She takes the menu from the maitre'd with a soft smile of acceptance.
After I take my seat, I tell her, "You look beautiful tonight."
Her eyes twinkle with surprise over my compliment, and she leans toward me conspiratorially "And I even put on a pair of panties under this dress."
I don't even bother to try to stifle the low groan that bubbles in my chest. "Why must you torture me so?"
The laugh she gives me is tinkling, her face loose and relaxed. It's a fantastic look on her, and it makes me smile.
"Do you find it odd we didn't start this conversation by hurling insults at each other?" she asks me with an impish grin before opening her menu to glance at it.
"I'm thinking Matt had it right," I say thoughtfully before taking a sip of my Manhattan.
Macy glances up at me from the menu and tilts her head, eyes quizzically probing.
"He said we should just fuck each other at Aaron's party," I remind her.
She nods in understanding, her lips curved up as her eyes slide back to her menu. "He had it right."
We lapse into silence while she studies the choices. The waiter comes up and takes her drink order, a pinot grigio, and after he's gone, she turns to me. "So what did you want to meet about?"
I can't help grinning at her. "I've got some really great news about your case."
Her eyes light up, and she puts an elbow on the edge of the table to lean closer to me. "Oh, happy days. Tell me."
"You and I are flying to Utah on Sunday. We have a settlement meeting with her attorney on Monday, and we're going to make this case go away."
Macy jaw drops in astonishment. "You want me to offer money?"
"We're not offering those fuck-wads a dime," I say with a jovial grin. "But the case will be disposed of before we fly back out on Tuesday."
I'm rewarded with a blinding grin and eyes filled with gratitude, and Christ... I find I like it very much to have Macy indebted to me for some reason.
"You found some dirt, didn't you?" she asks excitedly.
I nod. "The investigator I hired found some filthy dirt. Belinda and Brian Merrill are really Pam Styles and Jason Penner. They're not married but have apparently been together a long time, running various grifts and scams. They have several aliases, and this isn't the first time they've tried an alienation-of-affection scam."
Macy is actually stunned. "You're kidding. I mean... I thought that was what was going on, but really? They do this professionally?"
I nod and then drain my glass, signaling to the waiter that I'd like another. It's a celebration after all. "I can't wait to see the attorney's face when I spring this on him."
"Why not just tell him on the phone?" she asks.
"Now where's the fun in that?" I ask with censure. "Besides, I've booked a great hotel and as soon as we get this shit settled, I'm taking you there and not letting you out of bed until our flight leaves the next day."
Macy visibly shudders, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When she opens them up, they are pinned to me hot and heavy. "Why do we have to wait if this is such a slam dunk?"
She's right, of course. This case is resolved but for the ink on the dismissal paperwork I'm going to get from them. But I decided to draw this out because I like the anticipation of it. More than that... I want Macy to anticipate it. I want her ready to explode the minute I touch her.
But all I tell her is, "Have patience. It will be worth it."
Another slight shudder, and then we're interrupted by the waiter, who takes our food orders. We chitchat some more about the details the investigator had managed to dig up, as well as my plan to get the photos that were taken of her by Brian Merrill aka Jason Penner. I get rewarded with another smile of gratitude, and a sizzle of lust slams through me when she whispers, "I can't wait to give you another blow job just to thank you for that."
By the time our meals arrive, both of us have had a few drinks, and it doesn't even seem odd anymore for me to be sitting at this table, having mature and intelligent conversation with a woman who has been a thorn in my side the last two years. It's amazing how relaxed you can become with a woman once you've pounded your cock inside of her.
I decide to throw caution to the wind and see how far she'll let me delve. "Can I ask you a serious question?"
"Sure," she responds with a smile as she delicately cuts a small piece of scallop.
"What's the deal with you? How come you used One Night Only and why did you never do repeats?"
Macy pauses and stares at her plate a moment. She visibly swallows hard and I think she might ignore me, but instead, she puts her utensils down and turns to face me. With utter candor, she says, "I like sex. It feels good."
