Risking Ruin Read online

  He stepped back from her and ran his blue eyes admiringly over her body. Marisa shivered. She had never been examined like this, with so much desire, in such a way. She stood stalk still next to her dining room table, sunlight streaming through the large windows and their breakfasts abandoned. She lavished in his singular attention. Heat filled her body and she became hyper-attuned to what precise part of her body he was appreciating. He began to circle her slowly, keeping his eyes affixed to her. Marisa remained motionless, wanting to move and touch him but also not wanting the excitement that was building from the anticipation to end.

  He unknotted his navy silk tie and draped it around her neck. He neatly laid his suit jacket across the back of the chair where Marisa had sat and continued to circle her, taking in every inch of body with his eyes. She kept her eyes on the abandoned breakfast, not wanting to break the spell. She heard him bend to remove his black wingtips. She heard his cufflinks drop softly one at a time onto the red and gold Persian rug. His belt followed, but he never stopped his circling. She felt like his prey and she knew he was hungry. Starving to death in fact. His breathing became labored, and his pace slowed but did not still. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his dress shirt fall to the floor. On his next pass in her line of sight, her breath hitched. A fitted white undershirt stretched across his muscular frame and his suit pants were tented. Marisa’s chest tightened with longing and she tried to keep herself under control by exhaling slowly. She heard Trip quietly chuckle, but he didn’t utter a word and only continued his path.

  He stopped behind her and pressed himself into her back. His craving for her radiated from him. He touched her wrist and ran his fingers over the lapis bracelet. “You are beautiful, Marisa,” he whispered and blew on her ear. A shiver ran down Marisa’s spine and her skin turned to gooseflesh. He placed his strong hands on her shoulders and turned her towards him. He slid his hands along her body and up her neck, cradling her face between his hands. His blue eyes bore into hers, but he did not kiss her lips. He bent over and kissed the hollow of her throat and slid his hands down to capture hers. Trip trailed kisses slowly down her midline, pausing at her navel to look up at her face before continuing his descent.

  As his lips grazed the tops of her thin lace panties, his hands moved to cup Marisa’s bottom, forcing her hips closer to him. Using his lips, tongue, and teeth he gently peeled her panties down, dragging them off her bottom. Marisa began to shake. She’d never been tempted and teased this much before. The desire for his touch, for the release it would bring, was overwhelming. She panted and thought her legs were about to give way. She leaned back and planted a flat hand on the top of the table. Trip let go of the panties and they dropped to her shoes. Oh dear God, I’m going to come right now.

  Trip knelt in front of her. He lifted Marisa up by her bottom and swung her left leg over his shoulder before returning her to stand on her right foot. He dove into her with his mouth. No longer teasing, but with unstoppable greediness and need. Marisa’s body lit up and she let out a deep moan of pleasure. The world began to go black. The only things that existed in the universe were the Trip’s fevered attentions and her thoughts of not collapsing in a heap. Finally, she could hold herself up no longer. She was completely disoriented.

  She called his name. He withdrew from her and looked up at her face searching for answers. “Is this okay?,” he asked in a voice full of concern. Marisa had few words, but managed to nod.

  “I’m going to fall. I need to get down.”

  Trip scooted out from between her legs, and Marisa sank to the floor. She paused for a second, taking a deep breath before wrenching the panties and stilettos off her feet. Their eyes caught. Marisa was amazed by the man in front of her, the man who clearly adored her with his entire being.

  “Are you okay?,” he asked, brushing a lock of hair from her face and tucking it behind an ear.

  At that gentle caress, Marisa lost all sense. She plowed her face into his, kissing him with such force that he rolled on to his back. Marisa reached down and yanked his undershirt over his head. She ran her hands, followed by her tongue, all over his chest, nipping and licking and tasting as she made her way down his torso. She tugged his pants open and forced down his boxers, freeing his hard dick. Without pausing, she wrapped one hand around his base, cupped his groin, and shoved him deep into her mouth.

