by Cheryl Holt
Crystal laughed, and she had a sultry voice that always sounded as if you were in bed with her and she was whispering secrets.
“Are you coming to the parents’ supper?” she asked Eric.
“I’ll be there with bells on,” he told her.
“Me too.”
She sauntered out, walking slowly past Josh where he was hovering in the doorway. He and Eric were silent until the outer door closed behind her.
Josh raised a brow at Eric, then went out to the sitting room. He poured a hefty amount of whiskey for both of them, and he was plopped down on the sofa when Eric strolled in.
“What was that all about?” Josh asked as he handed Eric his glass. “Are you screwing her?”
Eric took it and relaxed onto the chair across. “It’s been known to happen.”
“That’s . . . creepy.”
“She moved into our house when I was fifteen. How was I supposed to behave myself?”
“What about your dad? Wouldn’t he be upset if he found out?”
“I think he’s over Crystal.”
“Really?”
Eric shrugged. “There’ve been rumors.”
“In the meantime, she’s still his wife.”
Eric waved away the remark. “She’s always willing, but I rarely am, so it’s been awhile.”
“I hate to scold you as if I’m your nanny, but I have to remind you that you’re getting married on Saturday.”
“Doesn’t that seem bizarre? Me? A married man?”
“Yes, it seems absolutely bizarre.”
From the moment Eric had called to tell him about the wedding, Josh had thought the decision was inexplicable. Jennifer was pretty, sweet, and fun. She was smart, talented, and very likeable too, but she wasn’t Eric’s type at all.
His tastes ran to uber-rich, uber-gorgeous, uber-spoiled actresses and other exhausting women. He’d never had a serious girlfriend—because he’d never wanted one.
“I pity Jennifer,” Josh said. “I can’t imagine what her life will be like with you.”
“She adores me, and as to what her life will be like, she’ll feel like Cinderella. Don’t forget where she comes from.”
“Eric! Don’t ever make a comment like that outside this room.”
“Sorry, sorry. I must be more fatigued than I realized.”
“Maybe we should be having coffee instead of alcohol. You need to wake up and get your brain in gear so you don’t insult anyone at supper. After you bagged out on Jennifer yesterday, you should work extra hard to be charming.”
“How about if you and I head out to party after the meal is over?”
“We could, but I don’t know where we would go. There are a couple of bars down in the village, but they’d be quite a bit below your exacting standards.”
“So we’ll go slumming.”
“Shouldn’t you hang with Jennifer?”
“We’re about to fly off on our honeymoon, so she’ll have me all to herself for two straight weeks. You I haven’t seen in ages. Let’s sneak off so we can catch up.”
“I guess we can.” Josh sighed. “Jennifer is too nice, and you don’t deserve her.”
Eric snorted. “You could be right about that.”
Josh scrutinized Eric, whom he viewed as his brother—since he didn’t have a brother of his own. There was an aura of weariness about him, as if he’d been running too fast for too long.
“Have you considered what this will be like?” Josh asked. “You’ll have a wife waiting at home, and she’ll expect to be informed about where you are and what you’re doing. I’m not sure you’ve fully contemplated the consequences of this.”
“I’ll have to change a few of my bad habits,” Eric said, “but I am thirty this year. It won’t kill me to be a husband.”
“It might kill me to watch you adjust.”
Eric laughed. “This will be good for me, and Jennifer is an excellent choice. I could never have picked any of the bimbos I usually sleep with. They’d have driven me crazy. I agree with you: She is nice, and I like her.”
Josh thought she was an excellent choice for a normal man, for a man who had some idea how to settle down and live a normal life. Eric’s background was so diverse from hers that they might have been from different planets.
“Have you ever figured out why you’re proceeding?” Josh asked. “I hope you have because I certainly haven’t. You don’t have to go through with it, you know.”
“I know. I want to go through with it.”
“Well, then, the only advice I have is this: Stay away from Crystal. The woman is toxic, and she could really wreck it for you.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. She’s been my mother for fifteen years, and she’s occasionally dispensed some personal parenting.”
“That makes me nauseous, so how about if we focus on you marrying Jennifer—with no drama or calamities interfering?” Josh motioned to Eric’s bedroom. “You have to dress for supper. In case you’ve forgotten, your presence is required downstairs.”
Eric blew out a heavy breath, as if eating with his and Jennifer’s dads was a great burden. “I don’t suppose you could burst in halfway through and claim there’s an emergency, could you? You could drag me out.”
“Hey, you’re the one who claims you’re excited to marry her. You have to attend.”
“Crystal and my mother will be there!” Eric gave a mock shudder. “I simply can’t picture it.”
“You might not survive the ordeal.”
“It’s why I wish you could rescue me from it.”
“I’m not your bodyguard either.” Josh rolled his eyes with disgust. “Get moving, Eric. Your new father-in-law is eager to dine with you.”
Greg was over on the edge of the patio and studying the assembled group. The meal was over, the waiters clearing the remaining plates and silverware.
