“So, what’s it to be, lil’ mama-in-waiting? Sexy men? Raunchy comedy? Animated classic?” Lacey asked with a wink. “Make a quick decision because my son will be looking for a nighttime snack before we know it.”
Ria waved her hand in the air and chirped, “Let me choose! Me! Me!” Everyone burst out laughing because her mouth was completely stuffed with popcorn so the “Me, me,” sounded more like “Eee, eee.”
Meghan slung an arm around her shoulders and pushed Ria into one of the comfy recliners. “Eat your popcorn and hush up! This is Tori’s call,” she teased. “And besides, we know your preference, hun, and really, we’re all a bit burned out on George Clooney and Brad Pitt.”
Betty dropped into the chair next to Ria and chuckled. “There’s something so wrong with anyone who gets tired of those two—but in the interest of offering options, may I suggest Colin Firth? Or, Mr. Two Birds, One Stone himself—Channing Tatum?” Under her breath she chanted, “Magic Mike, Magic Mike, Magic Mike,” until Tori giggled and threw a small pillow at her.
“Yeah. Just what I want to tell my husband when he calls later! That we locked ourselves in the theater room for a ladies’ night to watch a bunch of male strippers do their thing.”
“Well put Tori,” Meghan drawled. “Since I’ve got my very own version of Joe Manganiello waiting for me later, I’m good with comedy or something animated.”
“We could always do a binge viewing of Downton Abbey,” Carmen suggested to a cascade of groans and hisses. When that suggestion got shot down, she grinned broadly. “Sons of Anarchy?”
“What?!” Stephanie hollered. “Absolutely not. I like Charlie Hunnam just as much as the next but a hot guy plus guns and violence shouldn’t be an option. I mean shit—there’s enough of that going on around here without having to see it played out on the big screen.”
A deep laugh followed by a pained groan rumbled into the room from the doorway as all the ladies turned to see who it came from.
“Hot guys? Guns? Violence? Ladies, you wound me,” Alex declared dramatically as he clutched his heart. “We’re the good guys, y’know! Although I’ll take the hot guys comment as a win.”
He walked to where Tori was curled up on a recliner, leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “Everything okay?”
Stephanie watched this exchange with interest because the Major was most definitely in Big Daddy mode. It was just like him to come and check for himself how Tori was faring. From the corner of her eye, she caught a brief glimpse of someone else hovering in the vestibule outside the theater room. Calder? Her heart started racing at the thought.
While Tori and Alex spoke quietly and the women bustled about getting their chairs set up, Stephanie wandered slowly toward the door rather like a moth to a flame.
She smelled him before she actually saw him. Damn. Was he already so far under her skin that she was this hyperaware of the intriguing Calder Dane? Sighing, she had to allow that yes, yes, he was. And his scent, oh, my God. It was an unmistakable blend of maleness with a hint of sandalwood, musk, and maybe a touch of vanilla. Whatever the hell cologne he favored suited him to a T.
Pretending to deal with urgent tasks at the small wet bar near the doorway, Stephanie grabbed a handful of napkins then nonchalantly turned toward the vestibule where Calder was indeed loitering. Catching his eye, he paused his restless shuffling and stared back at her. For just a moment, they locked gazes and she would have sworn the smoke alarms almost triggered from the heat arcing back and forth between them.
Suddenly her mouth became dry as the desert, her lips parched and brittle. A sharp inhale got lodged in her throat as she gasped sharply to get some oxygen into her lungs. The sound startled her, making Stephanie quickly look away from the handsome man standing in the shadows. It was no wonder her mouth felt bone-dry since she was excruciatingly conscious of a surge of scorching heat spreading outward from her core. An almost imperceptible pulse of unsettling desire between her legs rattled her usual sangfroid and made her heart pick up speed. Damn.
She heard the reluctance in his voice when he ambled closer to the doorway and spoke to her. Was he also out of his comfort zone—battling a completely unexpected shiver of desire—and wondering what in the hell to do about it?
“Should have known you’d rock a pair of jeans like a goddamn runway model.”
