"Julia and her sister will be very wealthy women one day, as the daughters of Marv Spinelli and inheritors of his motel empire. As Julia's legal adviser, I have urged her to protect herself with a prenuptial agreement."
"Oh you have, have you?" There was a definite edge to his voice, motivated by an ugly little scuffle they'd had during Kiki and Walter's proceedingsa scuffle that she'd won. J.B. didn't care for prenups.
"Yes. And as Roman's attorney, I'd think you'd advise him to do the same, considering the fact that he's got a family business that's still very much on the ground floor. One that he's in the process of expanding. In the event that Julia and Roman part ways, he will not want Sonntag Vineyards impacted. Especially since his parents' money is involved in the venture as well."
"How do you know that?"
"I do my homework, Anglin."
He nodded, and then his mouth twisted. "How can you have the nerve to even mention the word 'prenup' in my presence?"
"I guess I just have a lot of nerve," she said calmly.
"You know damned well that Walter tricked Kiki into signing that piece of crap. And yet because you went to law school with the judge's niece"
"The burden of proof was on you, Anglin. Don't blame me for doing my job."
"I don't blame you for doing it, Sweetness. I blame you for how you do it. And snuggling with the judge isn't in my rule book."
"Snuggling? Excuse me? That's uncalled for."
"He stared at your"
"Drop it, J.B. Think about your client, here. It's in Roman's best interests to sign a prenuptial agreement. Plain and simple."
"No, darlin', it's not. I don't know how much 'homework' you think you did, but Marv Spinelli is easily worth about thirty times what Sonntag Vineyards is. Which would make his daughter worth fifteen times what Roman is, in the event of Spinelli's deathand that's a conservative estimate. So you do the math,
"If old Marv kicks the bucket after the wedding, then it's most certainly not in my client's best interests to kiss millions of revenue dollars goodbye. So you can take your Park Avenue ass right out of here, because I may be country, but I'm not stupid."
"Doesn't Roman have any pride? Would he really screw her out of money that was her father's? What would people say? He needs the peace of mind that a prenup can offer him: proof that he didn't marry Julia for her money."
J.B. threw back his head and laughed. "No, the peace of mind argument is not going to fly."
"Really? Are you aware that he gave Julia a fake diamond, and that her sister is enraged and convinced that he's after her inheritance?"
"He did no such thing."
"Ask him." She folded her arms and glared at him. "This prenup might just save his reputation, because when that story gets outif it's not all over town alreadyhis name will be mud."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Vivvie, darlin'. Why aren't you in Julia's face, pushing this prenup? Or for that matter, why not go straight to Roman? Why come to me?"
She shrugged and tried to finesse it. "I felt it was more aboveboard to iron it out with you first."
"I'm betting that's a bald-faced lie."
"Bold-faced."
"Don't change the subject. Here's what I think, Vivvie. You've already brought up this subject with Julia, and she was outraged. I don't know her well, but I do know she's a romantic. I'm betting she got into a real tweak about this prenup idea, and she said no. And furthermore, I'm betting she told you to drop it and that she'd kill you if you talked to Roman. So here you are, in my office."
She kept her expression utterly deadpan.
"It's not going to work. And you know what? Your gall knows no bounds, babe."
"I'll take that as a compliment." Viv knew when the gig was up. She hitched her computer bag onto her shoulder and headed for the door. She'd reached it and opened it two inches when his boot kicked it shut again. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him. He leaned one hand against the closed door, his arm still nudging her shoulder, and shoved the other one into his pocket.
J.B. stared down at her with an inscrutable expression, the corners of his mouth inverted.
She could feel his breath on her face, smell the clean starch in his shirt. He wore the lightest touch of outdoorsy cologne that conjured images of pine trees and crisp autumn evenings. The laugh lines around his eyes had gone serious, punctuating the mossy green with faint diagonal shadows. But it was his mouth that hypnotized her.
She remembered that mouth on her body in New Yorkstill could feel the roughness of his jaw as he slid down her rib cage, trailing from her breasts to her belly and hips. She remembered the magic of his lips.
