Be My Baby: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 3

by Meg Benjamin

  His wife was standing under a clump of mistletoe. Well, sort of beside it. Next to it. In the vicinity. Close enough.

  He was beside her in three steps. Jess looked up at him, green eyes dancing, the corners of her lips edging up. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” He nodded at the clump of white berries behind her. “Mistletoe.” Cupping her face in his hands, he lowered his lips to hers. She tasted of champagne and frosting. He brushed her lips lightly. There were, after all, a lot of people around, including a couple of kids who belonged to them.

  Jess reached her arms around his neck, drawing her body tight against him.

  Lars took a deep breath and wondered if it was too soon to leave. “Sure you don’t want to go to Austin? Or even Fredericksburg—that’s closer. We’ve got three days of child care. Daisy’s with my folks, Jack’s dividing his time between Docia and Janie. Sweetie’s staying with Cal’s Chihuahua. We could still head for the wicked city.”

  “We have food, drink, and a king-size bed back at the cabin,” she murmured. “What else do we need?”

  “You know, we could be in that king-size bed in under twenty minutes, assuming we undress fast, which is pretty much guaranteed.”

  Jess ran the backs of her fingers along his jaw, her smile turning sultry. “You’re on, ace.”

  Lars carried Jess over the threshold, which was sweet but totally unnecessary. On the other hand, he didn’t seem to break a sweat when he picked her up, which made her feel a lot more delicate than she really was.

  Inside, he kicked the door closed and set her on her feet. “You’re not carrying me to the bedroom?” Jess raised an eyebrow.

  Lars took hold of her shoulders and turned her around. “We’re not going that far.”

  She felt cool air against her back as he pulled down the zipper, a brief pause before the warmth of his breath grazed her nape.

  “No bra. I like that in a woman.”

  “It’s built into the dress.” Her voice shook slightly. Amazing. They’d been making love for over a month now, and he still took her breath away.

  His hands cupped her breasts as he pulled her against him, his tongue tracing a sweltering line from her shoulder to the tip of her ear.

  Jess sighed, letting her body relax. Her bones had turned liquid. Oh god. Three days would not be long enough.

  But then they had a lot longer than three days. With any luck, they had years ahead of them. The rest of your life.

  Jess pushed the phrase away. After all, Barry had had the rest of his life with her, and it had only been a couple of years. She wanted more than that with Lars. Lots more.

  She pushed her dress down over her hips, then turned back to him, trying not to cross her arms over her breasts. “You look over-dressed to me.”

  He had a killer smile—she knew that already. His molasses eyes turned warm. “Want to give me a hand here?”

  Jess slid her hands up his tuxedo shirt, pulling the studs loose and dropping them to the floor. Lars stripped off his jacket and reached for his belt.

  “Uh-uh. That’s mine.” Jess pulled the buckle open and jerked down his zipper.

  Lars kicked his tuxedo pants and underwear into the corner, and pulled her against him again. Clearly, he was very, very glad to see her. She reached for him, sliding her hand along his erection.

  His breath hissed between his teeth. He took hold of her hips, raising her so that she could wrap her legs around his waist, then lowering her so that she sheathed him slowly.

  Jess gasped with the effort, slowly, slowly, taking him bit by bit into herself. She pushed her back against the wall as he braced her.

  “Look at me.”

  She raised her gaze to his then, staring into the depths of those deep brown eyes. “Ah, Lars,” she whispered.

  “Jess. My Jess. All mine.” His forehead creased with strain as his pace increased, filling her again and again.

  The explosion started at her heels, moving up her body in a wave of heat, until she cried out, pushing her head back against the wall. She held onto his shoulders as he drove into her in a last series of wild plunges, then buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, gasping for breath. The wall behind her was cold, pressing against her backbone, and she slid down as Lars bent his knees, collapsing them both to the floor.

  He cradled her against his chest, warming her skin. The rough surface of the carpet pressed against her shoulder. Jess felt as if her bones had liquefied.

