DRAE HAD CALLED VICTORIA THE moment he and Cam checked into their hotel. He was more than just a little relieved when she’d answered in a groggy voice, purring sweetly as they talked briefly, and letting him know she was napping with the puppy in the den while her mom went out. Knowing everything was okay at home meant he could focus on other things.
After getting Cam started on the computer doing whatever the fuck he did when he was in tracking mode, Drae left the hotel as he’d vowed earlier. He headed straight for a high-end jeweler, where he proceeded to set his exclusive black credit card on fire. The driver of the car he’d hired drove him to an area called the Magnificent Mile and dropped him at the door to Cartier. The perfect choice.
First things first, he spent a ridiculous amount of time with a diamond expert picking out a bridal set that was delicate and feminine just like the woman who would wear it. It had so many diamonds set in platinum that he lost count. Basically, he told the man to make sure there were as many stones as humanly possible. He never hesitated when asked if he required a man’s ring to accompany the bridal set, choosing a simple platinum band that he absolutely refused to try on. The only way he’d wear that ring was if Victoria put it on him. Plain and simple. She’d missed out on so much where all that stuff was concerned that he needed to make the exchange of rings a special moment that she’d always remember .
Next, he went a little overboard after deciding that amethysts were perfect for his petite brown-haired wife—adding a magnificent pear-shaped drop necklace, two delicate bracelets, and a pair of heart-shaped earrings that he had boxed up immediately. The other purchases would be shipped by special courier to the Villa, where Alex could put everything in the safe until the time was right.
Had he spent an insane sum of money? Absolutely. Did he fucking care even a little bit? Not in the least. Being a St. John came along with a staggering trust fund that had been untouched and growing for years. Since leaving the military, he’d made more money than he would ever need—all of his Justice Brothers had. They weren’t the best because they charged basement dollar rates.
Back at the hotel, he heard the best news possible the moment he got through to Cam’s room.
“I think I’ve got a lead on Majid. Did you know he was completely on his own? No bodyguard—nothing. The kid was probably bound to run at some point. Plus, Sharif’s people must be dumb as fucking dirt if they couldn’t track the kid down. Like seriously, dude.”
Drae laughed. Cam always did cut right to the chase when he was on to something. “How easy was it, then?”
“Well, it’s not as if he’s leaving breadcrumbs or anything but five minutes searching his college email account and I found the log-in shit he uses in an online game. Plus, I found his girlfriend’s name, where he likes to eat, and even a cheat sheet for a Psych 101 test. This kid may be a Crown Prince, but he’s just like every other dumbass nineteen-year-old college student on the planet.”
“How long till you pin him down, Cam? I’d like to be done with this. Like yesterday, if possible.”
“Yeah, fuck. I hear that. First time I’ve been away from Lacey and the baby and between you and me, I might be crying some very uncool dude tears tonight.”
Drae bellowed with laughter. “I see your man-tears and up you one very expensive trip to Cartier’s.”
“About damn time,” Cam muttered. “My wife was seriously considering giving you a stern talking to.”
The notion that Lacey Cameron could give anyone a stern talking to, let alone him, made Drae smile. The lady was so damn sweet and gentle that she needed her own Wikipedia entry to define how awesome she is.
“I blame you,” Drae chuckled. Sapphires and twenty-four karat gold? Dude. You’ve gone soft in the head.”
Booming laughter shot through the phone. “Soft? Nah. More hard than soft if you catch my drift.”
Breaking out a perfectly nuanced Jersey accent, Drae taunted, “Eh, I got your hard right here,” while he gripped his crotch.
“Fuck you, St. John,” Cam snickered. “Back to the business at hand, bro. I got a warm bed and a hot wife waiting for me at home, so let’s just do this thing and get the hell outta here.”
“Copy that,” he drawled while checking his watch. “Look, let me take a shower and stuff my face with some room service. I’ll wander down to your room after that and we can make a plan for tomorrow. Sound good?”
“It’s a plan. Hey,” he barked before Drae could disconnect, “you check in with Tori?”
“Yeah. All good.”
“Great. I’ll see you in a bit.”
