Resisting Romeo (Steamy Weekends Book 3)

by Melanie Shawn

  I’d always dreamed of one day finding the car, his car, and fixing it up. At the time of my grandparents’ passing, it had been seized because of back taxes they owed on their property. As I sat in that car I was re-inspired to follow through on that dream.

  “Where did you find this?” I asked as nostalgia washed over me.

  “Florida.”

  “How?”

  “I have my ways.” He grinned the cocky grin that I used to think was charming, sexy even, but now found rather infuriating.

  There was absolutely no reason why I’d had to go to the airport to pick him up, he was obviously perfectly capable of getting from the airport to the resort in his rental.

  As we pulled in front of the villa, the moon and twinkle lights surrounding the Oasis Hideaway created a fairytale-like aura. The former owner of the land the resort was built on had lived in this four-bedroom, five-bath home that sat on the far edge of the three-hundred acre property. But when Liam took ownership he decided to convert the residence into a high-priced extension of the resort he built with luxury amenities. The Spanish-style villa attracted mainly corporate CEOs on golf retreats, but there were a handful of celebrities that enjoyed it as well.

  Never in a million years had I imagined that Romeo would be one such celebrity. And I certainly never would’ve expected him to request that I be the only person on staff during his stay. I still had no idea why he had, but at this point I wasn’t sure I had any desire to find out. After experiencing my reaction to just seeing him, any grandiose ideas of getting closure and facing my past flew right out the window. At this point, I just wanted to get through the next forty-eight hours in the most professional, detached manner possible and get on with my life.

  I ignored the tiny hairs on my arm that stood up as the car pulled to a stop.

  The engine cut and he exhaled as his head fell back against the headrest.

  I’d been doing my level best not to look at the man that had tormented my soul for the majority of my life, but there was something about his sigh that had me turning my head in his direction. I expected to find him staring out through the windshield or maybe have his eyes closed, but instead, I found him looking directly at me.

  Beneath the brim of his baseball cap his electric-blue eyes were luminous and the emotion brimming in them caused my heart to lodge in my throat. My brain was screaming at me to look away, save myself, and resist surrendering to the vortex of his stare that was pulling me in.

  “I missed you,” he breathed as his lips curled at the corners.

  That wasn’t fair. He wasn’t allowed to say things like that. But there was no way that I was going to let him know that. Instead, I ignored his sentiment all together. I forced myself to tear away from his stare and reached for the handle.

  “No,” he gruffly commanded. “Wait.”

  He was out of the car and around to my side before I’d even decided whether or not I was going to heed his instruction. He opened my door and held out his hand as I stood up. I didn’t take it. The last thing I needed was to have him actually touching me. I’d assumed that accepting this assignment was playing with fire and I’d most likely get burned. Now I knew that was the case. I was already scorched from our brief interactions.

  As I got out of the car, I expected Romeo to do the gentlemanly thing and step to the side. But instead of allowing me room to get by, he stayed exactly where he was. Which meant that when I straightened, we were face-to-face. Well, more like face-to-chest. At six-four, Romeo towered over me even when wearing my highest heels.

  A wash of air lightly moved over my face. The heat of his breath felt like butterfly wings brushing across my skin. It was soft, soothing, and I wanted to lean into it. But his breath wasn’t the only thing drawing me to him like a magnet.

  As a kid, teen, and young adult Romeo had always had a lean athletic frame. He’d been built like a basketball player. Now, he’d put some mass on his lean frame and he wore it well. Even through his T-shirt I could see that he was solid, strong, and chiseled. And the forearms that were peeking out beneath the hem of his shirt sleeves were so defined, so masculine, that my entire body erupted in tingles.

  “I really did miss you.” The gravelly quality of his voice sent a skitter dancing down my spine.

  “Oh,” I breathed.

  It was a lame response, one that had my hand itching to do a face palm, but it was better than what I wanted to say, which was, I missed you, too.

  But the truth was, I had missed him. And now that I was with him, I realized exactly how much I’d missed him. With each year that passed, I’d convinced myself that the connection I felt with him was that of a lovesick teenager. It was puppy love on steroids, not a real, tangible emotion.

  Now that I was with him again, I knew that I’d been kidding myself. I was beginning to realize that part of the anger I’d felt for him over the years had nothing to do with the rejection that night in Baton Rouge and everything to do with the fact that I’d lost my best friend.

  Romeo had disappeared from my life for all intents and purposes. Sure, he’d sent postcards from all the different countries that he visited, but I hadn’t spoken to him.

  I’d missed hearing his voice, not on interviews, but in person. I missed the way he tilted his head to the side when he was trying to figure out what I was thinking. I missed him trying to figure out what I was thinking.

  Which was what he was doing right now.

  It was too much. I felt emotions that I’d stuffed in a box, triple taped, and sunk into the depths of my emotional ocean start to surface.

  No. I was not going to fall apart. Professional. That’s what this arrangement was.

