Love Proof (Laws of Attraction)

Twenty-six

It was Thursday, she had to remind herself. The days strung together now like reruns of the day before. Every plane ride felt the same. All the hotel conference rooms looked alike. All the food tasted equally bad. Feel like takeout tonight? Of course. And a whole lot more than that.

Chapman continued with his new style of questioning, firing them off so rapidly Joe’s client barely had a chance to answer. Clearly Chapman was already done with the job. He had been a bad lawyer at the beginning of their travels together, but at least Sarah could tell he thought he was good. Now, he clearly didn’t care.

“Objection,” Joe said again. He’d already objected several times that afternoon, always with the same complaint. “Please repeat the question slowly and allow my client sufficient time to answer.”

Chapman scowled and did as he was asked, but in an exaggerated way, enunciating every word and speaking extra loudly as if Joe’s client, an elegant woman in her 70s, were both mentally deficient and hard of hearing.

The woman was neither, Sarah noticed, and so far had been extremely tolerant of Chapman’s boorish behavior.

“My husband and I moved to Boise after our son graduated from high school,” the woman said in answer to Chapman’s question, and Sarah wanted to throw something at his fat head when she saw him roll his eyes and pretend to be bored by what he was hearing.

Then don’t ask! Sarah wanted to scream at him. Stick to the facts of this case!

But Chapman was like so many other lawyers she’d come up against: convinced of his brilliance, in love with the sound of his own voice, and immune to anyone’s helpful suggestion that he pull his head out of his rear end and actually learn to do the job well.

“Objection,” Joe said again after another pair of rapid questions. “Let the record reflect counsel is not allowing my client sufficient time to answer.”

“Fine!” Chapman said, leaning back. “Take all day.” He twirled his hand at the woman. “Please, speak.”

Joe’s client looked at him coldly, but then answered him in her unfailingly dignified manner.

Sarah hid a yawn behind her hand and tried to tune out Chapman’s voice for a few minutes while she studied Joe’s client instead.

Sarah wondered if she would still be going to so much effort with her hair when she was seventy-three, like Mrs. Barrett.

Didn’t there finally come a point when people said forget it, take me or leave me, my hair is a kinky frightful mess and that’s just the way it is? When they gave up on makeup, too, and accepted the fact that their eyelashes were too pale, their nose too wide, their lips too thin, their cheeks not nearly defined enough?

Although looking at Mrs. Barrett, who had obviously taken great care with her appearance that morning, wearing not only makeup, but also simple, elegant jewelry and a colorful scarf to go with her sweater and long skirt, Sarah saw the appeal of not giving up too soon. Mrs. Barrett probably enjoyed her own reflection in the mirror. And her husband probably enjoyed her, too.

Sarah found her thoughts straying more and more to the personal lives of the people in that room. Chapman didn’t wear a wedding ring, which was no great surprise, since Sarah couldn’t imagine who would have him, but did he ever date? Was there anyone who could put up with him for even a single hour?

And she assumed Marcela was single, based on her comment about wishing someone would look at her the way Joe looked at Sarah—

“Objection,” Joe snapped. “Paul, if you keep this up, I’m suspending the rest of the deposition. Your firm is the one that scheduled all of these in the first place. If you didn’t want to hear from my clients in person, you should have handled it with interrogatories.”

“Wish I had,” Chapman answered. “Not my problem anymore. Mrs. Barrett, please take as much time as you need to answer the question,” he said, sickly sweet now. “We have nothing better to do all day long than to listen to you reminisce about your years in the Navy.”

“Off the record,” Sarah said. “Paul, if you don’t want to know someone’s work history, don’t ask. If you don’t want to know about her schooling, don’t ask. But don’t be rude to a woman who has taken time out of her life to be here and sit through a deposition all afternoon just because your client’s product blew up and set her hair on fire.” She could feel her face getting hot, and knew she needed to maintain control, but she was sick of this man and his obnoxious behavior.

“Because of your faulty part,” Chapman returned.

“All subject to litigation,” Sarah said. “But if you don’t stop abusing these plaintiffs—”

“Then what?” Chapman said. “You going to file a bar complaint against me, Henley? Try to get me sanctioned? You think anyone’s going to listen to you, with your history? Word is you got off lucky. You should have been indicted with the rest of them.”

