Wicked Knight (2 page)

“He is fortunate to have a family like yours.”

“He is. We all are. Tristan went through a helluva divorce. Carly hurt him pretty badly. He turned into one surly man. Whenever I saw Tristan coming in the house not even looking at us, I would imagine myself clawing Carly's face. She's a bitch. Although I never called her that out of respect for Tristan.

“We stuck with him, even when he tried to push us away, and we didn't let his gruffness intimidate us. Then, one day, he surprised us. He showed up in the kitchen with a big grin on his face. The old Tristan bounced back. We tried to match him with every bachelorette in this town. He went out on dates twice, but that was it. He's not interested in a serious relationship. After Carly, he's been girlfriend hopping and always runs as if his butt's on fire when he senses the woman wants more than something casual. So we don't know if he'll get married again.”

“He's been burned, so he might not. Or maybe he's still harboring hope he and Carly will get back together again.”

“Hope not. Carly is a horrible gangrene. You've got to get rid of it, otherwise, it'll eat up your whole body. Tristan is only twenty-nine. Someday he might fall in love again and remarry. But you know what, I don't care if Tristan decides not to marry again. We're just glad the Tristan we know and love is back.”

“Carly doesn't realize what she gave up. A united and terrific family.”

“My family
is
wonderful. I can't imagine not having them.”

“I can imagine
not
having mine.” As soon as she said the words, guilt pricked her conscience. Yes, her father's behavior made a bent tack look useful. Still, there was no denying their blood relation. Even if the world turned upside down, Paul would remain her father. If it weren't for his greedy nature, he wouldn't have married her mother. So she owed him one—her life. No matter how miserable it may be.

“Don't feel bad for saying that.”

Julie glanced at Kirsten. Her friend never failed to surprise her when it came to her insight and sympathetic understanding of her emotions.

“Your family deserves a sound kick on the ass.”

“You know, I've been doing that, mentally.”

“I know. And it sucks.”

“It will suck for me big time if I make a single move that Marla can use against me. You know, she is only waiting for one mistake so she can strike like a basking rattlesnake. Unbelievable as it may sound, I will lose my inheritance, my mother's life's work, if I do something like kick my stepbrother's ass.”

“I know. Maybe we should ask my brothers to kick Sebastian's ass for you.”

“You know we can't do that.”

“Again, it sucks,” Kirsten scoffed. “Sorry, Julie.”

“Me, too. I am beginning to believe my family is the punishment God—if He really exists—gave me for all the mistakes I've done in the past.”

“Like wearing your rollerblades inside the house, breaking school rules to get your parents’ attention? No, you are in this situation right now because your father couldn't keep his dick inside his pants.”

“He didn't know Marla was a grabbing, greedy gold-digger.”

“Stop defending your father. He's an asshole. You just didn't want to say it.”

“I'm thinking it though.”

“Good.”

Booming laughter brought Julie's attention back to the game. Bors and Tristan, who looked ready to break each other a half a minute ago, were now patting each other's back. Tristan looked their way. His left eyebrow raised a fraction before he looked away. It was a short eye contact, but enough to make her heart pound hard against her ribs. Of all the brothers, Tristan captivated her.

Chriminy!
Her infatuation with him grew stronger every day. As it happened, she'd been dreaming about running her fingers through his dark wavy hair, feeling the muscles in his arms, and squeezing those thighs to find out if they were indeed as strong and firm as they looked. She even caught herself imagining his lips against her own, wishing for more than just a few seconds of his stares. Julie wondered what she would do if Tristan walked over and kissed her. God, she'd be mortified since his family was around, but she wouldn't refuse him either. She'd meet him halfway with her open mouth, let his tongue probe and taste, feel him breathe.
Oh, yes.
She'd welcome his kiss.

Julie felt her body respond to her vivid thoughts and tried to throttle the dizzying current racing through her. But her body was slow to respond. She felt hot, wet between her legs, and throbbing. Without a doubt, she wanted him. And if she weren't careful, she'd fall in love with him. Who wouldn't? Not only did he exude a delicious appeal as a pediatrician, his ruggedness and vital power coiled around him as he walked, making her quiver all over. He was simply captivating to watch. Although, if she were to pick one reason why Tristan won her attention, it would be the tender side of him and his love of nature. She wanted to know more about that side of him and, well, his prowess in bed.

