With baby carrier still in hand, Lance pulled his wife in for a quick kiss. “And you say you want more.”
Willa’s huge smile didn’t falter. “At least two more. I’ve always wanted a big family.”
“Me, too,” Emily added and hugged Asher.
“Oh, boy,” Asher joked, but the look he gave his wife was one of love and agreement.
One of the house staff arrived with a tray of hors d’oeuvres.
Ian laughed. “Dad’s getting itchy in there—we should go in before we’re all in deep shit.”
Joseph clapped his hands and said, “It. It. It.”
“He’s beginning to repeat everything. You have to be careful.” Emily wagged a finger at Ian, who instantly looked contrite. Regardless of how much power Ian wielded in the political world, he was intelligent enough to bow to a mama bear.
Asher laughed. “You do not want to be the one who taught him his first swear. The second maybe, but not the first.”
Emily glared at her husband, and he stopped smiling even though he looked like he still wanted to. “Not funny.”
Asher tipped his head to one side and gave his wife a strategically imploring look. “Not even a little?”
She sighed.
He snapped his fingers and true delight lit his eyes. “You swore in front of him, didn’t you?”
Emily blushed then narrowed her eyes. Although she didn’t look upset, it was obvious she was a little embarrassed by the public reveal.
Grant shot Asher a look that his older brother surprised him by not only correctly interpreting but also acting upon. Asher’s expression softened and he hugged Emily. “I tease only because on your worst day you’re a saint compared to me. I don’t deserve you, but you’re stuck with me.” He nuzzled her cheek.
She blushed for an entirely different reason, and Grant nodded with approval before reminding everyone they needed to go inside. They were making their way in when their parents met them at the bottom of the steps.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait another minute to see my grandbabies.” His mother cooed at each of them in turn then smiled at her children. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to see you all together.”
His father’s attention was on his wife’s smiling face, then the babies, then his children. From Asher to Kenzi, there had never been a doubt that Sophie was Dale’s first priority. It was something even Grant had resented when he was younger. Grant didn’t think he’d ever understand the choices his father had made. By giving Sophie’s mental health priority above the needs of his children he had gutted their family even more than the loss of Kent had.
Was he even aware of the role he’d played in their underlying dysfunction?
Grant half hoped he wasn’t. Regardless of the mistakes he’d made, there was no denying Dale had suffered right along with his wife. First with the loss of their child, then with the near loss of Sophie. Since Grant had never faced such a situation himself, he admitted he didn’t know if he could have done better. He liked to think he would have, but isn’t that what every child thinks? That they can do better than their parents? How perfect the world would be if things actually worked out that way.
As they all made their way into the house, Kenzi exclaimed, “I wasn’t thinking about Joseph when I chose the game for today.”
Willa inserted, “I’ve heard that children call it Baloney.”
Kenzi dug a playful elbow into Grant’s side. “Are you ready to lose?”
Grant grinned. He felt too good to throw a game that day, and it was time for some of his siblings to eat a little humble pie. He bent so only Kenzi could hear and said, “Prepare to have your ass kicked.”
Eyes wide, Kenzi laughed. “What is with you today?”
“I’m in a good mood. Is that so shocking?”
Narrowing her eyes, Kenzi said, “I realized yesterday there were two charges in my checking account that I don’t remember making.”
Grant shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
She grabbed him by the arm and brought him to a halt. “Okay, spill it. Where is Grant, and what have done with him? The car. The clothes. The jokes. What’s going on?”
Dax leaned in and said, “There’s only one thing that puts a look like that on a man’s face.”
Grant didn’t deny it, and his grin widened.
Kenzi’s mouth dropped open. “You met someone? When were you going to tell us?”
“It’s not like that,” Grant denied quickly.
“Like what? Serious? You’re not getting any younger. It’s time to start considering reassessing your standards.”
“Oh, I have.” There might have been a little devil in his grin because Dax laughed.
“What is so funny?” Kenzi asked as she planted her hands on her hips.
Dax wrapped an arm around Kenzi’s waist and pulled her to him. “I don’t think you want to know, Kenzi, and I’m pretty sure you’ll never meet her.”
Grant nodded in agreement, but didn’t like how he felt after he’d done so. Kenzi looked as disappointed as Grant felt in himself. He might not imagine a future with Viviana, but she wasn’t a joke to him either. He wanted to back the conversation up, tell Dax he was wrong and that—what? How exactly was what he was doing different than what Dax was imagining?
Luckily, there wasn’t much time to mull those questions. A few minutes later his family was gathered around a table, swapping stories and laughing while they ate.
After lunch they played Baloney and Grant dominated the silly card game. With the snoozing infant, Wendy, cuddled to his chest he straight-faced lied about the piles of cards he laid down with such conviction that his siblings could only wildly guess. They were on the last round when he finally let his mind wander to where he was headed afterward.
