Crash Into Me (13 page)

James
Matthews had shaken his hand with more strength than necessary, called him sir
like Ben was an old man, and looked him straight in the eye while he did it.

He
was a punk, Ben decided, with a chip on his shoulder the size of Catalina
Island.

James
relegated the task of setting the table to Carly by pretending he didn’t know
how it was done. She took over for him with a sweet smile, all the feminist
training Ben had instilled in her down the drain in the blink of an eye. Then
she offered to make a salad, and proceeded to do so with proficiency, James at
her side. The two had been giving each other smoldering looks ever since.

You’d
think chopping tomatoes was some kind of aphrodisiac.

Speaking
of aphrodisiacs, Summer was looking tasty enough to gobble up. Ben couldn’t
glance at her without feeling a sharp tug in his chest, and an equally
troubling sensation lower. It was rude of him, but he’d decided to ignore her
in order to stay focused on the task of hating James.

They
went outside to eat, in a space warmed by standing heaters, lit by Chinese
lanterns, and blessed with the gorgeous sights and sounds of the Pacific. In
the background, the waters of an edgeless pool sparkled, and the Jacuzzi
churned and bubbled, as hot and restless as Ben’s mood.

“What’s
this?” a man called out from the other side of the patio. “Having a party
without me?”

His
friend JT was standing at the gate leading down to the beach. With the moon at
his back, he was little more than an outline of broad shoulders and a glint of
white teeth. Ben recognized him by his voice, which was low and distinctive, as
raspy as rough-grained sand.

Ben
muttered a curse under his breath. He didn’t want JT around tonight. He was too
distracted to keep him away from Summer.

“I
knew I smelled good things cooking,” JT said, not bothering to wait for anyone
to invite him in. “You have room for one more?”

“Would
you leave if I said no?” Ben asked, scowling.

“Hey,
Mrs. Fortune,” JT called out, brushing past Ben and moving on to easier
targets. “You get prettier every year,” he vowed, bringing her hand to his
lips.

“Oh,
you,” Grace said, pulling her hand from his with a smile.

When
JT zeroed in on Summer, Ben felt his shoulders stiffen with apprehension.
“Bonita
señorita,”
he singsonged. “Where’ve you been all my life?”

Summer
laughed at JT’s Paulie Shore imitation, as amused by him as all women were. JT
had always had a way with the ladies. In their wilder days, the two of them had
frequently competed over the same girl in addition to the same wave. Ben’s
professional success had often worked in his favor, but JT had been granted
access to just about any bed on finesse alone. Once there, he was easily bored,
never staying with one woman long enough to make a real connection.

“Are
you Nathan’s boyfriend?” she asked.

Ben
choked back a laugh.

JT
placed a hand over his heart, where the barb had struck. “Cruelty, thy name is
woman,” he groaned.

Summer
darted a glance at Ben, not sure where she’d gone wrong.

“Frailty,”
Ben corrected.

JT
frowned at him. “Huh?”

“‘Frailty,
thy name is woman.’ It’s Shakespeare.” Once again, his gaze roved over Summer’s
sinuous physique. “And not really applicable, in my opinion.”

JT
jerked his thumb in Ben’s direction. “Lose this buzzkill and run away with me.
I’ll never correct you when you misquote.”

Although
he knew JT was only joking, Ben had to stifle the urge to put him in a
headlock. “JT is a friend of mine, not Nathan’s,” he explained. “My brother
would never date such a poor specimen.”

“Too
true,” JT admitted wryly.

“Sorry,”
Summer said. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“No
harm done.” JT lowered his voice to a whisper. “We won’t tell Nathan.”

Summer
laughed again.

Ben
clamped his hand around the back of JT’s neck, exerting a painful amount of
pressure. “Make yourself useful,” he said, leading him away, “and man the
grill.”

The
evening went downhill from there. JT under-cooked the vegetables and overcooked
the fish. Nathan showed up solo, for once, with a bottle of outrageously
expensive wine that Ben couldn’t sample.