Dang! Hold your panties, Julie. The man sees you as a sparring partner, a friend. That's all.

Still... There was nothing wrong with daydreaming about him. She would be nuts to drool over someone else when there was not a much better package than Tristan's. Those he dated—including Pamela, the woman she heard he was seeing right now—and would be dating, were lucky. When she and Kirsten bumped into Tristan's office manager at the local market one time, the woman shared gossip that stayed in her head. Single and married women talk about Tristan all the time when they brought their kids to the clinic. They said he treated women in bed the way he always treated his patients—special, precious, and beautiful. And the conversations never ended without the phrase, “...
and he always leaves his girlfriend satisfied."

Man, she'd be satisfied just to have a sample of his taste. The way he looked and treated her though, she doubted even a sampling of his kiss would ever happen. To Tristan, she was just someone he and his brothers could tease.

No more, no less
.

Kirsten nodded her head toward her brothers and dad. “Neat, Dad's going to play. Who do you think is going to win?”

“Huh? Oh, hard to tell. Especially now that Arthur is playing for you.”

“I know.” Kirsten pumped her fists up in the air. “Go get them, Dad! Yeah, touchdown! Eat your shorts, Bors. Dad kicked your butt!” To Julie, she said, “Isn't Dad awesome?”

“Yes, he is.”

Except for signs of grey hair, Arthur could be mistaken for one of his sons. At the age of sixty-two, although his shoulders stooped a bit, he still looked powerful. He was six foot two, fit for his age, with thick hair, and possessed a killer smile that made his wife, Katherine, sigh each time he smiled at her. Kind of like when she received a smile from Tristan, but with a big difference. Katherine went to bed every night with Arthur beside her, while Julie hugged her pillow and dreamed it was Tristan.

Everyone knew Arthur Knight, especially the news media. He was the smartest, toughest judge and could wield power. And as far as Julie knew, Arthur prided himself as being one. Known to be a fair judge who always played by the rules, Arthur gained respect, inside and outside the courtroom. Even inside his home. Darn tooting bad that one couldn't pick one's parents. She would have picked Arthur for a father.

Julie spotted Tristan in possession of the football. He faked a throw. Bors jumped, falling for the ruse, leaving Tristan open for the pass. With Bors out of his way, Tristan took advantage and stepped forward. He made a perfect pass to Percival. As soon as Percival took off, none of the men could catch him.

Kirsten and Tristan's team let out a loud whoop the same time the phone rang. Julie pushed off against the doorjamb and walked toward the phone sitting on the kitchen counter, debating whether to answer it or just let the machine pick up.

The phone rang again. Kirsten had told her that when someone called on the landline, most likely the caller was a woman calling for one of her brothers. Or it could be their eighty-one year old grandma who lived in a retirement home looking for her cat again.

Kirsten joined her in the kitchen when the phone rang for the third time. Julie raised her brow.

Reading her mind, Kirsten smiled. “I'll go get the cordless.”

Kirsten was back before the fourth ring ended. With a nod, Julie picked up the phone hooked on the wall and answered, “Knight's residence.”

“Oh, hi.” A sultry sweet voice came from the other end of the line.

“Hello.” Julie returned Kirsten's mischievous grin, placed a finger over her lips to signal her to be quiet. Kirsten answered by pinching her lips together.

“This is Pamela. May I speak with Doctor Tristan Knight?”

Julie met Kirsten's eyes. When Kirsten nodded, her heart thumped excitedly.
Oh baby. The game is on.
Telling the caller—especially if it was a woman—false stories about the brothers had been her and Kirsten's game since Bors leaked the reason why the women would call using their parents’ landline—the woman wasn't hot enough. For Julie though, making jokes about Tristan was the best. She and Tristan had been trying to up one another since she made a joke about him liking to touch asses, hence his choice of profession, and he replied that he knew why she spent too much time in the bathroom—green apples.

Today would be her chance to get back at him.

“Pamela, hi. I'm so sorry, but Tristan can't come to the phone right now.” She said the words in a sad tone, then followed them up with a fake sob.

“Has something happened?”

“Yes. Oh, God! The cops took him away.”

