The General's Desire: San Diego Social Scene Book 2

by Tess Summers

  “So why don’t you have any food at your place?”

  Cassie jerked her head back like the answer was obvious. “I’m too lazy to go to the grocery store. Besides, I like mooching off my sister, the rich widow.”

  Brenna put a pan of cookies in the oven. “For the record,” she said as she closed the oven door, “I’m not rich because I’m Danny’s widow. His money is in a trust for our daughter. I’m rich because I’ve written a damn fine screenplay or two in my day, thank you very much.”

  Cassie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I always forget about what a bigshot you are until I see one of your movies pop up on TV and think, ‘Hey! That came from my sister’s imagination!” In a gentler voice, she asked, “When am I going to see something new from you?”

  Brenna looked away. “I don’t know, Cass. It’s…complicated.”

  “Well, hurry up, would ya? I want to see assface get schmucked!” Cassie grinned and drank her milk from the bowl before continuing. “Oh, and I want to go with you to the premiere. When you and Danny’s picture would show up in magazines, I’d tell people, That’s my sister! For some reason, they never believed me–even though I look just like you, only with darker hair. If I were your date on the red carpet that would give me some serious street cred.”

  “Street cred for what exactly?”

  “I don’t know–just because!” Cassie laughed. “One can never have too much street cred.”

  “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think I’m going to be helping your street cred any time soon.”

  Cassie started to protest as she slid off the stool, but then seemed to elect against it.

  “Did you decide on a dress for tonight?” The younger girl changed the subject while rinsing her dishes in the sink.

  “I did. I couldn’t figure out which shoes I like better though, so I bought them both to have more time to decide.”

  “Well it is your lucky day because I am an aficionada of footwear. Let’s see whatcha got.”

  Upstairs in Brenna’s room, Cassie was going through Brenna’s huge closet, taking garments with their hangers and holding them up to her body in the mirror, when she came upon her sister’s wedding dress.

  Tracing over the satin fabric, the younger girl sighed. “Do you miss him?”

  Brenna was tugging the black dress down from her hips when she stepped out from the dressing area of the closet and noticed Cassie touching her wedding dress.

  “Every day.”

  Cassie cocked her head. “Even after everything he did?”

  “Even after. Just because I didn’t want to be married to him anymore didn’t mean I stopped loving him. We were madly in love once, and we have a great kid. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

  “Am I going to go to hell for being glad he died before your divorce was final?”

  Brenna pulled her hair up off her neck and turned around for Cassie to zip her dress. “Probably,” she said over her shoulder, smirking. “But everything of his is going to Danielle, and that’s where he would have wanted it, regardless if I made the decision or if he did.”

  She turned back around, and Cassie let out a whistle. “Wow! You look freakin’ hot!”

  They came out of the dressing area so Brenna could do a runway walk in two different pairs of shoes. As Brenna paraded up and down her bedroom in mismatched heel heights, Cassie glanced out the window where something definitely caught her attention. Brenna stood on her tiptoes to see what her sister was gawking at but couldn’t get a good look.

  “Who the hell is that?”

  Brenna limped over and slid the curtain back to see Luke Rivas had pulled into her driveway in his black topless Jeep with no doors. He was in a well-worn pair of Levis, a tight gray t-shirt that clung delectably to his muscular chest and arms, and aviator sunglasses on his tanned face. His short black hair only slightly messy from the wind blowing on the ride over. In the passenger seat was his Golden Retriever, Rex.

  “That’s Luke–and Rex.”

  “That’s Luke?! Good Lord, he looks like sex on a stick! Shit, here I am in my freaking yoga pants and messy hair bun. Thanks a lot for the heads up.”

  Brenna grinned and smacked the younger girl’s butt. “Told ya. Your yoga pants make your ass look great, and you’re freaking adorable in your messy bun, so go be your charming self and answer the door. Watch out for Zona though. If she knows Rex is here, she will beat you to the door, even if that means knocking you over. She loves seeing her boyfriend.”