  I stepped around him and headed toward the entrance to the villa. “The Oasis Hideaway boasts four bedrooms and five bathrooms. There is an indoor theater, pool, sauna, and game room that includes a pool table and arcade games. Normally, there would be staff here, including a chef, driver, and on-call masseuse but per your request, I’ll be your sole concierge.”

  I opened the large wooden door and, as always, my heart sighed. This property was my dream home. From the first moment I’d seen it, I’d pictured myself living in it. I’d never actually stayed in it overnight, but it felt more like home than anywhere I’d ever lived.

  If this weekend had to happen, I was glad it was happening on my home turf.

  CHAPTER 6

  Romeo

  “Are you sure you don’t want to change?”

  After the short and rather impersonal tour, I suggested we play a game. If there was anything that could bring out the old Jules, it was a little friendly, or in this case not-so-friendly, competition.

  “I’m fine.” Jules set her jaw in the way she always did when she was being stubborn.

  “You’re gonna play in a pencil skirt and six-inch heels?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m at work. This is what I wear to work.”

  “Yeah, but it’s me. I pulled out your first tooth.” When Juliette’s front tooth was loose she’d been scared that it was going to fall out in her sleep and she’d swallow it so I’d jury-rigged a string and doorknob contraption and taken care of it. One slam and the tooth came flying out. “I taught you how to drive stick.” After several attempts from her well-meaning but quick tempered papouli left her in tears, I’d volunteered. My clutch was never the same. “I took you to the hospital when your appen—”

  “We don’t need a walk down memory lane.” She lifted her hand. “This weekend, you are a client.”

  Yep, stubborn. I’d forgotten just how damn stubborn Juliette could be. It was damn cute.

  “Fine.” I knew when to pick my battles and this wasn’t the hill I wanted to die on. Plus, as much as I wanted her to be comfortable, she looked like sex on a stick and I was really digging this corporate badass look she was rocking. It was serious fantasy-level stuff.

  I pulled out the game that I’d packed and set it on the table.
r />   “Is that…?” Her full lips parted.

  “Yep.” I lifted the lid and set it face down on the table.

  The inside of the Scrabble box lid was covered with our scores. One night when we were playing we couldn’t find any paper so we wrote on the corner of the lid and it turned into a thing. Every time we played after that we kept score on the lid.

  She picked it up, her expression one of total disbelief. Her fingers ran over the pencil marks. “You kept it?”

  “I did.”

  “Why?” Her brow furrowed and for the first time since she’d picked me up, I saw a crack in her hardened exterior.

  I wanted to tell her, Because I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I knew that it was too soon. Instead I went with a no-less-true answer. “Because it holds sentimental value.” Her expression grew more guarded at my confession so I quickly added, “It was the one thing I could beat you at.”

  My change in tactic worked and her lips twitched and I could see she was fighting a smile. It was then that I realized that in the hour we’d spent together, not one smile had lifted on her perfect lips. She’d politely grinned, but I hadn’t seen a full-blown Juliette Pierce smile.

  That was my new mission for the night. Before we went to bed I wanted, no needed, to see the smile that could power Madison Square Garden with its wattage.

  “Twice. You ‘beat’—” her fingers curled in air quotes “—me two times. And I was sick.”

  The winter break of her senior year of high school, I was home from college and was over at her grandparents’ house. I was there under the guise of visiting Jared, but the person I’d really wanted to see was Jules. After being there for hours, I finally broke down and asked where she was. Jared said that she was sick.

  I went up to check on her and found her in bed. She was burning up with a fever and could barely move from the pain. Her grandparents wanted to call an ambulance but I didn’t wait for them, I knew I could get her there faster. I picked her up and rushed her to the hospital. Her appendix burst in my truck on the way over.

  It was the single scariest night in my life. I thought that I was going to lose her. I’d sat with her after her emergency surgery, Jared and her grandparents had gone home. I sat and watched her sleep for hours.

  That night, with hospital machines providing our soundtrack, I’d told her how I felt about her. That I didn’t know when it had happened but I’d fallen in love with her. I told her that nothing in my life felt real until I told her about it. I told her things that I’d never have dared say to her in the light of day.

  She was released two days later and I spent my entire winter break hanging out at the Pierce house watching movies and playing games while she recovered. Scrabble had always been Jules’ game of choice, mainly because she had an insane vocabulary.

  During those two weeks, I was sure that it was glaringly obvious to Jared and his grandparents how I felt about Juliette, but they all thought that I saw her as a little sister. I didn’t.

  “I was on pain meds. Who can play Scrabble on pain meds?” She continued, defending her losses.

  “You were the one who chose Scrabble.”

  “Yeah!” She stated emphatically. “Because I was on pain medication and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “Are you saying there’s an asterisk beside my wins?”

  “Yes,” she stated definitively.

  “Are you trying to stall? Scared that when I beat you tonight you won’t be able to hide behind pain meds?” I taunted her.

  Her lips pursed in the most adorable way and without another word, she sat down at the table and removed the board. We chose our tiles and I could feel determination radiating off of her.

