Everlasting (Family Justice Book 6)

by Suzanne Halliday

  “He’s Justice? Fuck my life,” she murmured at the end.

  The guy slowly turned around at the same moment that the earthquake happened. When she felt that first jolt, Sophie grabbed the chair under her butt. She was estimating the strength of the tremor on the Richter scale when it dawned on her that nobody else was reacting.

  She was sitting straight and rigid, gripping the chair beneath her and staring with wide eyes at the man whose ass she’d been admiring.

  “Jace?”

  Across the room, he saw her as she spoke his name. He paused, cocked his head to one side, and frowned. Then, a second later, recognition lit his face up, and he came bounding forward.

  “Oh, my god! Sophia! Is that you? What are you doing here? Holy shit, woman. Come here and give me a hug.”

  He pulled her off her chair before she had time to react and hugged her tight. She knew the second he realized a significant bump separated them. Drawing back, he had his hands on her forearms as he looked down.

  “You’re pregnant?”

  Parker almost fell off his chair. “You two know each other?”

  Sophie couldn’t do anything except mutter, “Um, uh, oh, uh.”

  Jace ignored Parker and smiled into her shocked face. “You look wonderful,” he teased. “Is that a happy glow I see?”

  She didn’t even know what to say. Or do. In what strange parallel universe did she have the dumb luck to run into a man she knew for two weeks? The same man who quite literally gave her back her self-confidence and set her on the path to motherhood? Single motherhood.

  “Jace, I don’t understand,” she murmured. “Parker said you work for Justice?”

  There was no rational way to wrap her mind around what was happening. She’d met Jace Delacroix by chance on a ten-day escorted tour of Mykonos and Santorini. Exploring Greece was something she’d always wanted to do, so on a whim, she booked a deluxe tour package and dove right in. The quirky European businessman was the only other person in their small group traveling alone, so they were thrown together from the first day.

  “Yeah,” he confirmed as a laugh made the corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement. “My cousin Remington manages the Justice fleet. She didn’t know shit about horses and running a stable, so she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  He leaned in as if they were sharing a secret and chuckled. “After our Greek adventure, I realized that living my family’s wishes wasn’t working for me anymore.” He shrugged. “I put it out there in the universe that I was open to change and bam.”

  “Arizona is your bam?”

  “Looks that way,” he drawled. “But what about you? How do you figure into this?”

  She lost her ability to speak, and sort of fish mouthed for a minute—opening and closing but nothing coming out. Parker rescued her. He stood and fixed Jace with the same look Alex used when he was being a pain in the ass.

  “Sophia Isabel Camiña Valleja-Marquez is the hereditary great-granddaughter of Don Cristobal Alvaro Joaquin Valleja-Marquez.”

  Sophie’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head when Parker recited her full family name. Sensitive to people judging her by emotional standards based on fears of nepotism, she’d used the name Sophie Camiña during her time in Spain. Unless you knew the Marquez family or understood the Valleja family tree, there was no way to suspect she was only telling half a story.

  Jace laughed. “Are you shitting me? You’re Alex’s sister?”

  He had a good laugh for some reason and then made a wry face. “When I heard the boss had a sister turn up sporting a surprise pregnancy, I never dreamed it’d be you.”

  Suddenly, she couldn’t get nosy Parker and his direct line to Alex and Angie away from this conversation fast enough.

  She did some super-fast thinking and almost shouted “Eureka!” when a solution blossomed in her mind. She knew a surefire way to send ol’ Parker scurrying away.

  Not one to beat around the bush, she fixed her old friend with a pointed glare and said, “Go away.”

  Parker snorted and drawled, “Seriously?”

  She lined him up in her viewfinder for a verbal kill shot. “There’s more to that Stifler’s mom story, isn’t there?”

  He looked like a guy about to shit a brick. Red flooded his face, and his eyes narrowed. “Sophie,” he said in warning.

  Ha! As if. “Parker,” she answered drily.

  They did eyeball combat—just like when they were kids—and he gave in first. She had him by the proverbial balls, and he knew it. Parker wasn’t stupid. Plus, he was a lawyer, which she assumed implied that he knew when to speak and when to shut the hell up. Wisely for him, he chose the latter.

