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Lone Star Reunion
by Joss Wood
Prologue
September
Over the decades many wedding receptions had been held at the Texas Cattleman’s Club, and there had been a fair amount of scandals, for sure. Alexis Slade remembered talk of a groom being caught in a compromising position with the matron of honor, and a father of the groom passing out under a lavishly decorated bridal party table after streaking across the dance floor, wearing nothing more than a very lacy pink thong. There had been tearful brides, drunk brides, regretful brides and emotional brides, but Shelby Arthur was the first bride who hadn’t made it to the altar.
The Goodman-Arthur wedding, or nonwedding, would undoubtedly be talked about for weeks on end. Alex looked across the still-crowded reception room and saw Reginald Goodman, father of the groom, with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, looking pale but composed. Her eyes tracked left and there was the mother of the bride, a handkerchief clutched in her fist. Alex snorted at her wobbling lower lip, her crocodile tears. Daphne Goodman was a designer-dress-wearing barracuda who’d made no secret of the fact that she despised her son’s fiancée and was totally against their marriage. Having been an object of Jared’s affections in high school, Alex believed Shelby came to her senses just in time.
Marrying the spineless groom meant marrying his awful family—Brooke Goodman, Jared’s sweet-natured sister, was the exception—and really, no woman deserved that. Marriage was tough enough without any added pressure from the in-laws. Jared and Shelby’s marriage would’ve been a marriage of three, with Daphne Goodman calling the shots.
Alex turned when the door next to her right elbow opened and Rose Clayton walked into the reception area via the side entrance. Cool gray assessing eyes met hers and Alex reminded herself that she wasn’t eighteen anymore, so the unofficial queen of the Texas Cattleman’s Club should no longer intimidate her.
But she did.
Over that long summer ten years ago, Rose waged a war to separate her and Daniel, Rose’s beloved grandson and heir. Gus, her own grandfather, had done the same. Because God and every Texan knew, family loyalty and a decades-old feud between Gus Slade and Rose Clayton trumped first love. At the time, she and Daniel had been the Romeo and Juliet of Royal, minus the death by poisoning.
Losing Daniel had felt like another death—she’d missed and mourned him that much. Alex remembered her tears, the desperation and loss she’d endured when Daniel refused to leave Royal with her so she could attend school out of state.
Daniel had said he belonged at The Silver C, but she disagreed, proclaiming they belonged together. They’d yelled; she’d cried. Daniel’s stubbornness and intransigence, his unwillingness to choose her—them—ultimately killed their relationship.
Yes, they’d been young but, in his own unique way, he’d abandoned her. Unlike her parents, her childhood friend Gemma and, just last year, her beloved grandmother Sarah, Daniel had left her life through choice and not death.
And that somehow hurt more.
Rose approached her and a part of her still wanted to curl up in a ball when faced with Daniel’s imperial grandmother. Annoyed with herself, Alex straightened her spine and managed a jerky nod. “Miss Rose.”
“Alexis Slade.”
Alex rolled her eyes when Rose turned her back on her and glided away, five foot something of sheer haughtiness and holier-than-thou poise. If not for their volatile history, she might even admire the woman for her steely self-assurance, her ability to carve out her rightful place in a world filled with take-charge alpha men.
But Rose was a Clayton and, as such, a sworn Slade enemy. Alex and her brother knew the basics of the Slade-Clayton feud: a half century ago, Gus, her grandfather, left Royal to make his fortune on the rodeo circuit, believing that Rose Clayton would wait for his return. He saved enough to buy a small spread next to the Clayton ranch and went to propose to Rose, excited to start his life with the woman he desperately loved. But Rose had married Ed the year before.
In doing so, Rose fired the first shot and war was declared.
Gus’s marrying Rose’s best friend—Alex’s beloved grandmother Sarah—just escalated the conflict. And her grandfather buying up more portions of the once-mighty Clayton ranch was a nuclear strike. Families took their feuds seriously in Texas, and although sides were most certainly chosen, the Texas Cattleman’s Club remained the demilitarized zone.
The Slades and Claytons, both old and young, were all members, and here within these walls, they had to play nice. Or when that wasn’t feasible, they opted to ignore each other as much as possible. Just like Gus was ignoring Rose, and Alexis was ignoring Daniel, which was, annoyingly, very damn hard to do.
What woman with a pulse could? Surrendering to temptation, Alex looked toward the bar...and at the devastatingly handsome man who she’d once considered to be the love of her life. She drank in every inch of him. The black curls he hated—but she loved—and those mysterious dark brown eyes he’d inherited—everyone presumed—from his father, because his mother was light skinned with blue eyes. Boring brown, Daniel had once called them, but Alex vehemently disagreed. They could be as rich as expensive coffee, as deep as the night. However, they could also turn as hard as ship-destroying rocks on a jagged, inhospitable coastline.
So much had changed over the years, Alex mused with a wistful sigh. Her once-gangly boyfriend was now taller, broader, every inch a man. He was still lean but with hard muscles and a harder streak. Strong stubble covered his jaw and he looked as good in a tuxedo as he did in worn jeans, but neither was his sexiest look.
