Ignoring her, Carly rifled through her makeup drawer, coming up with a few items that suited Sonny’s coloring. “Your eyes are great,” she allowed, “but they overwhelm your face. You need to balance it out, soften your cheekbones, accentuate your lips.” Carly waved a brush like a magic wand over Sonny’s face, then applied a sunset-colored lip gloss.
Sonny had to admit the extra touches became her. When she smiled at her own reflection, Carly giggled in delight. Sonny couldn’t believe this was the same sullen girl from the restaurant. Her moods were indeed mercurial.
“We need to sex you up.”
“What?”
“Unbutton a little. You look all stuffy.”
“No way! Your grandmother is down there.”
Carly rolled her eyes. “She’s wearing a more daring outfit than this, believe me.”
Sonny looked down at her navy blue shirtwaist dress. Made of a stretchy cotton blend that molded to her figure, it wasn’t as stodgy as Carly made it sound.
“Oh, all right,” Sonny said, unfastening enough buttons to show a hint of cleavage.
“You aren’t Jewish, are you?”
“No, why?”
Carly took a delicate silver chain out of her jewelry box and put it around Sonny’s neck. It had a tiny cross that twinkled in the light, drawing the eye just where Carly wanted it to go. “There. Perfect.”
Sonny covered the cross with her hand. “Is your dad religious?”
“Not really. But he did go to Catholic school, and you look like a naughty nun. He’ll love it.”
Ben hated Carly’s boyfriend.
James Matthews had shaken his hand with more strength than necessary, called him sir like Ben was an old man, and looked him straight in the eye while he did it.
He was a punk, Ben decided, with a chip on his shoulder the size of Catalina Island.
James relegated the task of setting the table to Carly by pretending he didn’t know how it was done. She took over for him with a sweet smile, all the feminist training Ben had instilled in her down the drain in the blink of an eye. Then she offered to make a salad, and proceeded to do so with proficiency, James at her side. The two had been giving each other smoldering looks ever since.
You’d think chopping tomatoes was some kind of aphrodisiac.
Speaking of aphrodisiacs, Summer was looking tasty enough to gobble up. Ben couldn’t glance at her without feeling a sharp tug in his chest, and an equally troubling sensation lower. It was rude of him, but he’d decided to ignore her in order to stay focused on the task of hating James.
They went outside to eat, in a space warmed by standing heaters, lit by Chinese lanterns, and blessed with the gorgeous sights and sounds of the Pacific. In the background, the waters of an edgeless pool sparkled, and the Jacuzzi churned and bubbled, as hot and restless as Ben’s mood.
“What’s this?” a man called out from the other side of the patio. “Having a party without me?”
His friend JT was standing at the gate leading down to the beach. With the moon at his back, he was little more than an outline of broad shoulders and a glint of white teeth. Ben recognized him by his voice, which was low and distinctive, as raspy as rough-grained sand.
Ben muttered a curse under his breath. He didn’t want JT around tonight. He was too distracted to keep him away from Summer.
“I knew I smelled good things cooking,” JT said, not bothering to wait for anyone to invite him in. “You have room for one more?”
“Would you leave if I said no?” Ben asked, scowling.
“Hey, Mrs. Fortune,” JT called out, brushing past Ben and moving on to easier targets. “You get prettier every year,” he vowed, bringing her hand to his lips.
“Oh, you,” Grace said, pulling her hand from his with a smile.
When JT zeroed in on Summer, Ben felt his shoulders stiffen with apprehension. “Bonita señorita,” he singsonged. “Where’ve you been all my life?”
Summer laughed at JT’s Paulie Shore imitation, as amused by him as all women were. JT had always had a way with the ladies. In their wilder days, the two of them had frequently competed over the same girl in addition to the same wave. Ben’s professional success had often worked in his favor, but JT had been granted access to just about any bed on finesse alone. Once there, he was easily bored, never staying with one woman long enough to make a real connection.
“Are you Nathan’s boyfriend?” she asked.
Ben choked back a laugh.