  “On that note, I will go stir the shit pool swirling around Finn.”

  He shook Jace’s hand and sniped, “Keep your wallet on lockdown. She wins poker championships in her sleep.”

  As Jace chuckled, her childhood friend walked away, and she was left to figure out what the hell to do or say next.

  Oh, dear lord. Was the universe clowning her? Jace Delacroix looking like every hot, tight-assed cowboy she’d ever drooled over? Was this a joke?

  No. Wait. Not a joke. She touched her belly and gave a terse nod. Hormones. Baby hormones. That was what it was. Yeah. Completely natural. Nothing to see here. Move along.

  She almost had her emotions under control when Jace made her sit, took the chair next to her, and casually asked, “So, Jelly Bean”—he chuckled—“what’s the four one one on the baby daddy?”

  Her hand shot out to grab her drink, but instead, she managed to knock over a bowl of sugar packets. Calling her Jelly Bean triggered an unfamiliar and slightly worrisome sexual response that made her squirm uncomfortably.

  She had a thing for jelly beans. Not just any old thing either. Nope. Her thing was all encompassing. Jelly beans were sugary nuggets of pure delight thrown from the heavens by mischievous angels. When she was in one of her moods, though, the colored treats became the devil’s crack. She couldn’t toss too many in her mouth, and if an unending supply was ever available, she’d be in trouble.

  It did something to the area around her heart to realize he remembered the name he called her during their Greek adventure.

  “I, uh, what?” Sophie mumbled so inelegantly that she winced at how vapid she sounded.

  “Baby daddy. I don’t see a ring so …?”

  “Oh, right. Yeah,” she croaked. Clearing her throat, she took a hasty sip of the iced tea and composed herself. “About that.”

  She took a deep breath and shifted to face him directly. Bad move. Very bad move because the way he was looking at her had the power to wipe her brain of thought. And it didn’t help one little bit that his sable colored eyes glinted with gold sparkles in this light—just as they had on those warm Mediterranean evenings. She gulped and gave her head a tiny shake to clear her thoughts.

  “There, um, is no baby daddy. Not in the classic sense, anyway.”

  He grinned, chuckled, and bumped his brows together. “What are you saying? Is this a virgin birth?”

  It was not the first time she’d heard the same irreverent comment, and usually, her response was a snarky frown. But hearing Jace say those words in his witty, slightly sardonic way made her giggle-snort so loudly that she covered her mouth with both hands in embarrassment.

  He gasped with a theatrical flourish and tsked. “Sacrilege. Ten Hail Marys for you, young lady,” he chortled.

  She bunched up a napkin and threw it at his head. He balls out stuck his fingers in a glass of water and flicked some at her shocked face.

  Sputtering and giggling at the same time, Sophie felt an enormous sense of rightness fill her to bursting. She liked this guy. During their time together, they enjoyed a simple companionship that came naturally.

  When did that ever happen? Never?

  She sat up and wiggled on her chair. Time to break out her favorite performance—snotty society girl with attitude. It was Jace’s favorite.


  “I beg your pardon, Monsieur Delacroix, but the status of my virginity is none of your business.” She sniffed—one of those imperious sounding putdowns that made people cringe.

  He sat back and offered a slow clap. “Bravo, Jelly Bean. Nicely said. Just the right touch of bitch. But you’re talking to a master deflector. I know a dodge when it takes a dump nearby. Baby Daddy,” he enunciated slowly. “Out with it, woman. I need to know who my competition is.”

  The little girl who she assumed lived inside the heart and mind of every grown woman giggled uncontrollably and began running in circles, shouting, “A boy likes me.” He could be kidding, of course, but hell, she was claiming this one as a win. After all, it wasn’t like she had anything else to show in the otherwise empty column.

  “Oh, well, in that case,” she announced, “maybe you’d like to see a picture.”

  She reached into her purse and pulled out a phone dressed up in gaudy rhinestone bling. It was so not her style that Jace did a double take. Boy, was he ever in for some shock.