A naked Daniel Clayton, as she’d discovered when she was younger, could easily be classified as one of the wonders of the world.
In the past decade, her ex had done quite well for himself. He’d acquired degrees in both agriculture and business, and all the hard work he put into The Silver C had, judging by his designer tuxedo and the German sports car he occasionally drove, paid off. He was smart, wealthy and good-looking, and that trifecta made him one of the most sought-after bachelors in the area. Hell, possibly even the state. Although he hadn’t brought a date to this wedding, Daniel Clayton was never, so she’d heard, short of a female companion.
In bed or out of it.
A hand on her arm pulled her eyes off her former lover and she smiled at Rachel Kincaid, her closest friend. Alex didn’t make friends easily, but Rachel was someone who’d sneaked under her defenses.
“Why are you standing here by yourself?” her friend asked, handing her a glass of champagne.
“Trying to avoid another conversation about Shelby or what I think of the new president of the TCC,” Alex admitted, taking the glass with a grateful smile.
“James Harris is a great guy.”
Alex nodded. “I like him, too.” She glanced at the tall African American man standing next to the right of them, talking to Rose Clayton. “And, oh my God, he’s ser
iously hot.”
In fact, there were many drop-dead gorgeous men in this room, most of them members of the TCC. She knew why she was single—chronic commitment and abandonment issues—but that didn’t mean she had to be celibate. Yet she was.
“You keep looking at Daniel Clayton,” Rachel remarked. “Not that I blame you. I swear he was birthed by an angel.”
An unfortunate choice of words, Alex thought wryly, since Daniel’s mom was reputed to be anything but celestial. Daniel never spoke about Stephanie but there were enough gossips in Royal to ascertain a little of what his life with his tempestuous and unstable mother had been like. According to the grapevine, Rose had been the only responsible adult in his life. His loyalty to his grandmother was rock-solid and unshakable.
Their romance had been doomed from the start. Because, as it turned out, Alex had never been able to compete with Rose and Daniel’s fierce allegiance to The Silver C ranch.
“Matt Galloway is just as good-looking,” Alex commented, partly to be perverse but also to distract Rachel from linking her and Daniel together. There was no “her and Daniel,” and there hadn’t been in a long, long time. And she wasn’t lying, Matt Galloway was a young Clooney: as good-looking, as rich and charming, and as much of a reputed playboy as George used to be.
“He is—was—Billy’s best friend.” Alex wasn’t sure what Matt’s looks had to do with him being Rachel’s dead husband’s friend, but she was familiar with the don’t-go-there look on Rachel’s face, since it was an expression she often used. Alex liked her own privacy, so she didn’t push Rachel.
Rachel wound her arm around Alex’s waist and squeezed. “Have I said thank you lately for letting me stay with you at the Lone Wolf Ranch?”
“We love having you and baby Ellie there,” Alex responded.
“And I don’t take it personally that you frequently run away to Sarah’s tree house.”
“That’s more to avoid Gus’s lectures about finding a husband and giving him a great-grandchild than avoiding you, as you well know. Gus is determined to get me bound and breeding. I, on the other hand, need to think about getting back to Houston, to my life there. I came home to be with Grandma Sarah in her last days, but I’m still here, a year after her death. Royal was only meant to be a stopgap. My life isn’t here.”
“Sure looks like it is,” Rachel commented. “As a digital-media strategist, you can work anywhere in the world, and you love the ranch, spending time with Gus.”
Of course she did, but being with Gus and working part-time as the Lone Wolf’s business manager didn’t stop her from missing her grandmother with an intensity that still threatened to drop her to her knees. It didn’t stop her from wallowing in the past, from remembering how happy she and Daniel had once been before she learned that love didn’t conquer all.
Alex sucked in her breath when his eyes slammed into hers and, as always, she felt caressed by the light of a million stars. Electric tingles skittered across her skin, tightened her nipples, sent heat to that place between her legs. This was just red-hot, carnal lust, and nothing, she silently insisted, like what they’d experienced so long ago.
Back then, they’d been constantly drunk. On love, on each other. They’d hurtled headfirst into love and sex and passion, blithely thinking they could handle the thousand-degree fire they’d created, stoked and fed.
Pfft. She’d emerged with third-degree burns. But the worst part? Alex still found Daniel physically intoxicating. And judging by the unbanked desire flashing in his eyes, she made him feel equally off balance.
Good. He deserved nothing less.
Rachel accepted a dance from Gus, old flirt that he was, and Alex, wanting fresh air, slipped out the side door. She inhaled the cool, fragrant night air and wrapped her arms around her waist as she walked toward the gardens surrounding the TCC. In daylight it was immediately apparent that the surrounding grounds, flower beds and paths that meandered through the once-glorious garden needed some updating and attention. But at night the gardens were mysterious and welcoming, an old friend. She remembered playing hide-and-seek in these gardens with her brother and her friends, sneaking down to the small pond to steal a kiss from Daniel Clayton, away from their eagle-eyed grandparents.
