Beautiful Beginning(8)

one more time. Some members of my family are a bit . . .”

“Nuts? As in, building a vitamin-manufacturing facility in their garage?

As in, paying tens of thousands of dollars for advertising in the AARP

magazine?”

I blinked over to her. “What? Who did that?”

“Your cousin Bull,” she answered, shrugging. “Henry told me some stories

on the phone the other day. Apparently it’s his new venture. He’s going

to make a pitch this week for some financial backing from Will and Max.”

“Why am I even surprised?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Families are supposed to be a handful,

Bennett. Otherwise you’d never leave them. And mine isn’t quite all

there, either. You know my aunts are . . . let’s just say they’re really

going to enjoy the Ryan family gene pool. I hope you packed your running

shoes.”

“Well—” I began, but stopped as she crossed her legs in front of her. “

Chloe?”

She picked some nonexistent lint off her nonexistent stockings. “Hmm?”

“What in the f*ck are you wearing?”

“You like?” she said, lifting her foot and moving it from side to side.

Her shoes looked positively dangerous. Spiked heel, deep blue patent

leather.

“Were you wearing those when we left the hotel?”

“I was. You were on the phone with your brother.”

I wasn’t one to catalog everything Chloe wore, but the familiar stirring

in my pants told me I’d most definitely seen these shoes before—over my

shoulders, if I wasn’t mistaken. “Where have I seen those?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She was a rotten liar. “At home?”

At home, in our bedroom.

The dirty little box we kept under our bed. The things we did when that box

was out.

I remembered the night she wore them, almost two months ago. We hadn’t

seen each other in weeks and I couldn’t get close enough, touch her

enough, f*ck her hard enough. She’d pulled out those shoes along with

something new she wanted to try: a bottle of self-warming wax. I could

still remember the heat as she’d dribbled it along my skin; the way goose

bumps began at that warm puddle of wax and radiated out, spreading along my

body. She teased me for so long I actually promised her I’d kneel and

hand-feed her breakfast the next day. I came so hard I almost blacked out

that night.

“You’re doing this to f*ck with me, aren’t you?” I asked. “This is

about the let’s-wait-to-have-sex-until-after-the-wedding thing, isn’t it?

”

“Absolutely.”

We found a parking spot about a block away from Barbarella in La Jolla and

I stepped out, walking around to open Chloe’s door. I took her hand and

watched as she climbed out of the car—tan legs that went on forever, shoes

you could easily impale yourself on—and shook my head at her the entire

time.

“You’re a demon,” I said. “I feel like a bride guarding my virginity

before the wedding.”

“Well, then feel free to give it up, Ryan,” she said, pushing up onto her

toes to kiss me.

I groaned but somehow managed to pull away, both of us looking in the

direction of the restaurant. “Here we go . . . ”



With the patio area open and visible from the street, we could hear our

fathers talking before we’d even made it in the door.

“You need to make sure they sit together,” Chloe’s dad was saying.

“Nonsense, Frederick, they’ll be fine.” My father, always the diplomat.

“Susan put a lot of thought into the seating arrangement and she knows

what she’s doing. I’m sure your sisters are wonderful ladies. Let’s

spread them around a little, give the others a chance to get to know them.

”

“‘Spread them around’? I don’t think you understand, Elliott. My

sisters are crazy. They’re man-hungry and newly single. They will hunt

down every available male within a six-mile radius if you give them the

chance.”

I stopped Chloe at the threshold, placing a hand on each of her shoulders

and looking into her brown eyes. “You ready for this?” I asked.

She stood up on her toes and pressed her warm lips to mine. “Absolutely

not,” she said against my mouth.

I took her hand and we stepped inside just in time to see my father laugh.

“Don’t you think you might be exaggerating a little?”

Frederick sighed. “I wish I were. I—”

“It’s about time,” Henry said, cutting in front of them to walk toward

me. Both fathers looked in our direction as Henry continued, “I was

worried you two wouldn’t show up and I’d have to drag you naked from your

hotel room.”

“That’s a horrifying image,” I said, hugging my brother. “And for the