And
Carly held James’ hand under the table the whole time.

His
mother was lovely, as usual, but clueless. Grace considered it wonderful news
that Carly had a boyfriend. Ben and his younger brother had been born
relatively late in her life, and Carly was her only grandchild, much to her
dismay. Nathan wasn’t going to produce any, and Ben hadn’t been inclined to
date, much less procreate, in years.

If
he was lucky, she wouldn’t mention great-grandchildren until after dessert.

Nathan
wasn’t helping, either. He seemed to find James fascinating, but he’d always
had a weakness for a pretty face.

“Where’s
Peter?” Ben asked when he remembered his brother’s latest lover’s name.

Nathan
arched a brow at his surly tone. “He’s flying in tomorrow. Should I bring him
over for Christmas, Mom?”

Grace
smiled serenely. “If you want a quiet, peaceful day, you won’t.”

“Dad
still living in the Stone Age?”

“We
could always celebrate here,” Ben offered, in no mood to deal with his father’s
bigotry on top of everything else.

“Yes,”
Carly exclaimed, liking the idea. “Let’s have a pool party. Grandpa’s such an
old grump. And I like Peter.”

“Darling,
you’ve never met Peter,” Nathan said.

“Oh.
Who was that one guy?”

“Emilio?”

“No,
no. After that.”

“Greg.”

“Yeah,
Greg. He was cute.”

Nathan
sighed wistfully. “He was, wasn’t he? Too bad.”

“What
happened to him?”

“You
know, I don’t really remember. I think we just drifted apart.”

Ben
coughed back a sound of sarcasm. Nathan had a notoriously short attention span
with men, and Carly was forever romanticizing his fickle ways.

“Summer’s
a lesbian,” she announced.

JT
straightened immediately, delighted by the news.

“Carly—”
Ben warned.

“I
mean, she’s still deciding,” she amended.

Too
polite to call Carly out for lying, Summer stared down at her plate, probably
wishing she’d never met any of them.

Nathan’s
brown eyes twinkled with amusement. “I’ve never known Ben to date a lesbian
before. Then again, he hasn’t dated anyone besides himself in so long, I wasn’t
sure he was still interested in women. Switching teams, brother?”

“Yeah,”
he replied stonily. “Tell Peter I’m available.”

Grace
patted Summer on the shoulder. “Just look to God to help you find your answer.
I find that consulting the Bible on matters of the heart is always useful.”

Summer
fingered the chain at her neck. Ben’s gaze was drawn, inexorably, to the valley
between her breasts. “I’m not really looking for an answer, to that, ah, particular
question.”

“She’s
not a lesbian, Mom,” Nathan explained.

“Oh?
And Ben isn’t going to date Peter, is he?”

Feeling
all eyes on him, Ben dragged his gaze away from Summer’s chest.

“Not
in this lifetime,” JT said with a smile.

“I
can’t keep up with the crazy jokes you young people tell,” Grace complained.

In a
blatant attempt to redirect the conversation, Summer turned to Carly and James.
“Do you two take classes together?”

“No,”
James replied. “I have homeschool.” When this answer was met with uneasy
silence, he added, “I’d rather go to Shores, but I work during the day.”

“You
work?” Ben asked.

“Yeah.
On my dad’s fishing boat.”

“Every
day?”

“Monday
through Saturday.”

“All
day?” He was insultingly skeptical. “Is that even legal?”

James
shrugged. “It’s legal to work eight hours a day, or more, once you’re sixteen.
I know because my dad looked it up. He took me out of school to work part-time
when I was fourteen, and he looked that up, too. Now we put in ten-hour days,
pretty regular.”

“Is
that how old you are? Sixteen?”

“No,
sir, I’m seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in March.”

Ben
groaned, covering his face with his hands. His life was over.

“My
dad’s an alcoholic,” Carly said in a rush, trying to reestablish control over
the situation.

“So’s
mine,” James admitted.

