Take Me Forever (Billionaire's Beach Book 2) Page 7

  Now, according to Jay, she smiled like her sisters. She knew she played with napkins like her sisters, too. Were these signs that she should let them into her life?

  Unsettled and still undecided, she excused herself and hurried into the kitchen to finish the dinner preparations. A few seconds later she felt another presence behind her. “Noah, would you mind—”

  “He was out of his seat by the time you were two steps toward the kitchen,” Nikki said. “But I wrestled him back to his chair by playing the professional chef card.”

  Turning, Juliet grimaced. “Yikes. I didn’t think about that when I asked you to dinner tonight.”

  “No worries. It smells terrific.” She hesitated, then took a breath and rushed on. “I came inside because I want to talk to you about something.”

  “What?”

  Nikki glanced over her shoulder to where the others were gathered on the patio, then looked back, her expression serious. “I want you to be careful with Cassandra.”

  Juliet frowned. “Be careful with her how?”

  “Be careful with her feelings, with her dream.”

  “ ‘Her dream’?”

  Nikki pulled a stool away from the butcher-block island and dropped onto it. “Argh. I’m not good at this touchy-feely girl-talk stuff.”

  “What dream are you talking about?”

  “When you were a kid, did you sometimes make up wild fantasies for yourself? You know, like pretending you were really the progeny of a roguish pirate and a runaway princess?”

  Juliet thought of herself at thirteen, of how she’d met a dashing man in uniform and given her heart to him. She smiled. “I had a fancy or two.”

  Nikki’s voice lowered and she leaned toward Juliet. “Well, this is Cassandra’s fancy. The dream she’s had for as long as she can remember. Her mother had always told her she was donor-inseminated and that big old marshmallow heart of Cassandra’s has caused her to wonder her entire life about siblings that she could meet and make a family with.”

  “Nikki—”

  “Hear me out. I’m just asking that if you’re not interested in forging anything with us, if your curiosity is satisfied tonight and from now on you’ll only want to exchange the occasional Christmas card, that you’ll let our sister down easy.”

  “Nikki—”

  “Just be gentle, okay?” The blue and green eyes so like Juliet’s own held her gaze. “Be gentle with her heart. Like I said, it’s soft and it’s bigger than that ocean out there and she cares too much, too fast.”

  Juliet stared at the younger woman, her own heart feeling too big for her chest. If nothing else had swayed her to get to know these two, then that impassioned little speech would have done the trick. This is what sisters could give to each other, Juliet thought. Loyalty. Understanding. Caring.

  She wanted that, she decided. She wanted that bond with them.

  Nikki spoke once again, her voice hoarse. “Please.” It was easy to see she wasn’t used to asking anyone for anything. “Please be careful with Cassandra.”

  Smiling a little, Juliet tilted her head. “And not with you?”

  The youngest sister waved the concern away with a swipe of her hand. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Now where have I heard that before, cookie?” Jay was suddenly behind his fiancée, and his fingers sifted through the wavy tangle of her sun-streaked brown hair.

  At his touch, Nikki looked up with a glowing smile that caused Juliet’s chest to ache. Maybe it did something to Jay’s, too, because he bent down to press an affectionate, but prolonged kiss on the mouth of the woman he was engaged to marry.

  Juliet didn’t look away. It was so tender—and so telling. Another rustle of movement caused her gaze to shift. Noah filled the doorway and maybe the kiss affected him, too, because he was staring at Juliet’s lips. They tingled and her skin flushed, as she remembered their embrace the day before. Noah’s heat. The bite of his fingers and the thrust of his tongue.

  Jay’s mouth had lifted from Nikki’s now, but he was murmuring something to her. Oh, yes, Juliet thought. How tender and how telling.

  And the bittersweet truth that it told was this: As much as a relationship with her sisters might come to mean to her, she knew now it wouldn’t fill every empty space. It couldn’t meet every need in her life.