Fun times, Alex thought with a bittersweet pang.
She heard the crunch of boots on the gravel path, and then a jacket covered her bare shoulders. She inhaled his familiar scent—sandalwood and leather, wood and wildness. Big, manly hands settled on her shoulders and she instinctively leaned back, her head resting against his collarbone, his warm breath on her ear.
Suddenly she was eighteen again. Daniel had his hands on her...and all was right with her world.
“Lexi.” Daniel’s deep voice rumbled over her skin, as deep and dark as the night.
Alex knew that she should run away. But she was so tired of tamping down her fantasies of what it would be like to have Daniel naked and in her bed. Of dreaming how he would make love. Teenage Daniel had been hesitant, cautious, but adult Daniel would possess her the same way he did everything else, with confidence and raw virility.
And she wanted him. God, how she wanted him!
Alex sighed as his hand brazenly moved over her shoulder, down her chest, to slide under the lapel of his jacket and cup her breast. His thumb swiped her nipple as he pulled her earlobe between his teeth, gently nibbling.
“Still so sexy, Lexi. Love what you are wearing.”
She couldn’t remember what she’d put on so she glanced down... Right, a loose, off-the-shoulder black top with a full, flower-patterned pale pink skirt.
Alex knew she should push him away, but instead of being sensible, she placed her hand behind her back, her fingers seeking out his erection. There it was, hard and long and thick, and she heard his low, guttural moan as his cock jerked beneath her touch. Then she was making whimpering sounds of her own as his hand pushed aside the fabric of her top so that he could feel her naked flesh and pull her tight nipple between his fingers.
She lifted her head up and to the side, and then his mouth was on hers. Parting her lips to receive his tongue, she moaned her frustration when he smiled against her mouth, silently telling her that he enjoyed teasing her, making her wait. He’d always been more patient, more interested in drawing out every moment of their pleasure.
Daniel’s chaste kisses were in direct contrast to his roaming hands. He bunched the fabric of her skirt and pulled it up her legs, and his fingers trailed up her thighs, played with the tiny V shape of her panties. Alex felt him shudder when he discovered her panties were only comprised of one triangle and a few thin cords.
“Naughty underwear, Miss Slade,” Daniel growled against her mouth.
“Shut up and touch me, Clayton,” Alex demanded, spinning around and slapping her hands on his cotton-covered chest. Ignoring his loose tie and open collar, she gripped his shirt and yanked it from his pants, desperate to find hot, sexy, olive-toned skin. Her fingers danced across a set of impressive washboard abs, and she pushed her fingers between that hard stomach and the band of his pants, seeking and finding the tip of his erection. Daniel released a low hiss, sucked in his stomach and suddenly she had more of him against her fingers, hot and oh-so potent.
“I want you, Lex,” Daniel muttered, smacking her bare butt cheek and pulling her into him, squashing her hand between her body and his erection. Needing more, needing everything—she’d missed him, missed this so much—Alex lifted her thigh and wrapped it over his hip, grateful to yoga for making her supple. Then nothing but fabric separated her core from his shaft, and she rocked her hips and lifted her mouth up to his to be kissed.
This time he didn’t hold back and his tongue swept between her parted lips, branding, rediscovering, wiping away any doubts that reliving the past was foolish and dangerous.
There was only Daniel, his taste and heat and power, the adult version of the b
oy she’d known so long ago. Standing in his arms, panting and with soaked panties, her only thoughts were of how much she’d missed his touch, missed his kisses. In this moment they didn’t have feuding grandparents, unforgivable betrayals or hurt and pain between them. There was only desire—hot, potent and demanding.
Daniel wrenched his mouth off hers, and in the moonlight his eyes, normally so shuttered, were as deep and dark as a desert night. “Come home with me, Lex.”
She had to be rational...and she couldn’t be, not when she had her hand in his pants. She couldn’t think, breathe. Alex pulled her hand from between their bodies and tried to step back, but Daniel’s hands on her hips kept her up close and very personal. “Dan, don’t ask me that.”
“Why? Because you are scared you’re going to say yes?”
It was a typical no-frills Daniel response. He never beat around the bush, and although he was the strong and silent type, when he did speak, people listened. Her ex just had a way of cutting through BS to get to the heart of the matter, and as per usual, he was right. She was terrified that she was going to say yes, but even more scared that she was going to force herself to say no.
“I’ve been watching you all evening and you’ve been watching me, too,” Daniel murmured, lifting his hand to trace patterns on her jaw. “We’ve both been wondering what it would feel like to be together again. Especially now that we’re older, more experienced...confident in how to satisfy one another in bed.”
She was sexually confident? Oh, she was anything but. She might be older and wiser, but she was still more girl next door than femme fatale.
“Come home with me, Lex. Let me peel that ridiculously sexy dress from your gorgeous body and replace it with my lips and hands. I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”
He’d make it too good, and yeah, that worried her. “Daniel, this is madness.”
A Convenient Scandal Page 18