by Nalini Singh
“Oh my God.” A dangerous brilliance on her face. “She was married to Reid Mescall.”
“Rach, you won’t—”
“Gossip isn’t my beat,” she said at once. “Also, I’d never use a private family affair to pass on a tip to another reporter.”
Well aware of her airtight ethical boundaries, Jake exhaled quietly—and tried not to look in Juliet’s direction. Did she have any idea how many wives her dance partner had left in his dust? Four at last count was what Jake had heard. The man obviously had serious moves, because even a mother couldn’t love that face, which had taken more than one beating.
Maybe Juliet went for rough rather than clean-cut.
Rachel’s voice brought his attention back to the woman in his arms. “I knew Reid was an idiot the first time I interviewed him, back when I covered sports, but having seen his ex in the flesh and having seen the friends she keeps—says a lot about a person, that—I can now state categorically that Reid Mescall is a major idiot. Imagine not doing everything you could to hold on to a knockout like her.”
Jake had zero disagreement with Rachel’s conclusion. Juliet’s ex-husband was a prize idiot. But not for the reasons Rachel had listed. No, Reid was an idiot for a whole other reason—the same reason Jake had never tried to get between Calypso and Juliet—Juliet’s capacity for fierce loyalty.
That time when Calypso got caught smoking with Juliet, Juliet had tried to take all the blame. In the end, she’d taken enough of it that the school hadn’t put anything on Calypso’s record.
Calypso had fought Juliet over that in front of Jake, but Juliet had been adamant. “You’re going places, Cals. Another demerit won’t much change my record, but it’ll mess up yours. I’m doing this—you back me up.”
“Jules—”
“You back me up, Callie. And when you’re a rich fancy-pants lawyer, come bail me out when I get in trouble.”
Any man who not only gave up that kind of loyalty but rewarded it with a smear campaign? Well beyond an idiot and straight into asshole territory, Jake thought as the song came to an end and another single male asked Rachel for a dance. As an amenable Rachel moved off in the guy’s arms, Jake checked on Esme—who was having a grand old time running wild with the other children—then went hunting Jules.
He was starting to think she’d ditched the reception when he finally saw her seated in a hidden alcove with a giant slice of wedding cake on a saucer. She cut into it with a fork as he watched, slipped the tines into her mouth. Her lashes drifted shut, her lips pursed; he could almost hear her moan of pleasure.
His cock twitched.
No, no, no. He couldn’t twitch for Juliet.
Yet he haphazardly grabbed a slice of cake for himself before going over to join her in the alcove.
She glared at him. “This is my spot. Go. Away.”
“I don’t see your name on it,” he said and took a seat. The alcove wasn’t that big, and his shoulder brushed hers, his hip pressing into a lush feminine curve. He was crowding her on purpose. Because the thing was… he wanted to fight with Juliet.
Dangerous as it was, he hadn’t felt this alive in a long, long time.
Her eyes flashed. Then she elbowed him under the guise of getting comfortable.
“Oof.” He rubbed his ribs.
“Oh, did that hurt?” She pointed her fork in his direction. “So, so sorry.”
Jake was grinning when his father appeared nearby. “Son,” he said. “Sorry to interrupt, but Uncle Tama wants to get home and his car isn’t starting.”
“I’ll have a look.” Jake took the keys his father held out… before he turned to Juliet and said, “It’s dark out. Mind coming and holding the torch for me?”
Joseph Esera broke in. “Oh, I can do that.”
“No, Mr. Esera.” Juliet’s smile was warm and generous. “It’s your son’s wedding. Stay, enjoy. I’m sure it won’t take Jake long to fix things.” She kept up that smile as Joseph patted her on the shoulder and told her she was a good girl before he walked away to tug Alison into a dance.
At which point Jake got the death glare magnified.
Driven to antagonize her by a madness he couldn’t shake, he took a bite of cake before rising to put his plate down on the alcove seat. “Cake’s gonna have to wait, Jules.”