  Trip’s voice filled the room. “Marisa!,” he called, his voice cracking. She took no pity on him and continued licking and sucking, letting her tongue run free around his length. He reached down to her and spun her around, positioning her bottom above his head and urging her down to meet his face. I cannot believe I’m sixty-nining Trip Brannon in my ever-loving dining room, thought Marisa briefly before Trip licked her clit and all thought once again left her head.

  She began to shake again, but Trip held her body firm. The room began to spin. She could feel his dick begin to twitch in her mouth and she released him. She pushed up and began to stroke him with her hand and lick him for the few brief moments before he came, spilling on to his stomach. Seeing him completely come apart at her doing gave Marisa a sense of pride and accomplishment. She arched back and reveled in his mouth on her most private parts before she too slid into a netherworld of bliss. She fell to her side, reeling from the heights they had just been. Trip spun around and pulled her close to him, holding her tight as she returned to earth.

  Trip stroked his hand across Marisa’s face, kissing her gently on the top of her head. “Oh, Marisa. You are so amazing and precious,” placing another kiss on the top of her head. “That was really better than I imagined it would be.”

  Marisa took two deep breaths and turned her face up to his. “You weren’t kidding about using your teeth.”

  Trip laughed. “I guess I had threatened doing that.”

  “Threat? I’d taken it as a promise,” replied Marisa. “And I hope you do it again.”

  They snuggled on the floor, Trip lazily trailing his fingers along her body. “Were you really going to be wearing that while you met with me this morning?”

  “Yup,” said Marisa, unembarrassed to admit she had selected lingerie for him.

  “Christ. Do you wear things like this for all of your client meetings? Do you wear that to court?”

  “No,” she said swatting his arm. “I’m a lawyer, not a call girl. But I will admit that pretty panties and bras do give me a little extra confidence.”

  “So there is more where this came from?”

  “Not much to be honest. I only break this out for special occasions.”

  “Well, I’m thrilled to be a special occasion, but you could be wearing a grocery sack and you’d still drive me to the brink.” Trip lifted his arm and glanced at his Tank watch. “Can we put a pin in this and come back to it later? I hate to be like this, but I’m supposed to meet with the company’s lawyer in forty-five minutes and I don’t think naked and sweaty is the best look for me.”

  “I honestly don’t think she’d mind. I don’t think any woman would. And as much as I’d love to stay here all morning, I’ve got an important meeting at ten-thirty and need to be presentable.” Their faces met in a long luxurious slow kiss before they stood and walked to Marisa’s bathroom.

  Chapter Forty

  “Excuse me, but I need a few minutes alone right now,” spoke Trip in a measured tone to Marisa and Vanessa at the conclusion of the presentation of the investigation’s results and the recommended next steps. Pure rage spread across his face. The women quickly left the room and retreated to Marisa’s office.

  “I think he’s about to Hulk out,” said Vanessa.

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. If my ex was trying to sabotage my life, I’d probably turn into a big green monster, too.”

  “I’m just hoping if it happens, we get a peek at the shirt-ripping,” continued Vanessa. Marisa stared at her. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t professional. But you’ve got to admit the guy is hot. If he weren’t a client, I’d seriously be lusting aft
er him.” Marisa blinked twice, as jealously and guilt spiraled through her. He is my. . . secret boyfriend? The guy I’m sleeping with? Is he even my anything? And shit, if Vanessa thinks it’s a problem to just lust after a client, I’m totally fucked. People are going to think I’m a sleezebag. Vanessa filled in the silence. “Okay, I’m going to use the ladies’ room and I’ll be out in reception until you find me.”

  Marisa crossed her arms and rested her forehead on her desk. Shit. Shit-shit-shit. This is not going to end well. Why did I let myself get caught up in this? She picked up her head two inches and dropped it on her desk. The soft thud filled her office. Yes, he’s funny and smart and giving and I fucking love him. Marisa lifted her head up to look at the celling and her eyes began to water. I love him. I love Trip Brannon. Oh, this is so screwed up. Who falls in love with their secret boyfriend? She started breathing deeply and blinking quickly, trying to will her heart back into her body and out of Trip’s unknowing hands.

