Sleeping With the Enemy
Small town lawyer, Marita McCarren had grown “fat, sassy and gimpy” after a recent accident. She wanted to meet no one with a penis after her two failed marriages. As a favor to a friend, she goes on a blind date and meets that ideal and perfect—and dangerously sexy—man.
On their second date she meets Tony's “family” and has a strong impression that he is a very good looking, mafia hitman. She wants to end their relationship but with each kiss and each race to the bedroom, Marita decides to break it off later on. Their relationship grows, although she still wants to end it, when he takes her in his private jet for a vacation only a European princess could have, with a few “eliminations” in between.
Release Date: December 3, 2019
Genre: Romantic Suspense / Erotica
Marita's a trial lawyer. She looked at dating like she did a trial. The first date is when she met the client, and it seemed like an open and shut case of injustice against the perp. The second date was more like that moment when she saw the whole case and the client told her, “Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you about that smoking gun they found in my hand.”
It was her second date and it was a strange one. She didn't find the smoking gun, but she did find the gun. The second date confirmed what she had suspected on the first date that this great, witty, handsome guy she was with, was part of the mob. She was living that movie, or at least she thought she would be living that movie: Married to the Mob.
That was her first clue. The second clue should have been his first name, Tony. Who calls their adult relatives Tony, with a stress on both vowels? Maybe it was his dark, wavy hair and steely blue eyes that made her overlook what she believed in the back of her suspicious, lawyer mind. She was a lawyer. She was always suspicious, and if one asked her friends, they will tell you that Marita McCarren didn't get fooled easily.
The second date was what should have been an innocuous, family First Communion party for Tony's nephew, Johnny. There was Tony, Johnny, Paulie, and Philly, along with a Maria, Mary, Antonia, and Constance. Marita sighed when she met them, a sigh that would have said to anyone watching that she felt like she was in an episode of the Sopranos. In the middle of all these Italians, some speaking broken English, some just speaking Italian, sat Marita McCarren, an Irish Catholic towhead. As Tony's baby brother, Eddy the Ear, said, “She’s a white head.” She wasn't the only blonde at the table, but she was the only one not from a peroxide bottle.
Although everyone around the table seemed a little suspicious of this white head that Tony had brought along on his arm, she was welcomed warmly. Her nervous hands and quick glances away showed that she still felt out-of-place, and her half smile projected a whole lot of suspicion about this new guy in her life. He was a “family” man in that mafia sort of way.
As they ate ravioli, spaghetti, braciole, and loaves of fluffy, crust all-around, Italian bread, she started to relax. The conversations were light and joyful except for the old guy at the head of the table. He never spoke up, but he would call people to him and whisper in their ear. After a while, she leaned into Tony's cute ear to whisper. Her thoughts as she did it were that she would rather have stuck her tongue in it, but this wasn't the time or place to do it. She thought it was better to just ask her little question.
“Who is the woman next to me?”
Tony leaned into her ear and said, “That's the Don's wife.”
She was hoping he meant some guy named Uncle Don and she leaned in again to his ear. “Who's Don? Your uncle?”
Tony laughed. He thought she was joking, but she wasn't joking, Marita was hoping that it wasn't what she thought it was.
He leaned toward her again, and she felt his warm breath tickle her ear as his lips touched her lobe. He whispered, “Don, like in Don Corleone, Godfather, head of the family. That sort of Don.”
Marita was sipping water at the time and it burst from her mouth in a light, but courteous, spray. Her water fountain impersonation stopped the conversations around the table, as everyone looked at Marita with what she considered to be suspicious eyes. Her face turned crimson, and she felt tremendous heat spread all through her body as she feared that she had disrespected the moment. Her mind pictured a horse head lying next to her in bed the following morning. Marita's knight in shining armor, or at least in his neat, black suit, came to her rescue.
“Hey, I made her an offer she couldn't refuse,” he said as he gestured with his hands toward himself. Everyone laughed, and Marita visibly relaxed only slightly. Her dinner neighbor, the Don's wife, could see she was still extremely tense as she poured Marita a glass of homemade wine and gave her an understanding smile. A sniff of the wine made her head spin without even a sip. She winked at Marita.
“How did you meet our Tony?” It sounded like a friendly question but something inside her lawyer brain made Marita answer it cautiously.