Lawyer Up (13 page)

THE OLD CHURCH CEMETERY

I waited while Hawk shut off the lights and locked the door. No fancy alarm system needed in this small town. I noticed he had taken off his suit jacket and tie and left them in the office. He looked less formidable with his shirt unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up, but still totally gorgeous, the white cotton contrasting with his dark, reddish-brown skin. I now had confirmation that this was not a tan but his natural Native American coloring, and I wanted to see more of his bare skin. Much more. The idea made me almost laugh out loud, wondering what Hawk would think if he could hear my racy thoughts.

As I headed toward my car, Hawk said, “The bar's right across the street. We can walk there.” With his hand, he indicated the only joint with lights on.

Seeing my car made me remember my second duty. I turned toward him and said, “I almost forgot. I planned to stop by the cemetery to check on my aunt's grave. I'll understand if you want to go ahead, but I need to do this while there's still light outside.” I waited, fingers crossed behind my back.

“No, I don't mind. Do you want me to wait here or would you like some company?”

“Company would be great. She's buried in the church cemetery only a few blocks away, if you'd like to walk.” It was a lovely night. The heat had dissipated as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the empty street.

“Sure.” He fell in step beside me and we headed down the sidewalk toward the old church, which probably dated back to the settling of Willow Pond.

“Tell me about your aunt,” he inquired. “I grew up around here but didn't really know her. By the time I was a teenager, I think she stayed pretty much at the farm. Then I left for college and never really came back.”

“Funny. I spent a couple summers here as a child, getting to know her, but I don't remember you. Although, really, it was only for a month or so, and we stayed out at the farm most of the time, working it.”

“Well, I'm a little older than you, so…”

I laughed. “Yeah, I doubt we would have run in the same circles. I was a skinny tomboy, big-time, and you were probably the star football player.” I looked at him for confirmation, and he shrugged modestly.

“Actually, I spent about a month every summer on the Omaha reservation with my mom's extended family, so that's probably why our paths never crossed.”

We had come to the church, and Hawk opened the creaky, wrought iron gate to the cemetery. I walked through and looked around. Like Auntie's homestead, this place was steeped in history. Many of the gravestones were completely worn away, the engravings lost forever, but some made of sturdier stone showed names and dates as far back as the 1880s. I headed to the very back, the newer section, wanting to check that the marker had been properly placed.

As we approached her grave, Hawk held back a little. “Would you like some time alone?”

“Thank you. That would be nice.”

I walked up to the grave and saw that the headstone of morning-rose granite looked as pretty as it had on the company's website. It read, “Elizabeth Jensen, 1916–2014. A loving daughter, caring sister, and wonderful aunt.” Perfect!

Then I looked down. The grass was rangier and wilder than in big-city cemeteries, but it was mowed and neat around the graves. Suddenly I remembered that I had planned to bring some flowers or even plant a small flowering bush for decoration.

“Darn! I completely forgot,” I muttered.

“What? Is everything okay?” Hawk moved closer at my outburst.

“It's fine,” I reassured him. “I meant to bring something to plant, but it's fine. Everything else looks very nice.”

Hawk nodded and stepped back again as I bowed my head slightly. Silently, I wished Auntie well and briefly told her about my life. Then I raised my head to look around again. The cemetery was on the edge of town, and the prairie stretched out as far as the eye could see. This was the perfect place for her, and I felt at peace knowing that.

“Good-bye, Auntie,” I murmured quietly before I turned and headed back toward Hawk.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yes, I am.” And I was. Auntie had lived a long and happy life, and I had done my duty by her. I felt a sense of completion at seeing the marker set in the ground.

“She lived a long and happy life,” I repeated aloud as we passed through the old gate. I waited while he shut it carefully. Then we started back toward the heart of town.

“I was named after her,” I told him. “Do you know that she never married, never even ventured beyond this town?”

“Really?” Hawk looked interested, so I continued.

“She lived her entire life on that homestead. Was the last of the original Jensens in these parts. She was my great-aunt, and I tried to visit as much as possible since Lizzie didn't have any other family left.”

“I know. Dad told me about your annual visits. He was impressed that a busy young woman would care enough to come to the wilds of Nebraska to spend time with an aunt she hardly knew.”

“I did know her pretty well, actually, but you're right. It was a trek. I wish I could have spent more time here with Aunt Lizzie in the end. I always felt a special connection to her. She led a quiet but good life, and I still marvel at the changes she witnessed in her lifetime. She grew up driving a horse and buggy, even managing a team pulling a plow, but later learned to drive a car. In her eighties, she learned to send email!”

