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But after last night’s incredible, wet, sultry kiss, after the way their bodies moved in such sync that it physically hurt to stop touching, Cal was ready to laugh about their past in Vegas and start their future now. They were right together, he felt it in his gut. The way they’d gotten lost in conversation for hours when they’d begun emailing was evidence their personalities clicked, and after last night, he knew their bodies would too if he got another shot. He couldn’t blow a second chance.
A round of giggles erupted from the dining room a few feet away.
“Lara, please,” one girlish voice begged. “Do ‘Dette’ again. It’s so funny.”
“No way.”
Cal rounded the corner, anxious to see whatever Lara “did” that had the girl pleading. But that clearly wasn’t going to happen when Lara blanched, seeing him at the doorway. Not a good sign as far as second chances went.
“But Nan says you’ve been doing it all—”
“Sandra, cool it.” Lara said with a stern glance.
The younger girl bowed her head in sulky defeat. “Sorry, Lara.”
The rest of the girls seated around the table fell into a new conversation about some hunk on a television show. Lara put a soothing hand on Sandra’s shoulder, bringing a smile to the girl’s face before she walked over to the buffet against the far wall.
Cal grabbed a brownie off one of the tables bordering the formal room and, looking for an open chair, took a bite. Groaning around the chocolate gluttony covering his tongue, he glanced over at the fiftyish woman in the gray uniform with silver streaked hair worn in a tight bun standing at the end of the buffet. She had puffy ankles and a crooked nose but, if she had baked the brownies, he might have to marry her.
Finding himself an open chair at the end of the table, he poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe closest to his seat. “Morning, ladies.”
There were a few nods from around the table but, for the most part, they were lost in conversation amongst themselves. Cal felt a little conspicuous, apparently having missed the memo about where all the guys were meeting, but he had nieces and sisters of his own, so the debate over the TV characters taking place around him wasn’t completely foreign. “You girls are way off base. Jake is playing Diana. She should get with Vince again. He still loves her.”
Heads turned, eyes bugged wide, and when Cal winked down the table at them, wild laughter took over. The look on Lara’s face was priceless. Utter disbelief, blatant suspicion, possible entertainment.
Cal took a sip of coffee and leaned back. “What? You think I don’t have a television?”
Just like his nieces, the younger girls twittered with glee, asking him question after question to see if he really watched. He answered with total confidence, getting every detail wrong but refusing to accept defeat.
Facing each challenge, Cal goofed around with the cousins, keeping one eye on Lara all the while. She looked good, more natural today with her dark, red-brown curls pulled back in a ponytail, white cotton shorts, which highlighted her long, toned legs, and a pale yellow linen shirt that buttoned down the front. She scooped a pile of scrambled eggs from a silver chafing dish then moved down the buffet to grab bacon, sausage links, pancakes, syrup, and a muffin. Cal caught himself grinning at the evidence of her excess hunger and wondered how often she indulged. It couldn’t be much, based on her tight little body.
Licking a bit of syrup off her thumb, Lara sat down and dug into her plate of heart attack food. “Wow, this is so good. Mary, have I ever missed your breakfasts.”
Mary was the name of Cal’s future brownie-baking bride. She arranged the serving spoons, smiling and rolling her eyes. “Really, Lara dear, I never would have guessed with that paltry helping you served yourself. I don’t know what you survive on in that tiny apartment of yours but, when you come home, Mary makes sure you eat right.”
Cal chuckled to himself and then stopped, coffee cup halted halfway to his mouth. He looked down at Lara. “I thought you lived here.”
“What?” she snorted, with a look of disbelief. “I’ve been on my own since college.”
He was certain in Vegas she’d announced she lived in her parents’ house with a “what of it?” attitude. Thinking back to her emails, he was sure she’d referred to the Cape as her home too. Though, that might have been like the way he lived in Los Angeles for the past ten years but still referred to Oregon as home. “But you said…”
Lara flinched and took two large gulps from her coffee. That didn’t look good.
“Um, Cal, can I speak to you out on the balcony for a moment? Privately.” Her steely glare stalled the conversation around the table.
So much for the second chance. Maybe he would have to work on a third.
Lara paced across the balcony, the heavy gray clouds over the water reflecting her threatening mood. This was a disaster. Why couldn’t she just think before she opened her mouth? For all she actually knew about what was discussed in Vegas, she shouldn’t say a word at all.
Blood rushed her face with a fresh wave of biting jealousy as she thought about Dette’s less than helpful account of her time with Cal. Except for announcing that she’d been on top—because she liked it best that way—Dette had been worthless filling her in on the details. Lara wanted to scream from the frustration of being put in such an impossible position. She hated to lie, to deceive. Hated that one intimate detail of Cal’s time with Dette was enough to spur fantasies about seating chart sabotage. But more than anything, she hated feeling like her sister had stolen something from her, when it just wasn’t the case.
Cal walked out through the French doors and stood next to her. His hand cupped her elbow. “About last night—”
She jerked her arm away. There wasn’t going to be a discussion about last night. It was time to commit. “Cal, let me be clear about this. Forget everything I told you in Vegas. Not one damn thing was true. I lied about who I was. I lied about where I live, how I live, what I like, how I act, who I am. I went there to get away from my life and my reality. Maybe I went too far, but that’s what happened. I never thought I’d see you again. So stop questioning, stop challenging every damn thing that comes out of my mouth.” She was panting by the time she’d finished. Her chest was tight, her face burned.
She was behaving like a lunatic. There was no way he
would let her get away with that kind of unmerited tirade. He’d asked her one stinking question and she’d gone psycho to get him to back off. All to cover Dette’s dirty little on-top-because-she-liked-it-that-way secret.
