Love Hard

by Nalini Singh

  His parents and older brothers would’ve given them whatever money they needed, but he and Calypso, they’d wanted to buy the baby gear on their own. God, they’d been so young. So unprepared for the adult world in which they’d found themselves. But that one moment, it had been happy. Innocent.

  “I won’t chicken out,” he promised his brother. “It’s not like I went into this blind.” Gabe had told him to take the offer, but only after Jake had considered it himself and laid out the pros and cons.

  In the end, it had been Jake’s call.

  “By the way,” he said. “I got the newest investment statement yesterday—thanks again for doing that for me.” Jake put any extra money he had into Gabriel’s hands because Gabriel was a genius when it came to money. Already, Jake had enough put away that Esme could study whatever she wanted in the future. He also owned his own place and had the funds to ride it out if a run of bad form kept him off the field for a period.

  He was determined that his baby girl would have the same kind of solid foundation his parents had given him.

  “No thanks needed. I’m fucking proud of you, Jake.” Blunt words from a brother Jake had idolized as a boy—and, honestly, still did. “A lot of people would’ve given up at the first hurdle, but you just put down your head and kept going. Now go look sexy.”

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  Laughing, Gabriel hung up.

  Afterward, Jake pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, then ran his fingers through his hair to put it into some sort of order—not that it mattered. According to the run sheet he’d been emailed yesterday, he’d be in “hair and makeup” as part of the torture session he was contracted to attend today.

  The run sheet had been signed Juliet.

  Just his luck that the woman overseeing the shoot had the name of the one who was haunting him. Juliet would probably cackle with delight at the odd coincidence. Jake wasn’t laughing.

  Thankfully, this Juliet was likely to be a no-fuss marketing manager who looked nothing at all like his Juliet.

  His Juliet.

  Two words he’d never predicted he’d string together. But not only was she haunting his dreams, he kept thinking of her at odd times throughout the day. Especially of how she’d shared her cake with him, of how it had felt to walk back to the party with her in a silence that was easy, and of how she’d caused him to come alive inside in a way that made him feel hungry and guilty at the same time.

  Scowling, he wandered into Esme’s bedroom. The sight of his daughter fast asleep, arms and legs flung out like a tiny octopus, made short work of the scowl. He grinned, still not sure how such a small human managed to take up so much room. She still snuck over to sleep in his bed now and then. On those nights, he could guarantee he’d wake to find himself clinging to the edge of the mattress while she sprawled all over.

  Crouching down beside her bed, he brushed strands of silky black hair off her face and kissed her on the soft warmth of her cheek. “Time to wake up, Boo,” he said, as he’d been doing for years.

  Mumbling a grumble, she turned in to him, arms rising to wrap limply around his neck.

  Gathering her up, he held her against him and stroked her hair as he carried her into the bathroom. First he set her down on the counter, then he wet a cloth with warm water and wiped her face. She screwed up her nose, stubbornly keeping her eyes closed. Well used to this, he put the facecloth down on the counter and gave her ribs a gentle tickle.

  A giggle, her lashes rising.

  Without her glasses, her brown eyes looked so big and vulnerable.

  Yawning, she watched in silence as he put toothpaste on her sparkly blue toothbrush branded with the face of a fairy princess. As she grimaced so that he could see her teeth, he began to brush her pearly whites.

  She woke up properly halfway through and took over the task.

  He knew it wouldn’t be much longer before she wouldn’t want to be carried into the bathroom this way, before she wouldn’t want her daddy to wipe her face to wake her up. Jake would miss this morning routine but knew they’d find a new one. He was proud of the strong and independent little girl she was becoming.

  After lifting her down from the counter to her feet, he left her to finish up her “morning business”—a phrase she’d picked up from Emmaline, who’d picked it up from Sailor. A younger Emmaline had always woken early and, fuzzy blue blankie tucked firmly under her arm, had toddled after Sailor around the house, asking him what he was doing.

  “Morning business,” had been a sleepy Sailor’s stock answer.

