Page 30

M ama Yang turned out to be Maria Garcia, a beauty in her mid-forties who was rounded in a Forties movie star kind of way. I glanced down at my unrounded self and almost sighed again but tried for a teensy bit of self pep talk. I'd been told once that I looked kind of like "Nicole Kidman on a bad day," and she does okay, right? Plus, some time in all this Florida sun, and I'd be tanned and gorgeous in no time.

Or, with my Irish skin, more like sunburnt, leathery, and wrinkled, but let's try to stay positive.

"Mama, this is December Vaughn, one of my oldest friends. December, Maria Garcia." Introductions over, Max wandered off to the bar, hopefully to find giant margaritas.

Maria smiled at me. "You don't look very old to me. So how is the law business going? Sued anybody interesting lately?"

I grinned. "No, but the week is young. How did you know I was a lawyer?"

She took my arm and led me over to the bar. "Oh, everybody knows everything in this town. It's a hotbed of gossip and rumor—most of it is totally untrue. And please call me Maria. Mama is Max's idea of a joke."

She introduced me to Catherine Chant, the bartender, who was in her mid-twenties and one of those bubbly people who make you want to smile a lot, once you got over the tattoos that covered both of her arms from wrist to shoulder. She didn't seem like a snake and dragons person, but that just goes to show you that you never can tell about a bartender.

"Here you go, love. One of my Stress Relief Specials. A triple-shot cactus margarita. You'd better get some food with that. I've had men twice your size end up on their butts from my SRS margaritas. A skinny little thing like you will be flat out on the floor unless you eat a burrito to soak up some tequila."

I hefted my giant drink and smiled at the idea of a five-foot tall bartender calling me a "little thing." "Thanks. I promise. I think I'll go find Max."

I nodded to Vicki and Catherine and wandered off to look for Max. The restaurant was still in conversion mode; the strings of chili peppers shared space with the Chinese dragon kites. A beautiful Asian doll in a glass case on the bar near the cash register cast a flirty glance at the miniature bullfighter propped against it.

"It's a melding of cultures," said a voice very near my ear. I sucked in a breath, both because I hadn't heard anybody walk up next to me, and because the voice itself was just a suck-in-your-breath kind of voice. A husky, low tone that made me think of silk sheets and body lotion.

Of course, considering my celibate lifestyle lately, most things made me think of silk sheets and body lotion. Maybe I just needed to get laid.

I turned to face Mr. Sexy Voice and barely managed not to suck in another breath. The man was so hot he needed a warning label. From the black, tousled hair that was just a little too long, to the dark-chocolate eyes, to the long, lean body that had muscles in all the right places, everything about him shouted "Bad Boy Alert." My thigh muscles started twitching.

He smiled down at me—one of those slow, dangerous smiles that every mother warns her daughter about. Panties by the dozen fall off female bodies from smiles like that. I was a tough trial lawyer, though, and not easily charmed. "So, do you practice that smile?" I asked, tilting my head and giving him my best "you don't fool me" appraising stare.

He laughed, and something down low in my body clenched. My own traitorous panties were trying to disappear, too. Damn, he has a great laugh, too.

"Does it look practiced? Maybe I should practice, if that's the reaction I get. Wanna help?"

Luckily for my pathetic self-control, Max showed up just then. She gave Jake a cool look and stepped between us. "Hey, Jake. I see you've met December. Big surprise. Still on your quest to get naked with every beautiful woman in town? I saw Gina, by the way."

Jake smiled again, but his eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Max. And, no, we hadn't met. Jake Brody," he said, extending his hand to me.

I glanced at Max, curious about her flat-eyed stare, but took Brody's hand. It was a warm, firm handshake from a man who actually knew how to shake a woman's hand. I wonder what else he knows how to do with his hands?

Stop it.

"December Vaughn. Pleasure. I'm?—"

"Fine, you've met. Now, let's go," Max said, grabbing my arm and practically dragging me off. I looked back at Jake, and he was staring after me, lips still quirked up in a smile.

I yanked my arm out of Max's grip, but kept walking with him. "What the hell was that all about?" I hissed. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not fifteen any more and don't need you to be my big sister."

Max threaded her way through a few tables to one with a drink and a bowl of nachos on it and dropped into a chair. "You may not be fifteen, but you still need me if the first man you hit on is the infamous Jake Brody," she said grimly.

I slid into the chair and took a gulp of my margarita. "What's so bad about him? I mean, other than the obvious 'I'm big, bad, and dangerous' thing."

