to gain her trust, though there was no reason for her not to trust him. After all, he was Samari Di Meglio Madaris’s brother. She had known him close to seven years and seemed comfortable with the friendship they’d forged. He wanted her to see him not just as a friend, but as something more. He wanted her to take the blinders off and finally see what others had been seeing for years. It went deeper than just the physical attraction, but he was willing to stoke the sexual chemistry first.

Peyton being here at Dunwoody Cove was his idea. Getting Mac and Sam to go along with his plan hadn’t been easy. After all, Peyton was their best friend and they knew of his reputation when it came to women. Convincing them he wanted more out of a relationship with her had been difficult, and they had questioned his motives. Nevertheless, he took it in stride since he’d made up his mind to go after Peyton with or without their help. And once he made up his mind about something, there was no stopping him. But there was a nagging question: why was he so determined to have her?

Peyton was sitting on a barstool in a slinky black cocktail dress with a split up the side that displayed nearly every inch of her thigh and gorgeous leg. She looked absolutely stunning, the way the thickness of her dreadlocks swept across her shoulders. She hadn’t seen him yet, which gave him a chance to observe her unnoticed. Although she usually came off tough as nails, there was a softness that showed in her face. Her lips were full and sexy, and the reason why he had laid in bed so many times thinking about how it would feel to taste them. Her coffee-colored skin framed her dark eyes. And a pair of gold chandelier earrings dangled from her earlobes, giving her an exotic, sensual look.

She shifted in her seat, revealing a bit more of her thigh, and a spasm of desire coursed through him. He couldn’t see much of her dress. But from what he could see, it covered just enough to make him fantasize about the rest of her.

The men standing around her were eagerly hanging on her every word. They reminded him of predators circling their prey, ready to pounce at the first chance. And he intended to make sure they didn’t. They may have put her at the top of the food chain, but he was going to have her on his menu for her entire stay.

Peyton laughed again, throwing her head back and accentuating her long graceful neck. She sat there looking simply gorgeous and more dazzling than any other woman in the room. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen her look so jaw-droppingly beautiful. There had been times they’d run into each other at weddings and family gatherings. And she always managed to garner more than enough attention, just like now.

When she laughed again, he figured she had started the party without him and it was time to make his presence known, especially when one of the men continued refilling her cocktail as another placed his hand in the center of her back, touching her bare skin.

Not on his watch.

Ignoring the women looking in his direction, he moved toward the bar where Peyton sat entertaining her audience. He frowned the closer he got. It seemed one guy in particular intended to make her his for the night, the one who kept refreshing her cocktail.

She was talkative, more than he’d ever seen before. When he was in her line of sight, she blinked. Seconds later, a huge smile spread across her lips, from corner to corner. “Angelo! What on earth are you doing here?”

Angelo smiled warmly at her as he moved past the men encircling her and came to a stop in front of her. He heard the slight slur in her voice, which meant she’d had one drink too many. “Maybe I should be asking you the same thing, Pey,” he said, intentionally using her nickname to convey his familiarity as he gently pried the glass out of her hand and placed it on the counter.

Angelo knew that Peyton wasn’t a drinker, seldom touched the stuff. She wasn’t completely sloshed yet, but a few more would get her there. “What are you drinking?” he asked her.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Scotch and water. I don’t drink much.”

Angelo nodded. “I know.” He glanced at the glass. It was more Scotch than water.

“I’m celebrating my birthday. It’s this week, and I’ll be thirty.”

He heard the excitement in her voice. “I know that,” he said, “and an early happy birthday to you.”

“Thanks. These guys are helping me celebrate,” she said, motioning to the men standing around her.

“Umm, you don’t say.” Angelo stared at them, taking a hard look at each one of them. A few had the decency to look away, probably to shield the guilty looks on their faces. He knew just how they had intended to help her celebrate.

“Yes, wasn’t that nice of them?”

She really didn’t want to know what he truly thought of them, so instead of answering, he slid onto the stool opposite her. “How can you be turning thirty when you don’t look a day over twenty-five?”

She reached out and patted his cheek. “You’re so sweet, Angelo.”

“Hey, evidently you don’t know the rules around here,” the man who’d had a heavy hand in refreshing her drink said gruffly, moving to stand closer to Peyton’s side.

