The Donovans: Pleasured By A Donovan Part 8

"What I saw was a close family dedicated to giving back to the world some of what they have. Clinton has even played golf with Henry and Lincoln Donovan. He says they're good, stand-up guys. They just have a lot of money."

Her finger pressed the channel b.u.t.ton so hard that the pad was beginning to hurt. The verbal exchange between her and Grace added to the tug of war going on inside her head.

"I really don't want to discuss this," she told Grace. "Ben is who and what he is and that has no effect on me."

"Uh huh. You keep right on telling yourself that," Grace said. "In the meantime, tell me what work you talked about, because as you stated you're both on opposite sides of the legal table."

"That's the weird thing," Victoria replied immediately, because this was something she felt comfortable talking to Grace about. "He thinks the witness in the Vega case is still alive."

"Who? The girl? But n.o.body's seen her in almost a year. The cops don't hold much hope of finding her."

"That's what I told him. But he said he has someone looking for her."

"Why would Ben Donovan have someone looking for Alayna Jonas when he no longer represented Vega?"

"Exactly."

"More importantly, why tell you?" she asked with overblown drama and a lift of her arched eyebrows.

Victoria shrugged that question off and was relieved when Clinton came into the room with a tray of two filled wine gla.s.ses and one gla.s.s of milk-which Grace detested.

Victoria didn't want to talk about why Ben was giving her information on Vega, not with Grace anyway. Actually, she didn't want to talk about work or Ben Donovan any longer. For tonight, she wanted to relax and enjoy spending time with her friends. That was something good in this world-friends and family. Not death and betrayal, two things she prayed wouldn't knock on her door anytime soon.

CHAPTER 11.

It was after 10 by the time Victoria parked her car and walked up the walkway to her house. A light breeze ruffled her hair, which had lost all its curl and now lay flat past her shoulders. In her hand, her keys jingled as she walked, thinking of the lengthy baby name discussion she, Clinton and Grace had over dinner.

From the house two doors down, Yoda, Mrs. Graham's b.i.+.c.hon frise, was yipping loudly in front of their open living room window. She could hear him as if he were right on her own steps. Leo Mack, her next door neighbor, had his blinds closed, and probably didn't want to see anything else after he'd seen the car the other night.

She took the six steps leading to her door one at a time, tired from the day's work and more than ready to get a hot shower and climb into her comfortable bed. But when she looked up at her door, Victoria's heart stopped.

A single piece of blue tape held a sheet of paper in place just beneath the peep hole on her door.

She swallowed hard, kick-starting her brain to send a message for her to take a breath. She closed her eyes and breathed a tremulous sigh. Opening them again only proved she still had perfect vision as her optometrist had told her just four months ago at her last exam. When she figured standing and staring was as pointless as the fear rippling up and down her spine, she reached forward and pulled the paper from the door.

BE CAREFUL OF THE COMPANY YOU KEEP.

805 Agosta Luna Boulevard She read the typed message once more before her eyes fell to the bottom half of the page where a picture had been printed. A picture of her and Ben Donovan having lunch at the diner earlier today.

Victoria knew exactly where Agosta Luna was and who lived there. She was down the steps and climbing back into her car before she could think of a reason not to go.

It had been a long day, made into a long evening by the meeting Ben had with Noah. Trent and Devlin had been able to tap the phones at Ethel Jonas' house.

"There's a guy sitting on the house in a black SUV," Noah had told Ben as they'd sat in his car just outside the city limits.

A defense attorney meeting with a homicide detective wasn't totally strange, but they didn't want to bring any unnecessary attention to the side investigation they had going on.

"There's a s.h.i.+ft change around 10 pm, but other than that the SUV doesn't move. I can't put cops on the house without an official investigation going on."

"But there is an official investigation going on into these murders," Ben had interjected.

"I'm working the Ebony Reece murder, not the congressman's," was Noah's comeback.

Ben nodded his agreement. "That's why I gave Trent the go ahead to do whatever was necessary to find Alayna. He's got a wiretap on the phones in the house and eyes on that same SUV as well as the house."

"Cool," Noah said with a nod. "We need to find her soon. Trial starts next week."

"And Vega's getting antsy. That's why he tried to scare Victoria."

"I don't know about that one," Noah said.

"I do and I don't like it. So the sooner we get this SOB, the better," he'd said and come home.

He was bone tired and a little hungry. He'd just trudged up the steps and was in his bedroom unb.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt when his doorbell rang. Before he could even curse at whoever was daring to come to his house at this time of night, the person was banging on the door as if their life depended on him answering it immediately. Taking that into consideration, he headed down the steps and to the door, pulling it open ready to yell. Then he saw her and all coherent thought fled from his mind.