"More dangerous than you know. The man was a Navy SEAL, and now he runs the top private investigation firm in town. He has a rep for getting the job done, no matter the little details like legality."

I couldn't help it. My gaze cut to the bar, but Jake was gone. "What does that mean? Nobody can use him in court if his methods aren't above board."

Max laughed. "They always are, if he's going to testify. But not all of his clients are law firms, if you get my drift."

I scooped up some more of the truly kick-ass salsa on what had to be a homemade chip and stuffed it into my mouth. "That is great salsa. Can we order some food now, before this margarita knocks me out? I'm not interested in Jake Brody, or any other man, for that matter, if it makes you feel any better. Recently divorced, remember? Not dating for at least five years."

My various body parts started shouting in protest at this, but I ignored them. Abstinence sharpens the mind, right?

Max wasn't buying it, either. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter, D. I saw that look on your face. That was the Bobby Denaris look."

"Hey, Bobby Denaris was hot! Just because he only dated cheerleaders didn't mean I couldn't look. And can we quit rehashing high school, for God's sake? That was fifteen years ago!"

Max snapped her menu shut as the server approached, order pad out. "Patterns, D. We set our patterns at a young age. I'm just saying, as a friend, stay away from Jake Brody. The ones who make you rethink your policy on public sex are trouble."

"Why do I feel we're not talking about me and Brody anymore? When are you going to tell me what happened with Ryan? And hello—public sex? Euww ."

She wouldn't meet my eye. "He was trouble, too. Another Brody. And I was a damn fool."

"Want me to beat him up for you?"

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Like you said, it's not high school anymore."

We sat there, both depressed. I grabbed my margarita, took a deep breath, and drained it, then held up my empty glass. "Next!"

Max grinned at me and drained her glass, too. "Screw all this depressing stuff. Let's get eat-the-worm drunk on tequila and see if we can show these rednecks something on the dance floor."

My dancing is even worse than my singing, and my singing caused my music teacher in fifth grade to take early retirement. But what the heck. Another Stress Relief Special, and I'd be doing my MTV-wannabe on the dance floor .

W e heard it before we saw it, which wasn't saying much, because I was seeing everything blurry by that point.

"You keep away from my man, you low-rent 'ho!" The shriek drilled through my fuzzy brain.

The crowd dancing around Max and me parted, and people rushed out of the way, giving me a pretty clear view of four women facing off. Wait, two. Two blurry women facing off. Stupid cactus margaritas had me seeing double.

One was nearly as round as she was tall, with bleached blond hair teased up in a hairdo that was trapped in the eighties. The other looked like a mean version of Angelina Jolie, all hair and huge dark eyes. They were both seriously pissed off, and the Angie one had a knife.

Shit .

The blonde started screaming. "I didn't go near your man, you psycho bitch. I don't even know who the hell your man is!"

The brunette dropped into a crouch and did a "come and get me" gesture with the knife. She'd watched way too many movies, or else she knew what she was doing, and Blondie was in trouble. Either way, I felt like I should do something. I started forward, and Max grabbed me by the sleeve. "What the hell are you doing? You're not a cop. You're going to get yourself stabbed."

I looked down at her with all the dignity I could muster. "I'm an ossifer of the court. I mean, an officer of the court. It's my sworn duty to uphold the lawn. Er, the law ." Okay, it wasn't a lot of dignity, but it's all I had at the moment.

I feinted sideways and then twisted out from her grasp and slipped in between two guys who were placing bets on the fight. By the time I got to them, the brunette was questioning the species of the blonde's parents in a very creative way.

I held my hands up and tried to be the voice of reason. "Now, ladies, I'm sure you can work this out?—"

The blonde responded to reason by launching herself at the brunette, right through me. I tried to jump out of the way. Too late. She slammed right into my chest and knocked me on my ass. As I lay there on the ground, trying to catch my breath, I wondered if this reaction to my attempt to be the voice of reason meant I'd suck as a judge.

Then Blondie jumped up, stepping on my arm, and screamed at Knife Girl. "You bitch. I am so sick of your psycho crap. Are you the one who slashed my tires and wrote slut on my car? I'll kill you!"

I yelled and yanked my arm out from under her foot, which toppled her, and she went down again, this time taking Knife Girl with her. They both landed on me, slamming me back down to the floor. I couldn't see the knife, but Blondie started shrieking loud enough to wake a federal judge, so I figured she got stuck.

This wasn't going how I'd planned.