  Smile returning, he went into Esme’s bedroom to tidy up. He made sure to put Mr. Mouse in his customary position against the princess-branded pillow, where he’d be waiting for Esme when she got home from school. It still kind of stunned him that the baby girl who’d fit into his hands was going to school, but she was six years old now and an old hand at the student deal.

  Room tidy, he told her he was going into the kitchen to make breakfast, and she said, “I’m gonna wear blue today!”

  There’d been a time when Jake chose her clothes, but she’d begun to want to dress herself six months ago, so now he just kept an eye on things to ensure she hadn’t left a button undone or put on a shirt inside out.

  Once in the kitchen, he prepared a warm glass of milk, then made toast. With Esme, it was either toast or cereal for a week or two at a stretch. At the moment, it was toast. With her grandmother’s homemade marmalade and not a hint of anything else.

  Woe to him if he contaminated it with his own natural peanut butter.

  That done, he got to work making her lunch. It didn’t take long, and he was soon closing the lid of her princess lunchbox, which he then put in her princess backpack. He had no idea when this blue-princess phase was going to be over, but it showed no signs of losing steam.

  At least it made birthday gifts a cinch.

  “I’m here!” she announced, bouncing into the room.

  She’d chosen to wear her favorite black leggings with blue sparkles, paired with a long-sleeved T-shirt with—of course—the blue princess’s face emblazoned on it. Over the top, she’d put on a denim jacket that Ísa had given her for her birthday.

  In her hand was a hairbrush and a sparkly blue hair tie.

  While she scrambled up into a chair at the kitchen table to eat her breakfast, he took the hairbrush and began to smooth her hair back into a ponytail. Man, but he loved her current choice of style. For a while it had been the blue princess’s freaking French braid, and he’d had to watch online videos to figure it out, then hit up his sister-in-law for further instructions.

  Her hair done, he joined Esme at the table to eat his own breakfast: heavy on the protein at the moment because he needed to bulk up a touch more for peak form. “I have a meeting later today,” he said as they ate.

  “Will Grandpa pick me up from school?”

  “No. Uncle Sailor. He’s going to take you and Emmaline with him to an out-of-town nursery.”

  Beaming, she bounced up and down in her seat. Not only was Emmaline one of her “most favoritest” people, getting to ride along with Sailor was an adventure. He always found a strange plant to show the girls, or a new fruit for them to try. Last time it had been an experimental kiwifruit variant that had a burst of red at its heart.

  “I’ll pick you up after dinner.” He tweaked her nose. “You can tell me all about your adventures.”

  After breakfast, she helped him clean up.

  “Time to head out,” he said afterward and grabbed his keys and phone for the walk to the local primary school. Once there, Esme gave him a kiss on the cheek before running off to join friends, who were playing on the swings before class.

  Jake, meanwhile, turned around to go torture himself by participating in an underwear commercial. Seriously, he was going to murder his own past self for thinking this was a grand idea. “It’ll be easy, Jake,” he muttered once he was back home and in his SUV. “You’ll be in and out, Jake. Oh,
no biggie, Jake, but they might want to oil your abs. Argh!”

  The drive to the large warehouse where the filming and associated photo shoot was to happen took him forty-five minutes in the heavy morning traffic, but at least there was plenty of parking at the site. After slipping his SUV into the spot next to a teammate’s insanely beautiful yellow Porsche 911 with its air-cooled flat engine, he got out at the same time as the other man.

  “Ready to get your kit off?” Leo asked with a grin, his green eyes dancing and his mop of dark brown curls wind-tumbled against skin of a deep caramel shade that came from what he called his “melting pot” genetics. “Hope you’ve been doing those crunches.”

  “According to the radio, I’m not the one who got caught stumbling out of a club at midnight,” Jake said before exchanging a fist bump with the other man. “I thought your girlfriend was a redhead.” The tabloids had apparently caught him with a black-haired supermodel from Bulgaria.