  Zona had been one of Luke’s foster dogs before Brenna adopted her, and had grown attached to Luke’s furry boy while living with him.

  Cassie started walking toward the bedroom door, shaking her head. “Aw, Zona, too? Doesn’t anybody play hard to get anymore?”

  Brenna laughed then called out just as her sister reached the doorway. “Wait, which shoe?”

  Turning to look for less than two seconds, Cassie replied, “Open-toed, definitely.” She was out the door and bounding down the stairs when the doorbell rang.

  After Danny died, Brenna had more money than she could spend, and did a lot of pruning in her life. She got rid of the monstrosity of a house in Rancho Santa Fe that her husband had insisted on, along with all the expensive cars and furnishings that went with it. She also sold the condo and cars in Phoenix they had for when he was at Spring Training, along with the place in Miami Brenna hadn’t even known about–his love nest she assumed. She set aside Danny’s portion of the proceeds in trust for Danielle, gave some of it away to causes she supported, and was still left with more money than she would need in four lifetimes.

  She also cut out fake friends, and people only interested in being associated with her so they could drop her name. She didn’t have the energy for it anymore. That left her with a small, select group of people she now socialized with because she wanted to, not because she had to. Her little sister was one of those people–blunt, honest, and with the biggest heart of anyone Brenna knew. She loved hanging out with her.

  Her daughter, Danielle, was also someone she devoted her time to. Danielle was a freshman at the University of Arizona, her dad’s alma mater. Danny had been a stand-out second baseman for the Bat Cats and was drafted in the second round his junior year. Unlike many of his peers, he quickly rose up from playing AAA baseball and made it to the big leagues. He was a rookie playing for the Padres when Brenna met him almost twenty years ago.

  Brenna decided to buy a place in Tucson so she would have somewhere to stay when she visited Danielle. Cassie and Luke were splitting dog-watching duties while she went house hunting at the end of January, which was why Brenna had invited them both over today. She thought it would be easier to have the two of them in front of her with a calendar as they divvied up the days. Not to mention she had wanted to introduce them to each other in a not-so-obvious way. Judging by the looks they were exchanging, her instincts had been right about the two.

  So much for her sister playing hard to get.

  At least Brenna’s instincts still worked when it came to other people. She was, however, not so confident in her abilities when it came to her own love life.

  Chapter Two

  Brenna

  Brenna had finally gotten used to being on her own, but still couldn’t help feeling sad thinking about the previous New Year’s Eve parties with Danny as she got ready for the ball. They really had made the perfect pair–at least to anyone on the outside looking in. Ken and Barbie Baseball was what the Out and About section would call them whenever they were photographed together in public. He had dark brown hair, green eyes, and was athletic, handsome and cocky. She was blonde and always immaculately coiffed. She looked damn good–thanks to a personal trainer who kicked her ass almost daily, and a plastic surgeon who lifted her boobs, hid her Caesarean scar, and injected her with Botox on a regular basis. Being married to a professional baseball player for all those years, she had to look the part of a player’s wife and compete with the diamond dolls –a fa
ncy way of saying groupie sluts.

  Sadly, she hadn’t competed successfully. His last mistress made sure Brenna knew about her; which backfired, since Danny dumped the girl because of it. The prospect of losing half of everything in a divorce trumped whatever she had been doing for him in the sack. Unfortunately for him, Brenna had had enough of looking the other way when it came to her husband’s transgressions and filed for divorce. She almost relented when Danny laid on the charm; he had always been so good at that. But she had allowed herself to see a life without wondering and worrying about what her husband was up to, or who he was with, and she liked it. Still not enough to start writing again, but at least the possibility felt like it was there. It was a start.

