Go fuck yourself. She had a lot of damned nerve. No woman had dared ever tell him something like that. He knew he needed to get her out of his mind because, honestly, Jules Bradford really wasn’t important. What he needed to spend his time doing was concentrating on the important business at hand, namely, Granger Aeronautics, and finding his mother’s real killer.
Jace would be back in the office tomorrow, and Dalton intended to meet with both him and Caden to discuss strategies about the latter issue. Getting their dad out of prison was the most important thing on his mind.
Jules slid her car into the first available parking spot in front of the condo where Dalton lived. She called herself all kinds of fool for being here, even though she knew it was necessary if she wanted to talk to Dalton. He’d never answer his phone if he saw her name on the caller ID. “It’s not about you,” she muttered to herself. “It’s about your love for Shana—that’s the only thing that could make you even think about putting up with this bullshit.”
She and Shana were two years apart and had always had a close relationship. Shana had been just months from turning fifteen and Jules thirteen when their mother had died of pancreatic cancer thirteen years ago. Their father had raised them alone while working as a police detective in Boston. He had retired a few years ago, wanting a quiet life, and had decided to settle in Charlottesville, the place where he and his wife had met while attending college. Jules had been the first to follow their father to Charlottesville, where she established a private investigation firm. Shana had relocated to Charlottesville a few years later.
The three of them always managed to do things together, even when Jules’s busy work schedule took her out of town, as it often did. But things were somewhat different now. Shana was married, and Jace was now the main planet in her universe, which meant he would be taking up a lot of her sister’s time. And Ben was involved with Mona, something Jules knew she had to get used to. Mona was the first woman her father had been seriously involved with since her mother died, and he rightly deserved to be happy.
She had called Shana earlier today to welcome her back to town and to find out how the honeymoon had gone...like it would have been anything but great. During the conversation, Shana reminded her about Saturday night, which would be the first dinner party she would give as Jace’s wife. Shana was excited but somewhat disappointed, because she had gotten a call from Dalton saying he wouldn’t be coming. No one had to figure out the reason behind that decision.
What Jules loved most about her big sister was that at no time did she try to make her feel guilty because Jace’s brother wanted to act like an ass. Shana knew the whole story, from start to finish, and refused to take sides. In fact, she wouldn’t give her opinion one way or the other, even when Jules had asked for it.
But still, Jules knew that Dalton’s refusal to come to dinner was a letdown, although Shana tried not to show it. Her sister didn’t deserve that. She deserved better than having Dalton Granger as a brother-in-law.
And Jules felt that she herself deserved better than having to come here, seeking him out to talk about it. Why she was even wasting her time, she wasn’t sure. History had shown on more than one occasion the man had a one-track mind. He had this entitlement complex that needed to be knocked down more than a few notches. All they ever did when they were within five feet of each other was argue. Dalton Granger brought out the worst in her. Most of the time, intentionally. But at least she could try to convince him that it wasn’t about him and her, but about Jace and Shana. They didn’t need their siblings on the warpath. For Jace’s and Shana’s sakes, they should try to at least be civil to each other. They’d almost succeeded during the wedding weekend. Had almost made it to the end, but of course, he’d felt the need to rattle her, piss her off big-time. And what made her even madder was that she’d let him. Why did he have the ability to get under her skin?
She killed the ignition of her car and sat there a moment. She didn’t see him or that red two-seater sports car he drove around town. But she felt something. The air surrounding her seemed to be spiked with intensity. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was invading his space. And now it seemed as if his space were invading her.
How could that indescribable masculine aura that seemed to cling to him surround her now, even when he was nowhere to be seen? But it didn’t take much to remember how he’d looked at the wedding. The visual suddenly shot heat up the full length of her spine, making her hot inside.
Jules refused to believe her sudden rise in body temperature had anything to do with Dalton. After all, he was just a man. But she would admit he had this predator side that was powerful at times, almost overwhelming. Of course, she staunchly refused to let that happen, although the very idea sent a shiver through her body. That quiver prompted her to turn the car’s ignition back on to generate some heat. It was October, and there was a definite chill in the air. Everyone had begun wearing overcoats weeks ago and was anticipating the season’s first snowstorm before the end of the month.
She glanced at her watch. It was almost ten on a weeknight. It was too much to assume that Dalton, like most normal people who worked the next day, would have the sense to be home at this hour. But then, he had a reputation of being a party animal. He’d definitely left his mark on the women over in Europe. She’d done her research and knew that he preferred older women. He’d had no problem being their boy toy.
But to give him credit...something she didn’t like doing...he’d been smart enough to capitalize on his money by investing wisely. He’d become a billionaire without the Granger name or money. He’d done so in his own right. If it had been any other man, she would admire him for achieving such brilliant success. But since it was Dalton, hell would freeze over before she held him in high esteem for anything.
Deciding she would leave if he didn’t come home in the next ten minutes or so, she relaxed her head against the headrest and stretched out her legs as far as they could comfortably go while glancing out the car’s window at her surroundings. This was a pretty exclusive section of Charlottesville, not too far from town. After seeing the Granger estate at Sutton Hills, she could understand his choice—when you were used to wealth, why settle for anything less? Although his condo wasn’t in a gated community, it still had that old-money, country-club feel all wrapped in modern architecture. Even the streetlamps spelled prestige with their intricate, wrought-iron design. Although it was dark, the landscape lighting revealed a luxurious building with immaculately manicured grounds.
Of their own accord, her thoughts shifted to Dalton and the last time she’d seen him at the wedding, a little over two weeks ago. She would admit, but only to herself, that she’d been aware of every single thing about him, every fine line and manly curve. Then there had been the way he’d stared at her with so much heated lust she’d felt exposed, vulnerable and so unbearably hot that when she’d gotten home she’d stripped off every inch of her clothing and taken a cold shower.
After wrapping up her last case, she’d decided that for the remainder of the year she would take it easy and stick around home, refusing new cases until after the holidays. But now she was considering doing the opposite just to get as far away from Charlottesville as she could. And all because of one man.
The thought that Dalton Granger could make her run sent anger flowing through her limbs. Why was she aware of him in a way she’d never been aware of any other man? Why did he have the ability to creep into her dreams at night, engaging her in all kinds of kinky acts? Even now, she could feel a line of heat licking across her skin, thinking about some of them.
She drew in a deep breath. Lately, her arsenal of sex toys wasn’t doing a damned thing for her. It was time to call in the big guns, the real guns. Her personal little red book, which she hadn’t used in months, was tucked in the bottom drawer of her nightstand. It was time to pull it out and flip through the pages. Most single people had little black books, but hers was red. Intentionally. It meant danger. Fire. Heat. The first name from the book that popped into her mind was Ray Ford. She wondered if he was still in town. Last time they’d