Compliment or gibe? Hard to tell since, in her opinion, some of the lanky sticks on the catwalk looked like shit in casual clothes. How the hell was she supposed to respond to such a questionable statement? Fucka-lucka-ding-dong but she was no runway model—far from it. She’d always considered her legs just so-so and wished she’d been blessed with more willowy stems—which was why she favored shoes with heels. They gave her a longer profile and made whatever she was wearing fit better. Just her damn luck that she’d run into Calder while she was rolling for comfort and not style. She had opted for a sensible pair of soft suede flats, an off-the-shoulder sweater with a simple camisole beneath, and jeans that had seen better days.
Used to men all but fawning over her in their desperation for a smile or some well-delivered Southern charm, Stephanie felt like she was doggie paddling in a ferocious swell of waves, trying to stay afloat and not swallow the water threatening to drag her under. This man wasn’t playing the game she was used to, and it unnerved her.
Lifting her chin with contrived aplomb, for she’d never felt so unsure of herself in all her damn life, Stephanie employed a deadpanned expression as if acknowledging his presence on the planet was a tedious chore. Blurting out the first thing that came to her mind, she cringed inwardly once the words left her mouth and she realized what she’d said.
“There’s just no pleasing you, is there?” Oh, my dear, sweet Lord. What. The. Fucking. Fuck.
He flinched slightly, his mouth thinning to a grim line that in no way diminished the flash of fire evident in his eyes.
In a low, dangerously sexy voice, he countered with, “Is that what you want Queenie? To please me?”
Stephanie’s mouth opened and closed a dozen times as she struggled for a response, only nothing ever came. Finally, when she was about to give up, stomp her foot and whirl away she murmured, “Please don’t call me that.” It was all she had.
Truth was, she hated the reference. Yeah, she’d been a contestant on the pageant circuit when she’d been an impoverished college student desperate for scholarship funds. But that had been a lifetime ago—during a more innocent time when stuffing one’s bra with tissues and teasing your hair to within an inch of its life was pretty much the worse of it. Today’s pageant culture was much more about PR, cosmetic surgeries, fake tits, and designer clothes. The two eras could not be more different if they tried.
She’d tried not to sound pathetic, but Stephanie heard the slight wobble in her voice and wished the floor would open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole. She hated, absolutely hated, feeling or appearing as though she wasn’t in complete control.
Calder might have sensed her discomfiture because he stepped closer to her but remained in the shadows of the vestibule. Sighing heavily, he murmured, “It wasn’t an insult. I don’t do cheap shots, lady.” His voice, while not exactly apologetic, did sound less belligerent.
Her eyebrows bumped together in a frown, and for some strange reason, she felt all turned inside out and upside down. “What’s wrong with my jeans?” she whined. “Do they make my ass look big or something?”
He shook his head like he thought she was daft and rolled his eyes. “Fuck, Stephanie. You look fantastic, and to be clear, I was giving you a compliment. Although, it appears you didn’t take it that way.”
She had the distinct flavor of her foot lodged firmly in her mouth because the way she reacted sounded like she was fishing for a compliment. Fuuuuuuuck.
Trying desperately to pull them out of the twisted conversation she mumbled, “I’m no runway model, Calder.”
Oh, for pity’s sake, she cringed silently. What in the hell was
wrong with her? Her mind thought one thing, but her mouth kept saying something else. Next thing she’d be doing was twirling a lock of hair around her fingers and pouting like a bratty princess. Get your damn shit together, Bennett, the sensible, no-nonsense voice in her mind screamed.
He growled at her. “Woman, you need to learn how to take a compliment. First of all, thank God you’re no runway mannequin. I much prefer a woman who dresses to please herself,” he said with a long pause. “Or her man.”
Stephanie’s startled eyes flew to his at that. He was looking at her with undisguised approval and something that seemed a lot like longing.
“And second, your ass could be the size of a house, and it would still look fantastic.”
“Oh,” she murmured.
“Yes,” he drawled. “Oh.”