“Wow. And she never traveled outside of Nebraska?”

“Never even left Nuckolls County. Her grandparents acquired the land under the Homestead Act of 1862, and family members have lived here ever since.”

“You mean the act that dislodged my ancestors?”

I grimaced, and he quickly added, “I was just kidding. Really. Being half-white, I've grappled with that paradox my entire life. Proud to be an American, proud to be Omaha, and not sure whether I should celebrate Columbus Day or protest it.”

Hawk smiled and patted my shoulder.

That was all it took. Just that one touch, and I was sucked back into that sensation of intimate connection. His hand barely rested a moment, but the impression of his touch lingered, clearing my mind of everything but him.

We fell into a charged silence as we finished the brief stroll back to the center of town. It was dark now, but the lights from the honky-tonk spilled onto the quiet street as we moved diagonally across Main Street to the only place in Willow Pond that served dinner.

I wondered what the night would bring. This man was unlike any I had met before, an intensely masculine combination of virile and suave. Thinking back to how Hawk had studied me so intensely earlier in the day, I felt trepidation fluttering at the edges of my anticipation. Like prey, I felt skittish and hyperaware of the man next to me.

A RUN-DOWN HONKY-TONK BAR AND GRILL

Hawk held the door for me and we entered. Inside the place was surprisingly packed—unexpected for this sleepy little town, but it was Friday night after all. Loud country music was playing, and through the haze of smoke and dim lighting, I could see some guys gathered around a pool table in the back. It seemed almost liked a party, and I was swept up in the lively, infectious atmosphere. How could I not be when such a gorgeous man was smiling down at me with such animated interest?

We managed to find two spots squeezed together at the crowded bar, and I felt the now-familiar electricity zing up my leg when our thighs bumped as we sat down. By the way he hesitated when we touched, I guessed he felt it too.

“Don't expect any fancy martinis or fine wine, but you can get your basic well drinks…and about every beer known to man,” Hawk said, laughing.

The din was so loud that we needed to lean close to talk—our heads almost touching—and I shivered at the feel of his breath on my ear. We ordered burgers, and he urged me to try an unusual cocktail, the only drink they excelled in, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. When the drinks arrived, we clinked glasses.

“To new friends,” I said and took a big gulp. “Wow! This is sweet…really,
really
sweet.”

“It's called a Kool-Aid Caddy in honor of Hastings, where Kool-Aid was invented.”

“Okay then, in honor of Hastings…bottoms up.” I tilted the glass and started gulping the cocktail down. I was thirstier than I realized after the afternoon in the sun. Drinking too fast, I choked.

“Careful,” Hawk cautioned. As I coughed and spluttered, he patted my lower back with his warm hand. “Only small sips, and let them trickle slowly down your throat. Then you can truly appreciate the nectar of the gods…of Nebraska.” He laughed.

“Ah, you're no fun,” I flirted boldly. “How are you going to take advantage of me if you don't get me drunk? And, anyway, I don't taste any alcohol in this.”

“All that sugar masks the vodka. If you drink it too fast on an empty stomach, you'll be drunk as a skunk.”

Then he paused and tilted his head to stare at me, seeming to reconsider my words. Slowly, Hawk broke into a wicked grin and stopped patting me. Instead, he started making slow, swirling caresses on my lower back that were more drugging than the alcohol.

Leaning in, he whispered, “Would you
like
me to take advantage of you?” His husky voice was another caress. “We've just met, but I'm finding it hard to keep my hands off you.”

I laughed, pleased to know Hawk was as interested in me as I was in him. I leaned into his shoulder, preparing what I hoped would be a smart, seductive comeback.

Just then, some of his old high school buddies interrupted us, breaking the mood. Judging by the smiles and backslaps, they were good friends before Hawk left for college and a law career in the big city. They talked for a few minutes and wished each other well before the guys departed. I appreciated this brief chance to see another side of Hawk—a hometown boy who would always be welcomed back. It made him seem less of a stranger. He was someone's friend and hopefully would be mine too.

When the meal arrived, we ordered a second round of drinks. As we ate, we learned about each other: both single, both devoted to our careers, both living in big cities. One difference became obvious, although it wasn't expressly stated—he made a lot of money and I didn't. I was having a wonderful time with Hawk and grateful to let the ennui flow out of me as the alcohol flowed in, but where was this going?
Is
this
just
a
casual
dinner
or
what?
I questioned silently.

