After office hours, he was supposed to meet with his team to talk about Friday’s meeting with the investors. If he screwed up this golden chance, he might never get another. And also, at the end of the month, he’d officially be an ex-employee of Elliott Technology. Jobless.
It was definitely a twinge of nerves that hit this time. He’d been in Hershey two days, and still hadn’t explained to his father. Their once-close relationship was getting more and more strained. If he left in the morning without clearing the air, it might never be repaired.
Dad hated talking socially on the phone, so Dexter knew he shouldn’t just give him a call. At this, he had to chuckle. Jules obviously didn’t like cell chatting either. Maybe her adverseness to technology wasn’t strange after all.
While he sat on a boulder, Jules skipped stones across the lake, the afternoon sun glowing orange across its smooth surface. As he spoke with his assistant, Jules waded up to her calves, kicking water while holding up her long skirt. She had the bottom of it tossed over her shoulder, giving Dexter a very nice, though very distracting, view all the way to her midthighs.
“I’m assuming there’s no food in the house,” he said, ending his call. “Nothing fresh.”
“Doubtful,” Jules said, her cheeks flushed and rosy.
“What’s the name of that restaurant on the other side of the lake?”
“Jigger Shop?”
“Yeah.” He smiled, reeling in a youthful memory. “They had the best sundaes.”
“Totally.” Jules was smiling, too. “But they’re only open from Memorial Day through Labor Day. There’re a few other places in town.”
“Great. I’ll wait while you…” He was about to say for her to put on shoes, but didn’t bother. “I’ll run to the house and grab the keys.”
“Okay,” Jules said, playing with the ends of her tangled hair, the golden sun shining behind her. She was in the car when he came outside; the bottom of her dress was soaked, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
He couldn’t figure her out.
But wanted to.
They ate dinner across the street from a small art gallery. Dexter would’ve been blind to not notice how often Jules glanced that way, a wistful look in her eyes. It was cool when she talked about art, and he was about to ask her about it, but stopped. What if she brought up that painting of hers with the squiggly blue lines? What if she asked him what he liked about it?
It’s very…blue. And quite…squiggly.
No, he’d better keep replying to emails.
The sun was nearly setting by the time they made it back to the house. Dexter was about to accept an incoming call when Jules frowned.
“Do you mind?” she said.
“What?”
“Having that annoying technology constantly running along with your one-sided conversation isn’t the vibe I want in my house.”
Dexter could’ve given a dozen reasons why her argument was beyond mere quirky, but simply stayed where he was. “I’ll take it on the back porch.”
“If you don’t mind,” she said with an angelic smile. “Thank you.”
Jeez, this woman. Talking crazy but with the sweetest countenance. With the right guy, she’d be lethal.
Dexter walked across the deck toward the lake. His call took forty-five minutes, and since he’d gotten only a few hours of sleep the night before, thanks to crashing out on the floor, he was pretty beat.
They hadn’t yet discussed sleeping arrangements for tonight. Obviously they didn’t need to share a bedroom let alone a bed this time. And he was more than ready to hunker down anywhere, then catch his 10:00 a.m. flight.
When he got to the house, Jules was curled in one of the wicker patio chairs. The porch light was on; she had a blanket tossed over her and was flipping through a book. She looked so comfortably at home, he felt envious.
“I’m gonna sack out,” he said. “Which bedroom should I take?”
“There’s only one.”
“Not two?”
“The second isn’t really usable. There’s a bed. Kind of. But it’s buried under pillows and art supplies. Grams was getting ready for me.” She bit her thumbnail and looked past him, doing that zoning-out thing. “I put your bags in the master. We can share, I don’t mind, whatever.”
Dex had never been one to turn down an invitation like that, even if it was platonic. “Okay. I’ll just…then…” He pointed to the house, and when Jules smiled casually and flipped a page in her book, he walked inside.
Instead of the dust and old incense he’d sensed before, the house now smelled like citrus. All the windows were open and Jules had set up a few standing fans. It made a huge difference, and Dexter felt much more at home. Until he stepped into the master.