“Where’s the damn torch?” She put down her own cake and stood.
“In my car,” Jake said automatically before realizing they’d come here in a limo. “On second thought—we’ll have to use our phones.”
Juliet took his phone when he handed it to her, then swung by the head table to pick up hers too. They’d just stepped outside when his phone flashed with light, a message popping onto the front screen.
Shuddering, Juliet handed it over. “I think it’s one of your groupies. Take it before I gag.”
The text was from a Trixi Kitten. “For your information,” he muttered after quickly scanning it, “that’s the name of my great-aunt’s cat.”
Juliet stared at him. “Do I look like I was born yesterday?”
“Read the message.” He held it out.
Folding her arms, she tilted her head to the side, just daring him to continue.
He held it up right in front of her face so she couldn’t miss the message: Jake, dear, are you checking your uncle’s car? Can you come look at Great-auntie’s in the next week? It’s making a strange noise and it scares me. Meow – Trixi Pussy
A kind of strangled sound erupting in her throat, Juliet nudged aside his phone. “Does she always…”
“Write messages as if it’s her cat?” He nodded. “She’s a perfectly sane human otherwise. Last week she beat everyone in her local pub quiz so she could win a nodding-cat thing.”
“The whole… er… pussy thing?”
“She’s eighty-nine. As far as she’s concerned, it means cat.” Jake rubbed his face. “She stood next to me while I was inputting her number and kept asking me why I didn’t list her as Trixi Pussy.”
Juliet’s laughter sounded like it was torn out of her. And the cock twitching got worse. That didn’t make sense. Why was her laughter turning him on? Or maybe it was the way she looked when she laughed, so open and warm and… as if she’d make him that way. Not this staid, solid stranger he sometimes felt he’d become.
Shaking off the thought because his solid and staid nature was what made him a good dad, he pointed to a pale blue VW Bug. “That’s it.”
The two of them walked across the parking lot, which was empty of all other signs of life. Just rows of cars—some bedecked with flowers and streamers in honor of the wedding—and a few standing lamps that cast just enough light so people could find their vehicles. Useless, however, for looking at an engine.
The land sloped down on the other side of the car, the old theater surrounded by manicured grounds that often hosted outdoor plays. Maybe he’d bring Esme to one of those, he thought absently as he unlocked his uncle’s car, then tried to start it to see what sounds it made, if any.
Juliet stood outside, tapping her toe on the tarmac and looking like a fantasy straight out of the midnight hours, times when Jake’s brain went its own merry way. Sex dreams weren’t exactly a surprise for a single male who had a sex drive he hadn’t been feeding, but the dreams had always been amorphous and erotic. No faces, nothing but sensations that led to frustrated arousal.
He had a feeling that was about to change.
When the hell had Juliet grown those curves?
Wishing he hadn’t left his jacket in the event space, he popped the hood before getting out of the driver’s seat; hopefully the dim lighting would conceal the interest in his pants.
“Here.” He handed her his phone. “I think I know the problem,” he said, propping the hood open.
The scent of Juliet washed over him as she stepped close enough to shine the torchlight from both phones into the engine.
“Tell me where you want it,” she said, and his brain decided to put those words in a tota
lly different—and dirty—context.
Gritting his teeth, Jake said, “Where you have it is good.”
Not responding to Jake’s comment because she’d become fascinated by the way his muscles moved under the fine white fabric of his formal shirt as he bent over the engine, Juliet told herself to breathe. She also reminded herself that she’d already had this conversation with herself and decided the physical attraction was pure nonsense.
But jeez, did the universe have to make him so gorgeous? There, fine, she’d admitted it. The gearhead jock had grown up into a panty-melting adult who adored his daughter, loved his family, and was kind to his elders. Even a great-aunt who liked to text using her cat alter ego.
He might have a stick up his butt, but Juliet would still like to see that butt.
Juliet Nelisi, you stop checking out Jake’s butt. STOP.
