Mob Mistress

Maya wasn’t about to respond.

“Oh!” The blonde yipped. “Speak of the Texan. There he is.”

Yes, there he was, entering the kitchen. But as dark and sexy as he was, he didn’t look like a Texan today. Like Tori, he was dressed for the party. He wore surfer-style swim trunks.

Maya tried not to notice his body: his chest, his stomach, the athletic way in which he moved.

He walked up to her. “I’m here to collect my dog.”

She merely nodded. Tori watched them with blatant interest.

“Was he good?” Justin asked.

“Yes, he—” Maya stammered.

“He what?”

“Nothing,” she said. Lester had slept in her bed, curling into a furry ball, keeping her warm at night.

“Will you get him for me?”

“Yes, of course.” The dog wasn’t paying them any mind. He was too busy sniffing the floor, scouting morsels he might have missed.

She reached for Lester, wondering what Justin was up to. He could have managed the dog far better than she could. The big, overgrown puppy was a cumbersome bundle.

Was Justin playing his lord of the manor role? Making a maid do his bidding? Or was—

Maya froze. He moved in close, too close, to transfer the dog into his arms. When he brushed his lips against her ear, she went woozy.

“Tell me you’re her,” he whispered, keeping his words so soft, so low, even Maya barely heard. “Tell me.”

Dear God.

She could see the just-do-it frustration in his eyes. But she saw something else, too. Heat. Hunger. The peril of desire.

Struggling for composure, she backed away from him, from the heart-palpitating intimacy. For what seemed like a long, drawn-out moment, their gazes locked.

No one said anything. A pin could have dropped. Finally he shifted the squirming puppy, and she glanced away.

“You like brunettes,” Tori blurted.

Justin blinked, turned, addressed her. “What?”

“They’re your favorite.”

“That’s right, they are,” he admitted, looking directly at Maya before he left the kitchen.

She went to the sink to wash her trembling hands, and Lucifer raised his demonic eyebrows at her, scolding her in silence. If he only knew.

Tori ignored them and flitted out of the room. To invite more brunettes to the party, Maya thought. To amuse Justin. To give him a smorgasbord of what he liked best.

Women who resembled the dark-haired maid.

The backyard offered an Olympic size pool, a rain forest waterfall, a barbecue island and an oasis of palm trees.

Justin sat on a chaise lounge with a plate of Japanese delicacies and a cup of sake by his side.

The experience was surreal. Kids, ranging from toddlers to teens, played in the sun, and gorgeous girls in eye-popping bikinis showed off their tans.

The bevy of brunettes, he’d learned, was for him.

Not that he was interested. He kept looking for Maya, watching the buffet table, waiting for her to replenish it.

A shadow crossed in front of him. “Are you having a good time?”

He squinted at the sun-hazed figure and realized it was Richard Halloway, his other uncle. He’d met Richard briefly last night when the other man had returned from his business trip.

Richard didn’t seem like a mobster. He wasn’t trim and tailored like Brian nor was he tough and terse like Leo. With his thinning brown hair, wire-framed glasses and slight paunch, he came off as a regular fifty-something guy.

He sat beside Justin and put his drink on a tiki-style table. “So are you?”

“Enjoying myself? Sure, why not?”

“You haven’t paid the least bit of attention to the girls Tori invited.”

Justin reached for a piece of salmon and sucked it down. He’d gotten used to the raw fish thing at the ranch. His sister was Elk Ridge’s assistant chef, and she’d encouraged him to expand his country-boy palate. “I prefer my women with a little more brain power.”

Richard laughed. “So do I. Tori’s friends are as dumb as she is. Beautiful, but as dense as dolled-up doornails.”

“What does Brian see in Tori?” Justin asked, shooting the six-foot blonde a curious glance. She was playing Marco Polo with the kids.

“Empty-headed women amuse him.” Richard leaned in close. “They create less pressure than the smarter variety.”

“I’ll still take the smart ones.”

“Me, too. Not that I’ve had much luck. I’ve been married and divorced three times.” The other man adjusted his glasses. “I heard you were engaged once.”

Justin tried not to frown. “Is there anything this family doesn’t know about me?”

“We don’t know what’s inside your soul.”

Neither do I, he thought. His emotions were still a mess. “You’re different from Brian.”

“Easier to talk to?”

And easier to like. Justin didn’t want to bond with Richard, but the younger Halloway brother had a way about him. “Is it true that the Hollywood Mob doesn’t exist anymore?” he asked, pushing the issue.

“Yes, it is. And the change has been good for me. I was never cut out for that lifestyle. Dad forced it on us. Not all mob bosses do that to their sons. In fact, most prefer to keep their kids out of it.” Richard sipped his sake. “But not our old man.”