Attraction

  CHAPTER ONE

  Riley Calderon opened the door to her parents’ house, carrying the bakery box that

  contained double chocolate mud pie, on order from her mother. In the tiny foyer, she hung up her

  purse and coat. For the weekly family dinner, she was dressed casually but chicly in a pencil

  skirt of denim that reached just above her knees, a white silk blouse, and low-heeled mules.

  Riley was short, almost five foot two, and quite slender except for very round buttocks. Her

  breasts were size single D and would have not been so apparent if she had been more of an

  average size. As it was, her body frame was quite delicate. Her complexion was rather swarthy,

  taking after her father’s Sicilian side of the family, her hair thick and long, curling all around her

  shoulders and back, framing her small, elfish-like face with its large eyes that technically were

  labeled hazel, except that they tended to be more pale gray with yellow flecks. Her mouth was

  large with full lips that betrayed her sensuous nature. In a family of tall people with fair coloring,

  her mother sometime swore that she was not of them.

  Riley, at times, would banter back at her parents if she were not adopted, because she was

  the only one in the family who was short and had dark coloring. Her father, though, would

  proudly proclaim that she was his, the only one in the family who took after his Sicilian

  grandfather, who, her father was sure, had been a lieutenant in the Sicilian mafia. Although he

  was quite mild mannered in temperament, Lawrence was deeply enamored with the whole mafia

  mystique, having seen at least ten times the entire Godfather trilogy.

  The only indication that Riley was a descendent of the heavily weighted Anglo-Nordic

  race of her two parents were her hazel grayish eyes, their yellow specks giving her a cat-like

  look, which she felt suited her feline, rather hedonistic nature.

  Her mother, Caroline, proclaimed that her oldest daughter’s dark, sensuous appearance

  suited Riley. She swore that her daughter had the heart of a wild gipsy, because she tended to be

  much more carefree and unconventional than the rest of her family.

  After Riley graduated from college with a liberal arts degree, she had decided the

  mundane, nine to five corporate world was not her cup of tea, and that she preferred the chaotic,

  often unpredictable life of working in nightclubs. She worked her way up from being a cocktail

  waitress, to bartender, to a manager of clubs. When she was twenty-six, she had the thrill of

  opening her own nightclub in the outskirts of downtown Santa Rosa. That had been four years

  ago.

  She entered the living room, where she found her father sitting in his usual chair a book

  on his lap. Lawrence Calderon was a writer of biographies of historical figures. Currently he was

  doing research on Woodrow Wilson.

  “Hi,” Riley said brightly.

  Lawrence looked up and gazed at his daughter above his reading glasses. “Hello, Riley.

  I’m not quite sure you should go into the kitchen. Your mother seems to be on pins and needles.

  Very important night, it seems.”

  Riley kissed her father on the cheek. “I’ll brave it.” She tucked the bakery box in the

  crook of her arm and headed for the kitchen.

  Caroline turned from the stove and her eyes zoomed in on the bakery box. “Is that the

  pie?”

  “Hello to you, too.” Riley set the box on the table.

  Caroline opened the box and after several seconds of inspection she was satisfied. She

  kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Hello, dear.”

  Riley watched her mother look worriedly at the cake then to the refrigerator, trying to

  figure out if she should store the cake in the kitchen refrigerator or the one in the garage. She asked, “What’s so big about tonight’s dinner?”

  “Roberta is bringing Heron tonight? I think I better put this outside,” Caroline announced

  after some internal debate.

  When she came back into the kitchen, her daughter commented, “Ah, finally, we get to

  meet this paragon of an ideal suitor, do we?”

  “Yes, and, so, I’d like to have dinner be a little bit more special than usual tonight. I’m

  not the world’s best cook, you know. And he’s used to eating foods cooked by professional

  chefs. So, I’m afraid my Thursday night meatloaf with over-cooked vegetables isn’t going to cut

  it.”

  “So, what is for dinner?”

  “How does my friend Marge sound?”

  “What?”

  A large, very tall woman entered the kitchen. She was wearing a crisp white apron over

  black slacks and white dress shirt. She was a trained chef and owned a catering business. “Hello, Riley,” Marge said cheerfully. She went over to a long counter and began to

  unwrap a series of what looked to be Cornish hens.

  “Hi, Marge.”

  Caroline said to Riley, a little nervously, “I’ve hired Marge to cater for me, tonight. What

  are we having again, Marge?”

  “We’re having tequila-marinated Cornish hens, fusilli with eggplant and smoked

  mozzarella, grilled asparagus wrapped in procuitto, strawberry watercress salad. The desert you

  picked up.”

  Riley went over to a pan where the asparagus wrapped in percuitto lay waiting for

  grilling. She tried to nip some strips of the percuitto that were on the counter and got her hand

  slapped from Marge.

  She waved a knife at Riley. “I’ve still more to make, so keep your hands out of the

  kitchen.”

  Riley said, “I don’t know what the big deal is, Mom. You’ve never treated any of our

  other boyfriends like this.”