But the man was muscled everywhere. It was hard not to eat up the eye candy when it was right in front of her. Also, since a visual was all it would ever be, she might as well enjoy… except, this wasn’t just a random hot guy.
This was Jake.
“My arms are starting to hurt,” she muttered, because keeping him annoyed with her was an excellent and time-proven way to foster distance.
“Sorry,” he said, his focus obviously on the engine. “I almost have it. It’s just a loose… There.” Rising to his full height, he went to put his hands on his hips.
Juliet, her own hands full of phones, whacked his upper arm with one to stop him. Of course it was all taut biceps and heat. “Grease.”
He looked down at his hands. “Shit.”
“Go wash off in the bathroom. I’ll wait here.” She knew he had to start the car, check everything was okay.
He hesitated, a frown on his face as he took in the empty parking lot. “Sit in the car,” he said at last.
“Gee, Jake, I don’t know how I survived life without your advice.”
Juliet’s deadpan words had clouds moving across his face. “You know, you’re right. You’ll probably just stab anyone who attacks you. Probably with one of those weapons on your feet. No wait, I forgot your elbows.”
“Keep going and you’ll get a demonstration of just what I can do.”
He glared at her one more time before shifting on his heel to walk back to the venue. Except he only went three steps before turning to her. “Seriously, Jules, just sit in the car, okay? Or I can’t go inside and you can’t have cake.”
Juliet went to snap a comeback but decided to hurry this up. The faster he got cleaned up, the faster they could get this done with and she could get away from Jake and his potent aphrodisiac of a scent. “Fine, grandpa.” Ignoring the growl-like sound that came from his direction, she slipped into the driver’s seat and shut the door, then pointedly pressed the lock.
As she watched him walk off at last, she exhaled a shuddering breath. It was easy to be annoyed with him for acting all protective and overbearing, but a small part of her was shaken by how his care had made her feel.
No one had ever been protective of Juliet’s safety, not that way.
Her aunt didn’t care when she came home so long as she didn’t embarrass the family. Her grandparents in Samoa had set her a strict curfew, but it’d had nothing to do with protectiveness. It had to do with control.
As for Reid, the only thing he’d ever cared about protecting was his own ass.
As she sat there, she allowed herself to wonder what it’d be like to have Jake’s brand of protectiveness all the time. “It’ll probably drive you crazy,” she told the nutty part of her that was enamored of the idea. “He’s probably the kind of man who, if you go out after dark, will ask you to text him to verify you’ve reached your destination.”
Still… what he’d asked today, it hadn’t been an assault on her independence. It also wasn’t a major deal to reassure another person that you were safe. Might even be nice knowing someone would care if you didn’t check in. Her friends were wonderful, but they weren’t hers in the way Gabriel was Charlotte’s; Juliet wasn’t their priority, and that was normal.
Being Jake’s priority…
“Enough, Jules. That way lies madness.” It had been a nice wedding-virus-induced fantasy, but the fact of the matter was, she and Jake were dynamite and a flame. Even if he wasn’t so totally not interested in her, they’d drive each other to homicide.
He reappeared in the distance, a tall and broad-shouldered silhouette she’d never mistake. Unlocking the car, she stepped out, attitude wrapped around her like armor.
“That took long enough,” she said when he got closer. “Were you moisturizing in there?”
That was when she noticed he had something in his hand. A saucer holding a big hunk of cake and a fork.
“Here.” He thrust it at her while taking his phone so she had a hand free. “Caterers cleared away our half-eaten pieces, so I got you a new one.”
Damn it. Now he was giving her cake?
Juliet was not going to cave and jump his bones. He’d be horrified—it’d almost be worth it to see the look on his face. But she’d never live down the embarrassment of being rejected by Jake of all people.
Putting her own phone on the hood he’d just closed, she forked a piece of the decadent concoction into her mouth to shut herself up from saying anything stupid.
“You’re welcome,” Jake said as he stepped past her to open the car door.
“I only lost my cake because you made me hike out here,” Juliet pointed out.
His response was to start the engine. It purred.