Angelo gave the man a hard look. “No, I think you’re the one who doesn’t know the rules, especially with the amount of Scotch you’ve been giving her,” he said, glancing back at Peyton, and seeing the glassy look in her eyes.

“He was just being nice, Angelo,” she said softly, smiling. “I’m here to have a good time, right?”

“Right, but I think you’ve had too much of a good time for now.”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, I think so, too.” Then she leaned in closer. He ignored how good she smelled and listened attentively when she whispered, “I’m beginning to feel sick.”

“Then, let me get you to your room,” he said, standing.

“Hey, look here, buddy,” the man said angrily.

Angelo turned stony eyes on him. “No, you look,” he said in a steely voice, trying to keep it down so as not to cause a scene. But if he had to, he would. “You were deliberately trying to get her drunk. Now, I suggest you haul ass before I kick yours.”

The man was about to open his mouth to say something when one of the resort’s well-dressed, no-nonsense security men approached. “Is there a problem, Mr. Di Meglio?”

Angelo glanced over at the resort’s security manager whose name was Saul. “No problem.”

He reached out and took Peyton’s hand and gently tugged her off the barstool to bring her to his side. “I’m escorting Ms. Mahoney to her room. You might want to go over the rules of the resort with these guys, regarding taking advantage of guests by getting them drunk.”

With Peyton nestled close to his side, he began shouldering his way through the crowd. Behind him he heard the man ask Saul in a pissed-off voice, “Just who the hell does he think he is?”

Saul’s response was short and direct. “He’s one of the owners.”

* * *

“Do you need me to help you undress?”

If Angelo had meant to snap her out of her tipsy state he certainly succeeded with that question, Peyton thought, drawing in a quick breath and glancing across the room at him.

She’d just stepped out of the bathroom, after voiding her stomach of the Scotch she’d drank earlier. She’d stayed in the bathroom a few minutes longer, wiping a warm cloth across her face, brushing her teeth and gargling. She felt a little better, but not a whole lot, and knew that in the morning she would probably have a doozy of a headache.

What on earth had made her drink that much when she knew she couldn’t handle it? She’d always known her limits. Overindulging had never been her thing, and she would get upset at anyone who did.

“Peyton?”

It was then that she realized she hadn’t responded to Angelo’s bizarre question. And maybe it wasn’t so bizarre considering how sick she’d been moments ago in the bathroom. There was no doubt he’d heard it and probably figured she’d almost died in the bathroom.

“No thanks, I can manage,” she said, entering the room on wobbly legs and dropping down in the nearest chair.

Mac and Sam hadn’t just given her a room at Dunwoody Cove. They had given her the mother of all luxury suites. She could have probably fit her modest-size apartment in here. She couldn’t believe the view she had of the ocean from her balcony, as well as how expensive the furniture looked. And the closets were big enough to accommodate a family of four.

“You sure?”

Rubbing her temples as she already felt a headache coming on, she met his gaze. “Positive. But thanks for asking.”

“You’re welcome.”

A few seconds passed, and then he said, “All right then. Do you want to talk about it?”

She dropped her hand down in her lap and couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips. Sam would always tell them how whenever she got in trouble about anything, Angelo would begin their discussion by asking that question. Do you want to talk about it?

“There’s really nothing to discuss, Angelo.” Bottom line, she’d made a fool of herself tonight. No big deal. No harm done. She drew in a deep breath knowing that it was a big deal since it was so unlike her. She glanced down at herself and decided to blame it on the dress.

She had found enough courage to wear one of the outfits she’d bought shopping with Mac and Sam last week. For once, she had let Sam talk her into buying a couple of things she normally wouldn’t have purchased.

She wasn’t vain, but she had to admit the dress looked pretty damn good on her. When she had walked into the ballroom and noticed the attention several men had given her, her head had swelled a little. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn something that had turned a man’s head, mainly because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone out of her way to impress anyone. That wasn’t her style.

She could only assume the reason the attention had gotten to her was because she was going through this almost-over-the-hill, turning-thirty crisis. She was enjoying her last few days in her twenties, and it had been pretty heady stuff to draw the attention away from women a few years younger than she was.

“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.