Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3) (59 page)

The men started moving into the living room, and she heard talk of cigars and brandy out on the terrace. Perfect timing. While they went off and did their good ol’ boy, back-slapping thing, she and her Justice sisters could get to the bottom of the Heather and Brody mystery.

Squeezing Lacey’s arm one last time, she quipped with a sly laugh, “Looks like game on. Tell you what. You focus on getting the four-one-one on her Arizona plans, and I’ll see what she gives up about her background.”

“Deal. Let’s do this.”

They fist bumped. Meghan grabbed a bottle of wine off the cart as Lacey juggled the glasses. “Lock and load.” She laughed as they went to join the ladies.

“If you want,” Tori told her. “I can have my mom join us. She sort of does this stuff for a living. You want a makeover, Southern beauty queen style? Stephanie Bennett’s your gal.”

Heather smiled broadly. She liked this little woman. She was crazy and funny. Smart as shit, too. It was easy to understand why Victoria St. John was Alex’s technical assistant. And according to her, she wasn’t just his intellectual equal. Far as the hilarious spitfire was concerned Alex, being a man was inherently hobbled by his sex thereby making her the ultimate winner of the IQ sweepstakes.

Seriously? Heather couldn’t argue with Tori’s point of view, and that just made her like the woman all the more.

“Tori,” Alex’s little sister quipped. “Are you actually trying to persuade this poor girl to join the dark side?”

Meghan guffawed merrily. “The dark side! Which reminds me, didn’t I hear Sophie say she got the
Star Wars
toy you asked for from FAO Schwartz?”

Star Wars
? Heather’s interest was piqued. She loved
Star Wars
. Loved
Star Trek
. Well, almost. Not
Voyager
so much. But definitely the original, the next generation and on a good day,
Deep Space Nine
. The jury is still out on
Enterprise
.

Angelina was grinning ear-to-ear. Heather hadn’t much opportunity to get to know the young woman who was constantly in motion as she dealt with the thousands of wedding details, but she struck her as something of a troublemaker.

“Yep!” she crowed. “We went for the gusto this time. Sophie came through for me.”

“The
Star Wars
sheets?” Meghan asked.

“No, dammit,” Angie muttered. “They don’t come in king size.” She started to giggle. “But we got this awesome Chewbacca lunch box. Parker made some stupid-ass comment about packing him a lunch every day now that we live together. He wants his baloney sandwich dry and in a furry lunchbox? No problem.”

Heather laughed so hard she had to wipe tears away. As a matter of fact, they were all cackling hysterically.

“Wait.” Angie motioned. “It gets better.”

Tori, who had a tendency to blurt out the most outrageous stuff, refilled Angie’s wine glass and asked as if she was inquiring about the weather. “Is there a Darth Vader dildo in this story? Or a Princess Leia butt plug? I mean, come on,” she drawled. “After all, this is Parker we’re talking about.”

Lacey shrieked with mock outrage and pretended to choke her friend. “Victoria! Oh, my god. What is wrong with you?”

Heather, who was in mid-sip when the word dildo entered the conversation, almost spit out her wine when a seizure of belly laughs hit. These women were fucking hilarious.

Angie smirked at all of them. Like a witness called to testify, she arched a brow and said, “No to the dildo,” followed by a quick tongue wag at Victoria. “Maybe to the Princess plug, and since you need to know these things, I look banging with some ear braids and a slave harness.”

“Oooh, costumes?” Tori challenged. “Now, we’re talking. If you wanna step outside that tired franchise for inspiration, I have a fantastic Barbarella get-up.”

Lacey perked up. “Barbarella? Cameron has that movie. I know what outfit you’re talking about.”

Meghan leaned in and told her, “Cam’s our resident movie buff. He’s got a film library you won’t believe and a theater room as well.”

Heather noted how the redhead framed her explanation by more or less including her. She liked Meghan. As long as Brody wasn’t in the mix. The minute he was around, though, an unreasonable jealousy rattled her chains.

“Oh, jeez,” Angie sniffed. “Another old guy flick?”

The laughs and conversation flowed freely after that. Without any fuss whatsoever, the women’s inner circle had sucked her in. For the most part, Heather was experiencing her first adult female friendships, and it felt awfully good.

It was getting late when the wolf pack of Justice alphas finally came in from the terrace with each one stalking their female counterpart. One by one, the women were grabbed and subjected to some territorial kissing. It was all Heather could do not to moan into Brody’s mouth when he claimed her. Their Tantric lovemaking had been so intense; it was never far from her mind. Nor was the replay of hearing the sexy cowboy profess his love.

She was falling in love with him too. Why wasn’t she terrified at the prospect? Because he’d kept his word, so far, and each time she stumbled or fell, whether physically or emotionally, he’d been there to catch her.

After the kissing, a good deal of planning and scheduling, centered entirely around the ladies, ended with all of them synchronized and ready for a whirlwind day tomorrow. She hadn’t thought to check with Brody and see if he was all right with her plans.

