THE BENNETTS' CHRISTMAS (The Bennett Family and the Masters Family #6) - Brenda Jackson
CHAPTER ONE
Monica
AN ANNOYED FROWN SETTLED on Monica Bennett’s face, and she released a frustrated breath. “Excuse me, Dusty Friar, but what part of ‘no’ did you not understand?”
She broke eye contact with the man standing in front of her and glanced around the nightclub. What were the chances she’d run into him again after all these years? Seven in fact. She took another deep breath. Dusty was one guy she would have preferred to never see again.
They had dated in her junior year of college and at the time, Monica had thought she had caught the campus hunk. He was a senior, good-looking and well-built, and was the captain of the football team. But Dusty had been a major disappointment when they had made love that one and only time.
What a letdown—a total waste of new bed sheets. And from the way he was coming on to her now, promising her a repeat of what he had remembered as one hell of a night, he obviously wasn’t aware that he was a dud in the sack.
She was tempted to tell him.
“Come on, sweetheart. Our paths crossed tonight for a reason. This is my last night in St. Paul. Why don’t we go to my hotel room and see if we’ve still got it?”
Monica rolled her eyes. She had news for him. He never had it. Why, tonight of all nights, had her sister Sebrina been called in to work at the last minute? Now Monica was at the nightclub, alone. Worse, she was having to put up with a bad blast from her past.
After the call from her sister, she’d intended to head home. Too bad she hadn’t walked faster.
“I am going to repeat this one last time, Dusty, since something seems to be wrong with your hearing. I am not going anywhere with you. Need I remind you about that ring on your finger?”
He glanced at his hand and then cursed under his breath. Evidently, he had needed a reminder. Monica felt sorry for the woman he’d married.
“Forget the ring. My wife and I are separated.”
Yeah, right, Monica thought. Did he honestly think she would fall for that lie? “It wouldn’t matter to me if you were divorced. I’m not interested.”
A scowl settled on his face. “You haven’t changed since college, still playing hard to get. I was your boyfriend for almost a year, but we only slept together once. You owe me.”
She glared at him. He really was full of himself. “That should have told you something. Now if you will excuse me, I’m-”
“What do you mean by that?” he snapped.
“Trust me, you don’t want me to elaborate.”
She moved to walk past him, but he suddenly grabbed her arm. “I want to know what the hell you meant by that crack, Monica.”
“I think it was her polite way of telling you that you weren’t worth a damn in the sack.”
Both Monica and Dusty turned to stare at the man sitting at the bar, who’d obviously overheard their conversation, even with the music from a live band filling the room. The stranger switched his gaze from Dusty to her and smiled, as if they shared a secret. She couldn’t help but smile back.
Dusty saw the exchange and didn’t like it. “I suggest you butt out of our conversation,” he said angrily.
“And I suggest you leave her alone. I think she’s made it quite clear that she doesn’t want to be bothered with you,” the stranger replied.
At that, the man got up from the bar stool, and Monica had to tilt her head back to look up at him. So did Dusty, who stood at 6’1”.
Monica’s eyes roamed over the stranger. He was definitely eye-candy, absolutely gorgeous - with a nice pair of shoulders, a flat stomach and tight thighs. It was obvious that he worked out...unlike Dusty, who had gotten a little chunky over the years.
The man was older than she was, probably in his mid-thirties. And although he wore a suit, Monica instinctively knew he’d have no problem beating the hell out of Dusty, if it came to that.
Dusty seemed to realize the same thing. He quickly dropped his hand from her arm, backed up with his hands in the air and said, “Fine. She was a waste of my time, anyway.” Then he angrily walked off.
Monica didn’t bother to watch Dusty leave. Her gaze hadn’t shifted from the man who’d come to her rescue. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said before sitting back down on the stool. As he