I think that's a truth coming from her, but I think it's not the real answer to my question. "So, it's a physical thing with you. You're only in it for the physical pleasure?"
"Is that wrong?" she counters with an arched eyebrow.
"No, not at all," I reassure her hastily. "It's just... that's not how most women operate."
"I understand that," she agrees, and then picks her utensils back up. While she slices into the buttery scallop, she divulges another piece of the puzzle to me. "Many women engage in intimacy because they're seeking a deeper connection on an emotional level. Sex for me isn't like that. I'm seeking something, but it's not a connection. It's more of a release."
"That's cryptic," I tell her honestly. "Going to enlighten me more?"
"No, I'm not," she says, not in a harsh way, but in a way that lets me know the subject is closed for now. I'll come back to it again though.
"Tell me about The Faith Mission." I completely change subjects, and I'm enchanted by the fondness in her gaze.
"It's a great organization," she practically gushes. "It does a lot of really important work in helping people get back on their feet."
"Mac told me a little about it, and I reviewed your trust assignment to make the recurring donation for her. Your work there is very admirable."
Macy's cheeks immediately blush a deep red. She averts her eyes and waves a dismissive hand at me.
I'm stunned. "Does that embarrass you?"
Her cheeks turn redder as she scoops up a forkful of spinach and mushroom risotto, and she refuses to answer me.
"Macy," I say to get her attention as I reach out and touch her forearm. "Why does that embarrass you?"
She goes very still for a moment, and then raises her eyes to mine. The cool blue of her irises are tinged with an uneasiness that causes my heart muscle to squeeze.
>
"I'm just not use to compliments like that and yes, it does embarrass me. I don't do work for The Faith Mission or donate to them for the acknowledgment. I'd rather people didn't know what I do there."
"You're not used to praise, are you?" I take a guess, which is a good one. From what little bit I gleaned about her emotionally absent parents, I'm guessing Macy's self-esteem was never massaged in a healthy way by them.
I actually see pain in her eyes. More than just a subtle flicker that I've seen in the past, but it's there. I see it clearly. And without even trying to hide it from me, she continues to stare at me. Then I'm amazed as I see that pain morph, then melt, and then turn into heated challenge. "I get plenty of praise in the bedroom," she says bluntly. "You're not the first guy I've almost brought to his knees by a blow job."
Her words thud off me harmlessly. She aimed a direct strike, but I can easily see what she's trying to do. Macy wants to deflect the attention away from her own weaknesses, and she's trying to gain the upper hand in the only way she knows how to.
As an unparalleled sexual dynamo.
It's not worth it for me to argue with her. I don't want to push her away or back her into a corner where she'll feel the need to strike out. I don't want to weaken what little bit of mutual trust we've worked up so far.
So I go with the safest bet, and turn the conversation back to the lawsuit, and what exactly will happen next Monday when we meet with the plaintiff and her attorney in Utah.
Chapter 7
From the Diary of Macy Carrington: Dear Diary, I find it weird of me to admit that celibacy doesn't suck the way I thought it would. I don't miss in the slightest my illicit meetings with nameless, anonymous men. I don't miss sex that is mediocre at best, provides me only a temporary balm, and doesn't give me the big bang I deserve.
The reason I don't miss it is because I know there's something better on the horizon.
I'm flying to Utah with Cal tomorrow, and then he'll be free of his obligation to represent me in this case.
That means there are no ethical barriers between us.
That means I get to feel again.
Love,
Macy
PS... Mac cornered me at my apartment yesterday and thinks I'm hiding something from her. Damn, I hated lying to my girl, and once I get a handle on what this thing is between Cal and me, I'm going to let her in on this secret. I just... I just need to make sure that he's cool with a casual relationship, because he's the type of guy that could get hurt and Mac would kick my ass if I ever did that. I'm treading carefully.