  “Okay,” he muttered after a moment. “That’s the living room. We’ve already done the kitchen and two bedrooms. That leaves the dining room, the study, and the utility room. I assume we’re skipping the nursery—the crib doesn’t seem like a good option.”

  Jess crooked an eyebrow. “The utility room?”

  “Hey, that dryer looks pretty sturdy to me.”

  Jess giggled, then drew a finger through the thick hair on his chest. “We’ll have to stop to eat occasionally. And cook.”

  Lars shook his head. “Not a problem. Docia and Janie left us with a full refrigerator. They said it was a wedding present. Just heat and serve.”

  Jess leaned back to look at him. “You have a wonderful family.”

  “I do.” He ran his fingers along the line of her cheekbone. “And now you’re part of it.”

  “I am indeed. I’m also freezing.”

  Lars chuckled. “Yeah. I was going to say something about that, but I didn’t want to break the moment.”

  “My chattering teeth would have done that anyway.”

  She sat up slowly, reaching for her dress on the chair where she’d tossed it.

  “You’re not getting dressed are you?” Lars looked faintly disappointed.

  “Nope. Just going to hang this up so I can pass it down to our daughters.” She grinned again to hide the quick shiver. Their daughters. Theirs.

  In the silence, she heard the chirping of a cardinal, the breeze rustling the live oaks and the sound of tires crunching on the gravel of the drive outside. Jess jerked toward the door as Lars sat up quickly. “Guests?”

  She shook her head. “The B and B’s booked for the whole week. They’re already up there.”

  Somewhere outside a car door slammed. “Holy shit!”

  Jess ran to the bedroom to grab a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, while Lars pulled on his bathrobe. She pushed the hair out of her eyes as someone rapped on the door. “Just a minute!”

  The FedEx delivery man on her doorstep didn’t bat an eye when she finally opened the door. He handed her a signature box. Jess scrawled something that looked sort of like her signature.

  The delivery man gave her an envelope, allowing his lips to spread into a slightly dry grin. “Merry Christmas, ma’am.”

  Jess turned back to the living room, closing the door behind her. “Who sends FedEx on Christmas? It must cost a couple of significant limbs.”

  “You could always open it and find out.”

  She stared down at the envelope, her chest tightening. “It’s from Belle View.”

  Lars’s eyes turned dark. “Do you want me to open it?”

  “I can do it.” Jess took a deep breath and pulled the tear strip along the side.

  She pulled out what looked like a stack of spreadsheet printouts with a densely written memo clipped to the front, along with a letter. “What is this?”

  “Let me.” Lars took the stack of papers from her hand and began leafing through them.

  She reached into the envelope again and pulled out a single sheet. “It’s from Preston.”

  He said nothing. She glanced at him. His gaze was glued to the papers.

  “What is it?” she asked breathlessly. “What are those spreadsheets?”

  “A statement of worth. Jack’s worth.”

  His voice sounded slightly choked as he stared up at her again. “Did you know how much he’d inherited from his father?”

  Jess shook her head. “Barry’s lawyer asked the Morelands for an accounting, but their lawyers threw up
all kinds of roadblocks. He said we’d have to go to court, and he wasn’t all that enthusiastic about doing that.”

  Lars blew out a breath. “Looks like they’ve changed their minds.”

  Jess looked back at the letter again. “Preston says it’s a wedding present.”

  “Did you send him an invitation?”

  “No. But I wrote to tell him we were getting married. I figured it wouldn’t hurt for the Morelands to know we were official.”

  Lars sank onto the couch, staring down at the spreadsheets again.

  “What’s the matter? Is there something wrong about Jack’s inheritance?”

  He shook his head slowly, his lips spreading in another dry grin. “Only that there’s a lot of it. Really a lot of it. Jack’s worth more than some countries I know. They’re small countries. But still.”