  Brenna put her earrings in and smoothed her dress as she looked in the mirror. Turning to check her backside, she took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

  ****

  Ron

  As he drove to The Plaza, Major General Ron Thompson was wondering what the hell he was doing going to this party tonight. Ava had invited him, so he felt obligated to go. He had been the first person she told about her pregnancy–because they’d been talking about dating before she found out. He had a sneaking suspicion she and her baby’s father, Travis Sterling, were going to announce their engagement tonight. He was happy for her, she was a charming and beautiful young woman who deserved someone she could settle down and have a family with. Ron quickly realized after learning about her pregnancy that he would have been all wrong for her in the long run.

  He had to admit though, he was horny as hell. He’d just gotten back from two months in the Middle East, but it’d been almost a year since he’d been with a woman. His job, and frankly, his standards kept him from dating much. He’d love a beautiful lady that he could have an intelligent conversation with at dinner, then take home and fuck senseless, but they seemed to be in short supply these days. Or maybe he was just too picky.

  But having high expectations was his nature. It had served him well with the Marine Corps, and wasn’t something he could just turn on and off–which was probably a good thing since he was responsible for a lot of Marines’ lives.

  God, he hoped there was decent alcohol at the open bar tonight. Knowing Sterling, it would all be top shelf. There’d be no complaints from him about that, but he probably wasn’t going to be staying long anyway.

  As soon as he walked through the doors, Ava, in her pink Cinderella gown with her adorable pregnant belly, grabbed his hand and pulled him over to meet her girlfriend, Tracey. He knew Ava was trying to offer him a consolation prize since she didn’t go out with him. Her friend was cute, but a little young, and not really his type. He could tell he wasn’t her type either, and they each went to their respective tables after only a few minutes of chitchat. Travis and Ava made the announcement that this was their wedding reception; they’d gotten married earlier that day. Ron watched the two of them together, obviously happy and in love, and he felt something he couldn’t quite name.

  Regret? Jealousy?

  He’d been married to his career so long, he wondered if finding Mrs. Right just wasn’t in the cards for him. Maybe he fucked up and missed his chance when he was with Sarah. Maybe he should have gone after her when she left. He thought he was doing what was best for her–he couldn’t give her what she was looking for so he let her go. But if he were honest with himself, he did miss her. He hadn’t found anyone else who even sparked his interest.

  Ron looked around his table. Everyone was dressed in black or white, not a splash of color to be seen. At least people followed directions–it was a Black and White Ball, after all. His own white tuxedo jacket offset his black bow tie and pants. The girl who sold it to him said he looked like Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca.

  He wasn’t so sure that was a compliment.

  Now if only he could find his Lauren Bacall.

  People were offering the usual polite hellos and brief introductions around the table, when the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on was trying to find her place card, then smiled as she took her seat and introduced herself as Brenna Roberts. He felt his breath catch in his chest when she charmingly looked down after he caught her eye, her long blonde hair falling forward around her face.

  Mrs. Sewell, the older woman sitting next to her, put her hand sympathetically over Brenna’s and said, “I’m so sorry about Danny.” The gorgeous woman tucked her hair behind her ear with a meager smile and said she was doing all right.

  Danny Roberts? As in, the Danny Roberts, second baseman for the San Diego Padres?

  Ron knew Danny had been killed in a car crash a few years ago; it was all the news talked about for a week. Sizing his widow up, he had no trouble believing she had been a professional ball player’s wife. She was damn-near flawless, even if some of her parts were probably not authentic. No woman her age had real boobs that perky, but he was perfectly fine with how high hers sat.

  Perfectly fine.

  Genuine was overrated.

  Her skin was like porcelain, and her lips… man, her lips. An image of them wrapped around his dick flashed in his head, and he was suddenly applauding his decision to attend Ava and Travis’ party after all.

  Thank you, whoever made the seating chart, for putting her at my table.