Hallelujah!
Switching it off, he stepped out and locked the door behind him before putting the keys in his pocket. “I spoke to my uncle on the way out—he’s decided to stay a bit longer.” He looked at her cake. “That’s a big piece.”
“Yep. And it’s all mine.” Belying her self-satisfied words, Juliet used her fork to cut off a piece and nudged it in his direction on the saucer.
A small smile as he picked it up and popped it into his mouth.
Juliet didn’t know why they stood there in the parking lot, sharing cake, but they did. Afterward, the plate empty of anything but crumbs, Jake picked up her phone to hand it to her, and they walked back into the theater in a quiet that was weirdly comfortable.
No barbs. No sniping. Jake’s hand a light touch on her lower back as he walked inside a step behind her.
Protective.
Dangerously attractive.
“Jake, there you are,” said the woman with whom she’d seen him dancing.
A woman nothing at all like Juliet.
Fantasy nicely crushed.
Good. Now maybe the tingles would get with the program.
9
How to Murder Your Brother
Two days after the wedding and Jake was in a foul mood.
Standing in front of the mirror after his shower, he glared at the idiot who’d thought this deal was a good idea. Past Jake needed his head examined. And Present Jake needed to stop waking up hard as a rock after erotic dreams featuring a certain sharp-tongued bridesmaid.
Back in school, his English teacher had marked down his writing efforts for “lack of creativity.” It turned out his brain had been saving all its creativity to drive him insane with increasingly down-and-dirty fantasies. Crazed, he’d even jerked off prior to falling asleep in the hope it’d keep the dreams at bay.
Nope. Even in his dreams, Juliet played by her own rules.
She teased and she laughed and she made him wake sweat-drenched and frustrated.
His phone rang.
Towel hitched around his hips, he walked into the bedroom and—after seeing that it was Gabe—picked up. “Why the hell aren’t you concentrating on your honeymoon?”
His big brother’s response was quick and brutal. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t chicken out of today.”
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Jake muttered, tugging off the towel to pull on a pair of white boxer briefs. “
The damn contract is airtight.”
“Excellent.” Total lack of sympathy. “We need to set you up for what happens after you retire from the game. The body doesn’t last forever, Jake.”
Because Jake knew Gabe was speaking from painful experience, he made himself take a breath, released it slowly. “I know, I know,” he said. “But seriously, Gabe, an underwear commercial?” He was going hot under the skin just thinking about it.
“Face it, little bro.” Gabe chuckled. “You’re a heartthrob. Getting caught snuggling Esme after that championship win did great things for your marketability.”
Jake rubbed his temples. He’d hugged his daughter because he’d wanted to hug his daughter. Her tiny face had been so excited in the stands that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from running straight from the field to her. She’d laughed and told him he was “stinky,” but she’d hugged him back with boundless love.
Gabriel knew all that. The cool-eyed talk was to remind Jake that this was about ensuring Esme’s future as well as his own. Because the fact of the matter was, the underwear-commercial contract would net him a ridiculous amount of money—money he could sock away for a rainy day. Money that would provide a cushion if he got injured and could no longer play.
Unlike Gabriel—and despite their parents’ efforts—Jake didn’t have the best education. Between raising Esme and keeping up his rugby career, his younger self had maxed out. He’d never been one of the brainiacs in the family anyway. He could play rugby and he was good with his hands, with mechanical things.
In high school, the latter had been purely about cars.
Though he’d almost forgotten the old junker Juliet had mentioned, the one his parents had allowed him to keep in one half of their double garage on the condition that he mow the lawn every two weeks while the car was in there. He’d mowed a lot of lawn. He’d also spent all his discretionary money on bringing the junker to a “mean” standard, one that would inspire envy in his friends.
In the end, he’d made it nice enough to sell for a few thousand bucks—money he’d contributed toward baby stuff for Esme. The loss of the car had been worth it for the look on Calypso’s face when he told her they could get the nice brand of baby buggy instead of the supercheap one.