Bathed in the light that illuminated the alcove leading to his front door, he saw her eyes glittering with emotion-exactly what emotion he'd revisit later. She stood with one hand planted firmly on her hip, one leg slightly forward. On said legs were black jeans that looked as if they were made especially for a woman with this figure, long legs and curvy hips. Her top was intriguing as well, fitted and consisting of some s.h.i.+ny feminine material. It hugged her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and its thin straps tempted him to the point of distraction. And those shoes-Ben didn't have sisters, but he did have cousins and they considered themselves well-versed in the area of fas.h.i.+on. And the shoes Victoria was wearing were definitely of the kick-a-guy-in-the-gut-s.e.xy variety. Hot pink, high heels, peep toe-that's all that really mattered as he swallowed hard and tried even harder for composure.

"Victoria," he managed finally.

"What the h.e.l.l is this?" she asked and before he could answer, thrust a piece of paper so close to his face he couldn't begin to read what it said.

"Ah, it looks like a piece of paper," he said with a slight chuckle.

She made a motion with her hands that he swore looked like she was about to attack, and he reacted instantly by grabbing both her wrists and pus.h.i.+ng them down to her sides.

"Is this some type of joke? If so, it's not funny!" she yelled up at him.

Ben had stepped forward, pulling her so that she was flush against his body. He looked down into eyes that he could now see were filled with rage.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I'd be happy to take a look at whatever it is you have in your hand and offer an explanation if I can."

"Oh, I'm sure you can. Let go of me," she told him, her voice considerably steadier.

He released her, stepped back inside and signaled for her to do the same. She eyed him, not suspiciously, but definitely warily. She was afraid to come into his house, even though she'd driven all the way over here. It was possible she hadn't thought she'd need to come inside. Questions could be asked from anywhere. But not with Ben.

He closed the door and when he turned back to her, caught her looking around. She would be interested in how he lived, but she'd never admit it. That would be like somehow admitting that she liked him or was interested in him, two things she'd tried valiantly to hide over the years.

"I found this on my door when I came home. I want you to explain it. Then I want you to stay away from me and away from my case," she said when she turned to him abruptly, the s.h.i.+eld of disinterest back in place.

Ben walked to her, taking the paper she'd thrust forward from her hand. He read it and cringed, first with a cold s.h.i.+ver that moved methodically through his body from head to toe in record time. And then with rage.

"Was there anyone around your house? Any cars you didn't recognize?"

"No," she insisted. "And I'm still waiting for you to tell me why I'm receiving this. It's your address and a picture of us."

"I can see that," he mused, then moved in, touching her elbow. "Let's sit down."

"I don't want to sit," she said, pulling her arm from his grasp.

"Well, I do." He actually needed to or he just might go out and try to find Vega himself. Instead, Ben walked through the living room into his den, across the deep cranberry colored carpet to the back bar that occupied the shortest wall.

He put the note down on the bar, gently, as if it might rip if he balled it up and pitched it into the trash like he wanted. No, he would keep his composure, that's what he always did. No matter what.

The first drink went down fast, two fingers of whiskey. Hot and potent, stinging his throat and warming his chest. The second, same type, same amount, slightly harder punch.

"It's Vega isn't it? He knows we're talking about him," she said walking into the room, her legs perfectly balanced on those heels that looked killer high.

"I don't like that he's turned his attention to you. I don't like it at all."

She waved a hand. "Then you should have thought about that before you suggested lunch in a very public place."

"He'd already s.h.i.+fted to you. The moment you walked into that courtroom, he decided to go after you."

"But he's not coming after me. I mean, a note on my door, tear gas in my window, all just scare tactics?" The questions were clearly bravado, because her voice shook.

Ben rubbed a hand down his face, moreso to break the contact of her intense, fearful gaze, than anything else. He took a deep breath because this was new territory he was about to venture into. New, but inevitable.

Leaving the comfort he'd found at the bar, he pulled out one of the chairs to the dining-room table he rarely used and sat down. "Come here," he told her.

She didn't move.

He wasn't surprised.

"Please, come here and I'll answer all your questions," he tried again, resisting the urge to snag her by the waist and pull her down onto his lap. From there he would hold her tight, so tight she might not be able to take a breath, but she would certainly feel him completely covering her. Sheltering her, protecting her, because that's exactly what he planned to do.

"I don't like being watched," was what she said and still did not move. "I don't like having to look over my shoulder and wonder where that a.s.shole might be."

Ben sat back in the chair, let his palms rest on his thighs. "You don't like being afraid."

She licked her lips. They'd probably been heavily glossed a few hours earlier. Now they were their natural tone, glistening slightly after the sway of her tongue over them.

"Fear is not an option," she replied and took a step closer.

Her hips swayed with her movement, a motion that had his p.e.n.i.s twitching.

"If people know what you fear, they can manipulate you with that knowledge." Her voice had lowered slightly, her approach continuing.

She was coming to him, enticing him along the way. And d.a.m.n, his hands itched to touch her.

"I will not be manipulated and I will not be scared away. I'm going to prosecute the h.e.l.l out of this case and I'm going to put Vega's coldhearted behind in jail."