Whatever it was, Hawk's earlier comment was accurate. He couldn't seem to keep his hands off me, touching my shoulder, caressing my lower back, even trailing his finger along the line of my jaw. I found myself leaning into his touch and “accidentally” pressing my thigh against his. It would have been perfect except that I knew we lived too far apart for this to turn into a real relationship, Still, flirting with such a gorgeous guy was great fun.

As our plates were cleared, I asked the bartender for a glass of water and wondered what would happen next. Would Hawk make a play for me—try to seduce me? I wasn't ready to say good-bye to him, but I wasn't sure I was ready for sex with a stranger either. Then from behind me, I heard a woman's happy screech.

“
Oh
my
God!
Lucky Hawk! How are you? It's so good to see you!”

I looked over my shoulder to find a pretty woman gleefully grabbing on to Hawk. She was dressed to attract in high heels, skintight jeans, lots of cleavage—the woman was stacked!—too much makeup, and gaudy jewelry. Altogether, the look read loose and available. I tried not to let it bother me that Hawk was broadly smiling, hugging her back, and muttering about old times.

I turned my back to her, ostensibly to thank the bartender for the water but really to decide how to extricate myself from the evening without losing face. I had thought Hawk was interested in me, but I was no match for a sexy woman like her. And, it didn't seem likely that this virile man would take a chance on me when a sure bet was now available.

“Lucky, sweetie. Come dance with me!” the interloper purred, gently tugging on his arm. “It'll be just like old times.”

All of a sudden, some part of me rebelled at giving up that easily. I turned to face the woman and let her know there was competition, even if I didn't expect to win.

Hawk said, “Wynona, I'd like you to meet Liza Jensen. We were just finishing dinner.”

“Oh!” She giggled, eyeing me with some scorn. “I didn't see you there.” Wynona laughed again—it seemed to be directed at me—before turning her attention back to Lucky Hawk.

I felt ugly and plain. My clothes were the antithesis of feminine—the exact opposite of sexy. I knew my figure couldn't compete either.

Before I could respond, Wynona stepped closer and slid her hand playfully up Hawk's arm. “I'm sure your business client won't mind you having a
little
fun. She looks ready to leave anyway.”

“The thing is, Wynona, I was already having fun with Ms. Jensen. And she's not my client. Our business is finished…at least our
work
business,” Hawk said, throwing me a blistering look.

He
wants
me!

The simmering desire I had felt all evening thrummed larger, making me feel more attractive and sexy.

He
wants
me!

But was I the kind of woman who could satisfy a man who literally dripped sex appeal? Not previously, surely. Would I even have the courage to put it all out there, to dive headlong into the pursuit of pure pleasure with this man? That shadowy cloak felt heavier than usual.

“Humph,” Wynona sniffed, before dropping her voice to a whisper as I strained to overhear. “I remember what you like in bed, Lucky. Big-city girls don't know the first thing about pleasing a guy. Once you figure that out, you know where to find me—if I'm still available, that is.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then walked away.

“Old girlfriend?” I asked, trying to sound sardonic rather than jealous.

“Yeah, uhhh…we go way back, but that was a long time ago. Sorry about that.”

I told Hawk it was nothing, but in truth I needed a moment to sort out the roiling mixture of desire, jealousy, and trepidation coursing through me—all this over a man I had just met. Excusing myself to the ladies' room, I left him sitting there…after double-checking that Wynona was otherwise occupied.

Once there, I studied myself in the bathroom mirror.
Yuck!
My look was more undertaker than hot babe. Not a problem if all I wanted was to go to my hotel alone. Staring at my reflection, I tried to decide what I really wanted. There was definitely something sizzling between us. I could feel it with as much certainty as if it were spelled out in one of Hawk's legal documents. Even so, sex with a stranger? Was I
really
thinking of doing that? It gave me pause. Words from Auntie's will, which we'd reviewed again today while closing her affairs, came to mind. Was I really of “sound mind and body” if I was actually contemplating a one-night stand, something I'd never done before, not even in college?

But I couldn't just walk away. I hadn't felt this alive, this vibrant, in a very long time. Still looking at myself in the mirror, I realized that I did know what I wanted—and he was sitting out there waiting for me. The heaviness was back, acutely making its presence known, wanting to confine me to normalcy, but I threw it off. Then, squaring my shoulders, I made the bold decision—for me anyway—to pursue a one-night stand with a man I hardly knew.