He thought about what Dax had said about there being a low likelihood Kenzi would ever meet her, and it made him wonder how she would mix with his family. Once they got over the shock of him bringing a woman home, they might actually like her. She was quick-witted and funny, but there was also a strength to her they’d respect.
All his mother would have to hear would be that she’d lost her own mother at a young age and she’d practically be adopted right then and there. His brothers had all chosen women with heart and integrity over pedigree and wealth, so unless she acted like a complete asshole they would accept her.
As he listened to his brothers banter back and forth, he wondered how Viviana was with her brothers. He smiled as he decided she would definitely hold her own.
After he finally announced he had somewhere he needed to be and said his goodbyes, Ian pulled him aside. “I heard you have business out of the country. Aruba?”
“Yes.”
“Have you learned anything new?”
“Nothing I haven’t already told you. Stiles was careful not to leave a hackable trail. No emails. No money transfers. Nothing. It’s impossible to find him from here, but I will find him.”
Ian grimaced. “I’m half hoping you don’t. Do we really want to know what happened? Kent’s dead. Mom already runs to the phone every time it rings like she’s going to hear good news. We have to be realistic. What you’re going to find out, if you locate Stiles, is how he died. Helene is good for Andrew; the wrong news could threaten what they have.”
“It won’t.” Grant understood what Ian was saying: The truth was important unless it had the power to destroy them. “And I’ll be discreet.”
Ian ran a hand through his hair and loosened his tie. “I know you will be. If Asher were going I’d be lining up lawyers and media contacts. You know that something like this has to be handled delicately.”
Even though they agreed, Grant needed to make something clear. “I will tell Mom the truth—no matter how ugly it is. She deserves that much.”
“Of course, but talk to me first. The truth can be spun—”
Grant shook his head. “Not this truth, Ian. I can promise I won’t say a thing I’m not a
bsolutely certain of, but I won’t pretty it up. The last thing Mom needs now is another lie.”
“I wasn’t suggesting—”
“Yes, you were.” As Grant spoke he realized he was being a bit of a hypocrite, but he pushed that thought back because the last thing he wanted to feel when he saw Viviana again was guilt. He glanced at his watch. Time to go. “I’ll call you when I know something.”
Ian laid a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me if you need anything.”
“I’ve got this,” Grant said, but he was touched by Ian’s offer of help. In the past, his siblings had felt as uncomfortable offering help as asking for it. Things truly were changing for the better.
“I know,” Ian said and stepped back.
Grant was already in a good mood, but his heart started racing as he headed for his car. He’d ditch it back at his house, freshen up, pick up some condoms, and taxi over to meet Viviana. He revved the engine and peeled out, more excited about seeing her again than he would have admitted to anyone.
A short time later he was on his way to her. He took advantage of the time in the cab to search for the perfect place to spend the night with her. He couldn’t take her back to his penthouse or he’d have some explaining to do. She had a roommate, and he didn’t want to be rushed or quiet. Something simple. Not the five-star hotel or private home rental he would normally have chosen.
He searched the Internet for cheap, clean hotels and found a new one in the Boston area. Hours and Yours was a pop-up hotel the travel sites said was big with millennials. The rooms were small, modern, and could be rented by the hour or by the night. Check-in and checkout was managed by mobile device, and the door opened with a code that was sent via text. He scanned photos of the room and became aroused when he saw the one with bunk beds and a metal ladder. The kind of sex he wanted to have with her could benefit from such props.
Would she let him tie her to those rails? The ladder lent endless possibilities for intriguing positions. How could a man not smile with a night like that looming? The taxi driver gave him an odd look when they arrived at Faneuil Hall, and he threw money at him and jumped out like a teenager meeting his first date.
I’m here, he texted.
Me, too, she answered. In front of the street performer. He’s not bad.
Grant scanned the crowd until he located her then closed the distance with long strides. She didn’t move from her spot, but her eyes widened. “Hi,” she said softly.
He couldn’t help himself. He cupped her head and pulled her in for a deep kiss. He didn’t care who was around or what they thought. One taste. One touch and he was on fire. When he finally raised his head they were both breathing raggedly. “Hi yourself.”
She smiled shyly, and he wanted to kiss her again so badly he could hardly think. “Hungry?” she asked.
Her gaze slid from his mouth to skim his chest and lower. That was all it took for his cock to vote they skip dinner and find that hotel . . . any secluded area would do. He didn’t care. Grant had the strength, however, to stick to his original plan. “I am, but we have all night.”
She bit her bottom lip and flushed. “I need you to know I’ve never done what we did. Never.”
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Good, I hope you say that again after tonight.”
Her mouth formed a surprised circle. “I—I—”
He kissed her neck, loving how she arched it for him, then kissed his way up her jaw to near her ear again. “Trust me.”
Her hands gripped his shoulders and she shook with desire as he kissed his way back down her neck. “How can I when I don’t know you?”
He raised his head. “You will.” He knew in that instant one more night with her would not be enough. He didn’t know where they were headed, but since he was sure mauling her in public wasn’t the best way to gain her trust, he straightened and took her hand in his. “Let’s go have our first date.”