There was only a slight elevation in her voice and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s jiggled as she stopped in front of him, those feisty pink shoes leading her right between his legs.

"I won't let him manipulate or scare you, Victoria. I can promise you that." Ben had to keep talking to keep from reaching forward, from touching the thighs that looked so full and so soft even beneath the denim.

She chuckled then and tossed her hair back. "I'm not just talking about Vega," she told him about a second or so before she leaned over and swiped her tongue across his bottom lip.

This wasn't what she came here for. Then again, maybe it was.

Victoria wasn't even going to deny that she'd been thinking about Ben all evening. Even though for a while she and Clinton had managed to keep the topic of conversation on anything but him and this case, Grace, in all her candid glory, had managed to circle right back to him. She thought they made a cute couple, thought Ben could relax Victoria a bit, thought she'd love his family once she let go of her misconceptions. And when Clinton had gone to the bathroom, she'd made a point to go into how s.e.xy he was, how his body screamed "great-in-bed."

After seeing that note and that picture of them looking so comfortable at lunch, she'd driven here without delay or doubt. She'd known the address on the note was his because Grace knew the realtor who'd shown him the house a year ago. The realtor was so happy to have made the huge sale to a Donovan she'd blabbed immediately. And as rumors are usually spread, Grace had raced to tell Victoria. As for Victoria, she didn't repeat the information, but she hadn't forgotten it either. Now she was practically straddling him in a chair in the middle of his dining room. It was unprecedented.

And when his tongue snaked out to touch hers lightly, it was like lightening streaking through the sky. She pressed forward hungrily, accepting the swift pressure of his mouth against hers, the needy exchange that had her b.r.e.a.s.t.s swelling, nipples hardening.

His hands went immediately to her waist, his palms slipping down to cup her bottom in a tight grip. She moaned into his mouth, heard the distinct groan of a man on the edge. When he tore his mouth away, nipping the skin along her chin, down to her neck with teeth and tongue, Victoria couldn't help but gasp loudly. One of his hands had moved in a northerly direction by then, slipping beneath the rim of her top, the pads of his fingers rubbing warmly over her skin. It had been far too long since she'd felt the deliciousness of arousal, the intense waves of pa.s.sion rippling through her body. And truth be told, she'd never felt either emotion quite like this.

"I'm going to make love to you all night," he said in a tone that had gone from its normal s.e.xy timbre to a deep guttural rasp that stroked every nerve ending his kisses had already exposed.

That's when she noticed his s.h.i.+rt was open, his chest exposed. Dark skin was smooth, cut into perfect pectorals and sculpted abs. Her hands went there, had no other choice really, fingers moving shakily over his skin.

"Yes," was her breathy response, because really there was no other possible reply.

This was what she wanted. This was the reason she'd driven here without a second thought. She'd come to him when she probably should have gone straight to the police. She'd come to him and that was all that mattered right now.

"Not here. Not like this," he said, pulling his mouth away from her.

When she opened her eyes, letting them focus again, she saw his eyes had darkened, his lips slightly parted as he struggled for breath the same way she did.

"Upstairs, in my bed," he whispered, his hand coming up to cup her face. "Is that okay with you?"

She nodded. "That's okay with me."

Backing off his lap, she stood and waited for him to join her. Her heart startled a bit when he took her hand. It was a simple enough action, and after the heavy duty kissing and groping they'd been doing probably seemed a little on the chaste side. And yet, a fluttering started in her chest, slowly slithering down to settle into her belly.

Ben led the way out of the dining room, back through the living room towards the stairs. Luckily she'd looked around earlier, saw the lavishly decorated bachelor pad that screamed like a page from GQ. For now her gaze couldn't be torn away from the man in front of her, the way his jeans cupped his bottom, his thighs. The confident strides he took and, oh yes, the soft grasp by which he held her hand.

The upstairs hallway walls were flanked with pictures. They pa.s.sed them and two partially opened doors, turning to walk through the third door on the left. A light was already on in this room, his bedroom. The king sized bed and plush dark brown carpet gave that fact away. Looking straight ahead she could see out to the Vegas night. Ben let her hand go then and walked across the room, pulling a string that drew custom blinds closed, casting a dimmer scene in the room. On his trek back he removed his s.h.i.+rt, tossing it so that it fell over the arm of a leather chair.

Victoria s.h.i.+fted, then let her hands grasp the hem of her s.h.i.+rt, about to pull it over her head.

"No," he said coming to stand in front of her quickly. "I'll do it. In here."

He had her hand again, this time walking her to a door across from his bed. After he touched a pad on the wall, recessed lighting showed his master bathroom, decorated in deep greens and soft browns. A sunken tub caught her attention, to be followed by the man that turned the k.n.o.bs to run water into same. When he returned to her again, it was to lift her s.h.i.+rt slowly over her head.

"I've dreamed of this day for far too long to let it go fast," he said.

When her s.h.i.+rt was lying on the marble counter top beneath the mirror and next to the sink, his fingers whispered over the line of her neck.