Chapter Two
Later, Matt was finally able to grab a few minutes alone without being surrounded by Westmorelands.
Once word had spread of his relationship to the triplets, it seemed every Westmoreland in attendance felt the need to introduce themselves.
Because he was Dominic’s best friend, who was brother-in-law to Quade Westmoreland, Matt had known the Westmorelands living in Atlanta for a few years—namely, Quade’s brothers and cousins.
Tonight, the other Westmorelands, mainly those living in Denver, made sure he understood that when you were related to one Westmoreland, you were claimed as kin by them all.
For a man who’d spent most of his life pretty much satisfied with raising his daughter with the only people he’d considered family—Dominic and his wife, Taylor Steele, and his godparents, Marcello and Megan Saxon—he wasn’t used to the dynamics of a vast family.
And the Westmoreland clan was vast. So much so that he’d heard there was a section of Denver known as Westmoreland Country, where most of the Denver Westmorelands lived.
Being part of a huge family was something he’d never imagined, nor wanted.
He liked his small family just fine. However, after tonight, all that had changed. He found it almost too overwhelming.
He glanced to where his daughter stood in a group of Westmorelands.
Obviously, Deena didn’t find it overwhelming.
Just the opposite. She seemed to be in her element.
Had she grown up longing for more relatives, but he hadn’t known it?
That couldn’t be it, since, thanks to Dominic’s wife, Taylor, Deena had grown up close to the Steele family.
But then, for his very outgoing daughter, who was the opposite of her father in that respect, it could be that the more family, the merrier.
He noted that one of those Westmorelands—Alisdare—was at his daughter’s side and had not left that spot since they’d been introduced.
And there seemed to be interest on both sides.
Although she was only twenty-two, Deena was fairly smart when it came to men thanks to Matt’s guidance.
She knew the pickup lines and the games some men played.
His daughter had never shown real interest in any guy before—the one she dated in college for a good four months didn’t count.
Given that Deena lived in California and Alisdare Westmoreland worked at the FBI office here in DC, he wondered how this would play out.
Marriage to Deena’s mother, Rhonda, had been a disaster, leaving him unwilling to ever marry again.
The only good thing that had come from their marriage was Deena, a daughter Rhonda had walked away from without looking back.
In his twenties, he had taken on the role of mother and father with the help of Dominic and his godparents.
For a while, he had even lived in one of the cottages on Marcello and Megan’s huge estate, so those nights when he worked late at the office, Dominic and his parents helped care for her. They had been his village.
Matt took another sip of his wine and glanced around the room. Most people hadn’t left, but they were out on the huge veranda, seeing the colored lights darting across the Potomac River. A display Quade had arranged in celebration of his wife’s birthday.
At least one person hadn’t rushed toward the veranda to see it. Specifically, the very attractive woman who’d caught his eye the moment he’d arrived at the party. She was gorgeous.
There was something about her that had immediately snagged his attention in that moment before Quade and Cheyenne had greeted him and Deena. Afterward, before he could check her out further, he had been confronted by those triplets about his resemblance to Sid Roberts.
He’d thought the woman’s petite and curvy figure, the mass of dark brown hair that flowed to her shoulders, and striking features on caramel-colored skin were totally stunning.
Then there was her outfit: a long, printed skirt that flowed to her ankles, paired with a fringed shawl to match and a pretty green blouse.
The cognac-colored suede boots gave the entire ensemble a sophisticated look.
If he were to guess, he would say her age was mid-thirties.
He was forty-four and usually didn’t date a woman more than five years younger.
However, he would definitely make an exception for her.
Besides, what were rules for if you couldn’t break a few now and then?
That said a lot, coming from an attorney.
After the so-called “family meeting” with the Westmorelands, he’d asked Dominic about her. He was told her name was Iris Michaels, and she was the best friend of Pamela Westmoreland, who was married to Dillon, the oldest member of the Denver Westmorelands.
He’d also learned she was a widow and lived, of all places, in Los Angeles. It was hard to believe they resided in the same city, yet their paths had never crossed. But then, LA was a very large place.