Viviana struggled to gain control of her traitorous libido while being led through the large indoor market. Can you have a first date with someone you’ve already had sex with?
His hold on her hand was confident and strong. For a man who might not have a job, he carried himself like someone who owned the building they were walking into. He wasn’t cocky, but he definitely had a presence that made people instinctively step out of his way—even the young and normally irreverent. Boston was known as a college city. Saturdays brought out the students as well as families.
As far as first dates went, Quincy Market wasn’t a bad choice. The main part of the building was wall-to-wall food vendors selling some of the best food in the city. The outer glass areas housed individually run “wagons” where one could buy crafts, jewelry, or touristy items.
Viviana expected Grant to rush her through the merchandise area, but he did the opposite. He stood beside her, asking her about the items she showed interest in. At one point she was convinced he was about to offer to buy her the cheap costume jewelry set she’d playfully tried on, but he hadn’t. He’d instead asked her if diamonds were her favorite gem.
She’d wrinkled her nose. “I’m not really the diamond type.”
“There’s a type?”
She’d replaced the jewelry in its box and said, “They’re for women with closets full of dresses who care about the name brand of their shoes.” She’d waved her tennis shoe clad foot at him. “I’m more comfortable in jeans and these.”
He’d looked her over slowly, appreciatively, then said, “You’d be beautiful in anything, but if you don’t like dresses, you’ve never owned the right one.”
“I guess.” He had a way of phrasing things that sent her thoughts instantly to the gutter. The way he said owned filled her mind with memories of how good it had felt to be taken by him. There was something primal about their connection. She’d never wanted to be owned by anyone, but if she did, it’d be by someone who made her feel the way he did. “Maybe I’ll find that dress one day.”
He’d smiled then. She indulged in a brief fantasy of him saying he’d buy her that dress. She’d refuse of course. I wouldn’t accept a gift like that.
But it’s nice to dream of being offered.
“For now, how about getting a quick bite?” he asked.
Now that’s more my style. “Seafood?” she asked.
“Love it.”
“Lobster roll?”
“My favorite.”
She smiled. “Me, too.”
He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “Mayo?”
She shuddered. “Butter.”
“Yes. I like to taste the lobster and not someone’s secret sauce.”
“I said that just the other day.”
His smile widened. “I didn’t expect to have so much in common with you.”
She looked down at their linked hands then back at his face, mulling his admission as she did. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”
He gave her a lingering kiss that erased any doubts his words had birthed. “It’s merely the truth. Speaking of the truth, were you trying to meet me when you dropped your phone on the path?”
Viviana’s cheeks warmed. “A lady doesn’t plot and tell.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Of course not, how uncouth of me. Well, whatever brought us together, I’m glad it did.”
“Me, too,” she said softly. She hadn’t told Audrey where she was going because she wasn’t ready to answer any questions about it.
Earlier that day Audrey had asked her if she’d gone home with Grant, and Viviana had answered honestly, “No.” She hadn’t. She didn’t tell her friend about the closet because, although she wasn’t ashamed of what she’d done, she wasn’t proud of it.
If this date with Grant led to another she’d tell Audrey the whole story. If not, then it was probably for the best. Some memories, even ones as hot as those she hoped to have by morning, were better when they didn’t include an attempt to justify them.
What she was doing with Grant wasn’t
wrong.
It wasn’t right, either.
But she’d waited her whole life to feel the kind of passion and pleasure she’d experienced with him. Who could walk away without one more taste?
With a condom this time. She’d stuffed several in her purse before she’d left her apartment.
Once they had their rolls and drinks, they sat at one of the tables in the middle of the building. And they talked. For hours.
He described his siblings although only in the most general of ways. She described what it was like to be raised by a burly father and two meathead brothers. Normally when she met a new man she toned down that part of her life. It didn’t put Grant off. He seemed genuinely interested.
Maybe because she was determined to keep her expectations low when it came to where this relationship was headed, she wasn’t afraid to be herself with him. Could hearing that she liked to fish lower his opinion of her? She was pretty sure he didn’t give a shit about that side of her. And it was freeing.
The third glass of cheap wine they were sharing helped, too.
“I woke up one day and realized I didn’t want to be the person I had become.” She shook her head. “I came to Boston hoping to find another side of myself. I’m still working on it.”
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Twenty-seven.”
He nodded. “You have time to figure it out.”
She swirled her wine around the bottom of a clear plastic tumbler. “It’s hard to find yourself when you’re with people who see you only one way. My claim to fame in high school was that I had arm wrestled and beaten most of the boys in my class,” she said.
He laughed, leaned forward, and placed his arm on the table between them. “Show me how.”
She loved that he didn’t doubt her. Nor did he mock her. She stood and took her power stance. “First put your right foot forward and under the table.”
Grant stood and did just that.
“I wouldn’t tell my opponent the next part, but if I put my thumb under my fingers when I clasp your hand it’ll give me an advantage later.”