  Jess peered over his shoulder, then slid down beside him. “Is that the total? Holy crap!”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “That Barry had that much money? No. I mean the Morelands are a big deal in Belle View, but Belle View’s a pretty small town.”

  “I’d say the Morelands are probably a big deal in other places too. Are you Jack’s legal guardian?”

  Jess nodded. “Barry made sure of that. Technically, I’m also Barry’s executor, but like I said, the Morelands stonewalled me. And then I ran away.” She bit her lip, trying very hard not to be scared witless.

  Lars stared down at the paper again. “This…explains a lot.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as why Lydia Moreland wanted Jack.” He raised his gaze to hers, eyes dark.

  Jess wiped her suddenly damp palms against her thighs. “What do you mean?”

  “Did she ever strike you as grandmotherly? Or even maternal?”

  Jess shook her head. “That wasn’t the point with her. She wanted Jack because he was a Moreland. She wanted what he represented.”

  “Exactly.” Lars picked up the memo. “But I’d be willing to bet this was what he represented to her, not the whole Moreland honor thing.”

  Jess stared down at the figure on the page again, the almost unbelievable figure. “But she had her own money, Lars. Why would she want Jack’s?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t have as much as we thought she had.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning it would be interesting to see her husband’s will. To see just how much of the Moreland fortune he left her and how much he left his sons.”

  Jess raised an eyebrow. “Can we see it?”

  “Oh yeah.” Lars nodded emphatically. “We will see it, although it may take a minor battle.”

  “You think he disinherited her?”

  “Maybe he just put her money where she couldn’t get at it easily. If he knew just how scary she was, he may have wanted to make sure his sons had some way to protect themselves.”

  Jess closed her eyes. “It didn’t protect Barry.”

  “Barry chose not to fight her.” Lars laced his fingers through hers, his palm warm against her cooling skin. “It was an effective way to defend himself—give her what she wanted. Complete access to his estate.”

  “Until he died.” She swallowed hard, moving closer to the warmth of his body.

  He nodded. “And you wouldn’t follow orders, wouldn’t move into the compound, wouldn’t let her go on doing what she’d been doing for god only knows how long.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his lap. Jess clung to him. “Why me?”

  “You were Jack’s guardian. There should have been an audit of your husband’s estate. If there had been, whatever she’d done with his money—and I’m willing to bet she’s done a helluva lot—would have come out. Plus she wouldn’t have had any more access to his funds.”

  Jess snuggled closer to him, resting her head against his chest. “But she still wouldn’t have been Jack’s guardian. Even if Dahlia had kidnapped him, taking him back to Belle View wouldn’t have gotten Lydia his money.”

  “But if she had Jack, she had the leverage she needed to keep what she’d taken, and maybe to take more.”

  “Leverage?”

  Lars rubbed his cheek against her hair, his hand making small circles on her back. “Suppose she’d offered you a deal—Jack in exchange for your signing off on Barry’s money. Would you have taken her up on it?”

  Jess chewed her lower lip, staring up at him. “Of course.”

  He nodded. “That’s what I figured. And it’s probably what she figured too.”

  He brushed his lips across hers, then turned his head to deepen the kiss. She flattened herself against him, winding her arms around his neck, pulling him tight, clinging to the kiss with a desperation that scared her. “Christ, Lars,” she whispered. “Jesus Christ.”

  He touched his forehead to hers. “It’s okay, Jess. It’s over—she’s gone now. And she won’t be back. You’re both safe.”

  After a moment, she leaned back to look at him again. “So what are we going to do with all this?”

  “All what?”

  “This.” She gestured toward the papers on the couch. “Jack’s estate. And Preston says I’m supposed to be getting some kind of ‘salary’ as Jack’s guardian.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “We can use some of it to live, but I want to save a lot of it for Jack. And some for Daisy. And…you know…any others.” She swallowed hard. “And I’d like to give some of it away if we can. Only I don’t know how to go about doing that exactly.” She drew another shuddering breath, then stopped. The shuddering breath became a giggle, then a full-fledged guffaw.