“Oh. You mean the cops came, put him in the cop car, and drove away?”

“Yes. They dragged him in handcuffs.”

“But why?”

“Because, because he beat me up...” She sniffed for effect “...when I told him I didn't want to sleep with him until his—I shouldn't say this—”

“His what?”

Julie smiled when Pamela mumbled something about a pig and a bastard. “I'm sorry, Pamela. I can't say more. I shouldn't have said anything.”

“My God. He beat you up. I can't believe this. He's such a sweet, gentle doctor.”

“I know. That's what everyone is saying. But he has a bad temper.”

“He has a bad temper?”

“Uh-huh. And his temper flared when I refused to...have sex with him.”

“You refused to have sex with him?” Pamela was beginning to sound like an annoying echo.

“Yes.”

“Why would he want to have sex with you?”

“Well, he's my husband. But you see I can't put our baby at risk because of his...his—”

“Husband? Baby? His what? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I just told you. Tristan and I are married and expecting our first child.” Julie's laughter bubbled deep down in her throat at the sound of dread in Pamela's tone. “Listen, Pamela, I will only tell you this to spare you, but please don't tell Tristan it's me who told you.” Julie continued with her pretend sobbing.

“I won't.”

“Tristan suffers from acute gonorrhea!”

Silence
.

Julie motioned for Kirsten to stay quiet. “Hello, Pamela. Are you still there?”

“Gonorrhea, the disease?” Pamela asked.

“Yes. He tried to deny it, but I saw the prescription. See, he's not only mad he contracted the disease from visiting Triple X nude bars, but he also didn't like the news that I am carrying his child. And my refusal to have sex with him finally blew his top off. So he started beating me up.”

Kirsten grabbed the dishtowel to cover her mouth, her eyes watery from laughing.

“God! I knew he was too good to be true. A handsome doctor... Damn it!”

“I'm sorry for my husband's behavior. He may be a doctor, but he's a pig. Now, what did you say your message was?”

“He asked me for a date and you're telling me you're his wife.”

“You're his date? Did you...sleep with him? Omigod, you'd better see a doctor. That scum! He's a warthog and...”
Sniff
.
Sniff
. “A disease spreader!” Julie wailed.

“If I get a hold of his balls, I'll squeeze them hard until he passes out!”

“Yes, you do that. Hello? Hello?”

Julie replaced the receiver back on the cradle and laughed so hard, she felt a pinch on her side. Kirsten was in no better shape. She practically rolled on the kitchen floor.

“Oh my goodness, Kirsten,” she said, gasping for air. “Pamela is gonna squeeze your brother's balls.”

“I know.”

“We're bad.”

Julie forced herself to look semi-sane when Tristan, Percival, and Bors walked in the kitchen. Except for Bors, who went straight to the refrigerator, the two stopped and watched them as if they were escapees from an asylum.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?” asked Percival. He looked first at Kirsten, then at Julie.

“Nothing's wrong.” Julie swallowed and forced herself to calm down, but lost it when she glanced at Kirsten, whose face contorted from keeping a straight face.

“Really,” he drawled. “Who called?” Percival watched them with his analytical gaze.

“Don't...know. Julie...answered the phone,” Kirsten wiped her eyes with a dishrag.

“Julie answered the phone? Uh-oh.”

“Yes I did, but I didn't catch the caller's name. It was a telemarketer.” Judging how Percival's lips twisted wryly, Julie could tell he didn't believe her.

“Now, girls, we don't want to start a lying game, do we? Who was the call for? Not for me, I hope.”

Julie shot Kirsten a look that meant,
do something
. They needed a reason to get out of there quick. Kirsten picked up the message clearly.

“Will you stop calling us girls, Percy? In case you haven't noticed, we're both grown women. Unlike your cold unfeeling computer chips, we are hot. And guess what, brother dear, we've had our shares of dates.
Hot
dates.”

Julie groaned. They needed a diversion, but this wasn't what she had in mind.

“Hmm. I thought you liked to date men with brains only, regardless of what they look like.” Bors tossed each of his brothers a can of cold
Coors
. Tristan and Percival caught the cans in midair. Just by looking at him, Julie knew Kirsten had his attention. A deep scowl crimped his handsome face.