At least this bed was bigger than the one back in his old room, but a dark pink canopy hung from its wrought iron frame, heart-shaped pillows lined the foot of the bed, and the entire room looked like it had been decorated by a ’60s love guru.
He had no idea how long he stood in the doorway before Jules came up behind him. “Thought you wanted to sleep. You like the right side, yes? Grams always kept a spotless house, but I changed the bedding.”
He hadn’t noticed this earlier when Jules had been sitting on the deck, but she’d changed into a tank top and tiny sleep shorts.
“Um.” No, dammit. The whole room practically screamed sex.
Abstaining from that was mind over matter. But suddenly, that same image from last night flashed through his mind: Jules propped on a pillow, chatting away like the adorable, addictive little chatterbox she was. Smiling at him from one pillow over.
Ignoring an emotion-tugging image like that was not mind over matter for Dexter. He had no idea how to fight it. Therefore, no way could he share a bed with her.
“I’ll, um…” He grabbed his bag. “I’m just gonna sleep on the couch.”
“Why?”
“I snore.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Since when?”
Since never. “It’s been years. Probably sleep apnea—I should get tested.” He began backing out of the room, running into that same shelf with the wine bottles. “Got an extra blanket?”
Jules tossed him a quilt from the cedar chest. “You sure?”
“Yep. I’ll be fine. S-sleep tight now.” He closed the door, shutting her inside the bedroom, even though she’d said nothing about going to bed now.
In the living room, he took possession of the red velvet couch, grabbed a green pillow with bright orange suns embroidered on the front, turned off the light, and settled in.
For just one night, he thought as he tried not to hear the water running in the bathroom, tried not to wonder what his wife was doing in there.
Chapter Nine
Jules was pulling the whistling kettle off the flame when she heard a tap at the back door. Grinning Roxy was waving through the glass. What was she doing here? It was barely 7:00 a.m. After making her heart stop racing from surprise, Jules smiled and opened the door.
“Good morning.”
“Morning!” Roxy gave her a one-armed hug, because her other arm was carrying a rolled-up yoga mat. “You ready?”
“For…?”
“Sunrise yoga. We talked about it yesterday before you left the wedding. Remember?”
Jules had a vague recollection of it, but couldn’t remember actually inviting her curious sister-in-law to the cottage. Though she must have. There were so many lies flying around, she couldn’t remember all of them.
“Am I too early?” Roxy frowned. “Is Dex still in bed asleep?”
Jules’s Lemon Zinger shook in her hands, splashing over the sides of the cup. “Um, no, he’s…” Casually glancing past Roxy, she peered into the living room. The back of the red velvet couch faced the kitchen and two sets of fingers curled around its top. Between them was the upper half of Dexter’s head, wide-eyed, staring at her over the couch like Kilroy.
Crappity-crap. Roxy could not disco
ver that Dexter had slept on the couch. She’d blab it all over town, and Quent would sue Jules for false…something or other, then take her house.
“Hey,” she said to Roxy, “would you bring me another tea bag? They’re in the ceramic Elvis on the counter.” While Roxy’s back was turned, Jules pantomimed wildly at Dexter to stay down and sneak out of the room. He understood her gestures because a second later, Kilroy was gone and on all fours, crawling across the shag rug.
“Do you have coffee?” Roxy asked.
Jules bolted to her side and threw an arm around her, making sure she kept turned the other way. “Coffee? Sure, yeah. Grams didn’t drink it, but she always kept a can of freeze-dried on hand for guests. Um…” She tapped her chin in deep thought. “Let me think a minute where it might be. Hmmm. Why don’t you check the pantry—no, wait!” She jerked Roxy in the other direction when she saw Dexter’s reflection in the window, crawling toward the bedroom. “I think we’re out. Right, yeah, sorry. No coffee, but tea galore. Have a cup?”
“Sure,” Roxy said, stepping back and stretching her neck to the side like Jules had given her whiplash. “Dex? What are you doing down there?”