She also recalled the urge to leave before she was leftthe sheer discomfort of knowing she was investing too much in pleasure, letting it rise up like a warm bath until, too unwary and relaxed, she feared she'd drown in it.
"Why did you do me that way, Vivien? Hmmmm?"
She fought the urge to rub her face against his chest, feel his arms go around her, have his fingers weave through her hair. "You wanted me to do you."
"I mean, why did you kick me out."
Do you want the truth or a nice lie? If I tell you the truth, won't you think I'm deranged ? If there was one thing she knew from living with her mother, it was that men despised weak women.
How in the hell could she tell this guy that she'd been afraid she'd need him after an hour ? That in itself seemed insane.
Viv said, "I try not to be sentimental about these things, J.B. We wanted each other. We had great sex. You were magnificent, so don't get your shorts in a wad"
"I don't need you to tell me that. Your body told me what you wanted and how much you loved what I did. I don't need your patronizing reassurance. What I need is to know how and why you turned into a robot."
"Robot?"
"Devoid of expression. Devoid of emotion. Devoid of anything human or sensual. You turned off a spigot and your soul was gone."
"We'd had sex. We were finished! You got what you wanted: into my pants. I didn't need you to stick around and pretend to hold me afterwards, okay?"
"Jesus, that's cold."
"I'm not one of those women who needs cuddling and sweet nothings whispered to me. That's all they are: nothings . Don't tell me I'm cold just because I see through this stuff! You're pissed off because I wouldn't play the gamepretend to be snowed by your charm and wait by the phone while you decided whether or not to call."
He opened his mouth, but she overrode him. "You're nursing your ego, Anglin, because I treated you like men treat women! And I'm supposed to know my place and not do that, because I don't have a dick and you do. Well, get over it. I used you for sex. So what? It happens in reverse every day. You've done it hundreds of times, I'm sure."
J.B. looked at her in disgust, but this time it was tinged with something sad. "I have never treated a woman like that in my life," he said quietly. "And I never will."
Viv didn't have a rebuttal for that.
"You've obviously been hanging out with some really nice guys."
Mortification climbed inside her, dug its claws into the lining of her stomach.
"So do you do that often?" he asked. "Use men for sex and kick them out when you're done?"
"No!" She was starting to feel trapped. She wanted to push him aside, open the door and run outside to breathe.
"Good. Because it's a little dangerous these days." J.B. took his left hand out of his pocket and leaned it against the door, too, so that she was effectively caught between his arms. Her pulse kicked up and her skin heated. She fell into his eyes, drowning in the green of them, unable to catch her breath.
Then J.B.'s mouth took hers, swallowing her very unlawyerlike squeak, which developed into a full-fledged moan and then a sigh. The second his lips touched hers, he awakened a hunger in her. She opened to him, melted into him, felt him mate with her tongue and drink in her warmth. She couldn't control her instinctive response to him.
J.B. cupped h
er chin as he pulled away, looking surprised at himself. "Tell you what, Vivvie," he said. "You just come use me for sex again while you're in town. You know, for old times' sake."
* * *
Chapter Eight
Viv didn't dignify his suggestion with a reply. She put one hand on his chest and shoved, while she groped behind her for the doorknob with the other.
While she didn't succeed in moving the large J.B. an inch, he did get the message and backed away from her, shoving his hands, in his pockets again. New Yorker though she was, she noticed that he didn't open the door for her, and his previous comment about her not being a lady rankled. It was this that motivated her next comment.
"Thanks for the offer, J.B., but I travel with my vibrator and plenty of spare batteries." She opened the door as he responded with typical cowboy arrogance.
"I don't think your little toy makes your toes curl the way I did, honey. I had you beggin'."
She winced as she saw his mother's face in the reception area, and cast a look behind her at J.B., who turned brick red.
Mrs. Anglin did her best to pretend she hadn't heard, but her glazed expression gave her away.
Mortified but highly entertained, Viv made her exit. J.B. had a long day ahead of him, working with Mom.