  Tapping and swiping until she found what she wanted, she enlarged the image for easy viewing and held it up to his face. “Here ya go.”

  Jace’s frown deepened. Did whatever he imagine spark jealousy? She waited while he focused on what she was showing. He’d comment soon enough.

  “Donor number one-eight-three-zero-zero-nine. Age thirty-one. IQ … one twenty-seven. Height six-foot-two.”

  He paused. Then he looked again—closer. Finally, he lifted his gaze to hers. What she saw in his eyes was quite intriguing.

  “An anonymous donor?”

  “Yep.” She shook her head and put down the phone. “You’re not the only one who asked the universe for some help. I wanted to be a mom,” she said with a small shrug. “My prospects in that area were what you could call thin. Well,” she snipped, “non-existent actually. It was time, Jace. I was ready.”

  “Wow. Um, Soph?”

  The sounds of a little girl’s laughter and shrieks filled the air. A small yapping ball of brown and black fur darted around the bar and dining room as Bella scampered gleefully behind.

  They both turned to check out the building commotion. Bella ran by in a blur of pink topped by a curly ponytail while, at the other end of the bar, it appeared as though Finn had a smirking Brody by the scruff of his shirt. Parker, the shit-stirring asshat, stood nearby holding his phone up. Taking pictures, she assumed.

  She shook her head in disbelief because the situation was escalating. Grey ran into the midst of the growing brouhaha and tried to break it up. Parker just laughed. When it looked as if Finn was readying to unleash a beatdown, his business partner, Barry, stepped between the two men and defused the situation.

  In all seriousness? She fucking loved being here and didn’t miss her starchy, cold sober life in Spain at all. These people were a hoot and a half.

  Jace sighed and stood. “I’d better see what that’s all about.”

  She made a face and asked, “What the hell for? I’d stay out of it if I were you.”

  “Yeah, well, that shithead Irishman is involved with my cousin. Remy won’t like it if he goes off half-cocked and starts shit.”

  “Oh, lord. Seriously? Well shit, Jace. You'd better shut it down then because Parker will only continue to shit stir until all hell breaks loose.”

  “Word,” he muttered. “Hey, do me a proper, would you, and scoop Bella up? Distract her while the men folk act like cretins.”

  She snickered and saluted. “Understood.”

  Did she admire his ass when he hurried away?

  Absolutely.

  Sophie winced. Shit. Jace Delacroix had a cowboy ass. She was so fucked.

  4

  Lacey Cameron bent down to pack some soil around the rose bushes she was positive would flourish along the side of her cozy office cottage and nodded her satisfaction.

  On a whim, she and Betty had taken a workshop through the University’s Agriculture Extension Program and came away from the half-day gathering with enough knowledge and practical tips to grow the colorful and fragrant flowers even in the harshest conditions.

  Apparently, the flowers were considered delicate and fragile, but the bush supporting the blooms was remarkably tough. She liked the symbology. It spoke to something deep inside her.

  Straightening, she put a hand on the small of her back and groaned out loud. Bending and stooping got more difficult by the day. She didn’t remember being so physically awkward with Dylan.

  Speaking of her awesomely adorable firstborn, she heard his sweet baby-babble before she saw him as he toddled along the path toward her with Daddy no doubt by his side.

  “Mommy,” Dylan squealed when he and Cameron came around the final bend and stepped into view. Just as it always did, her heart melted a little at the sight her big, handsome husband made as he chased after their cheeky toddler. Little did she know that first time they met, when he stitched up her arm after rescuing her from real danger, that the dark-haired brooder doing the saving would be the love of her life. Or that they’d settle in the Arizona desert and make beautiful babies together.

  “Baby, baby, baby,” Dylan shouted when he hopped, skipped, and jumped to her side. He patted her tummy, and she gave her son a warm smile.

  Cameron swooping in for a delicious kiss made her toes curl. The things he did with his lips and tongue had the power to render her stupid.

  “Aunty Toto was just here,” he drawled. “Dropped off a shawl.”

  She chuckled at the dramatic way he said shawl.

  “Made her spell the word so I could look it up,” he said.

  Ruffling Dylan’s hair, she sat down on a wooden bench and kept an eye on him while he started digging in the dirt.

