Always (Family Justice Book 1) (10 page)

Calder Dane glared at his nephew. Cocking his head to the side, he grunted an inelegant, “Pffft,” and rolled his eyes. “Not my type, Alex, and you know it. Isn’t she some has been beauty queen? Can’t stand all that fake shit. Fake eyelashes. Fake lips. Fake tits.” He shuddered at the thought. “Give me a low-maintenance gal any day and we’ll be fine.”

Alex boomed with laughter and gave him some snooty ‘tude. “Hardly a has been. Stephanie Bennett is one powerhouse lady and for the record—there’s absolutely nothing fake about her except the Southern accent. I have it on good authority she’s a simple gal from the wide-open spaces, so she’s more your speed than you realize.”

Calder dropped the hand weights he was gripping and they hit the floor with a heavy thud. Tearing off a wrist brace, he smirked at his nephew. “Country gal with a fake accent? Fuck dude, you just made my case for me.”

“Oh. And I suppose that bubble-headed news reporter you were shacking up with last year was the epitome of low maintenance? Cut me a break. Your low-maintenance fuck buddy was an obnoxious twit, so back the hell off your high horse, why don’t you?”

“Y’know, Alex, Kristyl Stanley’s questionable intelligence wasn’t what got her into my bed so shut up. When you get to be my age and a pretty young thing fawns all over you, it’s stupid to resist.”

Alex threw him a gym towel and smirked. “Oh, cut me a break. You look like you could be Kevin Costner’s derelict brother and you know it. The ladies line up for a piece of whatever it is you’ve got going on. All I’m saying is to give Stephanie a chance. Be nice or I’ll tell Meghan you need an attitude adjustment and you know what that means!”

Both men laughed and made their way over to the heavy bag for a bit of boxing. While Calder held the bag, Alex started throwing punches until sweat was pouring off him and his determined grunts filled the air. He liked his nephew’s fiancée very much. She was exactly what he needed and now that they were planning a wedding, he couldn’t be more pleased for the well-matched couple.

Calder loved his nephew and nieces like it was his job. Ashleigh, his older sister, had married well. Her three children were all the family he really had now that his parents were gone. Although he’d been married briefly, once upon a time, there hadn’t been any kids, much to his chagrin. He thought he’d have made a decent father, but since it’d never happened, he’d never know.

Alex was imploring him to play nice. He had a reputation, one that was most likely well deserved, for being an asshole in social situations. Fuck man, he hated all that suck up and make nice small talk. Reminded him of another time when he’d been forced to play the schmooze game when the business was just getting started.

He couldn’t count the number of times some dickwad investor smiled to his face, promising all sorts of backing, then tore apart his ideas and tried to change his business plan behind-the-scenes. That was when he’d come to detest phonies. It was all for show. But he’d had the last laugh in the end and that was all that mattered.

The reporter Alex referenced, the unctuous Kristyl, had chased him down for almost a year. He finally gave in and agreed to let her interview him for an in-depth series she’d been assigned for a cable business and financial show. He might not be quite the legend that a Gates, Wozniak, or Jobs turned out to be, but he had earned a footnote in the history of the Silicon Valley technology boom from the late eighties and nineties.

As far as Calder was concerned, he saw himself as one of the countless tech-geeks churned out by Stanford University. He, along with others, flocked to the South Bay portion of the San Francisco Bay area when the introduction of the PC to the consumer market changed the playing field. It had been a heady time. He and his partner made a name for their fledgling start-up as cutting edge chip innovators, developing a stream of software that earned them enviable status inside the high-tech world of the cyber city.

They’d been smart guys, but by their mid-thirties, they had started to sour on the over-the-top excesses that became the norm inside the tech bubble. When he was just thirty-five, an offer too good to turn down for the technology they’d developed led to them wisely sell out for a sum of money that boggled the mind. A smart move in the end because just four short years later, the bubble imploded. By then, Calder had moved on, preferring to devote his considerable abilities and skills to causes that spoke to his soul. NASA came calling, as did the Defense Department. He got involved in global philanthropic concerns bringing manageable technology to the third world, but his special interests lay in STEM development, specifically targeting women and minorities.

Maybe it was the fact that he had two nieces that made him hope for a more balanced world than the second-class status and glass ceiling norm for women who existed in the sciences. Probably an odd passion for a guy like him, but somewhere along his journey he’d become a staunch advocate for feminist causes, something that earned him the ‘Pussy Whisperer’ title with his male friends.

Alex goading him into making nice with some beauty pageant hack struck him as odd considering his well-known reputation where shit like that was concerned. He disliked star-fuckers and reality sideshows. Maybe it was his California upbringing,
whatever
. It didn’t really matter. All that did matter, though, was his dislike of the Barbie doll mentality and Kardashian wannabes that he assumed this Stephanie Bennett personified. He’d seen those shows about parading kids made up like adults on a pageant runway.
Fuck that noise
.

After a bit, he switched places with Alex, who held the bag while Calder pounded relentlessly, absently aware of his nephew’s free stream of consciousness about the fabulously awesome Tori and her visiting mother.
What-fuckin-ever, man
.

“So, we’re good, then? I can tell Meghan you’ll behave and try not to incite a riot tonight?”

Calder flinched. What?
Shit.
Alex had been talking, but he’d been in no way listening.
Dammit.

