He grinned, clapping me on the back, then froze and blinked a few times as he caught sight of Iris.

“You must be Iris,” he guessed with a smile.

She beamed at him. She liked that I’d obviously been talking about her to him, though I hoped she never knew that I’d shared way too many specifics about our sex life.

I’d never been one to give out details like that, never before at least, but I’d started hanging out with Turner after she’d left, when I’d needed to vent, and so way too much information had been shared. My only excuse was that I needed someone to talk to, because I honestly thought I’d never see her again.

Still, I hoped she never found out just how explicitly familiar Turner was with the things she and I had done together.

“Dair has told me only the most wonderful things about you,” Turner told her engagingly, and without even asking, walked up and gave her a big, tight embrace—the perverted motherfucker.

“Holy shit,” he mouthed over her shoulder at me, the hug lingering a few beats more than I liked.

I gave him a less than friendly look, and he let her go, grinning unabashedly.

“I’m surprised you weren’t out back,” I told him, pulling Iris closer to me, throwing my arm over her shoulder. “Why you hanging out inside during your own party?”

He made a face. “Just random chance I was in here. Had a ten-minute conference call that couldn’t be avoided. You know how it is. Anyway, it’s done now, and I saved you a spot in the shade. This way.” He started moving through the house, and we followed, Iris still plastered to my side, tight enough that I could feel one ripe tit rubbing into my ribcage.

Fuck. I moved away from her in an effort not to embarrass myself.

Turner took us to the best seat in the house, a covered cabana with perfect views and access to the pool.

I took my shirt off, though I was in the shade, and I didn’t need to work on my tan. My natural coloring, combined with the fact that I swam outside nearly every day, took care of that.

A waiter came and got our drink orders almost instantly.

I ordered a Mai Tai, but Iris just asked for water.

Who did that?

A wild party girl who drank water instead of cocktails.

As always, she was a contradiction.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I found myself talking with Turner while Iris swam and mingled with the other people in the pool. She’d seemed restless as soon as we sat, so we’d cut her loose to play.

It wasn’t lost on me that this was what you did with children at parties, not lovers.

“Did you say she’s twenty-four?” Turner asked, watching her laugh at something some guy that had sidled up to her in the water was telling her.

I was watching, too, fists clenched, so it took me a minute to hear his question. “Yeah. Twenty-four.”

“I hate to say this to you, man, especially considering how well I know you and your straight-laced tendencies, but that chick is not twenty-four.”

That threw me. “I made her show me her ID; first time I took her home.”

He had a good long laugh at that one. “Of course you did.”

“I studied it. It didn’t look fake.”

He laughed some more, really enjoying himself. “Of course you f**king did. Well, I hate to say this too, but she showed you a f**king fake ID, because that chick is not twenty-four. It must have been a good one, to fool you.”

“I studied it. It looked legit. Wait, so how old do you think she is?”

“Barely f**king legal, that’s how old. Definitely not twenty-four. Trust me. I’m a pro at this. You don’t get far in this life as loaded as I am, if you don’t learn well how to avoid all of the jailbait thrown your way. You were married to that nutjob for half of your sorry life, so you haven’t had to worry about these things.”

I felt slightly ill.

Was he just talking shit, or could he be right?

“I’ll check it again.”

I saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye. “I wouldn’t be too worried about it,” he mused.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

Iris, who we’d both been watching, turned and pulled herself out of the water, soaking wet and facing us.

“Holy shit, she is smoking,” he said reverently. “You weren’t exaggerating. Not one f**king bit.”

I saw Turner’s head turning my way and craned my neck to meet his laughing eyes.

He bit his knuckles, and I almost smiled, and also almost punched him in the teeth.

“My educated guess would be she’s somewhere between eighteen and twenty,” he finally answered. “You can f**k her, just don’t buy her any alcohol.”

He laughed hard about that.

I wasn’t finding the subject funny myself.

Not even a little. Just another thing to worry about where she was concerned.

I moved on to yet another touchy subject, wanting to get his take, though I knew I wasn’t going to like his brand of truth on this, either. “That guy in the Jaguar dropped her off at my house. She didn’t want me to see, but I saw him. He saw me, too. He doesn’t like me much better than I do him.”

I turned to meet his pointed look.

“It’s that generation, I’m telling you.”

“Your generation,” I remarked.

“Well, I’m at least seven years older than your Iris, but yeah, basically. Women get around more. Especially the hot ones. You have to consider how many options a girl like that has. Everything with a penis has pretty much been swinging it in her direction since she was fifteen, I’d bet. Have you ever asked her how many partners she’s had?”