  “Hey.” Trip’s voice broke through her misery. He was standing in her doorway. He walked in, pulled the door tight behind him, and sat in a guest chair across the desk from her. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t normally lose it, but I thought I was going to blow up in there and that’s nothing I want anyone, but especially you, to see. You okay?”

  “Yup,” said Marisa, gulping against the lump in her throat.

  “Good. We’re going to play this the way you suggested. I want you to draw up a lawsuit against the plaintiffs involved in this and Amelia for civil conspiracy and fraud. I agree with you that we don’t have enough to name her father yet, but if we do, we can just add him and Duquette Enterprises later. Then, your partner who is the former United States Attorney? See what she can do about dropping a dime on Amelia for suborning perjury. I will ruin her before I let her ruin Branco. Since she wants to play like this, she can forget about her pretty princess life of parties and horses. Let’s drop the real world on her. I saw I have an hour with my dad at the end of the day. Can you have the draft of the lawsuit by then so I can talk through it with him?”

  “Yup. I’ll start on it right now. It won’t be perfect, but it will give you something to talk through with him.”

  “Good. And I want your PowerPoint. I gather you anticipated that and prepared it for his benefit more than mine.”

  Marisa nodded.

  “You really are something, Marisa Tanner. Okay, I’m going to get out of here. I’ve got a lot of work to do before tonight. I’ll pick you up at six o’clock at your place.” The sudden shift in conversational topic flummoxed Marisa and she jolted in her chair. The weekend she had promised him seemed silly in light of the serious business they were discussing. “Just pack the necessities. Nothing fancy. And it’s going to be a long night, so dress comfy. I’ll take care of the rest.” Trip stood, nodded his head once at her and then left.

  Okay, let’s do this, thought Marisa, opening up a new Word document. Let’s get ready to take down Amelia Duquette. She pounded the speakerphone in her office on and dialed the extension for Patricia. “Hey, Patti. It’s Marisa. Branco has some insanity going on with some witness tampering and we need your expertise. Swing by. They need some guidance before three.”

  Chapter Forty-one

  At six o’clock Marisa stood in her condo lobby with her Le Pliage overstuffed. She had no clue what Trip had up his sleeve for the weekend but was frankly more interested to find out how his meeting with his dad went about Amelia Duquette. Trip’s silver Mercedes pulled up to the curb and she waved bye at Thomas before hopping out the front doors to join him. She slid in the car and her heart rose and then sank. He looked exhausted yet happy to see her, and heart-stoppingly handsome in his now slightly rumpled grey chalk stripe suit. We can’t go on like this, Marisa realized. I don’t want to sneak around for a few years, have my heart broken, and then go back to crappy dates.

  “How’d it go?”

  “My dad is livid,” said Trip, as he shifted the car into first gear. “I had to beg him not to call Russell and launch into him. We’ve got to be tactful. My dad isn’t convinced that Russell has a clue. He swears that Russell has only mentioned buying Branco twice. Once after I’d gotten into a little scrape while playing too hard in Telluride in late college. And then, right before my mom got sick and I was still looking like a top candidate for playboy of the year. Both times my dad later said he told me about it in hopes I’d realize that I needed to grow up.

  “My dad and I have a disagreement about how to move forward. Our instincts are different. I want to burn Amelia and Duquette Enterprises to the ground. He wants to send that draft lawsuit to Russell and let him handle Amelia and the women she’s drawn into her world and have him reimburse us for our attorney fees defending these trumped up lawsuits. If Russell can’t resolve it, then he agrees we should file suit and call the FBI. But, we both know Russell won’t let that happen. He won’t want Amelia to be in the spotlight for this nastiness. And even if Russell were involved, I don’t think my father could ever bring himself to believe that Russell would do this to him. They’ve been friends for thirty years. As much as I’d love to go to war with Amelia over trying to fuck with me like this, my dad has to sleep on it. We’re going to make a decision on Monday. He’s not sure a lawsuit is worth our energy.”

