“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.
“I’m sorry.”
She pulled back to study his expression. “You are?”
“No,” he admitted. “I’m too pissed off to be sorry. But I know I shouldn’t have ordered you around like that in front of my family.”
“An honest admission is better than an insincere apology.”
“Well, you got both.”
“Lucky me.”
He worked his fingers through his dark hair in frustration. It was too long, and had a tendency to curl at the ends. In the water, it looked as smooth and sleek as an otter’s pelt. She wanted to run her fingers through it, then down, over his chest, and lower, where that silky line of hair disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.
“I’m jealous.”
She raised her eyes to his face. “What?”
“I’m jealous of Carly’s boyfriend. Can you believe that?”
She smiled. “Of course. It’s plain to see.”
“I don’t want her to grow up. I don’t want her to get hurt. But even more, I can’t help but feel she shouldn’t need anyone but me. If I were giving her enough positive male attention, she wouldn’t have to look elsewhere.”