Sarah felt her blood pressure spike. Her eyes flashed toward the court reporter to confirm that none of this was being taken down.

“That’s enough,” Joe said calmly. “We’re taking a break. And you’re done with my client now, Chapman. If you have any more questions, submit them in writing. Ms. Henley, I assume you have a few questions?”

“I do.” Sarah continued to stare furiously at Chapman. He smirked back at her.

“We’ll be back in a few minutes,” Joe said, then he escorted Mrs. Barrett from the room.

Sarah forced herself to control her temper. She had been in this position many times before, under personal attack for one reason or another, and she knew without a doubt that the best and only response was to win her case and grind the other attorney into the ground. To win so soundly and unequivocally, her opponent would know he made a mistake underestimating her, and especially made a mistake trying to bully her.

But it was so tempting to grind him into the ground right now, face first, preferably against asphalt and broken glass—

Sarah took a very slow and deliberate breath. And let a cold kind of calm overtake her. She felt the muscles in her shoulders and face relax. A few more breaths and her hands finally unclenched and opened again.

By the time Joe and his client returned to the room, Sarah had composed herself, and could stare at Chapman blandly now, no longer visibly fuming at his gloating, despicable face.

“Hello, Mrs. Barrett,” she said, offering the woman a genuine smile. “My name is Sarah Henley. Thank you so much for your time today. We really appreciate it.”

And as Chapman once again scoffed at Sarah’s polite and unnecessary introduction, Sarah thought, That’s all right. You enjoy yourself today.

Because the time is coming when I’m going to bury you.

***

Sarah rolled her bag toward her new room. She still felt the stench of Chapman on her, the slime leaking out of his pores, the grin on his face as he so clearly relished trying to humiliate her in front of Joe and everyone else.

But she’d already begun her revenge. The questions she asked Mrs. Barrett continued to lay the foundation for the defense Sarah was mounting. And if Chapman was too stupid or arrogant to see that, then all the better for her.

She unlocked her door, still feeling agitated and angry. No matter how calmly she had been able to conduct the rest of the deposition, the fact was she still wanted to rip that man’s face off. She’d already endured two months of his insufferable, overconfident behavior. She was happier than even Chapman could be that they wouldn’t have to sit next to each other in a tight, closed room anymore.

And she couldn’t believe she had had to waste even a minute of her thirtieth birthday listening to that fat, drunken blowhard drone on about himself, bragging about how clever he was. She should have grabbed Joe by the hand and pulled him out of the restaurant right away, and gotten straight to the best part of the night.

Sarah stood just inside her room, tapping her finger against the handle of her luggage. What she needed was a hard workout. Something to burn off all that anger and irritation. She should change into her exercise clothes right away, and go sweat in the hotel gym.

She tapped her handle a few more times, then made a decision. She pulled out her phone.

And texted: Now. Where?

The answer came back in less than a minute, naming the hotel and room number.

As you are, Sarah texted back, hoping Joe would understand what she meant.

When she arrived and found him standing in the doorway still fully dressed in his suit, Sarah smiled.

A wicked smile, just like the one he’d given her.

The door closed hard behind her and Sarah grabbed his tie to drag his mouth down to hers. She kissed him deeply, angrily, twisting his shirt inside her fists and not minding if she wrenched some hair and skin in the process. Then she released him and shifted her hands down to his belt.

“You going to need all these clothes, Burke?”

“I doubt it.” He undid the button on her jacket and yanked it from her shoulders. Then he pulled her shirt over her head and helped himself to the breasts rising out of her bra.

“I like the black,” he said appreciatively, running a finger over the lace before reaching behind her and undoing the clasp. He needed both hands to work the zipper on her pants, but as soon those fell Joe could bring his attention back to her breasts while Sarah finished stripping them both of everything below the waist.

“You’d better go get one,” she said, “because it’s happening right now.”

Joe chuckled softly, then unzipped the luggage he hadn’t had a chance to unpack.