  Noah decided the evening was a success. Juliet’s vegetarian lasagna had been enjoyed by all—even Gabe, who was a strictly red meat man, appeared to like it—and after serving dessert, it was evident as they sat around the dining room table that Juliet was more relaxed and happy than he’d maybe ever seen her.

  That should have made him happy, too, right? The fact was, he’d been glad for this further opportunity to study Juliet’s sisters—a claim that he really couldn’t harbor a doubt about any longer—and now he knew he liked Cassandra and Nikki. They were smart and pretty and the men they’d brought with them tonight were the kind he didn’t mind having beers with.

  He particularly liked the engaged one, Jay.

  Regarding Gabe—well, the jury was still out there, to be honest. Not that he triggered Noah’s streetwise sixth sense, but he couldn’t forget how Gabe had held Juliet’s hand a beat too long upon meeting her.

  “So damn attractive,” he’d told her. Well, damn him. He shot the guy a dark look as Gabe leaned over to murmur something for Juliet’s ears only.

  The intimacy of their positions led Noah’s mind straight back to the kiss he’d shared with her in her kitchen. The truth is, Noah, what I felt when I kissed you was horny. She’d said that. Elegant Juliet Weston had said “horny” with a little laugh in her voice that he suspected was her small payback for the audacity he’d shown by turning her friendly hug into a fiery interlude.

  But now he wondered… Was she really horny? And would Gabe try to take advantage of that?

  But Noah was distracted from the sour thought as someone else asked him a question and the conversation moved to old surf movies and the part Malibu had played in their making. From there conversation turned to books. After that, Noah helped Juliet clear the dessert plates then serve more coffee. His tension eased away as she sent him a private smile in thanks and resettled in the seat beside his.

  With a clack, Jay Buchanan placed his coffee cup on its saucer, and then caught everyone’s attention by clearing his throat. “Juliet, there’s another book I’d like to discuss,” he said. “Your late husband’s autobiography.”

  Her eyes widened and Noah’s tension returned. Oh, hell. Not once had the general come up in conversation and he’d thought that omission had been good for Juliet, too. She needed to be more than a widow. He wanted her to think of herself as more than a widow.

  “What about it?” Juliet asked. Her fingers started toying with the cloth napkin in her lap. Not paper this time, so there wouldn’t be any impromptu jewelry, but that didn’t stop her from worrying the fabric. “It’s coming out next month.”

  “I know. I saw an advanced reader’s copy bouncing around my magazine’s offices.”

  Juliet’s gaze dashed around the table. “No one mentioned… I wasn’t completely certain any of you knew…”

  Cassandra smiled. “Those cursed tubes of the Internet. Nobody has privacy anymore.”

  Nikki’s voice was soft. “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

  Across the table from Noah, Gabe shifted in his chair. “Uh, fill me in?”

  “Oh.” Cassandra squirmed in hers. “I guess I didn’t tell you.”

  “I guess not. Tell me what?”

  “Well, uh…” Cassandra looked to Nikki in mute appeal, and then gave a little shrug. “Juliet’s husband died about a year ago, and, um…”

  An awkward silence descended over the table. Cassandra tried again. “And, um, it must have been an especially tough time for Juliet because…” She glanced at her newfound sister and then back at Gabe, obviously uncomfortable with the subject matter. “Uh, because the press got involved and, they, um…”

&
nbsp; Juliet jumped to her feet, bumping the table to set the cups rattling against their saucers. “They called me the Happy Widow,” she said, her voice tight.

  Cassandra reached across the table. “Juliet—”

  “And before that,” she told Gabe, ignoring the other woman, “the press called me the Deal Breaker. So you can take your pick. Or use both. I really couldn’t care less.”

  Noah stared at her in surprise, noting the bright color in her cheeks and the telltale tension in her posture. Until this moment, she’d kept her feelings about those nasty nicknames buried beneath what must have been a blanket of snow. Now, however, she was experiencing a major melt-down. He rose, a wary eye on her. “Juliet…”

  She ignored him, too. “Excuse me,” she said to the table at large as she grabbed a half-empty wine bottle by the neck. “And I’m sorry,” she added as she rushed for the kitchen.