  Marisa felt somewhat defeated. She’d busted her ass all day to get Trip’s lawsuit pulled together and strategize about how best to approach the FBI about Amelia’s crimes, but knew he was making a smart business move with his approach. A legal battle with the Duquette family would be costly and it made sense to mull it over carefully before pulling the trigger.

  “You, however, are worth my energy.” He switched the car into automatic and moved his hand from the gearshift to Marisa’s thigh.

  They rode in silence through Memphis, its streets and buildings golden from the setting sun. When they arrived at the corporate hangars, Trip took Marisa’s hand and led her onto his white and blue plane. It was plush, all tan and cream leather inside. And, sure enough, leaning up against one of the club chairs and secured by a bungee, was a black and silver bike. “Is that your K-whatever bike you were telling me about?”

  “No,” said Trip. “That is not a KGS. I keep a couple bikes at the beach. That’s a carbon fiber Cannondale hybrid. It’s not mine. It’s yours.”

  “Trip, that’s really too much and I don’t ride.”

  “Can you ride?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, can’t is different than won’t. If you can’t ride, I’m not sure how we’re going to get around St. George but we’d make due. If you won’t ride with me, then we’d be in bigger trouble.”

  Marisa ignored the obvious implication in Trip’s comment and focused on the mention of St. George. “Is that where we’re headed? The island?”

  “Yeah, we’re going down to my family’s place on the Gulf near Apalachicola. We won’t be at the house until around midnight, and a car is picking us up at the Tallahassee airport to drive us there, but there’s dinner for us in the galley, so we can eat on our way.”

  “Trip, we really need to talk.”

  Trip flumped into the pilot’s seat and began running through a pre-check. “Gus has her all ready and we’ve got a window, so we’ve got to be wheels up in ten minutes. Can it wait?”

  “Sure, I guess,” said Marisa. She dropped into one of the club chairs and looked at the bike.

  “Here’s the book on the bike,” he said, tossing a thick bound volume in the seat across from her. “I don’t expect you to know all of the specs, but feel free to get to know it. Just don’t undo the bungee until I say okay.”

  Marisa settled into the generous chair and tucked her legs underneath her, thankful she was wearing her favorite comfortable black Lululemon yoga pants and pink and grey striped hoody. She breathed deeply and looked out the window.

  “Buckle up,” called Trip. She followed his instruction. Soon Memphis was a glow of lights far beneath them.

&n
bsp; “How do you like the bike?”

  “It’s pretty,” she answered honestly. “But I don’t know much about bikes.”

  “Which is why I gave you the book, counselor. Let’s get closer to Tupelo and then we’ll eat.”

  Marisa guiltily retrieved the book from where Trip had tossed it. She opened the cover and noticed Trip had inscribed it. “Here’s to many adventures.” He is amazingly thoughtful, but we can’t go on like this forever. Weekend of fun and then we’ll stop. As she thumbed through the pages, a single folded sheet fluttered out. It fell on the floor at Marisa’s sneakered feet. She picked it up and opened it.

  “Trip!,” she screamed.

  “So, you finally found it,” said Trip, sticking his head out of the open cockpit door to look at her.

  “You did this? Without asking me?,” Marisa was flattered and enraged and mortified at the same time.

  “Yup, as you say. Asked him this afternoon. He signed it, giving me just enough grief about fishing off the company pier to make sure I was serious,” responded Trip, his entire face brightening with a huge smile. “He has two conditions though and I agreed to them both.”

  Marisa scanned the waiver, hunting through the legalese in search of what limitations Jimmy had placed on her ability to see Trip without hiding or risking her law license. “I don’t see any conditions in here.”

  “They’re oral. One for each of us. First, you have to come to dinner with my mom and dad on Tuesday.”