Serenity (Inevitable Book 5)

by Janet Nissenson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  ISBN: 9781483595535

  Dedicated to our soulmates, to second chances, and, of course, to true serenity for all beings

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  June – Napa Valley

  Matthew Bennett motioned to the bartender, who was enjoying something of a lull in the action for the first time that night.

  “Can I get a refill on this?” he asked, sliding his glass across the bar.

  “Sure thing, sir. Masterson’s, right?”

  Matthew nodded at the mention of the ten year old bourbon he’d been drinking for most of the evening. “Good memory.”

  The twenty-something bartender grinned good-naturedly as he poured Matthew’s drink. “Not much call for bourbon this evening, what with all these British folks floating around. I don’t think I’ve mixed so many martinis, or gone through this much single malt Scotch in two months combined. So when someone asks for a bourbon I tend to remember. Or the line of Patron shots that this very attractive lady keeps coming back for. Except I think her husband just cut her off.”

  Matthew offered the bartender up a smile, plus a ten dollar bill in the tip jar, as he picked up the cut crystal glass that held his drink. “I think I know who that lady is. If it’s the same person I’m thinking of, her twin sister is the matron of honor. And from what I recall from the bachelor party I attended last week, that lady can drink most grown men under the table.”

  The red-headed bartender sighed. “Not anymore, apparently. Her husband grabbed the last shot right out of her hand and drank it down himself. She was just about to give him hell for it when he kissed her instead. That seemed to shut her up.”

  Matthew laughed, but any reply he might have made was cut off when a couple walked up to the bar and ordered a martini and a glass of Glenlivet. The bartender gave Matthew an “I told you so” eye roll before efficiently mixing up the drinks.

  Ian and Tessa’s wedding had been every bit as lavish and wonderful as Matthew would have expected, knowing quite well what a stickler for detail his friend could be. He also knew how devoted Ian was to Tessa, and that no expense had been spared to give her the sort of wedding most women could only dream of. It was a stark contrast to the simple, budget-conscious event that was all he and Lindsey had been able to afford sixteen years ago. But given the way Lindsey spent money like a drunken sailor these days, it seemed at times that she was hell-bent on making up for all those lean years when they’d lived paycheck to paycheck, and would have never been able to stay at a posh, exclusive resort hotel like this one.

  Matthew grimaced as he noticed his wife dancing with yet another partner this evening, this one fortunately nowhere near as young as some of the others she had gravitated to earlier. As usual, Lindsey was doing her damndest to circulate the room, flirting rather outrageously with every good looking man at the wedding, and more or less ignoring the fact that she had a husband of her own present. And she’d dressed once again with the sole purpose in mind of attracting as much attention as possible, especially since she had known all eyes would be focused on the bride tonight. Lindsey was wearing a short, tight cocktail dress of shimmery gold brocade, along with gold metallic stilettos that were so high she’d almost tripped over her own feet several times already. Never one for subtlety, she was practically dripping in jewels - necklace, bracelets, long chandelier earrings, and of course the enormous diamond solitaire ring that she’d insisted he buy her a few years ago to replace the tiny little stone that had been all he’d been able to afford way back when.

  She did look good, he admitted, and nearly ten years younger than her actual age of forty-one. But, as Lindsey was so fond of saying these days, having plenty of money certainly helped a person age well, and she spent a considerable sum on a regular basis taking care of herself - hair cuts and color, facials, massages, spray-on tans, pedicures, and a whole lot of fancy spa treatments that he’d never heard of before. She also worked out like a fiend, spending hours each day at the gym or doing Pilates, and watched what she ate like a hawk. The result was a sleek, toned, and tanned figure that would make a girl of twenty jealous, and Matthew conceded that all of her hard work had definitely achieved results. With the exception, of course, of the overly large breast implants she’d had done over a year ago without his consent or approval, and most certainly not with his own pleasure in mind. Like most everything else she did nowadays, having the implants done had been strictly for Lindsey’s own personal satisfaction.

  He shrugged and turned his back to the dance floor, not particularly eager to watch his wife make a fool of herself over some stranger who was probably wondering why this woman wasn’t dancing with her own husband. Matthew wondered that himself, until he realized rather starkly that he didn’t especially give a damn about Lindsey’s reasons any longer. What he couldn’t remember, though, was exactly how long it had been since he had stopped caring.

  He drained his whiskey in one neat swallow, and was about to order another - mindful of the fact that they were staying overnight in Napa, which meant he didn’t have to worry about driving - when a melodious, innately feminine voice sounded to his right.

  “I don’t suppose you have a pot of hot water back there, do you?”