  “Draw.” She tilted the pouch so I could pick a tile to determine who would decide the order of turns. We always played that whoever drew the highest number tile decided if they went first or if their opponent did.

  There was strategy to it.

  “Ladies first.” I nodded toward her.

  She dipped her hand in and pulled one out, and a small grin appeared on her perfect lips and I knew her tile must be good. I stuck my hand in and pulled out an A, worth one point. I showed it to her and she revealed that she’d drawn a K, worth five.

  “Men first.” She gender flipped my earlier sentiment.

  I stared down at the tiles I’d selected, grabbed five of them, and laid them out. It wasn’t a high scoring move, but I really didn’t care about winning.

  Her left brow rose and I could hear her saying, Really, that’s all you got?

  I might’ve been able to make a better word, but tonight I’d consider it a win if I could get Jules talking. Relaxing. And, dare I wish, laughing. If Jules’ laughter could be bottled, it would make so much money she could end world hunger.

  Her finger tapped on the table the way it always did when she was concentrating and I refrained from talking to her while it was her turn. She’d never appreciated my small talk when she was considering her next move, and that had been back when she liked me. Loved me, even.

  Now, she was barely tolerating me and had made it clear that she was only there because she was professionally obligated to be in my presence.

  I’d always known that she had a crush on me, but I hadn’t realized the depths of her affection until I read that letter. It scared me. She thought the world of me and I knew that if anything happened between us then, I would’ve screwed it up. And I could’ve never lived with myself if I would’ve hurt her.

  I knew that sounded hypocritical considering the way I’d acted the last time I’d seen her, but after months of therapy, I knew that was the truth.

  I just didn’t know how to make her believe that. And even if she did accept that as truth, I still had no idea if she’d ever forgive me for the way I’d responded to her.

  There was only one way to find out. But before we got there, I had to start chipping away at the Fort Knox emotional barrier she’d built between us.

  When it was my turn, I took the opportunity to break the silence.

  “Have you talked to Jared lately?” I figured Jared was a safe topic. He was still my best friend and he and Jules were close.

  “Last week.” Her tone was so cold I was scared I might get frostbite.

  When she’d asked if there was anything else I needed before she “retired for the night” I knew she wanted me to say that I didn’t need anything. But instead I’d told her that I was still on West Coast time and asked if she wanted to play a game.

  I’d half expected her to argue that it wasn’t in her job description, but after a moment’s pause, she’d begrudgingly agreed. She wasn’t happy about it, but she was doing it.

  My next turn, I posed another question, “Been to any good concerts lately?”

  “I don’t go to concerts,” she answered dryly.

  For the next hour or so, I remained quiet during her turns and during my turns I asked questions.

  “Heard any good songs lately?” Maybe one of mine?

  “No. I mostly listen to NPR and podcasts.”

  Wait for her to take her turn…

  “Are there any good restaurants around here?”

  “The Bistro, it’s right off the lobby.”

  Another turn…

  “What is there to do for fun around here?” I had a few things planned for this weekend, but my plans were all based on things that she’d liked to do when she was a teenager. I had no idea what her interests were as an adult. Jared had mentioned going to a hot yoga class with her, but other than that, he maintained that all she did was work.

  Getting information from her was like pulling teeth. The bag of tiles was almost empty and I knew the clock was running out on the evening. I wanted to get into more personal subjects, but I knew that if I pushed things too fast, her head would retract into her emotional turtle shell and it wouldn’t see the light of day for the rest of the weekend. I had one chance to make this right and I wasn’t going to fuck it up by being impa
tient. So, I continued asking banal, awkward, first-date questions.

  “Have you seen any good movies lately?”

  “No,” she responded flatly.

  “I just saw the new Will Smith movie.” She’d been a huge Fresh Prince of Bel Air fan. “It was really good. I think it might get him an Oscar.”

  A tiny line appeared above her nose as her brows gathered together. “It doesn’t come out until Christmas.”

  “I got an early copy.”

  She murmured something under her breath. I didn’t catch all of what she said, but I did hear the words “rock star.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” She said as she plastered on another customer-service smile and laid down her final three tiles, adding ass to the end of jack, making her score double what mine was. With that, she stood.

  “I’ll be in the Cactus Suite if you need anything. Goodnight.”

  Her impersonal parting left a bad taste in my mouth. The sound of her heels clicking on the tile as she walked away from me filled the silence. My heart sank at the realization I hadn’t been successful in getting one real smile from Jules tonight.

  I’d lost a battle, but that didn’t mean I was going to lose the war. This weekend was a marathon, not a sprint. I just needed to be patient.

  Jules’ backside swayed as she disappeared around the corner and my body responded as if it were an invitation. My mind knew it wasn’t. I adjusted my now-snug denim and for the first time really looked down at the board. That’s when I realized something. I’d been so focused on her that I hadn’t noticed any of the words she’d made.

  She’d won by making jackass. But off that word was jerk. That’s when I noticed the board was filled with not-so-complimentary words that I was only now realizing must’ve been pointed at me.