Quel busted.
“He’s, um, stretching! Aren’t you, baby?” Jules shot him a look that said to follow her lead. “It’s the child’s pose, see?” Why wasn’t he moving into position? How could he not know the child’s pose?
“Right,” Dexter said, kind of twisting his back while lifting one hand off the floor.
“That’s not child’s,” Roxy said.
“He likes to combine poses—he’s very advanced.” Jules smiled dotingly. “You can get off the floor now, sweetie pie. Enough stretching.”
Dexter dropped his chin and stared at the floor for a minute, then exhaled and stood, brushing off his knees. His hair was sticking straight up and sleep lines from the pillow striped his cheek. Jules’s heart did a full backflip at how doggone adorable he was.
“Think I’ll hit the shower now,” he said, hooking a thumb toward the bathroom.
“You’re not doing sunrise yoga with us?” Roxy asked.
“Um.” Dexter rubbed the back of his head.
“Isn’t that why you were just stretching? Warming up? I want to see the master in action. Jules told us how good you are.”
“I did say that,” Jules said, trying not to giggle.
“Well…”
“Oh, please. Don’t make me beg, big brother.”
Jules did giggle now, even harder when Dexter’s face drained of color. “Of course he’s joining us.” She moved to his side and patted his arm. “You wouldn’t miss it, would you, honey bunny?”
He looked into her eyes while wrapping a huge, strong hand around her arm. Jules could feel the heat of his annoyance, but wasn’t letting him off the hook. “Not for the world, pooh bear.”
“I’ll wait outside on the deck,” Roxy said. “I can tell you guys want to kiss or whatever, so take your time.” A second later, the back door closed.
“Thanks a lot,” Dexter growled in a low voice, squeezing her arm.
She smiled up at him. “You’re welcome, dearest.”
His eyes narrowed as he dropped her arm, muttering under his breath. “Tell her I went for a run.”
“Big guy like you can’t handle a little yoga?” She crossed her arms, offering him something she knew he couldn’t resist. “I’ll bet you.”
He gave her a long, appraising look. “Stakes?”
“If you complete an hour of sun salutation, then I’ll…”
“You’ll?”
“Not sure. What do you want?”
He rubbed his scruffy jaw and shot her an up/down scan that made her heart backflip again. “I want you to not add on to the house.”
She rolled her eyes—no more heart gymnastics. “Get off that, please. It has nothing to do with you.”
“It’s a really bad idea. Trust me.”
“Ha! Said the spider to the fly. How about I give you a massage after yoga, so you’ll be relaxed for your flight. Massage is my day job, and I charge big time.”
“Are you any good?”
She tried not to be insulted by the question. “I make the highest tips every week.”
“Okay, you’re on.”
Won’t matter, Jules thought with an inner smirk. Sunrise salutation might be ideal for beginners, but he’s so tied in knots, he’ll snap in half.
Dexter went to the living room for his bag. “But I have to be at the airport by nine thirty.”
“Plenty of time. Pooh bear.”
…
An hour later, Dexter couldn’t feel his legs. Or his arms. Or most of his head. But he’d stuck with it, dammit! It might’ve severed his spinal cord, but he completed a solid hour of yoga. The first few times through the sunrise salutation were a piece of cake, though did Jules have to keep explaining to Roxy—so apologetically—why his poses looked different?
Was it his fault a normal man wasn’t supposed to bend like that?
Now he was flat on his back, staring bleary-eyed at the morning sky, “listening to his breathing.” If Jules said that one more time, and in that annoyingly calm yoga voice, he’d punch a wall.
If only he could lift his arms.
“Dex? Sugar lips?” Jules nudged his shoulder with her foot. “Time to shower. You have a lot to do today. Remember?”
Dexter closed his eyes and groaned.
“I think he’s dead,” Roxy said. “Did you hear his back crack during the last upward dog? It registered on the Richter scale.”