Crystal Benjamin had departed the instant the last morsel of food had been swallowed, and Greg had been glad to have her leave. She was so unlikable, and while he understood that wealthy, older men wed beautiful, younger women, he couldn’t comprehend why Dennis Benjamin put up with her.
What sort of idiot would dump Sharon and choose Crystal instead?
Sharon was seated at the table with Dennis and Eric’s brother, Alex. Jennifer and Eric were heading off to party in the bar with the other guests. Eric had arrived so late that he hadn’t greeted any of them yet, and Jennifer was anxious to get the socializing on a more even keel.
Sharon had told him the supper would be awkward, but that had been a huge understatement. Alex and Sharon had sat on one side of the table, Dennis and Crystal on the other, so the conversation had been stilted and hostile.
During their drive earlier that afternoon, Sharon had regaled him with stories of how her sons had taken sides in the divorce, and the situation had him fearing for Jennifer. From the beginning, he’d had plenty of qualms, and he probably should have spoken up about how wrong the engagement was, but it wasn’t Victorian England. A father didn’t select his daughter’s husband anymore.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Eric. He was rich, handsome, and polite, and Jennifer adored him. But Greg believed you could judge a boy by how he treated his mother. Since his own children had grown up without theirs, it was a sore spot for him.
In light of the bad blood in the Benjamin family, Jennifer had been wildly optimistic in assuming the supper should be held. She was a trouper though, and she’d smiled through the whole debacle. Alex had struggled to keep things positive too, but if Greg had been urged to offer an opinion, he’d have to say it had been an enormous waste of time.
Jennifer and Eric finally strolled off, Alex accompanying them, so only Sharon and Dennis were still at the table. Dennis uttered a comment to Sharon that had her tsking with exasperation. Then, to Greg’s great regret, Dennis ro
se and walked over to where Greg was leaned on the railing.
Sharon had brought her bag of the fridge magnets she’d painted. She’d distributed them as a memento, but Dennis and Eric had left theirs behind, as if they were too lazy or too rude to pick them up, and Greg bristled with aggravation.
The conduct of Dennis and Eric Benjamin wasn’t any of Greg’s business, but it was absolutely his business too. He was suffering from the most potent desire to kidnap Jennifer and run away with her so she couldn’t proceed with the wedding. He truly couldn’t see how she’d have a happy ending.
Dennis was wearing different clothes from the ones he’d had on in the lobby, but he still looked awful. His jeans had stylish holes in the knees, his sneakers were scuffed, and he haven’t shaved. Sharon claimed he didn’t feel he had to impress anybody, but Greg simply thought he was a prick.
He was holding a cocktail, and he extended his glass toward Greg’s bottle of beer. They clinked them in a toast.
“What’s your prediction?” Dennis said. “Will this union last a year or a century?”
It was a hideously inappropriate question, and he bit down a caustic reply. “I wouldn’t try to guess how it will unfold. I’ll always hope for the best.”
“They seem to get along.”
“They do, so we should take some comfort in that.”
“Is she your first kid to marry?”
“Yes, the first one.”
“But you have four.”
“Yes. Three daughters and a son.”
“Brave man,” Dennis said. “I was exhausted by having just two.”
Greg figured that was a lie. Sharon had done all the parenting, while Dennis had been out earning his fortune. Once he was tired of her, he’d thrown her out like a sack of garbage. It was another thorny issue for Greg. Having lost his wife much too early in life, he didn’t like any husband to behave despicably to his spouse.
“Jennifer tells me you’re a widower,” Dennis said.
“Yes, for seventeen years now.”
“You raised your kids on your own. That must have been tough.”
“It was.”
“You never considered remarrying?”
“No,” Greg said. “I was too busy keeping a roof over their heads.”
“You were lucky to not try it a second time. Matrimony isn’t necessarily a condition men should strive for. In my experience, I’ve found it to be draining.”
It was an asshole remark, and Greg bit down another caustic response. Maybe this was how rich millionaires talked to each other in Hollywood. Maybe they were all divorced and on the prowl for younger wives. Or maybe Dennis strutted around in such a rarified atmosphere that he had no idea how to chat with a working man like Greg.
If that was the problem, Greg would be delighted to not talk to him in the future.
He was saved by Dennis finishing his drink and saying, “Nice to see you again.”
He didn’t appear to mean it, and he strolled off without a glance at Sharon. After he vanished, Sharon stood and came over to Greg. He put his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close.
It had been an eternity since he’d noticed a woman in a romantic way, and his meeting her would make the whole stupid wedding worth the effort.
“What did you think of him?” she said.
“How long were you guys married?”
“Twenty years.”
“You should be awarded some sort of combat pay.”
“He’s worse now than he was when we were younger. He’s richer and much more powerful, so he’s more set on himself.”
“He’s an asshole.”
She laughed. “Yes, that too.”
“He and Crystal deserve each other.”
“You’re correct. They do.”
“We survived the supper,” he said.
“Speak for yourself. I feel as if I’ve been nailed to a cross and tortured.”
“Eric and Jennifer didn’t seem to have much fun.”