AS FAR AS LUNCHES WITH gal pals went, the one Stephanie experienced with Carmen was one of the strangest. The always effervescent Carmen was her usual charmingly funny self, but there was something lurking in the background of their conversation that niggled at Stephanie all afternoon. What in the heck was all that about, she wondered.
They’d chatted about all the usual things, including poor Gus and his apparent reluctance to put up or shut up. Carmen had made it clear that she was open to a more, um…vibrant relationship, but so far, the complex, quiet man hadn’t made but a few false starts. They’d agreed that the next step was most definitely up to Carmen if she wanted to move things along.
It was the odd questions that her friend asked, though, that got Stephanie’s brain ticking. What had Victoria been like as a child? What was her favorite food, color, toy? Did she have a security blanket or a special stuffed animal? What dolls did she play with? She even asked if there were pictures of a young Tori—maybe on Stephanie’s Facebook page. Seriously! What in the hell? By the time she’d returned to the house, she was all talked out and more than a bit suspicious.
Finding Tori in the kitchen, she was scooting merrily with Raven curled up quietly in her doggie bed by the patio door. She’d been happily surprised to discover that her daughter had not only napped, but spoken briefly with her husband and decided to bake cookies to stay busy. Tori was always a surprising little creature—never doing what was expected and always, always dancing to her own tune. If cookie baking was what made her happy, well so be it.
Dinner was easy since Ria had stocked the freezer with every imaginable meal known to man. Stephanie enjoyed puttering around her pregnant and scooter-happy daughter as they shared salad-making tasks and discussed everything except politics and the current state of the world. It was a pleasant way to while away the early evening.
It also seemed as though the entire compound was focused solely on making sure Tori was taking it easy—a thought that warmed Stephanie’s heart. Her daughter really had found a wonderful home amidst loving people who clearly cared and supported her.
To help keep her mind off the fact that Draegyn was away, all the ladies had jumped on board for a movie night at Lacey’s place. So right after dinner, they nestled Raven between them in the Peach-Mobile and puttered up the road to the cabin. Meghan was waiting for them in the driveway—looking a little bit like someone nursing a huge secret—while Ria, Carmen, Betty, and Lacey were busy making popcorn and gathering throw blankets and pillows for the theater room. When Tori went on and on about how her husband had designed and personally overseen the construction of the ‘entertainment’ addition, Stephanie was forced yet again to see her son-in-law through different eyes. Yeah, he was an arrogant, privileged snot at times, but he was also deeply loyal to those he was close to. He was also unusually talented with his hands and more sentimental and emotional than outward appearance would suggest.
“So, what’s it to be, lil’ mama-in-waiting? Sexy men? Raunchy comedy? Animated classic?” Lacey asked with a wink. “Make a quick decision because my son will be looking for a nighttime snack before we know it.”
Ria waved her hand in the air and chirped, “Let me choose! Me! Me!” Everyone burst out laughing because her mouth was completely stuffed with popcorn so the “Me, me,” sounded more like “Eee, eee.”
Meghan slung an arm around her shoulders and pushed Ria into one of the comfy recliners. “Eat your popcorn and hush up! This is Tori’s call,” she teased. “And besides, we know your preference, hun, and really, we’re all a bit burned out on George Clooney and Brad Pitt.”
Betty dropped into the chair next to Ria and chuckled. “There’s something so wrong with anyone who gets tired of those two—but in the interest of offering options, may I suggest Colin Firth? Or, Mr. Two Birds, One Stone himself—Channing Tatum?” Under her breath she chanted, “Magic Mike, Magic Mike, Magic Mike,” until Tori giggled and threw a small pillow at her.
“Yeah. Just what I want to tell my husband when he calls later! That we locked ourselves in the theater room for a ladies’ night to watch a bunch of male strippers do their thing.”
“Well put Tori,” Meghan drawled. “Since I’ve got my very own version of Joe Manganiello waiting for me later, I’m good with comedy or something animated.”
“We could always do a binge viewing of Downton Abbey,” Carmen suggested to a cascade of groans and hisses. When that suggestion got shot down, she grinned broadly. “Sons of Anarchy?”