Outside the office, she found a bench and sank down on it, her hand to her bruised lips. How they'd gone from sparring to devouring each other, she didn't quite know. But one thing was for sure: The attraction between them still blazed. Not that she planned to take J.B. up on his generous offer. She wished she did travel with a personal pleasure device. She wished she even owned one. It would be most welcome right now.
Viv slipped off her high-heeled sandals. She put on her running shoes instead, laced them up and popped the sandals into her bag. Then she headed back in the direction of the Motor Inn by way of Main Street. She needed to distract herself from thoughts of Anglin and her reactions to him.
She poked her head into a couple of shops, discovering the Tea Rose's quilts and buying a small one for Tabitha, her dog walker, as a thank-you gift. She fell in love with Dogologie, a wonderful emporium of canine accessories. Five doggie toys and five doggie fleeces got shipped to New York.
She ignored the odd looks her footwear received. It soon became apparent to her that she was in the South, where no woman would be caught dead wearing running shoes with business clothes. They'd just suck it up and acquire ten blood blistersa senseless exercise to Viv.
Comfy in her high-tech rubber soles, she wandered on and fell in love with Homestead, Room No. 5, and Idle Hours, shops full of whimsy and beautiful items for house and garden. She had to laugh at herself: She lived in the shopping capital of the world, and yet here she was, making her purchases in rural Texas. A box of lemon-scented candles joined the trail of packages headed for New York. Her mother would love them for the summer house in the Hamptons.
As she left Idle Hours, she heard the screech of brakes and the honk of a couple of horns. Looking back toward the intersection of Main with North Llano, she saw a very strange sight: Sydney Spinelli and a tall, thin, older man were in hot pursuit of an ostrich?
Viv squinted in disbelief as two more of the creatures scrambled into the intersection to the tune of more screeching brakes. Heads bobbing and wings flapping, they trotted across Main Street, heading toward Bejas Grill and Cantina.
Sydney, her red hair streaming behind her, chased these two while the older man caught up with the first renegade bird and grabbed it around the chest. He seemed to be talking to it.
"Vivver!" Syd yelled. "Can you help me out here?"
"What the hell do you want me to do?"
"Wave your arms and yell. Stop them."
Oh, yeah right ! Attorney trampled by giant chicken. The Post would have a heyday with that one. "You've got to be kidding me! Those things are taller than I am. What are they?"
"Emu! Just step in front of them and wave your arms."
"E-who?"
Syd practically leaped on one, wrinkling her nose at the smell. "Snoopy, you're just a born troublemaker, aren't you?"
Snoopy? Don't tell me the other one is Woodstock.
"I got Shaq!" yelled the thin man, from in front of Dogologie.
As in Shaquille ? Bemused, Viv gulped and stepped in front of the third bird. Pretend it's a hostile witness . She formed claws with her fingers and did her best to roar.
The bird stopped in its tracks and cocked its head. It blinked. Then it opened its mouth and stuck out a black tongue at her. Nice.
The noise that then came out of its mouth was a weird thrumming sound, and the creature began to bob its head with enthusiasm. Viv started to get nervous.
More honks sounded from the intersection, and then hoots and hollers. The tall man had evidently borrowed a couple of leashes from Dogologie, because he crossed the street with Shaq in tow and tossed one to Sydney.
Woodstockor whatever his name wasdarted his beak forward and grabbed a lock of her hair, still thrumming.
"Ow!"
He kept bobbing his head up and down. She managed to get him to drop her hair but now he started to circle her, and she didn't like the gleam in his eye.
"Uncle Ted!" Sydney yelled. "You need to cut in on Shrub, there, before he tries to mate with my friend."
Shrub?
Mate?!
Uncle Ted got to her, grabbed Shrub around the neck and fastened a dog collar onto him. Shrub didn't take it very well, making Big Bird noises of protest. Shrub smelled really bad; he was one foul fowl.
Finally Syd caught up and she and Ted stood there with the three steroidal ostriches on leashes while Vivien tried to figure out what planet they were all on. She began to laugh.
"Ted Kimball," the tall thin man said, transferring the leashes into his left hand and extending his right.