I took several calming breaths. I felt lighter, energized.

Now how to change from funeral director to femme fatale, I wondered. I took off the shapeless jacket, rolled up my sleeves, and unbuttoned my cream-colored silk blouse until just a hint of my bra showed, thankful that I wore pretty, pale pink lingerie trimmed with lace. I couldn't do anything about the ugly skirt and flats, but I fluffed my hair and rummaged in my purse. Ahhh, there it was—my favorite lipstick. Hawk would know that I'd performed an impromptu makeover, but I didn't mind him knowing I'd done this for him. Adding a bright layer of scarlet, I pouted in the mirror. My lush lips now looked delectably kissable.

When I returned to Lucky Hawk, he smiled appreciatively at me before standing up. I could see two shot glasses on the bar, and he said, “I'd like to dance with you, but first let's celebrate our new friendship with a toast.”

I nodded in agreement, and he handed me a shot glass. Raising the other, Hawk said, “In the words of my Omaha ancestors: ‘Ask questions from your heart, and you will be answered from the heart.'” He tilted his glass and drank it all in one gulp.

I wondered at the proverb's meaning but liked the sense of loving honesty. Following his example, I put the glass to my lips and downed it all, feeling the burning tequila trail hotly down my throat.

After giving me a naughty grin, he said, “If that isn't enough to allow me to…as you said…‘take advantage of you,' I've got some wine back at the office.”

“I think you're doing fairly well in that department already,” I said, laughing and reaching for my purse. “We should settle up first.”

Hawk stopped my hand. “It's taken care of. Let's dance.”

I thought about arguing to pay my share, but what was the point? His tone was quite final on the matter. Then he led me to the small dance floor. He pulled me close, and we swayed to the romantic beat of the music. His hand once again made slow circles on my lower back, and the delicate sensation flooded me with warmth. Our bodies were pressed together, and I could feel he was hard against my belly. I wanted it lower. Ached to feel his bulge where it belonged. I raised my eyes to his and saw that he was staring at my mouth.

“You have the most deliciously luscious lips I've ever seen,” he said. “I've wanted to kiss them since the moment I saw you this afternoon.”

Then he bent his head and kissed me while we continued to move slowly in place, swaying to the twangy beat of the country music. His tongue danced in and out of my open mouth, and he tasted of spicy tequila. I wanted to taste his skin, to lick that perfect dark chest I had stared at all through dinner. Lick him at the juncture of his unbuttoned collar. Hawk beat me to it, lowering his mouth to suckle my neck just below my jawline. I moaned quietly at the feel of his firm lips pressed gently at that tender spot.

Then he was back kissing my mouth, and I leaned into him, pressing my yearning lips harder against his. Urging myself to grasp this chance at wildness, I tangled my tongue with his, teasing and retreating, while the honky-tonk beat moved our bodies with its lazy, sensual rhythm. It felt perfect, but all too soon he pulled back. I couldn't help leaning into him, following his mouth with mine. I needed more!

“Look,” he groaned. “I could beat around the bush. I could invite you to the office for a glass of wine or I could make some other excuse to get you alone, but we're both adults and that's not how I operate. I want to be direct and to the point with you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” I breathed, a sensual haze making talking increasingly difficult.

“I want to take you back to my office, strip you naked, and make love to you.”

He waited patiently for my reply, staring into my eyes and seeming to will me to say what he wanted to hear. I already knew that Hawk was a good lawyer. His stories this evening had told me he was used to getting his way through carefully elucidated language. I learned now that he was also a consummate closer. Whispering huskily, he added, “The couch will do for starters. I'll kiss you senseless there. The chairs might be fun too. But bending you over the top of the desk…that's where I want to fuck you.”

The haze burst into a blaze of heat, and I sensed his words right down to my tingling core. Nothing else mattered now—I needed to screw this man. Grabbing my purse, I managed a single nod of acquiescence.

Without another word, Hawk took my hand, turned, and led me out of the bar. It was all I could do not to run across the street. The idea of having sex with him right there in his law office was wickedly exciting. Suddenly that old practice with its large, ancient furnishings was the sexiest place on earth. We both walked briskly, silently, not saying a word as he fished the keys out of his pocket. Once there, he quickly unlocked the door. I was finally about to be fucked, and I laughed in delighted anticipation.