  “So last week, man.” Leo wolf whistled at another teammate who’d just gotten out of his own vehicle, a top-of-the-line black Ferrari F8 Tributo with incredible engine dynamics. “Can’t wait to see you seminaked, hot stuff!”

  That got him the finger from the tall and quiet Fijian-Kiwi winger with skin two or three shades darker than Jake’s.

  “My mother is going to disown me,” Viliame muttered.

  “After she shows off the pictures to all the church ladies,” Leo predicted as the three of them waited for the final victim to emerge from the other side of Vili’s vehicle, with whom he’d caught a ride.

  With amber-blond hair he tied up in a bun when on-field and a small beard, Christian played Gabriel’s former position, had the same build, and seriously looked like a Viking, hence his on-field nickname. The women went crazy over it—but the Viking was of the same mindset as Jake and Vili. No partying, his focus on the game.

  They walked into the warehouse together.

  A shapely behind encased in a black pencil skirt was bent over a table not far from them, the woman’s long bronze and red-streaked black hair pulled back into a neat braid.

  Leo nudged Jake with his elbow. “Forget the Bulgarian beauty. My tastes have undergone a curvy shift.”

  Jake was barely paying attention. Surely, surely, fate couldn’t be that cruel. But oh, it was. Because when the woman rose and turned toward them with a smile, a clipboard held in her arms and a Bluetooth headset tucked over her ear, it proved to be the same woman whose mouth and body and breasts taunted him nightly.

  His Juliet.

  10

  Jake Takes Off His Clothes (No Other Enticement Necessary)

  Juliet had known he was coming. His name was right there in her run sheet for today. The fact her temporary assistant had messed up the original sheet and accidentally left off his name so she’d only found out yesterday shouldn’t have made a difference. She had this job because she could handle unexpected events.

  Everett relied on her to be the calm, practical center of E. E. Designs.

  Yet heat stung her cheeks while an odd sensation twined through her abdomen—and not just because she’d had the most erotic dream of her life the previous night, with Jake front and center.

  No, it was because, though dressed-up Jake was good-looking in a preppy kind of way, dressed-down Jake was the type of man she could imagine having a pizza with while laughing over a comedy show on television… before they got sweaty, dirty, and very, very naked.

  Shakiness or not, she was smiling and words were coming out of her mouth. “Gentlemen, it’s lovely to see you. Would any of you like coffee, tea, a shot of liquid courage before we get you into hair and makeup?”

  Three of the guys laughed. Of course the one who didn’t was Jake. As was often the case, he was looking at her with a slightly disapproving expression on his face. Well, that was the last time she shared cake with him. She fought the urge to narrow her eyes; she had to be professional and adult in this environment.

  “No caffeine until after the mostly naked shots are taken,” Leo said, a flirtatious grin carving deep grooves in his cheeks.

  Juliet ignored the signals—in a diplomatic way. She knew his record, and it involved a new woman every night of the week. Leopold “Leo” Naughton also seemed to be the subject of back-to-back tell-all stories in the gossip mags. Most featuring kittenish, pouting creatures who told anecdotes of his “breathtaking prowess” in bed, followed by his “coldhearted rejection.”

  When confronted about the stories, Leo would smile a cheeky smile, shrug, and point out that he was young and single and so were his lovers. He’d then turn up at the hottest clubs with a new woman—or two—on his arm.

  Men loved his swagger.

  Women had been known to throw their panties at him.

  So yeah, even if Juliet had been looking for another athlete lover, which she would never ever, ever do, even on pain of having her teeth removed without anesthesia, it wouldn’t be Leo.

  “How about the rest of you?” she said with a smile.

  Viliame, Christian, and Jake all just pointed to the bottles of water her assistant had stacked on the table for them. Unsurprised at their desire to keep things clean before the shoot, she turned to lead them into hair and makeup. Someone was definitely checking out her ass; she could feel the appreciative male gaze.

  Probably Leo.

  It annoyed her that part of her was hoping it was a certain stuffed-shirt Esera.