JT placed a hand over his heart, where the barb had struck. “Cruelty, thy name is woman,” he groaned.
Summer darted a glance at Ben, not sure where she’d gone wrong.
“Frailty,” Ben corrected.
JT frowned at him. “Huh?”
“‘Frailty, thy name is woman.’ It’s Shakespeare.” Once again, his gaze roved over Summer’s sinuous physique. “And not really applicable, in my opinion.”
JT jerked his thumb in Ben’s direction. “Lose this buzzkill and run away with me. I’ll never correct you when you misquote.”
Although he knew JT was only joking, Ben had to stifle the urge to put him in a headlock. “JT is a friend of mine, not Nathan’s,” he explained. “My brother would never date such a poor specimen.”
“Too true,” JT admitted wryly.
“Sorry,” Summer said. “I didn’t mean to offend.”
“No harm done.” JT lowered his voice to a whisper. “We won’t tell Nathan.”
Summer laughed again.
Ben clamped his hand around the back of JT’s neck, exerting a painful amount of pressure. “Make yourself useful,” he said, leading him away, “and man the grill.”
The evening went downhill from there. JT under-cooked the vegetables and overcooked the fish. Nathan showed up solo, for once, with a bottle of outrageously expensive wine that Ben couldn’t sample.
And Carly held James’ hand under the table the whole time.
His mother was lovely, as usual, but clueless. Grace considered it wonderful news that Carly had a boyfriend. Ben and his younger brother had been born relatively late in her life, and Carly was her only grandchild, much to her dismay. Nathan wasn’t going to produce any, and Ben hadn’t been inclined to date, much less procreate, in years.
If he was lucky, she wouldn’t mention great-grandchildren until after dessert.
Nathan wasn’t helping, either. He seemed to find James fascinating, but he’d always had a weakness for a pretty face.
“Where’s Peter?” Ben asked when he remembered his brother’s latest lover’s name.
Nathan arched a brow at his surly tone. “He’s flying in tomorrow. Should I bring him over for Christmas, Mom?”
Grace smiled serenely. “If you want a quiet, peaceful day, you won’t.”
“Dad still living in the Stone Age?”
“We could always celebrate here,” Ben offered, in no mood to deal with his father’s bigotry on top of everything else.
“Yes,” Carly exclaimed, liking the idea. “Let’s have a pool party. Grandpa’s such an old grump. And I like Peter.”
“Darling, you’ve never met Peter,” Nathan said.
“Oh. Who was that one guy?”
“Emilio?”
“No, no. After that.”
“Greg.”
“Yeah, Greg. He was cute.”
Nathan sighed wistfully. “He was, wasn’t he? Too bad.”
“What happened to him?”
“You know, I don’t really remember. I think we just drifted apart.”
Ben coughed back a sound of sarcasm. Nathan had a notoriously short attention span with men, and Carly was forever romanticizing his fickle ways.
“Summer’s a lesbian,” she announced.
JT straightened immediately, delighted by the news.
“Carly-” Ben warned.
“I mean, she’s still deciding,” she amended.
Too polite to call Carly out for lying, Summer stared down at her plate, probably wishing
she’d never met any of them.
Nathan’s brown eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’ve never known Ben to date a lesbian before. Then again, he hasn’t dated anyone besides himself in so long, I wasn’t sure he was still interested in women. Switching teams, brother?”
“Yeah,” he replied stonily. “Tell Peter I’m available.”
Grace patted Summer on the shoulder. “Just look to God to help you find your answer. I find that consulting the Bible on matters of the heart is always useful.”
Summer fingered the chain at her neck. Ben’s gaze was drawn, inexorably, to the valley between her breasts. “I’m not really looking for an answer, to that, ah, particular question.”
“She’s not a lesbian, Mom,” Nathan explained.
“Oh? And Ben isn’t going to date Peter, is he?”
Feeling all eyes on him, Ben dragged his gaze away from Summer’s chest.
“Not in this lifetime,” JT said with a smile.
“I can’t keep up with the crazy jokes you young people tell,” Grace complained.