Since she stood alone staring out the window, he decided to walk over and introduce himself.
* * *
Iris didn’t come to the nation’s capital often. But when she did, she was always in awe of the Lincoln Memorial. This was the first time she had ever seen it at night, and it was beautifully lit, stunning.
Just like this hotel, she thought, shifting her gaze from the view outside the window to the ballroom of the Saxon Hotel, reputed to be the most luxurious hotel in DC.
She glanced up at the ceiling and admired the huge crystal chandelier.
She bet not a penny had been spared for this space.
The carpet was so plush her shoes sank into it whenever she walked.
She then glanced around, admiring every inch of the decor.
When her gaze shifted to her right, she saw him. Again.
She had seen him the moment he arrived, and for a brief moment, their gazes had met—and held.
He was holding hers again, and for some reason, like before, she couldn’t look away.
When she had asked Pam to tell her more about Dominic Saxon’s best friend, Matt Caulder, she was told he was an attorney in LA.
Since Pam had lived in LA while they’d attended college together, and a few years after that, and knew how large it was, there was no surprise their paths had never crossed.
Now he was headed toward her, and she couldn’t help but continue to watch him as he approached.
Matt Caulder was indeed a very handsome man, probably in his early forties.
He was tall with a sexy walk that seemed to glide effortlessly across the rich, plush carpet, projecting both confidence and good posture.
He had black hair, chestnut-colored skin, nicely arched brows, a mustache above a pair of luscious-looking lips and an angular jawline covered in a neatly trimmed beard.
His blue suit accentuated a well-built physique, and she knew his shoes and tie were of the highest quality.
And those were designer cufflinks on his shirt.
He was obviously a man who didn’t mind spending money to look good.
She appreciated that since she was a woman who didn’t mind doing so as well.
Okay, Iris, she said to herself. Remember Warren. Although you aren’t happy with him tonight, you are still in a committed relationship.
But then there’s nothing wrong with admiring a good-looking man when you see one.
When Matt stood directly in front of her, he extended his hand and said, “Iris Michaels, how are you? I’m Matt Caulder.”
He was direct. She liked that. She also liked the sound of his voice.
It was deep and husky. “Matt, I’m fine. It’s nice meeting you,” she said, placing her hand in his.
Immediately a warm sensation flowed through her body.
There was no need to ask how he knew her name.
It was probably the same way she had gathered information about him. He had asked someone.
“And how are you doing, Matt?”
He released a deep breath and said, “At the moment, I need a little escape.”
She fully understood. News had quickly spread around the party that he was Sid Roberts’s long-lost son. Discovering such a thing had to be overwhelming, and to find yourself an honorary member of the Westmoreland family, even more so. She, of all people, should know.
When Pam married Dillon, as Pam’s best friend, Iris had become an honorary family member.
The Westmorelands were good people. There was a slew of them, scattered throughout Denver, Atlanta, California and Montana.
With cousins living in Alaska, the Outlaws.
Then Bailey Westmoreland, who for years had been the youngest of the Denver Westmorelands, had moved to Alaska when she married Walker Rafferty, a close friend of the Outlaws.
“So, you need to escape?” she asked, with a twitching smile. “I’ve been called Houdini a few times,” she said. “You want me to work my magic?”
He chuckled. “Please do.”
“I was just admiring the decor,” she said. “Would you like to take a stroll around the hotel and see other parts of it?”
Matt smiled, and the way his lips curved when he did so, Iris thought they looked too dang sexy.
“That sounds like a good plan to me,” he said.
* * *
“I understand you’re also from Los Angeles, Iris,” Matt said, adjusting his long stride to keep up with her.
She was friendly, and he liked that. As they strolled through various parts of the hotel, she pointed out several paintings on the walls naming each artist before they approached.
She’d explained that visiting museums was one of her favorite pastimes.
“And how do you know where I live, Matt?”
He gazed at her and thought that up close, she was even more beautiful. Long lashes, a beautiful pair of brown eyes, a perky nose, a cheeky grin and lips he could only describe as sensuous.