zinfandel for the table.
When the waitress was gone, I asked Lewis, “Do you know someone? Someone tough? In your business dealings, you must have a lawyer. If your lawyer isn’t appropriate, hopefully they’ll know someone who can help me out. I don’t know what kind of attorney would be good in this situation—divorce, civil?—but I do know that I need a bull.”
“I know a couple lawyers who’ll be perfect for the job. Sharp, tough. Bruce Barnes. Neil Gorman. Neil’s a shark.”
“Perfect,” I said, relieved. “You think you can put me in touch with him tomorrow? I need to get on this fast. I don’t even know how I’ll pay someone, but—”
“Don’t worry about that,” Lewis said. “You’re my fiancée. I’ll take care of you.”
Nodding, I didn’t meet Lewis’s eyes. I was aware that with each step I was taking toward resolving my situation with Tassie, I was owing more and more to Lewis. Not that he would ever expect me to repay him—at least not monetarily. And yet I felt I owed him, so much so that I couldn’t confess that I wasn’t altogether sure about this marriage thing. I would far prefer to continue being friends with him and see how things went, but I just didn’t know how to tell Lewis that.
“Vanessa?”
The sound of Lewis’s voice jolted me from my thoughts. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“It’s gonna be all right,” he said. “Trust me.”
“I hope so.” I gestured to the South Beach strip. “I can’t lose my home, Lewis. Not to Tassie Johnson.”
“You’re not going to.”
“What I don’t get about her is that she’s a mother. As a mother—one who’s living in a multimillion-dollar mansion—how can she be so cold and callous as to take away my home? She doesn’t have to like me, but where’s her concern for my daughter?”
“You know this is about Eli,” Lewis said. “This is Tassie’s way of hurting you for hurting her.”
“That’s the thing. I didn’t hurt her. She and Eli were married in name only by the time we got involved.”
“She still wants to make you pay.”
“Tell me about it,” I agreed. Which was exactly the reason I would do whatever it took to get the bitch off my back.
When I saw the waitress coming, I lifted the menu and perused it. “How do you feel about an order of calamari?” I asked. “Maybe that and some bruschetta?”
“Add an order of beef fajitas to that and I’ll be good to go.”
The waitress placed the wine and two glasses on the table. “Are you ready to order?”
The question was directed toward Lewis, as though I weren’t even at the table. I rolled my eyes. Some women.
“We’ll have an order of calamari and bruschetta to start, and after that, we’ll share a large order of beef fajitas.”
“All right.” The waitress collected the menus. I saw her gaze linger on Lewis even as he faced me once more.
I shook my head as she walked away. “Someone’s got eyes just for you,” I pointed out.
“Who?” Lewis asked.
I flashed him a mock-scowl. “Don’t pretend you didn’t notice how the waitress was drooling.”
Lewis dismissed the comment with a nonchalant shrug. Then he poured us both wine.
He raised his glass in toast. “To life without Tassie,” he said.
I clinked my glass against his. “Now I’ll drink to that.”
We both sipped our wine. As Lewis lowered his glass, he said, “You mentioned you had ideas about how to fight Tassie. What else were you thinking?”
“Right. Well, when Tassie’s lawyer told me she no longer wants me to buy out her share of the condo—that she wants to move in instead—I got pissed. It’s like you said, the bitch is just trying to mess with me. She refuses to accept that fact that I didn’t destroy her marriage. Hell, I knew nothing about her. She can say what she wants to the press, but she knows the truth.” For a moment, reliving the hell she had put me through, I seethed. Then I pulled myself out of my anger and continued. “I immediately called that reporter, the one from the Miami Herald I told you about?”
“Right.”
“I saw Tassie at Eli’s funeral. She seemed very cozy with a man by her side. I know she’s got some skeletons in her closet. I was hoping the reporter could help me dig them up.”
“And?”
I frowned. “And I haven’t heard from her yet. I called her again today and got her voice mail. I’m starting to think there’s nothing Cynthia can tell me. Well, at least nothing that she could find. I think it’s time I hire my own investigator.”
“Now you’re talking,” Lewis said. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”
“If I could get pictures of Tassie with someone else, establish some sort of proof that she was definitely involved with another man while Eli was in Miami, maybe I can use that evidence to get her to back down. She’s made a name for herself as the ‘victim’ in the media. I don’t think she’d want anyone to know that she was really crying in some other man’s arms.” I paused, remembering the hot stud beside Tassie at the funeral. I was certain he was her lover.
“And the way she didn’t let Eli see his kids,” I went on. “The way she threatened to cry child abuse if he didn’t do what she demanded…A person should be put up on charges for that kind of behavior, not rewarded with more material possessions.”
“Or get the shit beaten out of them,” Lewis offered. Then smiled.
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” I commented. If the law allowed it, maybe I’d ask for five minutes alone in a room with Tassie—and one of Eli’s favorite bats that he’d used when he played for the Braves. “I’ve thought about suing her for pain and suffering, but I don’t know. Although this is America. Anyone with seventy-five bucks can fill out the forms to sue someone at the courthouse. Of course, you need the money to keep the suit going—something she has and I don’t.”
“You don’t need to get into an ugly lawsuit situation. It’s too time-consuming. What you need is for Tassie to back down. Immediately. I know an investigator. He can dig up some dirt.”
“You do?”
“Baby, I’m a well-connected man.”
That I believed. I didn’t know the extent of Lewis’s contacts, but I did know that with him being a real estate investor and developer, he knew a lot of people. Six degrees of separation and all that, he would certainly know someone who knew someone who could provide the help I needed.
“Now,” Lewis said, his eyes brightening while his voice deepened, “let’s talk about us.”
I glanced away, suddenly uncomfortable. With Lewis, it would always come back to “us,” I realized. We’d had some serious sexual chemistry that sizzled like eggs in a hot skillet.
“How late can you stay out?” Lewis asked me, the deep timbre of his voice making it clear exactly what was on his mind.
But still I asked, “Why?”
He reached for my hand. Ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “I was thinking…maybe we could go to my place for a few hours. Or, I can go up to yours.”
I started to ease my hand out from under Lewis’s, but he tightened his fingers, keeping my hand in place. “Lewis…”
“Would it be so wrong?” he asked me.
“I didn’t say it was