  The woman’s question sounded hopeful, and Matthew glanced in her direction, curious as to who would be asking for hot water rather than alcohol at this hour. It was one of Tessa’s bridesmaids - the slightly taller one with the really remarkable head of naturally curly hair that was half a dozen different shades of blonde. He didn’t know her name, but it occurred to him all of a sudden where he’d seen her before - just a week ago at Ian and Tessa’s joint bachelor/bachelorette party. Curlylocks hadn’t been wearing an elegant, blue strapless gown like she had on this evening, though. Instead, she’d worn some sort of vividly printed cotton dress in yellows and oranges that had twirled and whirled as she and her date had treated the guests to an impromptu salsa dance. Lindsey had made some disparaging comment about the colorful dress, wondering snidely what vintage store or flea market it had been found at. But Matthew knew the real reason for his wife’s cattiness was because Curlylocks’s very attractive date hadn’t paid Lindsey the slightest bit of attention, despite her rather pathetic attempts to flirt with him.

  The bartender nodded. “Sure do. Can I get you anything else to go with that, like a tea bag or something?” he offered as he lifted a glass carafe filled with water from a hot plate.

  Curlylocks shook her head, causing those amazing curls to bounce riotously, and laughingly held out her palm to di
splay a little packet. “I brought my own, thanks.”

  Matthew regarded the woman curiously as she dunked the tea bag into the hot water to let it seep. It wasn’t like him to strike up a conversation with a woman he didn’t really know, but there was something about this particular female that suddenly seemed oddly fascinating.

  “I’m pretty sure they have tea here,” he joked. “And given how much this shindig must be costing Ian, you didn’t need to bring your own drink.”

  She glanced up at him, as though startled that someone was actually speaking to her. Matthew sucked in a breath as the full impact of her green-gold eyes hit him. Coupled with the warm olive tones of her flawless skin, and that wild mane of multi-hued curls, she reminded him of a lioness. And when her mouth quirked up in a smile, he felt something he hadn’t experienced in a very long time - desire.

  “Of course they have tea here,” she replied in that calm, melodious voice. “At least a dozen different blends if I recall correctly from the breakfast we had this morning. But, you see, this is a very special blend that I’m drinking now. It’s made with turmeric, lemongrass, ginger, and licorice, and it’s very beneficial in countering the effects of alcohol. Not that I’ve had very much to drink,” she added as she removed the tea bag, “but since I typically don’t drink alcohol at all I thought it best to take preventive measures.”

  Matthew stared at her. “I don’t even know what some of that stuff is you just mentioned,” he admitted.

  She smiled at him serenely as she took a sip of her tea. “You should try it sometime, then. Especially if you’ve been drinking that nasty stuff all night.” She gestured toward his empty glass of whiskey.

  “Hey,” he protested half-seriously. “That nasty stuff, as you just called it, costs seventy five dollars a bottle.”

  Curlylocks picked up his empty glass and gave it a dainty sniff before wrinkling her small, straight nose in distaste. “At least vodka or tequila barely has an odor. What is this exactly - bourbon or scotch? Either way, it smells horrid. And I’ll spare you the lecture, but what this poison is doing to your insides - well, you don’t want to think about that right now. I won’t spoil your evening for you.”

  Matthew sighed. “Too late for that, I’m afraid. By the way, we haven’t been formally introduced, but I’m Matthew Bennett - Matt, to my friends. I, uh, saw you doing that dance thing at the party last weekend.”

  She laughed, a tinkling, musical laugh that reminded him of bells or wind chimes. “I’m guessing you know as little about dancing as you do about herbal tea,” she teased. “And, yes, that was me dancing. My partner and I were doing the salsa, and then later a rhumba. And I’m Sasha. Sasha Fonseca. A pleasure to meet you, Matthew.”

  Sasha extended a hand towards him, and he gripped it in his automatically, pleased to discover how smooth and soft her skin was. He wondered what it was she did for a living to have hands like that. And it also pleased him that she’d addressed him by his full name. Most people, including Lindsey, called him Matt, but he really preferred Matthew. Especially the way Sasha pronounced it in that soft, almost hypnotic voice.

  He released her hand after belatedly realizing he’d been gripping it for long seconds. “I didn’t see the two of you out on the dance floor tonight,” he commented. “Though I’m not sure this band would be able to play anything that, uh, festive.”

  “Doubtful,” she agreed placidly. “But a fancy wedding isn’t exactly the right setting for something as earthy as salsa music. And you haven’t seen me out there dancing with my partner because Miguel isn’t here this evening. He flew back to Los Angeles a few days ago, and is probably out dancing at some club right now. With his new boyfriend.”

  “Oh.” Matthew wasn’t exactly sure why Sasha had thrown that last bit in, but for some bizarre reason he was glad she had clarified that the hot Spaniard she’d danced so sultrily with last week was actually gay. Not that it was any of his business, of course. “So you’re here alone tonight?”

  She nodded, taking another careful drink of her tea, as though she was savoring each sip. “I figured that any date I could round up wouldn’t know a soul here. And since I’d be occupied doing, well, bridesmaid-like things, it wouldn’t be fair to just abandon him to sit with a tableful of strangers. Plus,” she added with a twinkle in those huge, curly lashed cat eyes, “most of the guys I tend to date would stick out like a sore thumb in a place this fancy.”

