even five seconds after their son hit the big time, Mr. Banning had retired and ‘grabbed his life’s dream by the balls,’ as he liked to put it.
Leaving the family home where they’d raised their boys, he and Miriam packed up a lifetime of stuff and hauled it and themselves to a western retreat on the banks of a Wyoming river. Thirty acres with mountain views so majestic and beautiful they seemed fake.
Edward had quietly intervened, with her help of course. After some outdoorsy mumbo jumbo from Marsh, he decided the modest two-bedroom cabin his parents wanted to buy just wasn’t what he’d envisioned for their retirement years. Five phone calls and a dozen video tours later, she’d stumbled upon a rustic estate with a drool-worthy chef’s kitchen, vaulted ceilings, multiple fireplaces, wraparound decks, and a theater room that got Edward’s eyes all sparkly.
Paige became a bit misty remembering the moment when he explained what he’d done and handed over the keys to the mind-boggling property. Miriam had wept. Steven had cleared his throat so many times that eventually Edward had just grabbed hold of his dad for the mother of all father-son hugs.
Home and family meant everything to Edward. If it didn’t, he wouldn’t be swaggering across movie screens around the world, usually with his shirt off.
He, or rather they, had a multi-year plan to market the motherfuck out of Gideon Shaw. They'd make an ass-ton of money in the process, try to do as much off-the-radar charity work as humanly possible for veteran’s causes, and then get the hell out of Dodge. Or Hollywood, as the case might be.
From day one, setting his folks up in a dream home where Miriam could garden and Steven could fish had been priority one on the to-do list for Team Shaw. Being able to give his parents the spectacular waterfront home had given him tremendous pleasure. He especially loved that the four-bay garage came with a huge bonus room above that was easily re-styled to be the most amazing craft and project room Martha Stewart could dream up.
With Mom taken care of, the river out front was an easy sell for Dad. An avid fisherman with a remarkable talent as a landscape artist, Steven could prattle on for twenty minutes about the color of the sky above the river and how he spent an entire day trying to recreate the astonishing color on his painter’s palette.
Paige couldn’t help the snorting chuckle that thinking about the Banning homestead brought. It was funny how her mind moved these days. First, she was hot, sticky, and pissed off. Then she was waxing rhapsodic about some upholstery fabric. Before she knew it, her pique at having had a physically taxing day almost made her flush hundreds of dollars of fitness technology.
And that thought? Well, it led to her wanting a swimming pool, which reminded her of the stroke of luck that Edward’s dad made possible by taking such good care of her finances. Which brought her thoughts around to what a wonderful son Edward was, how much helping his family motivated everything he did, and how she was a part of all that.
She did a quick tally and snorted again.
Yep. Six degrees or thereabouts.
And while she was indulging in these thoughts? Paige had her libido—or however women referred to their sex drive nowadays—on total lockdown.
She had no choice—there wasn’t any other way because having an endless cavalcade of dirty thoughts shuffling through her brain about her best friend and the man she worked for was just plain stupid.
And self-defeating.
And, yes … frustrating as hell.
Maybe some mindless, in-the-moment sex would take the edge off. Release some of the raging horniness that was her constant companion.
Paige shook her head. Yeah, right. She never actually went through with any of her grand plans to get a life that didn’t revolve around Gideon Shaw. Or Edward Banning.
Quickly stashing the ice cream in the freezer and loading up an entire drawer in the fridge with
Leaving the family home where they’d raised their boys, he and Miriam packed up a lifetime of stuff and hauled it and themselves to a western retreat on the banks of a Wyoming river. Thirty acres with mountain views so majestic and beautiful they seemed fake.
Edward had quietly intervened, with her help of course. After some outdoorsy mumbo jumbo from Marsh, he decided the modest two-bedroom cabin his parents wanted to buy just wasn’t what he’d envisioned for their retirement years. Five phone calls and a dozen video tours later, she’d stumbled upon a rustic estate with a drool-worthy chef’s kitchen, vaulted ceilings, multiple fireplaces, wraparound decks, and a theater room that got Edward’s eyes all sparkly.
Paige became a bit misty remembering the moment when he explained what he’d done and handed over the keys to the mind-boggling property. Miriam had wept. Steven had cleared his throat so many times that eventually Edward had just grabbed hold of his dad for the mother of all father-son hugs.
Home and family meant everything to Edward. If it didn’t, he wouldn’t be swaggering across movie screens around the world, usually with his shirt off.
He, or rather they, had a multi-year plan to market the motherfuck out of Gideon Shaw. They'd make an ass-ton of money in the process, try to do as much off-the-radar charity work as humanly possible for veteran’s causes, and then get the hell out of Dodge. Or Hollywood, as the case might be.
From day one, setting his folks up in a dream home where Miriam could garden and Steven could fish had been priority one on the to-do list for Team Shaw. Being able to give his parents the spectacular waterfront home had given him tremendous pleasure. He especially loved that the four-bay garage came with a huge bonus room above that was easily re-styled to be the most amazing craft and project room Martha Stewart could dream up.
With Mom taken care of, the river out front was an easy sell for Dad. An avid fisherman with a remarkable talent as a landscape artist, Steven could prattle on for twenty minutes about the color of the sky above the river and how he spent an entire day trying to recreate the astonishing color on his painter’s palette.
Paige couldn’t help the snorting chuckle that thinking about the Banning homestead brought. It was funny how her mind moved these days. First, she was hot, sticky, and pissed off. Then she was waxing rhapsodic about some upholstery fabric. Before she knew it, her pique at having had a physically taxing day almost made her flush hundreds of dollars of fitness technology.
And that thought? Well, it led to her wanting a swimming pool, which reminded her of the stroke of luck that Edward’s dad made possible by taking such good care of her finances. Which brought her thoughts around to what a wonderful son Edward was, how much helping his family motivated everything he did, and how she was a part of all that.
She did a quick tally and snorted again.
Yep. Six degrees or thereabouts.
And while she was indulging in these thoughts? Paige had her libido—or however women referred to their sex drive nowadays—on total lockdown.
She had no choice—there wasn’t any other way because having an endless cavalcade of dirty thoughts shuffling through her brain about her best friend and the man she worked for was just plain stupid.
And self-defeating.
And, yes … frustrating as hell.
Maybe some mindless, in-the-moment sex would take the edge off. Release some of the raging horniness that was her constant companion.
Paige shook her head. Yeah, right. She never actually went through with any of her grand plans to get a life that didn’t revolve around Gideon Shaw. Or Edward Banning.
Quickly stashing the ice cream in the freezer and loading up an entire drawer in the fridge with
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