  He asked everyone at the table if he could get them anything from the bar, and when Mrs. Sewell looked like she was going to offer yet more sympathy to Brenna, the beautiful woman jumped up and said she’d go with him. Ron admired the view as she walked in front of him in a long black gown that hugged her curves perfectly while showing off her shoulders. He wasn’t the only one who noticed her.

  They’d just gotten their drinks when she gave him a flirtatious smile. “So, is there a Mrs. Thompson?”

  He grinned back. “Why? Who wants to know?”

  He got distracted momentarily when she sucked her drink through a straw, but managed to catch her teasing reply. “At least every woman at our table. I’m sure they all have a sister, daughter, or granddaughter they’re dying to fix you up with.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Every woman at our table?”

  She blushed as she smiled at him but didn’t look away.

  He didn’t take his eyes away from hers when he lowered his voice and said, “There’s no Mrs. Thompson–present or past. And there’s only one woman that I’m interested in being fixed up with.”

  She did look down this time but kept smiling. “Oh? Anyone I know?”

  He was about to respond when he saw her eyes narrow and a scowl form on her lips. Ron glanced over to where she was looking and noticed a dark haired man with a salt-and-pepper beard and wire rim glasses in a black tailored suit accompanied by a chubby, yet attractive, woman in a white gown that was probably a size too small. Her chunky white jewelry matched her dress perfectly, and her brunette hair with blonde highlights was in a styled updo. She was lightly holding onto the arm the man was offering, and could have blinded someone with the huge diamond on her left ring finger. The pair looked like they were comfortably bored with each other’s company.

  “That son-of-a-bitch,” he heard Brenna mutter as she shook her head.

  Goddammit.

  He’d hoped since she was here alone, she was available. It appeared that might not be the case.

  Don’t jump to any conclusions. Let this one play out.

  Leaning against the bar, he asked, “Friends of yours?” as he gestured to the couple with his glass before taking a sip.

  She stood there looking at the bearded man, almost dumbfounded, not seeming to register Ron was speaking to her, and instead appeared to be contemplating her next move. Finally she looked at him and offered a fake smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I see someone I need to say hello to.”

  He watched her make her way to the couple. She definitely had a nice ass.

  Fuck, I hope she’s not the crazy kind.

  Actually, maybe he did. That might be fun to watch, too.

  Turns out, the look of pan
ic on the man’s face as he saw Brenna approach was entertainment enough. She stood talking to the couple, reaching over to stroke the man’s arm on occasion, and Ron watched him jump and wince as if in actual pain when she did. Meanwhile the woman who Ron assumed was the bearded man’s wife, shot her husband the dirtiest of looks as Brenna spoke. Finally, Brenna offered the lady her hand to shake, then patted the man on the cheek. She turned around with a satisfied, smug look on her face and headed back to where Ron was standing.

  Grinning, he was not prepared for what she said next.

  “Ron, it was lovely meeting you. I’m afraid I have to be going now,” she declared as she set her drink on the bar.

  He caught her wrist with his free hand when she turned to leave. With her head cocked, she looked up at him, then down at her wrist in his grip, then back at his face.

  Ron took his time letting go of her, before picking up her drink and trying to hand it back to her.

  “I’m not sure what that was all about, but I was looking forward to dancing with you tonight, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you stay.”

  He didn’t take his eyes off hers.

  Fuck, she was gorgeous. He hoped she didn’t leave because he didn’t want to make an ass of himself when he followed her out the door like a puppy dog.

  But he would.

  She was staring at him, sizing him up. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head, wondering who the hell he thought he was.

  General Ron Thompson, at your service, darlin’… Your full service.

  “Well, that,” she gestured to where she’d just been talking to the couple, “was discovering the guy who I’d been dating for the last month is actually married–and has been for twenty-two years.”

  “Oh, man.” He looked over at the pair who were trying to have a discreet argument. At least they didn’t look bored with each other anymore.

  “Yeah, so I really don’t think I’d be very good company tonight,” she stated like her mind was already made up to leave. She was obviously unimpressed with him.