  Caroline was putting flowers in three vases. “None of them were Heron Wait. He’s one

  of the richest bachelor in California, I think in the country, come to that. His family go back

  before gold was discovered in San Francisco, and he’s a very influential corporate lawyer in the

  state.”

  From the living room they heard the front door open and close.

  “Hi, everyone,” Roberta called out, her voice a little tremulous.

  “Oh, they’re here.” Caroline rushed out of the kitchen. Riley followed, but taking her

  time.

  Roberta was hugging her father than she turned to her mother. Lawrence took their coats

  and hung them up.

  Then Roberta took the hand of a tall man who had up to now stood back. “Mom, Dad,

  this is him. This is Heron Wait. Heron, these are my parents, Lawrence and Caroline Calderon.” The parents looked awed, almost star struck, as they took in their daughter’s guest. As greetings and handshakes were exchanged, Riley hung back and watched her sister

  and Heron. Roberta was quite beautiful with an ethereal quality. She was tall and had the slender,

  statuesque body of a model. Her hair was quite blond, her eyes a deep, summary blue, and a creamy complexion that had the matte perfection of a petal of a white rose just fresh in its bloom. She had the sweetest nature of anyone Riley ever knew, soft-hearted, and only wanting to think

  the best of everyone she met.

  Riley thought her sister looked even more beautiful tonight, if that were possible, her

  cheeks flushed, a her blue eyes bright with excitement, her whole body almost tr
embling with it

  as well as nervousness.

  Riley supposed that Roberta should be excited, and maybe a bit nervous, being courted

  by a man like Heron Wait. Her eyes cast over him, little admiration or awe in the grayish, hazel

  depths that her parents were feeling. She examined him critically. Nobody in their wildest

  dreams had ever thought that a man like Heron would pay any attention to a woman like Roberta

  Calderon, as beautiful as she was. He came from wealth and privilege in San Francisco, his

  family in international finance, and he himself owned a very successful law practice, and often

  being pictured in society pages with famous starlets and heiresses on his arms. And to add to his

  list of desirable qualities was his extremely striking good looks and a tall, athletic body. Roberta

  Calderon, on the other hand, came from a middleclass family, born and raised in Santa Rosa, a

  small city situated in Sonoma County about sixty miles north of San Francisco. She worked as

  public relations executive for Heron’s family corporation, which was headquartered in San

  Francisco.

  That was where he had first seen Roberta.

  Roberta had told her sister that she had been walking out Roy Wait’s office, having just

  had a meeting with Roy, and Heron had just entered the reception area. He stopped and watched

  her as she walked past him and through the door. After lunch, Heron went to Roberta’s office

  and asked her out. She had been shocked with disbelief and flattered that for a moment, all she

  could do was stare at him.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he had drawled with lazy amusement. “I’ll call you and let you

  know when I’ll be picking you up.”

  Rather than being impressed, Riley had merely commented. “Damned cheeky of him,

  wasn’t it?”

  Roberta, ever the romantic, had sighed, “He was so manly and so sexy, though.” After two months of dating Heron, Roberta was finally bringing him home. While her family were getting acquainted with Roberta’s newest suitor, Riley studied him

  a little. Everything about him spoke of money, status, and privilege, from the toes of his Italian

  Magli shoes to his well cut hair. He was quite tall, about six foot three or four, and exceedingly

  good-looking, his features strong but very well cut and even. Riley guessed his age to be in the

  early thirties. His body was slender, rangy, with broad shoulders, long limbs. His hair was black

  as midnight, thick and tended to wave. It was cut in the style of Hugh Grant, short but long at the

  top so that thick strands fell in enticing waves.

  Riley watched Roberta stand next to Heron, his arms around her. They made quite a

  beautiful-looking couple. Their children would be stunning, she mused.

  When Roberta turned Heron to introduce him to her sister, it was somewhat of a different

  reaction on all sides than the stunned awe that the parents showed and the controlled but gracious

  welcome that Heron returned to them.

  “Heron, and this is my dear, dear sister, Riley,” Roberta effused. “Riley, this is him, at

  last, the man I’ve been telling you endlessly about.”

  When Heron’s dark, dark brown eyes took in the sister, at first there was shock on his

  face, which quickly disappeared behind a smooth mask. Riley, seeing his eyes go cool, instantly

  felt her back going up. Carefully, taking his time, Heron took in Riley’s narrow jeans skirt, the

  low-heeled mules, and the white silk blouse that, despite it’s roominess, did not hide the

  prominent thrust or the size of her large breasts, and her hair that curled riotously around her face

  and shoulder. Riley saw his eyes coolly taking stock of her, and she thought she saw a hint of

  contempt in the inky depths of his eyes. And her hackles began to turn to hostility. She knew that there was a vast difference between her and sister, and not just in looks,

  but also in temperament, attitude, and world viewpoint. Roberta was quite sweetly natured,

  wanted to please others, and accepted others readily and warmly. Riley, on the other hand,

  tended to hold herself back from others, was more critical of people, and viewed life with a

  satirical eyes.