In a blatant attempt to redirect the conversation, Summer turned to Carly and James. “Do you two take classes together?”
“No,” James replied. “I have homeschool.” When this answer was met with uneasy silence, he added, “I’d rather go to Shores, but I work during the day.”
“You work?” Ben asked.
“Yeah. On my dad’s fishing boat.”
“Every day?”
“Monday through Saturday.”
“All day?” He was insultingly skeptical. “Is that even legal?”
James shrugged. “It’s legal to work eight hours a day, or more, once you’re sixteen. I know because my dad looked it up. He took me out of school to work part-time when I was fourteen, and he looked that up, too. Now we put in ten-hour days, pretty regular.”
“Is that how old you are? Sixteen?”
“No, sir, I’m seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in March.”
Ben groaned, covering his face with his hands. His life was over.
“My dad’s an alcoholic,” Carly said in a rush, trying to reestablish control over the situation.
“So’s mine,” James admitted.
Ben lifted his head, seizing the opportunity to find something else to dislike about his daughter’s boyfriend. “Do you drink, too?”
“No, sir,” James said carefully, squinting at him. He might be a dropout, but he wasn’t stupid. “And maybe if you’d sober up once in a while, Carly wouldn’t go down to the beach to cut herself with razor blades.”
Ben felt his face go white, because James had scored a direct hit. Of course he felt responsible for Carly’s actions. Any parent would. And although he hadn’t had a drink in ages, he knew his alcoholism would have a lifetime effect on her.
Carly’s wail of outrage broke the silence. “James! My dad’s a recovering alcoholic. He’s been sober for years. And how could you tell everyone I cut myself? Oh my God, I could just die!” She threw her napkin down and fled.
A shocked hush fell over the table.
“I’m sorry,” James said, rising from his chair. “I never met an alcoholic who didn’t drink anymore. I’ll just…go apologize to Carly.”
“I should leave,” Summer said. “It was a pleasure to meet you all.”
“No,” Ben said, snapping out of his self-pitying stupor. “You’re not going anywhere.” He stood, towering over James. “Neither are you,” he said.
Summer arched a dark blond brow and crossed her arms over her chest. Her cool expression indicated that he was in for a tongue-lashing later, and not the kind he would enjoy. James was easier to intimidate. He gulped. And sat.
“Carly is going to come down here and we will all enjoy a pleasant meal together. Even if it kills us!” Ben stormed away, intent on making everyone else suffer through the remainder of the evening, just as he would.
Sonny survived the rest of the night by a thread. After Carly returned, puffy-eyed and sniffling, James sat in uncomfortable silence, JT made inconsequential conversation, Ben brooded, and Sonny fumed.
Nathan drank wine and enjoyed himself, too contrary not to have a good time.
Before everyone left, they made plans for a Christmas pool party, discussing the finer points of the weather forecast, which Ben seemed to either know instinctively or have memorized by rote. According to him, it was supposed to be sunny and 75 on December 25, an average winter day in San Diego, if a little warmer than it had been lately.
Carly said good-bye to James and went up to her room, sighing dreamily.
Although Sonny stayed behind to help Ben clean up, what she really wanted to do was tell Grant to shove this assignment, rescind her promise to attend the Christmas pool party, and walk away from the Fortune family, never to look back.
Ben wouldn’t let her. Taking her by the hand, he led her outside to stand on his beautiful, heated patio, look out at his expensive, oceanfront view, and cajole her into staying in his too charmed, too complicated life. “You’re going to dump me, aren’t you?”
Startled, she jerked her hand from his. “We’re not even dating.”
“Yes we are.”
She turned away from him, leaning her elbows against the top of the rock wall that separated his patio from the beach and wondering what she was doing here. Ben Fortune wasn’t a killer, and she had no business pursuing this angle of the investigation. She was playing him, and herself, by continuing their association.
But if Ben hadn’t killed Olivia, who had? Sonny was becoming increasingly convinced that Darrius O’Shea was innocent. There were too many similarities between the recent murders and Olivia’s untimely death.
