Cherish Me (Stark Ever After #6.5) - J. Kenner
Chapter One
“Mommy! Daddy! Watch this! Watch this!”
I turn just in time to see Lara, my oldest, grab her little sister’s hands. Both girls lean back, their eyes to the sky as they spin and spin and spin until finally, they let go and tumble into a dizzy heap on the play mat next to Dallas and Jane Sykes’ massive swimming pool.
“Very nice,” Damien says, shooting me a sideways grin as he squeezes my hand. It’s four-thirty, and the setting sun casts a golden haze over the yard, making Damien’s raven-black hair gleam.
“Can I spin and then jump in the pool?” Lara asks. “Pretty please?” She’s five now, and convinced that she can do anything and everything without repercussions. Sometimes I think that might be true. She’s Daddy’s little girl, after all.
“No, you can’t,” I say, adjusting my blanket. I’m stretched out on a comfy outdoor sofa, my legs curled up so that my feet are just brushing Damien’s thighs. Normally, he’d be resting one hand on my leg, but today he’s cradling Mystery, Dallas and Jane’s baby daughter, who’s cooing sleepily in his arms.
“But Mommy!”
“Lara…” I put on my stern Mommy voice. “The pool is too cold, and you don’t want to be sick for the rest of our trip, do you?”
“We won’t get sick,” Lara says. “I’m healthy as a horse. Grandpa said so.”
I stifle a laugh, remembering the last time my father had hoisted Lara to his shoulders and said that exact thing.
“Please,” Anne chimes in. At three, she happily follows her sister’s lead. “Daddy, we wanna swim dizzy.”
“Swim dizzy?” Jane asks as she returns to the pool deck with a tray of drinks. Her long, brown hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, but a few strands curl around her face. “We’ve got regular cider for the kids and wine or bourbon for the grownups. Dallas’ll be out in a few with some snacks. Until then, I’m dying to know what your kids are talking about.”
She sets the tray down on the table in front of the sofa, meets my eyes, and passes me a wine glass sitting atop a napkin. I give her a quick, shared smile as Damien starts to explain.
“Laura discovered the joys of getting dizzy, then jumping into the pool with her eyes closed this summer.” His smile reaches his dual-colored eyes, the corners crinkling in a way that I find wonderfully sexy. “I tried it, too, and I have to say she has a point.”
I shake my head in mock exasperation, but I do understand the appeal. The sensation of being totally helpless and disoriented. The thrill of conquering all of that as you get your bearings, and the world rights itself again.
I’d been nervous when Lara first discovered this new “game,” but the kid is part fish. More than that, she follows the rules we’ve set for our pool back in Malibu. Only one dizzy swim per outing. And never, ever in the pool without an adult. Not that they could get through the child protective locks that guard the now-fenced pool area. Or, for that matter, the various alarms, cameras, and other security alert systems that Damien has installed. Some of which are newly patented designs conceived by Damien post-fatherhood and now being produced and marketed under the Stark Applied Technology umbrella.
Whatever it takes to keep our girls safe.
“I’ll have to try that,” Jane says, sliding into one of the chairs opposite me and Damien. “I didn’t even think about heating the pool for the girls. Today would have been a great day for it.”
We’ve come to New York for the Christmas holidays, and although we’re moving on to the city tomorrow, we’re spending tonight here with our friends at their incredible Southampton mansion on the street known by the media as Billionaire’s Row.
This particular home is often described as the icing on the Meadow Lane cake. Once, it had been notorious as the home of The King of Fuck, the billionaire playboy. But Dallas Sykes, who had encouraged that nickname for reasons of his own, is a man who’d lived a hidden life. A serious man behind the disguise of a lazy heir content to plow through a seemingly never-ending supply of dollars.
I once thought I’d grown up wealthy in my fine Texas neighborhood, but after I met Damien, I’d learned what the word really meant. I’ve become acclimated to the kinds of homes that fill the pages of magazines. But even to my now-acclimated vision, the Sykes’ mansion