  “Today’s photographic and recording team is a compact but highly experienced one,” she said as she walked, because keeping her mind on business kept it off Jake—who was going to be all but naked in the very near future.

  Her knees threatened to lock.

  Clenching her gut, she continued on. “All have impeccable professional records. You can be assured they won’t leak any images ahead of the launch—though, of course, if you want to take any for your own social media, please feel free.” Her boss would be ecstatic at the free publicity.

  “Leo is always near-naked on his accounts.” Christian’s distinctive baritone. “This’ll be business as usual.”

  “Yeah, man,” Vili said. “I had to rinse my brain with mental bleach after I scrolled down and nearly got traumatized by your pubes. Blankets are supposed to cover you.”

  “Jealous, boys?” Leo flexed one ripped arm. “I have the bod and the moves, so why not show it off?”

  One of the men snorted. It wasn’t Jake. Jake had been silent since the moment he walked in, but she could feel him staring at the back of her neck, the laser beams of his eyes drilling into her skin.

  “So,” she said, having reached the hair-and-makeup station. “We’ll be doing individual as well as group shots before we record the commercial. Who wants to go first?”

  Predictably, it was Leo who volunteered; Christian went with him.

  “Viliame, Jake, if you’d follow me to our locker room set,” she said with commendable calm. “Our photographer and camera crew will talk you through the planned shoot so you can get straight into it after Christian and Leo are done.”

  “Call me Vili.” The winger smiled at her while Jake remained stone-faced.

  Deciding to take that personally since she’d seen him smiling at other people—hell, he’d even smiled at her during the wedding—she lost the battle to remain friendly and professional. “You’re doing a wonderful job with the tall, dark, and silent look, Jake,” she said with what others would see as a playful smile, but Jake would know for a pinpoint strike.

  Vili gave a big laugh and slapped him on the shoulder while Jake’s eyes flashed.

  “Good,” he said without cracking even a miniscule grin. “It means I can get this over and done with quickly.”

  Jeez, why didn’t he just take out a sign: I can’t wait to see the back of Juliet.

  Her blood heated, the fire of battle licking through her. Well, Jacob Esera wasn’t the only one who wanted to salt the earth and chant incantations to ensure their paths never again crossed.
Too bad that was impossible with the contract between him and E. E. Designs.

  Keeping a sweet smile on her face through sheer effort of will, she led them to the media team that’d be shooting both the print and television ads. Everett was also there. Many business owners would’ve left a campaign like this to an ad agency, but Everett had a distinct vision of how he wanted his designs showcased, which was why Juliet—instead of an outside ad exec—was overseeing the entire thing.

  It wasn’t the first time Everett had taken this approach; he not only wanted full control of his brand, he had the kind of mind that came up with great ad concepts. As a result, Juliet had handled more than one shoot for him—though this one was, without doubt, the biggest.

  Today, her silver fox of a boss, slender and tall, shook the men’s hands. “I’m so glad you decided to be a part of this campaign. I think it’s going to be phenomenal.”

  Though Everett was doing a great job of sounding cheerful but composed, Juliet had seen him dance the Macarena in his office when first Leo, then the others, had signed on. This would take his design business to the next level—these four men were extremely expensive, but their impact was massive in a country where rugby was all but a religion.

  Add in the other major rugby-playing nations where they had a following and Jake, Leo, Vili, and Christian were worth every penny. So regardless of her irritation with Jake for inciting this insane unrequited attraction inside her, she was happy for Everett. Her boss came across as urbane and sophisticated and more upmarket than down to earth, but scrape away the posh veneer and he was one of the good guys. It was nice to see him succeed.

  While the technical crew and Everett spoke to Vili and Jake about today’s process and reviewed the creative vision on which all four men had already signed off, she fought the urge to go over and shake Jake. If he didn’t lose the stiff face and stop doing an amazingly lifelike impression of a robot, he was going to drive the crew crazy and draw out the shoot to a frustrating length.