“Jennifer was frantically struggling not to burst into tears.”
“Alex prevented a complete debacle. If he hadn’t kept the conversation going, it would have collapsed into chaos.”
“He’s a good boy,” she said. “He’s always been kind.”
“I don’t think I’m destined to get along with Jennifer’s new family.”
“Well, one side of it anyway. You’re getting along with me just fine.”
“And I don’t even have to work at it.” He gestured to the table. “Dennis and Eric didn’t take the gifts you made.”
She shrugged as if their disregard was irrelevant. “I’ll put them back in the bag and give them to Jennifer’s female friends. They’ll like them.”
“You’re too forgiving.”
“It’s not that. I’ve been fuming for fifteen years, but for some reason, my anger has faded away. Once I bumped into Dennis again, I realized he wasn’t worth so much angst.”
“Definitely not.” Greg tsked with offense. “It’s still early, and I’m not tired. How shall we entertain ourselves? I’m not too keen to join the kids in the bar, and I really, really don’t want to bump into Dennis or Crystal. What if Dennis invited us up for drinks?”
“I have an idea on how we can stay busy.”
She flashed him a hot look he hadn’t observed from a woman in an eternity.
“What is on your mind?” he asked.
“Come up to my room, and I’ll show you.”
She clasped his hand and started off, and he followed like a puppet on a string.
“What do you mean, you’re heading out to party with Josh?”
“I haven’t seen him in ages. We’d like to catch up.”
“It’s our wedding, and I haven’t seen you in two weeks. The Inn is filled with our guests, and they’ve been waiting for you to arrive.”
“So . . . I’ll pop into the bar for a few minutes, say hello, then slip out when nobody’s watching.”
They were in Eric’s suite, having fled upstairs after their horrid meal was over.
She was trying to stagger forward as if she was a normal bride having a normal wedding. A parents’ supper was a perfectly logical notion. It was one of the decisions she had been allowed to make, and she’d embraced the prospect with an enormous amount of relish.
But she was such an idiot. The dour mood and snarky comments had left her with the distinct impression that none of them wished her well.
“You can’t leave, Eric. Seriously! You just got here.”
“It’s no big deal, Jen. If I sneak away, no one will notice.”
“I will notice,” she furiously said.
“Listen, babe”—she gnashed her teeth at the sexist endearment—“I rarely hang out with Josh, and I’m grateful that he took time off to come.”
“He didn’t take time off,” she caustically seethed. “He’s injured, so at the moment, he’s not playing. It was no problem at all for him to attend.”
Eric never argued, and in fact, he’d never been angry around her, but then, there had never been a topic arise between them that could have driven them to quarrel.
“He won’t be hurt forever,” he said. “After he’s cleared for full activity, I can’t imagine when we’ll be able to steal away together in the future.”
“It’s our wedding, Eric!” she repeated, as if he’d failed to comprehend vital information.
“I know it is. You don’t have to keep telling me that.”
“It seems as if I should. You don’t appear to remember why we’re at this inn.”
“I remember.” He finally looked irked. “I simply want to have some drinks with Josh. I don’t understand why you’re making such a huge issue of it. He’s my best friend.”
“What am I then?”
It was a s
hocking question that shouldn’t have had to be posed, and she was so incensed she was speechless.
He laid his palms on her shoulders. “In two days, you’ll be my wife, and we’ll fly off to our honeymoon. You’ll have me all to yourself for the duration.”
“This interval is supposed to be special. We’re supposed to be celebrating, but you’re acting as if you don’t care about any of it.”
“We are celebrating,” he said, his smile placating, “and it feels very special to me. I’d just like to chat with Josh. Alone.”
As he voiced the remark, there was a steely gleam in his eye, as if she was being a great nuisance. He masked it quickly, but she’d definitely witnessed it, and she was forced to consider that there was an entire side to his personality that she’d never previously observed. Suddenly, she was wondering if she knew him well enough to marry him.
It was a disturbing thought, and she physically stepped away from him, recognizing she had to depart before their conversation exploded into a fight.
They had dated for four months. Those months had been filled with travel, exotic experiences, and lavish gifts bestowed without warning. They’d drifted along on the surface of a relationship.
He’d been kind and polite, generous and fun, but everything had been new and they were happy. What would he be like if times were ever hard? How would he respond if they suffered difficulties or even outright calamity?
His wealth could smooth over a lot of trouble, but it couldn’t fix deep disasters. Her own family’s tragedies were proof of that.
“I guess you’ve made your plans then,” she said, not inclined to remain in the room and hurl awful comments she couldn’t retract.
She whipped away and stomped off, and he called, “Where are you going? You can stay up here with me if you want.”
“I have guests down in the bar.”
“I can accompany you.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll send Josh up to you, and I’d appreciate it if you guys could slink out a rear door, so no one sees you creeping away.”
He sighed with aggravation. “You’re being so dramatic.”
“I’m not being dramatic. I’m practicing at being a good wife—by giving you permission to behave like an asshole.”