  Noah got to her first. “Whoa, whoa.” Under his hands, her shoulders were stiff. “You don’t have to apologize to anyone. Not for anything.”

  Her fingers white-knuckled the wine bottle. “Not even to my—these two women who I’m sure are less than thrilled to find themselves related to an infamous widow?”

  He squeezed her shoulders. “Juliet…”

  “Face it, Noah. It’s ugly. Ugly and infuriating. I didn’t deserve it. Wayne deserved better.”

  Now Cassandra rose. “Nothing about you is ugly. We don’t think anything like that.”

  On the other side of the table, Nikki glared at Jay. “Look at what you’ve done. This is all your fault.”

  “Hey—”

  “If you hadn’t decided to bring up the book—”

  “Hey—”

  “Would someone please explain to me what’s going on?” Gabe asked again.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Cassandra shot Jay her own hostile look. “Ask Big Mouth over there.”

  He appeared wounded. “You’re usually on my side, Cassandra.”

  “You’re usually not so oafish.”

  “Would someone please explain—”

  “Fine.” Jay looked over at Gabe. “Juliet’s husband? He was General Wayne Weston.”

  “Ah. Aaah.” The dark-haired man nodded, as if understanding was dawning.

  “That’s right,” Jay nodded back. “You remember now. They called her the Deal Breaker when they married.”

  Flames shot from Nikki’s two-toned eyes. “Did you have to say that stupid name again, Jay?”

  “It’s not her fault, of course,” the man continued. “Though that Happy Widow claim was even worse.”

  Nikki and Cassandra griped together. “Jay!”

  “Jeesh.” He held up both hands. “It’s not my fault either. I’m just laying out the facts. You girls are so touchy.”

  The two women met each other’s gazes. “He called us girls,” Nikki said.

  Cassandra waved her on with a sweep of her hand. “You’re engaged to him, so I’ll let you kill him.”

  Jay leaned away from the table as his fiancée grabbed up a stray fork.

  “Good God,” Gabe muttered. “I think I’d rather be spending the evening with Cassandra’s cats.”

  And with that Juliet started to laugh. It bubbled out of her throat and even made its way past the hand she clapped over her mouth. The brewing argument assassination subsided as all gazes turned on her.

  Nikki’s fork clattered to the tabletop. “What’s so funny?” she asked, her voice cautious.

  Temper apparently neutralized, Juliet stepped away from Noah’s hands and dropped back into her seat, still laughing. Then she tilted her head and took a healthy swallow from the bottle of wine clutched in her fist. She wiped an errant drop off her lower lip with the back of her hand. “You know what?” A smile played around her mouth. “This is the closest I’ve ever been to a family argument.”

  Nikki grinned back. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah.” Cassandra’s smile was just the same and then her gaze relighted on Jay. “And it’s even better that the three sisters can all blame it on the same dumb guy.”

  Beleaguered Jay Buchanan didn’t share the joy. Maybe he was still reeling from his near brush with death. “I think we men should do the dishes while the”—he paused—“women drink more wine.”

  And with that, the XY chromosomes beat a hasty retreat from the dining room.

  Weathering that storm seemed to put the sisters at complete ease with each other, Noah decided as the clean-up wound down. Well, that and another bottle or two of vino. But it didn’t take a genius to realize that Juliet had held some concerns about how Nikki and Cassandra might regard her unwarranted notoriety. The fact that they already knew of it and had actually attacked one of their own for introducing the topic, obviously put the hostess in a celebratory mood.

  A little later, the celebratory mood called for another pot of decaf coffee. A slightly tipsy Juliet managed to grind the beans and start the maker, but then she was called out onto the patio where her sisters and Jay and Gabe were enjoying the view by moonlight. Noah watched her unsteady walk and smiled to himself. The fresh air would be good for her.

  The whole evening had been good for her.

  He was collecting the last of the items on the dining room table when he heard Gabe and Juliet’s voices drifting through the open window. He couldn’t see them from where he stood, but the quiet tone of the conversation told him they’d wandered away from the others. Just the two of them. Alone.