STEPHANIE SOUGHT OUT THE NEWLY renovated gym at the Justice compound. She felt like she needed to burn off the zillion calories she’d just inhaled, courtesy of a sweet treat that Carmen had introduced her to called a campechana. Dammit if those glazed puff pastries with the gooey raspberry filling hadn’t been completely irresistible.

Pressing her hand to her stomach, she half-giggled knowing that the trainer she’d been working with back in Atlanta would frown and shake his head at her indulgence.
Pffft.
So what? You only live once, and she was tired of coloring inside the lines. Sure, a bit of pastry loving was hardly the sign of her suddenly becoming a rebel, but she was trying to break the mold and let new things into her by-the-numbers existence.

The gym, tucked behind one of the many buildings spread out around the agency area of the compound, was easy to find. Stephanie figured she’d workout for a bit then wander back to the house and see how Tori was faring.

It was quiet inside the long, red-roofed building when she pushed open the wide glass door and stepped into the cool interior.

Making her way along the hallway, she passed several locker rooms—one for ladies, another for men, and yet another reserved for Family Justice. Stopping quickly to grab a gym towel, she headed for the large brightly lit workout space, stumbling awkwardly to a halt when her steps brought her to a bank of windows that looked into the enormous room.

She wasn’t alone this morning, having quickly spied several people on the other side of the space where a boxing ring and heavy bags were located. It took her all of about three seconds to identify Alex—he was kind of hard to miss—as he hung onto one of the heavy bags while someone else jabbed and punched with fervor. It was the man with him, though, that sucked all the oxygen out of her lungs.

Alex Marquez was one of those big, burly-looking men whose stature and physical presence caught the eye and tickled the fancy of any female with a pulse. But Lord have mercy, the person standing with his back to the window as he annihilated the bag Alex was holding was equally as impressive.

Broad shoulders and muscled arms glistening with sweat scrambled her brainwaves so fast that Stephanie had to shake her head to bring back some sanity. It didn’t help that he wasn’t wearing a top, not that Alex was either. She admired the way his beefy torso tapered to his waist and didn’t even bother not to check out his ass in the knee-length workout shorts—
twice.
When he suddenly backed up and started kickboxing his muscular legs at the bag, the expression ‘swoon-worthy’ came to mind. With no apology whatsoever for her language, she mumbled, “Holy fucking crap,” as she watched.

WALLOPING THE HANGING BAG WITH a thunderous kick of his leg, Calder watched Alex steady himself against the heavy jolt and smirked.
Serves the fucker right
, he thought.

“You’re making me regret coming here to help you out while you moon all over that lady of yours.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Alex laughed. “You love running the Justice show and you know it. By the way, I noticed you reconfigured one of my robotics programs. It’ll take me days to follow whatever abstract thread was running in that brain of yours. Nice touch, Unc.”

Calder shot his nephew a smug grin while wishing he could add a well-placed finger flip, but the gloves he had on prevented that.

Stopping, he grabbed onto the bag along with Alex and enjoyed the moment. It was true that he relished the idea of taking over the Justice tech cave while his nephew rightly focused on other things. After all, he’d been Alex’s mentor from an early age, guiding him along, instilling a love for discovering how things worked and using those talents and skills to broaden his understanding of technology.

“Alright, alright,” he growled. “Because you asked and because I like that curvy woman running your life at the moment, I’m gonna make an effort to be pleasant to Tori’s mother. Just don’t expect too much, okay? And this better not be some sort of matchmaking bullshit on your part, Alex. I swear, I’ll fuck with your systems so hard that it’ll take you years to follow the breadcrumbs and figure it out.”

Alex chortled while Calder removed his gloves. “Matchmaking? Me? Yeah, right! I wouldn’t do that to Stephanie. Already told you, man—I like the lady. Last thing she needs is some aging surfer dude with his head up his ass and a huge computer chip on his shoulder.”

They both laughed at the sly reference, but Calder didn’t miss the point Alex was making. He did have a chip on his shoulder. A big one. Especially when it came to the vapid, mirror watchers he had such disdain for. Babysitting some past-her-prime beauty queen was just this side of asking too much of him, but what choice did he have? He was in Arizona specifically to make his nephew’s life easier.

A sound behind him and Alex’s quick glance in that direction caught his attention, making him swing his head over his shoulder to see what was going on.
Holy crap.
Who the fuck was this?

Calder was pretty sure he’d met everyone currently in residence at the compound. But the vision in a skintight tank top and cropped workout pants that molded to a figure screaming, ‘watch out boys—here I come’ was new. And flat-out the sexiest thing he could ever remember seeing.

The light streaming in from behind her obscured the details of her face, so he focused on everything else—from the ponytail swinging high on her head to an exposed neck that called to him and had him licking his lips in response. He could just make out the tilt of her chin that suggested she was used to being ogled by the opposite sex, but that sure as shit didn’t stop his visual inspection at all.

She was standing with hands upon her waist, legs planted in a determined stance, and calves visible beneath the end of her stretch pants. Calder was a leg man. Nothing got him fired up quicker than a delectable set of stems. Eyes drifting downward, he noted delicate ankles atop a pair of sneakers that looked like they’d seen their fair share of use.

Oh, yeah. And then there were her boobs. The tank top left little to the imagination, low enough in front to show a healthy amount of cleavage, and tight enough to make him painfully aware of how perfectly her tits would fit his big hands. Jesus. He was getting hard just looking at her, and he didn’t even know who she was.