“What?!” Stephanie hollered. “Absolutely not. I like Charlie Hunnam just as much as the next but a hot guy plus guns and violence shouldn’t be an option. I mean shit—there’s enough of that going on around here without having to see it played out on the big screen.”
A deep laugh followed by a pained groan rumbled into the room from the doorway as all the ladies turned to see who it came from.
“Hot guys? Guns? Violence? Ladies, you wound me,” Alex declared dramatically as he clutched his heart. “We’re the good guys, y’know! Although I’ll take the hot guys comment as a win.”
He walked to where Tori was curled up on a recliner, leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “Everything okay?”
Stephanie watched this exchange with interest because the Major was most definitely in Big Daddy mode. It was just like him to come and check for himself how Tori was faring. From the corner of her eye, she caught a brief glimpse of someone else hovering in the vestibule outside the theater room. Calder? Her heart started racing at the thought.
While Tori and Alex spoke quietly and the women bustled about getting their chairs set up, Stephanie wandered slowly toward the door rather like a moth to a flame.
She smelled him before she actually saw him. Damn. Was he already so far under her skin that she was this hyperaware of the intriguing Calder Dane? Sighing, she had to allow that yes, yes, he was. And his scent, oh, my God. It was an unmistakable blend of maleness with a hint of sandalwood, musk, and maybe a touch of vanilla. Whatever the hell cologne he favored suited him to a T.
Pretending to deal with urgent tasks at the small wet bar near the doorway, Stephanie grabbed a handful of napkins then nonchalantly turned toward the vestibule where Calder was indeed loitering. Catching his eye, he paused his restless shuffling and stared back at her. For just a moment, they locked gazes and she would have sworn the smoke alarms almost triggered from the heat arcing back and forth between them.
Suddenly her mouth became dry as the desert, her lips parched and brittle. A sharp inhale got lodged in her throat as she gasped sharply to get some oxygen into her lungs. The sound startled her, making Stephanie quickly look away from the handsome man standing in the shadows. It was no wonder her mouth felt bone-dry since she was excruciatingly conscious of a surge of scorching heat spreading outward from her core. An almost imperceptible pulse of unsettling desire between her legs rattled her usual sangfroid and made her heart pick up speed. Damn.
She heard the reluctance in his voice when he ambled closer to the doorway and spoke to her. Was he also out of his comfort zone—battling a completely unexpected shiver of desire—and wondering what in the hell to do about it?
“Should have known you’d rock a pair of jeans like a goddamn runway model.”
Compliment or gibe? Hard to tell since, in her opinion, some of the lanky sticks on the catwalk looked like shit in casual clothes. How the hell was she supposed to respond to such a questionable statement? Fucka-lucka-ding-dong but she was no runway model—far from it. She’d always considered her legs just so-so and wished she’d been blessed with more willowy stems—which was why she favored shoes with heels. They gave her a longer profile and made whatever she was wearing fit better. Just her damn luck that she’d run into Calder while she was rolling for comfort and not style. She had opted for a sensible pair of soft suede flats, an off-the-shoulder sweater with a simple camisole beneath, and jeans that had seen better days.
Used to men all but fawning over her in their desperation for a smile or some well-delivered Southern charm, Stephanie felt like she was doggie paddling in a ferocious swell of waves, trying to stay afloat and not swallow the water threatening to drag her under. This man wasn’t playing the game she was used to, and it unnerved her.
Lifting her chin with contrived aplomb, for she’d never felt so unsure of herself in all her damn life, Stephanie employed a deadpanned expression as if acknowledging his presence on the planet was a tedious chore. Blurting out the first thing that came to her mind, she cringed inwardly once the words left her mouth and she realized what she’d said.
“There’s just no pleasing you, is there?” Oh, my dear, sweet Lord. What. The. Fucking. Fuck.
He flinched slightly, his mouth thinning to a grim line that in no way diminished the flash of fire evident in his eyes.
In a low, dangerously sexy voice, he countered with, “Is that what you want Queenie? To please me?”