“Burke, I mean it—”

It was on in a flash, and then Sarah pushed him to the ground, straddled him, and swiftly took him inside. She gave herself three or four hard, vicious thrusts before she had to pause and tell him, “Stop laughing.”

“Can’t help it,” Joe said. “You don’t know how much I love you like this.”

“Say that again and I’m leaving,” Sarah said, but they both knew she wasn’t going anywhere. Instead she closed her eyes and flattened her palms on his chest and rode him the way she’d been thinking about all day. If he was going to play with her, then fine, she would play with him back.

She leaned forward, teeth teasing his earlobe, the whisper hot against his ear. “I could stop now, you know. Get up and walk away.”

Just like you did, you prick.

Joe’s eyes were dark and hungry with desire. She liked that. She wanted that.

He grabbed her hips and anchored her down harder, then flipped and rolled her onto her back. He pinned her body with his as he slowed the rhythm, angled more, made her take her time and let the sensation build. When finally her back arched and her lips parted and she bucked her hips up into his, he gave her what she wanted and drover harder, steadier, until Sarah pulled him down to her mouth and clenched him in her legs and the two of them exploded together. Then he kept on thrusting, even after he could have stopped, and forced even more pleasure from her.

“Stop, you have to stop,” she gasped, her body trembling with the force of it all.

He lowered his mouth to her breasts and continued to give her more.

“Joe, no you can’t—” But then she was coming again, completely against her intentions, and he helped her ride it as long as she could before finally letting her go.

It was a long time before her breathing calmed and she could peel open her eyelids to look at him.

“You can’t keep doing that.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“You know why.” Although at that moment, Sarah was having a hard time explaining why to herself.

Because it’s too good, was the truth, but that didn’t seem like a very persuasive argument.

Joe traced the outline of her breasts with his fingers, then leaned forward and warmed the tips of each with his mouth. Then he scooped her up from where they had been lying on the floor, and carried her to the bed. He pulled back the covers and pretended he was going to softly lay her down, but at the last minute jolted her upward again and then dropped her onto the mattress.

Sarah cracked half a smile. “Does that make you feel like a man?”

“Sure does.”

He braced both arms on either side of her and pushed her back with the force of his kiss. She wrapped her legs around him and trapped him against her to remind him who, exactly, was in charge. They wrestled and rolled and teased for several long, energetic minutes before Sarah finally pushed him away so she could breathe.

They each lay flat on their backs, still linked by intertwined hands.

“I was promised takeout,” Sarah said.

“You’ll get it.”

“I want pizza.”

“You’ll get it.”

“All veggies, no cheese.”

“What other way is there?”

Sarah smiled to herself and let her fingers play against his palm. Then she rolled toward him and draped her body half on his. She looked into his face and kissed him. Then she rolled away again.

“Burke?”

“Hm?” He rolled toward her this time, pulled her closer to him, and lightly stroked his hand across her belly, just the way she liked it.

“We shouldn’t do this anymore,” she said.

“I disagree.”

His hand strayed upward toward one of her breasts, and he seemed content to play there for a while.

“What if anyone finds out?” Sarah asked.

“They won’t.”

“They might, and then what?”

Burke propped himself up on an elbow and looked into her eyes. “Then we’ll deal with it.”

“You really don’t care that this is completely wrong.”

“I don’t think it is wrong.”

“Burke, read rule three-three-twenty.”

“I already have.”

“And?”

“We’ll deal with it,” he repeated. “But I’m not giving this up, Sarah. Not if you and I both want it. That’s how it is.”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“You’d risk your career for sex?”

“No.”

He got up and went to the pile of discarded clothes. He found his cell phone in the pocket of his suit jacket and brought it back to the bed.

He scrolled through it for several minutes before finding the closest pizza place that delivered. Then he handed the phone to Sarah to complete the call. She ordered only the toppings she wanted, without consulting Joe: sauce, no cheese, artichokes, red onions, garlic, tomatoes, and mushrooms. Joe kept busy the entire time continuing to stroke her body.

“If you’re going to touch me like that,” she said once she disconnected, “you’d better be prepared to back it up.”

“In a while,” he said.

“No, now. You have thirty minutes before pizza is here. See what you can get done before then.”