"Alex's uncle," Syd added helpfully. "He's an emu rancher. He's having kind of a hard time keeping the birds contained, though."
"Nice to meet you," Viv managed.
"Some jerk keeps lettin' 'em out just for fun. Nothin' wrong with my fences, but I can't help it when they get cut."
"Who could be doing it?"
He shrugged. "Kids."
Sydney asked, "What if it's a cattle rancher who's threatened by the emu industry?"
Uncle Ted scratched his head and thought about it. He fed Shaq and Shrub each a mini-dog biscuit, oblivious to the stares and guffaws of passersby. "I don't rightly know who we'd be threatening. It's not like demand for my birds is high." Snoopy got ag-gressive about a dog biscuit of his own, and Ted dug into his pocket.
"Alex and I are working to change that, Ted." Sydney said it firmly. "-With the Emu Roast and the new Spa Products line, not to mention his barbecue sauce, demand is going to skyrocket!" She turned to Viv. "Hey! Do you think Julia would agree to serve emu at the wedding?"
Viv's brows crawled into her hair as she looked at the homely family of Shaq, Snoopy and Shrub. "No." She started to laugh again. "What are you picturing? Minced emu cakes garnished with tarragon? Roast emu, carved off the bone? Or maybe emu marsala with shütake mushroom demi-glace?"
Syd glared at her. "It was just an idea. Julia and Roman's wedding will be quite the social event, and if we served emu it could become fashionable."
But Viv was on a roll. "Braised emu shanks, served like turkey legs at Oktoberfest? Cream of emu soup? Or maybe crispy emu a l'orange"
Ted looked thoughtful. "I think you're onto something, girls. I'm going to consult with Susie and then give Breckin, the wedding planner, a call."
Viv stopped laughing. Julia isn't going to appreciate this
"But for now," Ted said, "I've got to get these bad boys home."
She couldn't help herself. "Are you going to walk them home or ride one?"
Uncle Ted pinched her cheek, and she felt five years old again. "You're awful cute for a killer attorney."
How, exactly, do I respond to that?
"I heard about the pie at Cuvee." He
winked.
Syd cracked up.
"Cheesecake," Viv said with as much dignity as she could muster.
"Pie, cheesecake." He shrugged. "It's all the same. So did you really kick J.B. into a hotel hallway in his birthday suit? You feisty little filly, you." Uncle Ted beamed beatifically and slapped his knee. He obviously thought it was a great joke.
Yes, that's me. One hundred percent feisty filly . Viv still hadn't formulated a socially correct answer for the man. If one existed.
"Well, there's Susie with the trailer now. Come on, Snoopy. Come on, boys."
And Uncle Ted, the un-pc good shepherd, departed with his flock. Viv watched, amused in spite of herself, as he loaded the birds as if they were cattle or horses.
She and Syd traipsed back to Marv's Motor Inn only to find Julia in the midst of Bridal Indecision. "I don't know," she said into the phone at the front desk. "I just don't know. Ooooh, really? Yes, I do need to take care of that right away. Thanks for reminding me."
She waved at Vivien and Sydney. Syd, wisely, disappeared before she could be sent to taste any more white cake. Viv got collared as Jules hung up.
"Vivver!" Her smile was too white and too bright. It meant she was up to something.
"Yes?" Viv said cautiously.
"Would you, pretty-please-with-sugar-on-top, mind helping me with a teeny, tiny wedding detail?"
Uh-oh. There are two people in the United States you can't refuse. One is the president. The other is The Bride . "Sure, Jules. Anything."
Her friend grinned a sharklike grin.
"Anything within reason," Vivien added hastily.
"This is very reasonable."
Why do I think you're lying through your teeth ? "Shoot."
"All I want you to do is go to this bridal boutique in Austin tomorrow and get fitted for your dress."
"Oh, is that all."
Julia nodded. She looked w aaaay too innocent. "That's all."
"You remember that I don't drive? Is Syd taking me? She has to get fitted too, right?"
First Dance - [Bridesmaid's Chronicles 03] Page 8