Courting Justice

She glanced up, met his gaze, held it and was about to move her mouth to speak when they both noticed a presence at their table. He lifted his gaze and stared into the face of Lela Stillwell.

Where the hell had she come from? And why had she chosen just that precise moment to appear? And what right did she have to glare at him like he’d been caught doing something wrong?

“Lela?” he said, acknowledging her presence.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Lela said in that syrupy voice that made him cringe. Then she had the audacity to reach out and place her hand over his. Now she was being disrespectful to Peyton, and he wasn’t going to put up with it. He reached out and removed her hand from his.

“You were looking for me for what reason?”

“I thought we could spend the afternoon together.”

He gave her a smile that he knew didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then he glanced over to Peyton. “I’m sure Lela somehow forgot her manners, so let me make the introductions. Peyton, this is Lela Stillwell. Lela, this is Peyton Mahoney.” The two women glanced at each other, but neither extended their hands, nor did they exchange pleasantries.

In fact, as if dismissing Peyton altogether, Lela turned her attention back to him and said, “Well, are you ready?”

He lifted a brow. “Ready for what?”

“For us to spend the afternoon together. Didn’t you read the brochure you were given when you checked in?”

He had to remind himself that standing before him was a woman who could take the words spoiled, selfish and narcissistic to a whole new level. “Evidently I didn’t. What did it say?” he asked.

She smiled. “Tonight the resort is hosting the couples’ ball, and it would be best to claim your date early.”

He stared at her for a moment and then just to make sure he understood what she was insinuating, he said, “So you’re claiming me?”

She smiled brightly. “Of course.”

Sometimes people simply amazed him, especially women, and at that moment, particularly Lela. She had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth; had attended some of the best schools; had been introduced to all the finer things in life. But when it came to substance—namely manners and respecting others—she might as well have been raised by a pack of wild dogs. Especially compared to Peyton—who had been raised by her grandmother in a less than desirable part of Chicago, rarely saw her mother growing up, didn’t know her father and had to pay her own way through college and law school but still possessed the kind of class and grace that money couldn’t buy. If the two women were pitted against one another, Peyton was the winner hands down.

He held Lela’s gaze and was about to open his mouth to tell Lela that it would be a cold day in hell before he would allow her to claim him for anything, when he heard Peyton’s soft chuckle.

He glanced across the table in time to hear her say to Lela, “Sorry, Ms. What’s-Your-Name, but you’re a tad too late. Angelo might not have read the brochure, but I did. And he’s already been claimed—by me.”

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