  Now Matthew was really intrigued, finding this woman with her wild curls and tiger eyes the most unusual, fascinating person he’d met in a very long time. “And what sort of guys would those be?” he asked, chuckling.

  Sasha smiled, and that small movement lit up her radiant features, enough for Matthew to realize that Tessa’s bridesmaid was seriously gorgeous.

  “Oh, you probably couldn’t begin to imagine,” she began. “I mean, if you’re one of Ian’s friends, I’m guessing you’re on the straight-laced side like he is. And he’s such a kind man, a real gentleman, but I’m well aware that certain aspects of my, ah, lifestyle are pretty far removed from black tie dinners and mansions and five star resorts. Most people would call me a hippie just for starters, but it goes well beyond something that simple.”

  He glanced at her beautiful blue gown, silver high-heeled sandals, and the dainty diamond and sapphire pendant that hung around her slender neck - a bridesmaid’s gift, he guessed, from Tessa. “You don’t look anything like any hippie I’ve ever seen,” he stated firmly. “You just look - lovely.”

  The look of pleasure on her animated face made him instantly and uncomfortably hard, and Matthew wondered what in hell had brought on that sort of reaction. He didn’t know anything about this woman, had barely exchanged a few sentences with her, but apparently his dick didn’t care. And evidently that particular part of his anatomy also didn’t mind that he was a married man, one who definitely should not be reacting this way to a woman who wasn’t his wife - no matter how pretty or interesting she was. His unwilling attraction to Sasha made him realize just how long it had been since he’d enjoyed sex with Lindsey - really enjoyed it, and not just gone through the motions.

  “Well, thank you,” replied Sasha charmingly. “But this isn’t the way I usually dress. Not by a long shot. I did this to please Tessa, to make her happy. Because she’s been a very good friend to me, and she and Ian are two of the best people I know.”

  The bartender caught Matthew’s eye then, motioning to his empty glass and silently asking if he wanted a refill. It was on the tip of his tongue to say yes, but then he glanced at Sasha as she continue to sip her tea. He sighed, and asked the bartender for a bottle of mineral water instead.

  She nodded in approval as he uncapped the bottle. “A much better choice than bourbon. Stick to water for the rest of the night, and it will help flush out the alcohol.”

  He regarded her curiously. “Are you a doctor in addition to a dancer?”

  Sasha laughed again, and this time it definitely sounded like bells tinkling. “Neither one, actually. I’m a yoga teacher and masseuse mostly, but I’ve done some training as an herbalist as well. Not enough to get licensed, but I know quite a bit about the practice.”

  “Wow.” Matthew shook his head. “I mean, we have masseuses at the health club I belong to, but they’re these big, beefy guys. You’re, well, less than half their size.”

  She shrugged. “It isn’t always about raw strength, you know. And there are many different types of massage. Some have more benefits than others, and it all depends on the client and their particular needs. Ian was skeptical at first, too, convinced that someone he outweighed by more than eighty pounds wouldn’t be able to dig deep enough to make him flinch.” Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous gleam. “The first time I had him on the massage table I found a sore spot between his shoulder blades he didn’t know was there. And all I did was press on it with my thumb and he yelled so loud the table shook.”

  Matthew guffawed, unable to im
agine his buff, fitness fanatic friend at the mercy of this slender, graceful young woman. “So you’re the masseuse he always raves about,” he mused. “Hmm, maybe I should set up an appointment with you myself. I, uh, have a pretty stressful job, and massage seems to help with that from time to time.”

  “Of course,” agreed Sasha placidly. “I’m afraid I don’t have a business card with me, but you can just ask Tessa or Ian for my contact info. After they get back from their honeymoon, that is.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Sasha set her tea mug down on the bar. “I should be getting back now. You’re not here alone, are you, Matthew?”

  He quickly decided that he loved the way she said his name - almost like a musical note. “No. My wife and I are here together. Though it seems like she’s ditched me for a different dance partner,” he joked, trying to sound carefree. “Several different ones actually.”

  Sasha frowned. “Why in the world would she do that? I mean, don’t married couples typically hang out together at events like this one? And dance together?”

  Matthew tried again to laugh the matter off. “I’m a terrible dancer,” he admitted. “Two left feet, and all that. And Lindsey loves to dance, so it’s better for both of us if she finds another partner. That way neither of us is miserable.”

  Sasha shook her head, causing those curls to bounce endearingly. “I don’t believe you’re a terrible dancer,” she declared firmly. “Not for a minute. You hold yourself very well, have excellent posture, and seem extremely fit. If you can’t dance well it’s probably because you haven’t had the right teachers. Come with me. I’ll show you.”

  “But - honestly, I don’t think..” stammered Matthew, as she took him firmly by the hand and led him out to the crowded dance floor.

  “Relax,” she assured him, patting him on the shoulder as though he was a small child she was comforting. “The band has just switched to a slow number, so all you have to do is move your feet a little.”