When a victim was attacked in her own home, the search always began from the inside out. Ben was a natural suspect. So was his friend JT. The husky-voiced surfer was a smooth operator, no doubt about that, but Sonny couldn’t picture him planning anything more nefarious than a lazy seduction. Besides, he’d been ruled out already. According to the case file, he’d been surfing with Ben the morning Olivia was murdered. Several witnesses recalled seeing Ben go inside, while JT stayed in the water.
Sonny felt a flutter of nerves as Ben came up behind her. Until Grant gave her the go-ahead, stringing him along was her job. So when he put his arm around her, she let him. And, as always, the thrill she experienced at his touch had nothing to do with his status as a suspect, and everything to do with her awareness of him as a man.
“I’m sorry.”
She pulled back to study his expression. “You are?”
“No,” he admitted. “I’m too pissed off to be sorry. But I know I shouldn’t have ordered you around like that in front of my family.”
“An honest admission is better than an insincere apology.”
“Well, you got both.”
“Lucky me.”
He worked his fingers through his dark hair in frustration. It was too long, and had a tendency to curl at the ends. In the water, it looked as smooth and sleek as an otter’s pelt. She wanted to run her fingers through it, then down, over his chest, and lower, where that silky line of hair disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.
“I’m jealous.”
She raised her eyes to his face. “What?”
“I’m jealous of Carly’s boyfriend. Can you believe that?”
She smiled. “Of course. It’s plain to see.”
“I don’t want her to grow up. I don’t want her to get hurt. But even more, I can’t help but feel she shouldn’t need anyone but me. If I were giving her enough positive male attention, she wouldn’t have to look elsewhere.”
“Ah. Does it work the same way for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why am I here, if Carly fulfills all of your emotional needs?”
“I have…other needs.”
“And she isn’t allowed to have sexual needs? Why, because she’s a girl?”
“Yes, damn it! I don’t want to know about her sexual needs. Sh
e’s my daughter.”
Sonny threw back her head and laughed. “You’re going to know about them. And you’d better start talking to her about sex.”
“I’ve talked to her about sex,” he replied defensively.
“What did you say?”
“‘Don’t do it.’”
“Ben,” she scolded. “You need to make sure that she respects herself. That she understands the repercussions of her actions.”
His expression grew pained. “I always thought Olivia would do this.”
At the mention of his former wife, Sonny felt a twist of pain inside her chest. Maybe it was the way he spoke her name, or the tortured look on his face, but it was obvious he was still in love with her. Never mind the case, or that she was here under an assumed name, playing a role. Forget Summer Moore; Sonny Vasquez was crushed.
“What do you want from me?” she asked in a whisper.
Ben understood the question. The subjects of conversation might have changed, but not the topic. Slipping his arms around her waist, he dipped his head low, putting his lips very close to her ear. “Sex,” he breathed, making the word a caress.
The laconic statement wasn’t meant to be insulting, but he was surprised when she didn’t pull away. Instead, she looked up at him with those amazing blue eyes, and he saw his own ache mirrored there, along with hesitation, and a hint of fear.
Ben wasn’t sure why it sent him over the edge. Her reluctance was a novelty, and he certainly wasn’t accustomed to women being afraid of him. He knew he should be afraid of her, too. The threat she posed to him was much more than physical.
He’d never had a strong sense of self-preservation, so he went ahead and kissed her. She must have been suffering from the same malady, because she kissed him back.
His movements were stiff and awkward from lack of practice, but she didn’t seem to notice. When he tasted the seam of her lips, she parted them with a moan, twining her fingers through his hair. Pulse pounding with desire, he pressed closer, touching his tongue to hers, letting his hands roam over her lower back.
She went very still.
He lifted his mouth from hers. “You’re not going to hurt me again, are you?”
She laughed a little, tilting her head back to expose the silky column of her throat. Tantalized by the sight of that honeyed skin, he placed an openmouthed kiss there, following the delicate silver chain down her neck.
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