  “What’s the matter?” she teased. “Don’t trust her?”

  “Indeed, I do not,” her husband growled. “For all I know, she used some female code word meaning men are shmucks. I’ve fallen for her guff too many times as it is.”

  A beaming smile broke out on her face. “Why Jason Cameron”—she softly giggled—“you keep that up, and I’ll be forced to say dirty things in private.”

  His goofy expression of triumph coincided with her ballerina daughter doing a full pirouette that made her entire stomach shift.

  “I put an app on my phone. Synonyms.” He snickered. “Can’t have our progeny sounding like a biker gang.”

  “Well, dang, husband! You hit the trifecta. Let’s see,” she said with her hand up to count off. Staring with her thumb, she counted off the bullet points with, “Shmucks. Guff. And, um … progeny. Nice!”

  He bent down and closed in. Licking the shell of her ear, he growled in a low murmur, “Dickheads, shit, and fuck fruit,” and then tugged on the lobe with his teeth.

  Dropping beside her on the bench, he gently caressed her belly and gave her a small smile. “What do you need a shawl for?”

  “It’s been chilly lately, but a coat would be too much.”

  He just looked at her, waiting for the words to make sense.

  “The wedding, honey. Remember? Dress up time and my outfit leaves a lot of skin exposed. The shawl will come in handy.”

  “Flaunting the girls, are you?” The gentle teasing in his question made a blush break out on her cheeks.

  With an expressive sniff, she pursed her lips before answering. “You said it yourself. I have great boobs, and I don’t think …”

  All of a sudden, Dylan rushed at them and shrieked, “Boob!”

  They both did a comic double take that would go down in the annals of clueless parenting.

  “Seriously?” Lacey gritted through clenched teeth. “Why do they always pick up the wrong stuff? He couldn’t have gotten shmuck? Or guff? It must be boobs?”

  Cameron had a good laugh as he pulled their son onto his lap. “Now technically speaking, Mommy, he said boob. Singular. Not boobs. Plural.”

  “Do you imagine this is helping?” she asked.

  “Boob, Daddy,” Dy
lan announced not once but twice and each time with great enthusiasm.

  “If I reach out and honk one of the girls, you’re going to chew off my fingers, aren’t you?” He was openly laughing which only made Dylan sillier.

  “Boob, boob.”

  Just when she was ready to lose it, her son did a complete about-face and yelled, “Hey!” With that, he launched out of his father’s grip, landed against her with a thud, and shmooshed his face back and forth in her neck as he helped himself to her embrace. His little hand patted her shoulder as he murmured, “Ah, ah, Mommy,” put a great big grin on Cameron’s face.

  “He loves you.”

  Too emotional for a response, Lacey wrapped her son in a fierce hug and let the tender moment sweep her away.

  Softly touching her leg, Cameron gave a reassuring squeeze and stood, leaving her to bask in her son’s affection while he poked around the shed-turned-cottage. Ridiculous as it seemed—considering she had a fantastic house with her name on the deed—this little space so lovingly recreated as a private sanctuary just for her was one of Lacey’s favorite spots. Exactly why she chose to plant the creamy apricot-colored tea roses around the small building.

  She heard him call out, which made Dylan’s head pop up with interest. Love interlude over, she helped her son scramble off her lap and land on his feet like a Junior Ninja ready for battle.

  “Daddy,” Dyl yelled and took off for the door of the cottage.

  Luckily, Cameron appeared and blocked the way before all hell broke loose inside from toddler curiosity. He held a pamphlet in his hand.

  “Did you decide yet, babe?”

  Decide? On? Oh, right. The babymoon her husband was all hopped up about. Soon as Stephanie and Calder were legally married, she and Cameron were planning a short getaway before their daughter made her debut. He’d loaded her up with a dozen pamphlets for fabulous beach vacations, but she had something else in mind.

  “Well, yes.” She patted the space next to her and said, “Maybe you should sit.”

  Cameron stooped down and had a fatherly chat with Dylan, handed off a toy, and plopped him down on the ground right in front of the bench. He sat next to her and took Lacey’s hand.