Ben
lifted his head, seizing the opportunity to find something else to dislike
about his daughter’s boyfriend. “Do you drink, too?”

“No,
sir,” James said carefully, squinting at him. He might be a dropout, but he
wasn’t stupid. “And maybe if you’d sober up once in a while, Carly wouldn’t go
down to the beach to cut herself with razor blades.”

Ben
felt his face go white, because James had scored a direct hit. Of course he
felt responsible for Carly’s actions. Any parent would. And although he hadn’t
had a drink in ages, he knew his alcoholism would have a lifetime effect on
her.

Carly’s
wail of outrage broke the silence. “James! My dad’s a
recovering
alcoholic. He’s been sober for years. And how could you tell everyone I cut
myself? Oh my God, I could just die!” She threw her napkin down and fled.

A
shocked hush fell over the table.

“I’m
sorry,” James said, rising from his chair. “I never met an alcoholic who didn’t
drink anymore. I’ll just…go apologize to Carly.”

“I
should leave,” Summer said. “It was a pleasure to meet you all.”

“No,”
Ben said, snapping out of his self-pitying stupor. “You’re not going anywhere.”
He stood, towering over James. “Neither are you,” he said.

Summer
arched a dark blond brow and crossed her arms over her chest. Her cool
expression indicated that he was in for a tongue-lashing later, and not the
kind he would enjoy. James was easier to intimidate. He gulped. And sat.

“Carly
is going to come down here and we will all enjoy a pleasant meal together. Even
if it kills us!” Ben stormed away, intent on making everyone else suffer
through the remainder of the evening, just as he would.

Sonny survived the rest of the night by a
thread. After Carly returned, puffy-eyed and sniffling, James sat in
uncomfortable silence, JT made inconsequential conversation, Ben brooded, and
Sonny fumed.

Nathan
drank wine and enjoyed himself, too contrary not to have a good time.

Before
everyone left, they made plans for a Christmas pool party, discussing the finer
points of the weather forecast, which Ben seemed to either know instinctively
or have memorized by rote. According to him, it was supposed to be sunny and 75
on December 25, an average winter day in San Diego, if a little warmer than it
had been lately.

Carly
said good-bye to James and went up to her room, sighing dreamily.

Although
Sonny stayed behind to help Ben clean up, what she really wanted to do was tell
Grant to shove this assignment, rescind her promise to attend the Christmas
pool party, and walk away from the Fortune family, never to look back.

Ben
wouldn’t let her. Taking her by the hand, he led her outside to stand on his
beautiful, heated patio, look out at his expensive, oceanfront view, and cajole
her into staying in his too charmed, too complicated life. “You’re going to
dump me, aren’t you?”

Startled,
she jerked her hand from his. “We’re not even dating.”

“Yes
we are.”

She
turned away from him, leaning her elbows against the top of the rock wall that separated
his patio from the beach and wondering what she was doing here. Ben Fortune
wasn’t a killer, and she had no business pursuing this angle of the
investigation. She was playing him, and herself, by continuing their
association.

But
if Ben hadn’t killed Olivia, who had? Sonny was becoming increasingly convinced
that Darrius O’Shea was innocent. There were too many similarities between the
recent murders and Olivia’s untimely death.

When
a victim was attacked in her own home, the search always began from the inside
out. Ben was a natural suspect. So was his friend JT. The husky-voiced surfer
was a smooth operator, no doubt about that, but Sonny couldn’t picture him
planning anything more nefarious than a lazy seduction. Besides, he’d been
ruled out already. According to the case file, he’d been surfing with Ben the
morning Olivia was murdered. Several witnesses recalled seeing Ben go inside,
while JT stayed in the water.

Sonny
felt a flutter of nerves as Ben came up behind her. Until Grant gave her the go-ahead,
stringing him along was her job. So when he put his arm around her, she let
him. And, as always, the thrill she experienced at his touch had nothing to do
with his status as a suspect, and everything to do with her awareness of him as
a man.