“He’s fine,” Jules said, leaning over to gaze down at him, blocking the sun. “He overdid it, showing off for you. Right, my excellent strong man?”
“Yeah,” Dexter said, somehow finding the strength to roll over and push himself off the deck to stand. Every muscle in his body shook with the effort. “I should’ve warmed up more. Won’t make that mistake again.” He sent Jules—who was grinning like the cat who’d swallowed the canary—a glare as he walked to the back door. If she hadn’t looked so damn cute in her tie-dyed yoga tank top getup, he might’ve done more than glare.
But even his eyelids hurt.
When he stood still for a moment, he felt a humming through his body, like his blood was alive. The “nala” Jules had described. Despite the muscle pain, he felt…great. Energized. Maybe yoga and the other stuff Jules was into wasn’t all that odd.
“Can I have some water?” Roxy asked, stretching out on a vinyl beach chair. “Mmm. I could chill on this deck forever. Maybe I will. Such an amazing view.”
Jules shot Dexter a look he easily interpreted. Dammit. If his sister planned on hanging out here, he couldn’t exactly pack his bags and leave for the airport—which he was supposed to do in an hour.
“Hey, sexy lady.” He whistled a low catcall at Jules. “You know that special clause in your wedding vow. When I shower, you shower.” He nodded toward the house. “You have two seconds to take off those clothes before I do it for you.”
After the initial look of alarm left her face, Jules played right along. “You talk a good game, Mr. Yoga Master, but you don’t scare me.”
“I scared you last night, didn’t I? Three times, if we’re keeping score.” When Roxy still didn’t offer to leave, he added, “This time I won’t be nearly as gentle. And your two seconds are up.”
“Okay, you win,” Jules said, then peeled off her tank top and threw it over a chair, leaving her in nothing but tight yoga shorts and a purple sports bra.
Dexter froze. Yes, the woman had looked sexy as hell in his hockey jersey, and that towel, but he’d never seen so much of her skin at one time—not that he could remember, that is.
Freakin’ wedding night amnesia.
For a moment, his muscles strained, torn between moving forward to take her in his arms and holding himself back from doing just that. Maybe he needed another hour of yoga to clear his head.
“I won’t be as gentle this time, either,” Jules
said, walking past him and slapping his butt…which didn’t help the argument going on in his brain. “Now you have two seconds. Lose the clothes, sweet cheeks.”
What if he did take off his shirt and kept going? And what if Jules kept going, too? What if there was a pile of workout clothes on the deck and—
“You guys are equal parts cute and disgusting,” Roxy said. “Dex, you know I’m still traumatized from watching that YouTube video of Luke and Natalie making out at Hersheypark. Please don’t strip naked. I might never have a healthy relationship again.”
“Better scram, little sis,” Dexter said. “I’m about to do more than strip my wife naked.”
Jules’s mossy green eyes grew wide and her lips peeled apart. Was she forcing herself to remember this was make-believe, too?
“Disgusting—again,” Roxy said. “Mom and Dad will be here any minute, so there isn’t time for kinky newlywed shenanigans.”
“Your parents?” Jules stared at her. “Coming over?”
“Didn’t I tell you? Sorry, I meant to when I first got here.”
Dexter was now fully shocked into the present. “What are you talking about?” He looked at Jules. “Did you invite them?”
Jules had a hand on her cheek while she squinted off to the side. “Mmmaybe?”
“No one invited them,” Roxy said. “They wanted to surprise you, but since no one likes the parental pop-in, I meant to warn you.”
Dexter scanned the patio for his cell to call his parents and feed them a story about wanting to be alone with Jules. A story that wasn’t at all untrue.
Too late. A car was turning onto their street.
He and Jules shared a quick and silent look. She made a fist and opened it while subtly shaking her head. She didn’t know what to do, either.
“Better put on your shirt,” he said.
“Why?”
He sighed. “Please.”
“Okay.” Jules rolled her eyes and pulled her tank top over her head. “You’re so conservative.”
Wife for the Weekend Page 13