Long moments ticked by as they stood there, him in the shadows, her still clutching a handful of napkins, staring at each other.
Thank God Alex eventually wandered toward them, breaking the silent, baffling tug-of-war that engulfed them. When had she become such an emotional wreck? Yesterday morning, her sensible conscience reminded her. Yesterday when you stumbled over your own feet the moment you’d first laid eyes upon Calder Dane.
“Stephanie,” Alex murmured as he acknowledged her. “I’m relieved to see Tori looking so relaxed,” he added while glancing over his shoulder to where the women were gathered. “A movie is the perfect distraction for everyone but how ‘bout next time you include us guys?”
Rescued from her confusing trance, she offered Alex a tremulous smile. “Why Major—I didn’t know you were a fan of rom-coms and chick flicks.”
Alex’s good-natured chuckle helped restore her shaky smile. “Jesus! What man is? But if it makes the gals happy, we’d all be fools to deny such a simple pleasure. You ladies have a good night,” he declared as he strode forward toward his uncle.
“C’mon, Unc. Let’s give the women folk some privacy so they can talk about us behind our backs,” he snickered as he put a hand on Calder’s shoulder.
“Have fun Quee…uh, Stephanie,” she heard him mutter, secretly pleased that he dialed back the Queenie before it was fully formed. At least he’d been listening.
She could have nodded, maybe shot a dazzling smile and unloaded some well-placed Southern twang, but for reasons Stephanie didn’t exactly want to explore, she fixed Calder with an enigmatic expression and mumbled, “Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
The momentary flash of surprise on his face was the last thing she saw before spinning away and heading off toward the group of women gathered around Tori. Oh, my God. Had she just suggested they meet up?
ALEX HAD SAID NOTHING AFTER they left the Cameron cabin and headed back to the Villa together, although Calder was not so dense as to not be fully aware that his nephew had taken note of the odd vibe between him and Stephanie.
He supposed it was only a matter of time before Alex said something. How could he not? They’d been puttering around the tech cave for almost an hour, engaged in random geek-speak when his nephew finally jumped in with a surprising comment that came out of left field.
“Sometimes I forget that you were married once upon a time. Y’know, I was too young to really remember all that much about Becky, but Mom said she was a piece of work.”
Calder was slack-jawed with surprise at the mention of his ex-wife. Where the hell was Alex going with this line of conversation? It had been ages since he’d even thought about the four years he spent married to someone who turned out to be a selfish, mean-spirited bitch.
The only good thing he could say concerning Becky was that he had the sense to divorce her cheating ass before he’d sold his business and hit the financial jackpot. At the time, she’d gotten their home in the settlement and pretty much everything else. Left him with his computers and little else. After a couple of years living on his partner Smith’s basement sofa, he’d had the last laugh. Overnight, they’d gone from using duct tape to hold their coffeemaker together to hiring financial advisors to handle the boatload of money they’d been paid. Becky had been apoplectic when he and Smith sold the business and tried to sue him for everything under the sun. Thankfully the courts had seen right through her shit and basically told her to shut the fuck up and sit the hell down.
“I believe the term she favored was that your ex-wife was a questionable blonde with a cup size that exceeded her I.Q,” Alex continued.
“Your mom always did have a special way with words,” he sniggered. Calder shut down the computer he’d been using and swiveled in his chair to face Alex. “Why are you bringing this up? I hope you’re not having second thoughts about getting married. Meghan is a keeper, dude. Becky, on the other hand, was a young man’s hormonal mistake. Don’t confuse the two.”
Alex’s tone got serious in a heartbeat. “Oh, I know full well what I’ve got. Don’t ever doubt that. Meghan’s so much more than just a fiancée or even a wife. She’s my heart, man. My soul. Every thought I have somehow involves her.”
“Glad to hear it and between you and me—it’s obvious how you two feel about each other. The woman lights up like a Christmas tree around you. Ashleigh is thrilled, so’s your dad. You chose well, Alex, and I’m happy for you.”
