now about whether there was a relative, a grandfather, somewhere in the world. The only thing she didn’t tell him about was C-C. They sat for a long time in silence, listening to the waves and enjoying the smell of the fresh, salt air.
“Have you ever been in love, Anna?” he asked her as he nuzzled her ear.
The question took her by surprise. She pulled back slightly and looked at him.
“Yes…maybe…I don’t know. What is real love, anyway? I write about it all the time. I write passionate love scenes in my books. But do I really know what love is? I don’t know.”
“If I read one of your books, would I get a clue as to how to make passionate love to you?”
She laughed. “Wait. You mean, like reading one of your law textbooks?”
“Sorta…” His eyes twinkled in the moonlight as he played with her hair. He kissed her neck.
“No, my books are all fiction.” She put her hand on his chest. “You’ll have to figure it out on your own. You’re the smart attorney.”
“Is that a summons to court?”
She couldn’t speak, but she nodded in spite of herself. Her heart was beating too fast.
“Well then, I’ll have to put together a creative motion for this case.” He moved his tongue down her neck and smothered his face between her breasts. His right hand slid under her sweater around her ribs, and his left hand slipped under the drawstring waistband of her warm-up pants, caressing her buttocks as he pulled her in close to him.
She felt weak. “Is this how you win cases?” she whispered.
CHAPTER 13
You could be the woman in the painting with this on. I’d like to be the man walking at your side. M.
A world away from Paris, Anna stood on her doorstep, staring at the card that had arrived with a special delivery package from one of those glamorous shops on Rodeo Drive. Neatly folded inside the signature tissue paper was a soft, cashmere sweater in her favorite color—persimmon.
The gift was a little too personal, a bit too extravagant. It made her uncomfortable. Yet, it was sensual. She nestled her nose in the softness of the cashmere. She went into the bedroom and pulled the sweater on over her head. It had a classic V-neck and small ribbing. It was a good color for her, and it fit her perfectly. She looked at herself in the mirror. She had a nice figure. Her skin was light olive and healthy looking. Her long, dark hair was shiny. The image in the mirror stared back at her. What could you have been thinking? A thirty-five-year-old woman? That you could just waltz back into C-C’s life after all this time and take up where you had left off a decade before? You are insane. You should fall in love with Mark. Marry him. Have a family. Why not?
She picked up the phone and dialed Mark’s cell phone. His voice message said he was with a client and to leave a message.
“Hi Mark. It’s Anna. The sweater arrived. It’s just…just beautiful. I’m not sure I deserve all this attention. Stop over for a glass of wine when you get home later so I can thank you in person.”
He called back and left a message an hour later when she was out walking Paris. “Hi. It’s Mark. How about we meet somewhere? I’m tied up at the office until the wee hours—new client and all that. But I would like to see you. How about a margarita at Las Brisas at say sevenish? Hasta luego .”
It was a cool November evening. Anna walked into the popular Mexican restaurant in Laguna Beach. She wore her new sweater with black pants, a melon wool scarf, and high-heeled black leather boots. The colors offset her long, dark hair and stunningly beautiful eyes.
Mark was waiting in the cantina. Showing his obvious admiration, he took her hand and brushed her on the cheek with his lips as he guided her to a table.
“Hi, gorgeous,” he whispered in her ear.
Anna gazed at him. Dressed in a sleek, taupe suit with a chestnut beige silk tee that matched his hair, he looked to-die-for gorgeous himself. She squeezed his
“Have you ever been in love, Anna?” he asked her as he nuzzled her ear.
The question took her by surprise. She pulled back slightly and looked at him.
“Yes…maybe…I don’t know. What is real love, anyway? I write about it all the time. I write passionate love scenes in my books. But do I really know what love is? I don’t know.”
“If I read one of your books, would I get a clue as to how to make passionate love to you?”
She laughed. “Wait. You mean, like reading one of your law textbooks?”
“Sorta…” His eyes twinkled in the moonlight as he played with her hair. He kissed her neck.
“No, my books are all fiction.” She put her hand on his chest. “You’ll have to figure it out on your own. You’re the smart attorney.”
“Is that a summons to court?”
She couldn’t speak, but she nodded in spite of herself. Her heart was beating too fast.
“Well then, I’ll have to put together a creative motion for this case.” He moved his tongue down her neck and smothered his face between her breasts. His right hand slid under her sweater around her ribs, and his left hand slipped under the drawstring waistband of her warm-up pants, caressing her buttocks as he pulled her in close to him.
She felt weak. “Is this how you win cases?” she whispered.
CHAPTER 13
You could be the woman in the painting with this on. I’d like to be the man walking at your side. M.
A world away from Paris, Anna stood on her doorstep, staring at the card that had arrived with a special delivery package from one of those glamorous shops on Rodeo Drive. Neatly folded inside the signature tissue paper was a soft, cashmere sweater in her favorite color—persimmon.
The gift was a little too personal, a bit too extravagant. It made her uncomfortable. Yet, it was sensual. She nestled her nose in the softness of the cashmere. She went into the bedroom and pulled the sweater on over her head. It had a classic V-neck and small ribbing. It was a good color for her, and it fit her perfectly. She looked at herself in the mirror. She had a nice figure. Her skin was light olive and healthy looking. Her long, dark hair was shiny. The image in the mirror stared back at her. What could you have been thinking? A thirty-five-year-old woman? That you could just waltz back into C-C’s life after all this time and take up where you had left off a decade before? You are insane. You should fall in love with Mark. Marry him. Have a family. Why not?
She picked up the phone and dialed Mark’s cell phone. His voice message said he was with a client and to leave a message.
“Hi Mark. It’s Anna. The sweater arrived. It’s just…just beautiful. I’m not sure I deserve all this attention. Stop over for a glass of wine when you get home later so I can thank you in person.”
He called back and left a message an hour later when she was out walking Paris. “Hi. It’s Mark. How about we meet somewhere? I’m tied up at the office until the wee hours—new client and all that. But I would like to see you. How about a margarita at Las Brisas at say sevenish? Hasta luego .”
It was a cool November evening. Anna walked into the popular Mexican restaurant in Laguna Beach. She wore her new sweater with black pants, a melon wool scarf, and high-heeled black leather boots. The colors offset her long, dark hair and stunningly beautiful eyes.
Mark was waiting in the cantina. Showing his obvious admiration, he took her hand and brushed her on the cheek with his lips as he guided her to a table.
“Hi, gorgeous,” he whispered in her ear.
Anna gazed at him. Dressed in a sleek, taupe suit with a chestnut beige silk tee that matched his hair, he looked to-die-for gorgeous himself. She squeezed his
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