"Damn it," she muttered when she realized she was laughing so hard that tears were threatening to damage her eye makeup. Being free again was heady enough, but being so close to getting her revenge on Jack McCoy was almost more than she could stand. The absolutely stunning realization was that she wasn't merely tolerating the man, but actually enjoying his company.
Every accomplished liar knows a believable lie contains an element of truth. Weaver saw a lot of herself in Jack. He was self- assured, tenaciously stubborn, and smart. She couldn't deny that his dedication to his career was equal to hers. She knew firsthand the extent of the hell she was about to unleash on this man. Although normally, she'd sooner have a root canal than have a man's hands on her, she reluctantly found herself warming to him.
She hadn't had any malice towards McCoy, at first. If she had been convicted based on evidence like her finger prints on the murder weapon or forensics evidence solidly linking her to the crime, revenge wouldn't have entered her mind. But to lose her freedom, her career because of testimony from a bunch of whining babies was too much. Men that who wanted the benefits of a high powered career, but when domestic matters like caring for a spouse with cancer came up, they expected her to make allowances for them. Allowances she never expected for herself.
If only you had stuck with the evidence. If only you hadn't made it personal, Jack; she thought with some regret. But not enough to reconsider what she had put in motion.
Taking a final dab at the corners of her eyes, returned to McCoy. Even though she often chose to be intimate with women, Weaver knew the dance of seduction had basically the same steps whether one was pursuing a man or a woman. She knew he'd would fight it, but it was clear McCoy was just like any other middle aged middle-aged man. Massage the ego and especially if the masseuse was young and attractive, eventually he'd be open to other things being massaged.
The research she'd had done well before her trial had even begun supported the conclusion that Jack McCoy was one of those men that who was drawn to women he knew he had no business pursuing - like four of his female assistants. God, what an arrogant man slut, thought for the hundredth time.
He stood up as she returned to the table.
"Jack, I haven't been to my safe deposit box yet," she said noticing the bill that lay on the table between them. "I don't have my credit cards, yet. May I give you cash for my part of the check?"
McCoy took the narrow white slip and scanned it quickly as he reached for his wallet.
"I must say this has been an...unusual evening. Why don't you let me buy you dinner - you can cover the champagne," he said as he laid his credit card on top of the bill.
"Jack, that's very gracious of you. Thank you." she said genuinely surprised. She leaned across the table to kiss him once more. He returned the kiss and reached for her hand.
The waiter gave them a not-so-subtle glare as he coolly removed the tray holding the credit card and tab check. Weaver reached over and placed hundred dollar notes into McCoy's hand.
"I realize we are the last to leave the restaurant tonight, but if one of my employees gave a customer that kind of attitude, he wouldn't be an employee for long," she said.
"I think the change in attitude has more to do with me than you. After witnessing that kiss, he probably thinks I'm a dirty old man taking advantage of your youthful innocence," he deadpanned.
"As long as he's the only one harboring those delusions," she said dryily."I'm thirty six, Jack and a CEO of a fortune 500 company. I am hardly a babe in the woods. Plus we both know I'm not..." she stopped in mid-sentence and made a face at his knowing grin." Very clever, Mr. District Attorney."
McCoy shrugged his shoulders. "Getting guilty people to admit they aren't as innocent as they seem, is what gets me out of bed in the morning," he said smoothly. McCoy smirked as he finished the last of his coffee and stood. "Shall we?"
Outside of the restaurant, the pair was immediately met with by the icy chill of the ocean, coupled with dense fog. McCoy turned to ask her a question, instead quickly reaching for her as she suddenly slipped on the slick walkway sidewalk . She smiled up at him, remaining in his embrace. She was certain she could feel his pulse increase its' tempo and this fed her ego.
"Maybe that second bottle wasn't such a great idea," she said with a hint of laughter. She looked up into his eyes, moving her body close to his.
"I certainly hope you weren't planning on going back to Manhattan tonight. There's no way you can drive," he said.
"I know what gets you out of bed, Jack. Tell me, what is it that gets you into bed?" she asked.
She moved to kiss him, but McCoy stepped back took a step back from her and held her questioning gaze.
"Samantha," he said softly," How far are you going to take this charade? I may not know what it is you really want, but I know this isn't it."
"Right. I don't want this," she said running her hands through his graying hair then massaged the back of his neck." I don't want this, either."
McCoy closed his eyes He shook his head as a her hand traveled lower, resting on his zipper.
Fuck it, he thought. He abruptly pulled her to him, roughly holding her and claiming her mouth with his. He'd had spent the better part of the evening doing the 'right thing'. Now it was time to see who would was going to blink first.
Instead of the rebuff or slap he expected, he felt her body arch and her tongue impatiently part his lips as her hand moved more urgently over the bulge in his pants. She even moaned softly and trembled briefly.
It had been a long time since he'd had been with a woman. A few times after the last divorce there had been a few some one night stands that had hardly been worth the effort. Then there was a brief, but disastrous affair with a defense attorney he'd known for years. It seemed like forever since he'd thought about seducing a woman so young. After Claire, he'd had been determined to swear off office romances. He definitely never allowed himself to become involved with a defendant; not under any conditions. He knew better than to do that. At least he thought he did.
Weaver had drunk the excessive amount champagne for two reasons: To lengthen the time at the restaurant to give her cohort enough time to do what was needed at McCoy's beach house and to relax herself enough to be able to make this part of the evening believable. Much to her amazement, her body was responding all on its own to the passionate kisses that had started so aggressively on her mouth and now were lingeringly working their way down her neck, as his hands teasingly fondled her body. It had been so long sense she'd been touched for the sake of her own pleasure.
Not since Julia. Julia had been a pro. A positive in that Julia knew how to take Weaver places physically she'd never dreamed were possible; but a negative in that Weaver was never quite sure if it was passion on Julia's part or just well rehearsed sex designed to gratify a steady meal ticket. Her body ached under Jack's skilled hands. She could feel her knees starting to give, just as he pulled back from her.
"You play the game well, I'll give you that," he said, self satisfied smirk on his face." Is the plan to set me up for a rape charge?"
Weaver ignored the snide question, as she grabbed the lapels of his leather jacket, her eyes glazed with desire.
"Do you know how long I've wanted to fuck that arrogant smirk off your face," she demanded as she pulled him to her, kissing him until his deep laughter was replaced with a primal moan.
"Listen. No more games. My hotel room or yours?"
After asking the carefully phrased question she held her breath, knowing his response could stop her dead in her tracks.
She turned away from his gaze, looking downward as his arm went around her shoulders as he replied, "Let's take a walk."
It took every ounce of self control she had left to suppress another fit of laughter. He'd fallen for it.
Diana was right!
"Jack, I don't need to be sobered up-" she started, right on cue.
"If your 're sure this is what you really want," he said. "My house is just down the beach."
His words exactly as Diana Hawthorne had predicted they would be