  She leaned back against Lars’s shoulder, the laughter shaking her body like tears, bubbling up to leave her gasping for breath. She wasn’t sure whether she was laughing or crying exactly. Some of each, it seemed.

  “Jess?” Lars sounded more concerned now. He drew her into his arms again. “Sweetheart?” His hand rubbed slow circles in the middle of her back. “Take it easy, love.”

  “I just realized. I need…” Jess paused, trying to catch her breath. “I need…a good accountant.”

  Lars stared at her for a moment, then started to laugh himself, his body shaking silently against hers.

  Jess wrapped her arms around him, pressing her forehead against his chest. “Isn’t it lucky I already have one?”

  “You definitely have one,” Lars murmured against her ear. “I’ll do my best for you. And for Jack. I’m all yours, babe.”

  Jess pulled back to look at him. Molasses eyes, hair the color of very strong coffee. Body like a redwood. The world’s sexiest accountant. Hers. All hers.

  “C’mon husband,” she said, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go see how sturdy that dryer really is.”

  About the Author

  Meg Benjamin writes about South Texas, although she lives in the foothills of the Colorado Rockies. Her comic romances, Venus in Blue Jeans, Wedding Bell Blues, and Be My Baby, all published by Samhain, are set in the Texas Hill Country. When she isn’t writing, Meg spends her time listening to Americana music, drinking Texas and Colorado wine, and keeping track of her far-flung family. To learn more about Meg Benjamin, please visit www.MegBenjamin.com. Meg loves to hear from her readers. Send her an email at meg@megbenjamin.com.

  Look for these titles from Meg Benjamin

  Now Available:

  Venus in Blue Jeans

  Wedding Bell Blues

  Who knew you could find the love of your life at the wedding from hell…

  Wedding Bell Blues

  © 2009 Meg Benjamin

  Janie Dupree will do anything to make sure her best friend has the wedding of her dreams, even if it means relinquishing what every bridesmaid covets and never gets—the perfect maid-of-honor dress. Problem is, family drama as tangled as a clump of Texas prickly pear cactus threatens to send the skittish bride hopping aboard the elopement express.

  Janie could use a hand, but the best man’s “help” is o
nly making things worse.

  Pete Toleffson just wants to get through his brother’s wedding and get back to his county attorney job in Des Moines. He never expected to be the engineer on a wedding train that’s derailing straight toward hell. Janie’s the kind of girl he’d like to get close to—but her self-induced role as “Miss Fix-It” is as infuriating as it is adorable.

  If they can just fend off meddling parents, vindictive in-laws, spiteful ex-boyfriends, and a greyhound named Olive long enough to achieve matrimonial lift-off, maybe they can admit they’re head-over-heels in love.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Wedding Bell Blues:

  Janie was trying to walk off the effects of the wine she’d had at dinner and the margarita she’d had at Allie’s. She didn’t drink much as a rule, and her head still felt a little loopy.

  She turned up Spicewood, heading for home. Soft music was playing on someone’s radio—a woman singing “Making Believe”. It almost sounded as if the music was coming from the bookstore.

  Janie stopped. It was coming from the bookstore. From the backyard behind it anyway.

  She began to walk again, as quietly as she could. At the gate, she stopped and peered into the yard.

  Pete Toleffson was dancing. Sort of.

  Janie loved to dance. She even loved dancing in Docia’s chorus line, although she could only do it now and then, when she felt particularly raucous. She’d been known to waltz around her backyard on a summer night to the sound of her own humming, reveling in the feeling of the grass beneath her toes and the warm night air on her face.

  Pete Toleffson didn’t look like he was reveling in much of anything. His upper body was impossibly rigid, as if he wore a solid steel jacket that kept him from bending at the waist. He held his arms stiffly in front of him in a parody of a waltz position. Apparently, his partner wasn’t cooperating. As he passed beneath the reflected street light, his face looked pinched and tense, like he expected something very painful to happen at any moment.