“Speaking of the folks, look at this,” Alex murmured nodding his head toward the monitor of his computer. “They want to give us a restored seventeenth-century finca in Aragon. It’s not part of the vineyard. Something my grandparents kept separate. There’s a farmhouse, landscaped gardens, and a small trout river.”
“Holy shit,” Calder muttered, leaning into the screen as Alex clicked through the pictures.
“I know, right?”
“Does Meghan know about this?”
Alex shrugged and groaned at the same time. “I’ve told her about the vineyard, and when we video chat with my folks, Mom pretty much goes on and on about my Spanish heritage. It’s almost funny coming from her California-girl mouth.”
Calder couldn’t help but chuckle. Ashleigh was priceless in that regard. She put enormous store in nurturing the Valleja-Marquez history, which was precisely why she’d moved her daughters and husband to Spain to take over the family vineyard when Alex’s grandparents had passed.
“Dude—your mom takes all that stuff way too serious. I’m sure she just wants to bring your Irish bombshell into the fold and keep those Spanish home fires burning bright. As for the finca, it’s fucking beautiful. Looks like a great place to vacation, and after all, you’ll want to give whatever kids you have a sense of their Spanish ancestry.”
“Yeah,” Alex murmured as he closed out the browser. “Guess that’s why I was thinking about your marriage. Are you bummed that you never had kids?”
Whoa. Calder hadn’t seen that question coming. Not at all.
“Mmmmm, I suppose at one time it bothered me. But I have you and your sisters. Being the wacky uncle has merits, too, y’know. I get to swoop in, cause all kinds of fuckery, drive my sister and her husband bat-shit crazy, then traipse away laughing knowing some of my best work lies in how awesome you, Angelita, and Sophia are.”
“Yeah. I really miss them. Can’t wait for the wedding when we’ll all be together.”
Calder shook his head with understanding. It had to be hard for Alex to be separated and on a different continent from the rest of his family. It helped that the close-knit crew he’d created here in Arizona was just as loyal and loving as his birth family.
“She likes you, y’know. I can tell,” his nephew proclaimed with quiet earnestness.
Huh? She who? “Um, excuse me?” he questioned.
Alex gazed at him long and hard. They were so much alike—he and his nephew—but sometimes he had no idea what went on in the younger man’s mind.
“Stephanie Bennett. She likes you. And don’t act like you have no fucking idea what I’m talking about.”
Calder moved away and busied his hands with a stack of papers spit out from a printer that lay in a haph
azard pile on a worktable. What was he supposed to say to such a random comment?
The lady baffled him. She wasn’t what he expected. Nor was she an easy read. Plus, she ran hot and cold where he was concerned, a reaction that was entirely mutual. One minute he wanted to rip her fucking head off—for reasons he couldn’t quite get a handle on—and the next he was fantasizing about what sort of lingerie she favored. He wondered whether she was a vocal lover or one of those moaning, whimpering types who melted with the first touch.
“You’re imagining things, Alex. Don’t go there, man,” he snapped none too cheerfully then instantly regretted what a dick he sounded like. He should have known his nephew wouldn’t leave it at that, fucker.
“It’s alright, you know,” Alex continued with the slightest edge of humor lacing his voice. “It wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing if you liked her, too.”
What the fuck. How had they gone from discussing his shit show of a marriage to this? “Oh, for Christ’s sake. You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Calder protested with a growl. “Told you—high-maintenance women leave me cold.” He paused, searched for what to say next, and to his horror let slip a huge tell when his mouth jumped out ahead of his sense. “How do you know she likes me? Has she said something?”
The shit-eating grin that broke out on Alex’s face damned him to hell. Crap. This wasn’t high school where, as a hormonally driven teenager, he’d lusted after the head cheerleader. Hoping to catch her eye, he had his hopes dashed because hot girls with big tits and kissable lips didn’t swoon over the boys in the Geek Squad.
“Fuck,” he murmured, his hands going to his hips as he kicked a box on the floor filled with old hard drives and remote controls. He couldn’t look at Alex, so he shook his head and glanced everywhere in the tech cave except at the man smirking at him.
Always (Family Justice Book 1) Page 16