  “Riley, is it? You are Roberta’s sister,” Heron said in his deep, smooth voice. It sounded

  like velvet, and it made the nerves beneath Riley’s skin skitter.

  “You sound surprised,” Riley said.

  “I must apologize if I seem so. You don’t look like the rest of your family.” “Hmmm. And you look exactly what I thought you would look like?”

  The dark eyes narrowed slightly. “And what is that?”

  Just as deliberately as he was in taking stock of her, Riley let her gaze lazily run over

  him. “A very attractive man who wears his wealth and status very comfortably, like a second

  skin, because he is so well ensconced in his life of privilege.”

  “Human society does have to put up with their rich.”

  Riley lifted a sardonic brow. “Do we? I’d say let’s do away with anyone who earns more

  than fifty thousand dollars.”

  “Why fifty thousand? Why that cutoff?”

  “Well, it’s just about right, wouldn’t you say? It’s just enough to meet your needs and be

  able to indulge in small luxuries, you know, fripperies, every once in awhile. More than that,

  then people tend to get cocky, get above themselves.”

  Roberta blinked at her sister, then at Heron, then back at Riley. “Uh, Heron, would you

  like a drink, darling?”

  Heron turned and smiled warmly down at her, chasing away the chilly hardness from his

  face. He bent and kissed her on the cheek. “Yes, I would.”

  Not surprisingly, while her parents were effusive in their welcome of her sister’s newest

  admirer, Riley was reserved in her complete acceptance. While she could not fault Heron Wait

  on his manners and in displaying sincere regard for the family, his genuine passion and affection

  for Roberta, she thought there was something slightly proprietary in his demeanor towards her

  sister. Her indignation rose when she saw that with Roberta’s natural docile nature and her

  inclination to want to please others, her sister more than usual demurred to Heron’s decision. Robert mentioned a stray kitten she had found in her backyard. “It was so cute and fluffy

  gray, with big blue eyes and the tiniest meow. But Heron said I couldn’t keep it. He was going to

  take it to the pound, but thankfully my neighbor wanted it.”

  “Why was it his decision to get rid of the kitten, when it was in your backyard where you

  found it, and it is your house?” Riley asked, not quite able to keep the acid out of her tone. “He said I already have too many pets, with my two cats and a dog. And I’m not home

  enough to take care of a small animal.” Roberta hugged Heron’s arm. “He was right, of course. It

  would have been impractical to keep a kitten when I’m barely home.”

  For a moment, the irritation in Riley’s light hazel eyes clashed with Heron’s dark cool

  ones.

  “Come, Heron, come, let me show you my stamp collection,” Lawrence offered quite

  generously.

  At first Heron thought the suggestion was in jest. When he saw the almost giddy

  anticipation in the other man’s eyes, he swung his eyes to Roberta. She gave him a slight shrug

  and a wan smile. Somewhat resigned, Heron followed Lawrence into his den.

  Roberta slipped her arm through Riley’s. “So, what do you think, Riles?” “About wha
t?”

  Robert gave Riley’s arm a shake. “About him, silly. My Heron?”

  “When you say that, it sounds like you’re talking about some bird who happened across

  your pond.”

  “Don’t be deliberately obtuse, Riles.”

  “Well, for God’s sake, who names their kid after a bird?”

  “I think it’s a sexy name. Any way, what do you think?”

  Riley stared at her sister for a moment. “What do you care about what I think about him,

  Robbie? You never asked me about your other suitors?”

  “Yes, but this one is different. With the other men that I’ve dated…Well, they were just

  boys. Heron, he’s a man. A real man”

  “You know, that sounds like a Calvin Klein advertisement for men’s underwear.” Roberta gave an exasperated sigh.

  “Well, what do you want me to say, Robbie? Why is it so important what I think about

  your latest paramour?”

  Roberta took her sister by the shoulder and gave a reproving shake. “Your opinion of

  Heron is important to me. Even more important than Mom and Dad.”

  Riley opened her mouth, but then she saw the entreaty in Roberta’s clear blue eyes. “He

  seems to like you a lot, and genuinely has a fondness for you, which shows he has good taste and

  some sense.”

  “But…?”

  Riley pushed back the heavy curtain of blond hair from her sister’s face. “I will like him,

  and I will accord him every affectionate regard that there exist, darling, as long as he loves you

  the way you deserve to be loved.”

  Roberta looked at her. “You’ve been reading Jane Austen again.”

  “Her writing soothes my soul that is ever so continually disappointed in the ways of men.

  So, how’s he in bed?”

  Roberta laughed, perhaps a little nervously. “Riley, I don’t kiss and tell.” “Yeah, you do. You always call me up the next day to go over in fine details the guy’s

  attributes and performance.”

  “Oh, all right. Well, Heron…I don’t know how to say it.”

  “Is he any good in bed?”

  “Oh, yes, he is. Frighteningly so.”

  “Frighteningly? Now, what do you mean…”

  They were interrupted by their parents and Heron coming back. Lawrence beckoned

  everyone to the living room.

  In the living room, while Heron, Roberta, and her parents engaged in small talk,