Everyone split up as they gathered coats and purses and went in search of shoes that had been kicked off hours earlier. As she secured the snap on her purse and let Brody help her with her jacket, she asked, “Is it okay that I’m going out with the ladies tomorrow? I should have asked. Sorry.”

His warm smile was knowing and pleased. She’d made him happy without even trying. “Will there be a new outfit for you to model at the end of the day?”

A new outfit? Hell, yes. Model it? Oh, my. The thought made her giddy. She’d never ever dressed to please a lover before but oh my god. The longing to please and be pleasing to the handsome cowboy was incredibly strong.

“Please say yes,” he drawled. “And shoes. Something wicked and sexy.”

God. He was such a flirt, and she was enjoying every second. Turnabout is fair play in her book. “Don’t forget the lingerie,” she cooed. “Every new outfit needs a good foundation.”

His nose flared at her suggestive comment and his mouth, which five seconds earlier had been grinning, drew into a tight line.

“Can I make a special request?” he asked.

Heather quickly tried to imagine what he could possibly ask for and came up blank. She was curious what he had on his mind.

With a nod from her, he leered and leaned close to whisper next to her ear. His breath moving her hair made her shiver.

“Crotchless panties.”

Oh, dear god. Was he serious? She couldn’t go crotchless around him. Shit. She’d be a nervous wreck fearing she was leaving a trail like Hansel and Gretel. While she dealt with that less than ladylike thought, he made it ten times worse.

“That way, I can finger you in public without anyone knowing. Would you like that? My fingers in your pussy when you wouldn’t be able to react? Or stop me?”

Yep. That was it. If he was going to tease her like that, then he better be prepared for what came next. Looking around to make sure no one could hear, she gave him a dazzling smile. “When we leave? I’m going to suck your cock in the car. If you come, you can forget the crotchless plan. But if you can keep it together until we get back to our room,” she felt her insides clench when he grunted approval to her challenge, “maybe we can try some stuff from behind.”

The look of triumph in his expression blazed so brightly, she almost got a sunburn.

“Uh, guys,” he announced as he took her hand. “Thanks for a great evening. Ladies,” he quipped with a sly grin, “Good job with the wine.” When he kissed her knuckles to make his point, everyone smiled knowingly. “Got a Cabernet-infused cab challenge to tackle so if you’ll excuse us.”

“Brody Jensen!” Heather squealed when the whole room erupted into gales of laughter. “Really?”

He had that cowboy swagger and a sexy smirk going on as he pulled her from the room. Just before they left, she turned back and made a pleading face to the Justice ladies. Pointing at them as they laughed, she drawled, “No matter what—don’t let me buy any crotchless panties.”

The laughter was stadium loud as Brody marched her from the room, down the long hallway, and into the elevator where he gave her a wicked leer and said, “I hope you know how to gag silently.”

Well, she thought, as excitement raced through her system. Guess they were about to find out.

“S
ATIN TRIM LAPELS,
” his dad exclaimed with approval. “Nice touch.”

Alex had to agree. Not that he knew anything at all about proper wedding fashion. What mattered most to him was how they all looked. Scattered around the high-end men’s store, his entire assemblage of friends and family were checking out their suits and making last-minute arrangements for changes and accessories. From his vantage point? Every one of ‘em cleaned up real nice. Meghan was going to be pleased.

Keeping the wedding and reception from looking like a Christmas nightmare gone bad, the women managed to pull off a miracle of red, green, and white that brought a smile to his face.

His opinionated bride made it clear from day one that she would be wearing white and carrying red flowers. Period. She refused to budge from what she wanted. But Alex felt equally as strong about green being his accent color. Worried that her Irish heritage would end up being swallowed whole by his family’s Spanish pedigree, he went out of his way to pay homage to the O’Brien family and their wild Irish roots at every opportunity.

His groomsmen and all the male members of their immediate families were wearing black, two-button, three-piece suits with the satin lapel trim and dark green ties. The color of his vest and the pocket squares for the men complimented the ties.

Deval wandered over to Alex and slapped him a good one between his shoulder blades. “Not bad, Zorro.” He chuckled. “Not too bad at all.”

Meghan’s brothers had a never-ending repertoire of snarky names they called him which either referenced the desert or his European roots. Zorro was middle of the road. He’d take it.

“Finn cannot wear the pot leaf cufflinks. I don’t care if they are green. Your sister would smack the shit out of him first and laugh about it later.”

Dev chuckled and glanced over Alex’s shoulder at his youngest brother preening before a mirror. “I’ll take care of him, don’t you worry.”

Alex heard something in Dev’s voice that made him pause. Turned out the youngest O’Brien was having a bit of a wild time recently. Paddy tried not to be harsh about the kid’s antics, but he knew damn well from the near daily conversations he had with his new father-in-law that Finn was being a handful and driving his family crazy.

“Send him to Arizona. Justice will straighten his ass out. The desert and live ammunition make for some pretty serious attitude adjustments.”

The suggestion came to him on reflex. Fixing broken, damaged, and generally fucked-up people was becoming a Justice hallmark. It was weird too because they only became stronger with each personal challenge thrown their way. Go figure.