Stephanie’s mouth opened and closed a dozen times as she struggled for a response, only nothing ever came. Finally, when she was about to give up, stomp her foot and whirl away she murmured, “Please don’t call me that.” It was all she had.
Truth was, she hated the reference. Yeah, she’d been a contestant on the pageant circuit when she’d been an impoverished college student desperate for scholarship funds. But that had been a lifetime ago—during a more innocent time when stuffing one’s bra with tissues and teasing your hair to within an inch of its life was pretty much the worse of it. Today’s pageant culture was much more about PR, cosmetic surgeries, fake tits, and designer clothes. The two eras could not be more different if they tried.
She’d tried not to sound pathetic, but Stephanie heard the slight wobble in her voice and wished the floor would open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole. She hated, absolutely hated, feeling or appearing as though she wasn’t in complete control.
Calder might have sensed her discomfiture because he stepped closer to her but remained in the shadows of the vestibule. Sighing heavily, he murmured, “It wasn’t an insult. I don’t do cheap shots, lady.” His voice, while not exactly apologetic, did sound less belligerent.
Her eyebrows bumped together in a frown, and for some strange reason, she felt all turned inside out and upside down. “What’s wrong with my jeans?” she whined. “Do they make my ass look big or something?”
He shook his head like he thought she was daft and rolled his eyes. “Fuck, Stephanie. You look fantastic, and to be clear, I was giving you a compliment. Although, it appears you didn’t take it that way.”
She had the distinct flavor of her foot lodged firmly in her mouth because the way she reacted sounded like she was fishing for a compliment. Fuuuuuuuck.
Trying desperately to pull them out of the twisted conversation she mumbled, “I’m no runway model, Calder.”
Oh, for pity’s sake, she cringed silently. What in the hell was wrong with her? Her mind thought one thing, but her mouth kept saying something else. Next thing she’d be doing was twirling a lock of hair around her fingers and pouting like a bratty princess. Get your damn shit together, Bennett, the sensible, no-nonsense voice in her mind screamed.
He growled at her. “Woman, you need to learn how to take a compliment. First of all, thank God you’re no runway mannequin. I much prefer a woman who dresses to please herself,” he said with a long pause. “Or her man.”
Stephanie’s startled eyes flew to his at that. He was looking at her with undisguised approval and something that seemed a lot like longing.
“And second, your ass could be the size of a house, and it would still look fantastic.”
“Oh,” she murmured.
“Yes,” he drawled. “Oh.”
Long moments ticked by as they stood there, him in the shadows, her still clutching a handful of napkins, staring at each other.
Thank God Alex eventually wandered toward them, breaking the silent, baffling tug-of-war that engulfed them. When had she become such an emotional wreck? Yesterday morning, her sensible conscience reminded her. Yesterday when you stumbled over your own feet the moment you’d first laid eyes upon Calder Dane.
“Stephanie,” Alex murmured as he acknowledged her. “I’m relieved to see Tori looking so relaxed,” he added while glancing over his shoulder to where the women were gathered. “A movie is the perfect distraction for everyone but how ‘bout next time you include us guys?”
Rescued from her confusing trance, she offered Alex a tremulous smile. “Why Major—I didn’t know you were a fan of rom-coms and chick flicks.”
Alex’s good-natured chuckle helped restore her shaky smile. “Jesus! What man is? But if it makes the gals happy, we’d all be fools to deny such a simple pleasure. You ladies have a good night,” he declared as he strode forward toward his uncle.
“C’mon, Unc. Let’s give the women folk some privacy so they can talk about us behind our backs,” he snickered as he put a hand on Calder’s shoulder.
“Have fun Quee…uh, Stephanie,” she heard him mutter, secretly pleased that he dialed back the Queenie before it was fully formed. At least he’d been listening.
She could have nodded, maybe shot a dazzling smile and unloaded some well-placed Southern twang, but for reasons Stephanie didn’t exactly want to explore, she fixed Calder with an enigmatic expression and mumbled, “Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
The momentary flash of surprise on his face was the last thing she saw before spinning away and heading off toward the group of women gathered around Tori. Oh, my God. Had she just suggested they meet up?