  “So,” Gabe was saying. “A widow.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I…” He cleared his throat. “I lost my wife three years ago.”

  “Oh.” Juliet said, and Noah could hear the surprised sadness in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” Gabe’s voice lowered. “I know it’s tough.”

  “But it gets easier?” The note of hope sliced through Noah’s gut.

  “I’ll let you know,” Gabe answered. “I haven’t figured that out yet.” There was a moment of silence, and then he went on. “It was a car accident. Sudden.”

  Juliet’s voice was a whisper. “Wayne suffered for a long time. Knowing his pain is over…that makes it more bearable.”

  “But it doesn’t take the loneliness away.”

  “No. And now I find myself wanting, actually craving—God.” She broke off and embarrassment was clear in her voice. “Never mind. Obviously I’ve had way too much to drink.”

  “Way too much to drink because…?”

  “Because I must be drunk if I even started such a conversation. Forget I said anything.”

  “But so far it hasn’t been much of a conversation at all,” the other man pointed out. “Let me guess, though. You find yourself wanting, craving—well, let’s call it ‘contact.’ Touch. Skin.”

  Noah’s senses went on high alert. Even through the walls and the darkness, he could hear the guilty catch of Juliet’s breath. He imagined there was a flush rising on her cheeks, too, and it was the warmth of it that was releasing a tantalizing note of her classy perfume into the night air.

  “That’s it exactly,” Juliet confessed, her voice still low. “You, too?”

  “Yeah. I’ve had my moments. My advice—don’t beat yourself up about it. We’re still human, after all.” Gabe hesitated. “But, Juliet, if that little itch…that is, if you need…”

  Shit. Noah’s body went rigid. What was the bastard about to offer? And how quick could he get through the window and introduce Gabe to his fist? He was inches from the screen when Cassandra’s voice halted his forward momentum.

  “Gabe? Oh, Gabe?” she called from across the patio. “I just spotted a falling star. I’m wishing something for you.”

  “Froot Loop, didn’t anyone ever tell you to be careful what you wish for?” As he spoke, his voice drifted away from the window and in the direction of Cassandra. “My heart’s desire is to get you out of my hair, but I can’t ask you to wish yourself right out of Malibu.”

  In what ap
peared to be their usual style, the two traded insults that Noah barely registered. His focus, his thoughts, were on Juliet, standing just a few inches of plaster and insulation and stucco away. He knew she was still there, he could still smell her perfume and still sense her confused emotions.

  She needed, wanted, craved contact. Skin. Touch.

  Was that true? In his pocket, his cell phone vibrated, and Noah absently pulled it free. Was Juliet really itching?

  The truth is, Noah, what I felt when I kissed you was horny.

  Well, if that was the case, then the platonic hired help from across the pool had just added a new task to his mission. Because for damn sure the one that was going to be doing the scratching would be nobody other than Noah.

  Six

  War is the only game in which it doesn’t pay to have the home-court advantage.

  —DICK MOTTA

  Marlys wound through the hills above Malibu. Her dog, Blackie, part black lab, part who-knew-what-else, had his head out the passenger window and was drinking in the morning air with a toothy grin on his face.

  At least one of them was in a good mood.

  In the trunk of her Miata was another package for Juliet with the publisher’s return address in the upper left. Marlys had already placed a call to the Big Apple that morning and had been polite but icy when informing them that her father’s wife had had a change of residence. Her tone had gotten her through to her father’s editor, who had blah-blah-blahed an apology followed by a promise to take permanent note of the information. So this should be the last occasion that Marlys was forced to play delivery chick.

  And Marlys could hope that keeping clear of Juliet would mean she’d be freed from the acid bitterness that welled in her belly every time she came in contact with the other woman. The knowledge that marrying his second wife had dirtied the general’s reputation continued to fester inside the general’s daughter. However, if Juliet stayed in hiding here in the hills of Malibu, maybe Marlys could let go of her—yeah, she knew it—sometimes juvenile resentment.