Once Upon a Time (The Wacky Women Series, Book 3)

by Day Leclaire

  Callie looked down at herself, catching her breath in dismay. He wasn't kidding. She'd taken off her bra while baking the cakes because it had been so hot and uncomfortable. Big mistake. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Stop staring at me."

  Julian laughed, the sound rich and husky. "It almost makes me forget we're exes."

  She found it hard to breathe. "I'm only your ex-sister," she whispered. "Not your ex-anything else. And I never considered you my brother."

  Something glittered deep in his eyes. "And since I never considered you my sister..."

  He lunged toward her, catching her by surprise. With a startled gasp, she jerked away from him and scrambled backward, forgetting they were on a raft. For a crazy moment, she teetered on the edge of the wooden boards. Before she could fall, Julian pulled her into his arms.

  "Easy," he murmured, cradling her to his bare chest. His voice, filled with gentle amusement, rumbled against her ear. "What did you think I was going to do to you?"

  "Kiss me again."

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. "I didn't kiss you the first time. You kissed me, remember?" His smile died and he stared at her. "Or were you asking me to kiss you?"

  She stopped breathing altogether, horrified by both her confession and his reply. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut? "I thought you were going to kiss me. I didn't mean for you to actually do it." She waited in dread for his laugh.

  Julian didn't laugh. Instead he cupped her chin and raised her face to his. She'd been a pretty teen when she'd first come to them, all big green eyes and delicate, slender limbs. She'd grown since then. Changed. She was still all eyes, still delicate and slender, but with a woman's curves.

  "And the thought of my kissing you sent you into a panic?" he asked. "Why? Because of last night?"

  To his amusement, she winced at the reminder. "I wish you'd forget about last night. I was grieving. That's why I kissed you. I kissed you instead of eating chocolate cake."

  He fought a smile. "Are you grieving now?"

  "Of course I am."

  "Since we don't have any chocolate cake, I can only think of one solution."

  She turned her head and looked at him. Her gaze fastened on his mouth and she stared at it, mesmerized. He captured her jaw, brushing his thumb along the sweet curve of her bottom lip. And then he kissed her, swallowing her soft moan of desire. Her mouth moved eagerly beneath his, while a fierce need consumed him. He didn't give her time to do more than catch her breath before taking her under with another kiss. Her eyes fluttered closed and she relaxed against him, her lips parting.

  He took instant advantage, slipping inward. She tasted every bit as delicious as she had last night, in his opinion far better than chocolate cake. He hadn't planned to kiss her again, considering how it would exacerbate an already complicated situation. But from the moment he'd lifted her from the water, more beautiful than some sort of mythical mermaid, he'd wanted to kiss her again. Hell, he'd wanted to do a damn sight more than kiss her. He'd wanted to strip away her water-logged clothing and bare every inch of those womanly curves. Touch her. Kiss her. Stroke her.

  Take her.

  She shifted within his embrace, her hands inching up his chest until they clung to his shoulders. He rolled on top of her, sinking into warmth. Then he deepened the kiss, her response instantaneous. Her tongue dueled with his, while her hands wandered, just as they had the night before, restless and demanding, driving him insane with burgeoning need.

  "Julian," she whispered against his mouth.

  He started to pull back, to end something he never should have started, but she gazed up at him, her eyes as deep and mysterious as a shadowed forest.

  "Don't stop," she whispered.

  He debated between insanity and reason. Insanity won. "Okay, fine. Why the hell not?"

  He grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and over her head, baring her to his gaze. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything lovelier, her breasts perfectly shaped and just the right size for her delicate frame. The sun kissed her shoulders and arms, turning them a soft gold. It gilded her breasts, as well. Unable to resist, he kissed first one, then the other, catching the peach colored nipples between his teeth. She shivered helplessly, arching her back in silent supplication. Her breath kicked up a notch and her eyes darkened with unmistakable passion.

  "Better than chocolate cake," she murmured, then drew him down for another kiss.

  He traced a leisurely path along her curves, coming to rest at her hips. He wrapped his hands around them and molded her to him. She shifted beneath him, her breasts brushing against his chest, stirring a delicious friction. Groaning softly at the sensation, she wrapped her legs around his waist and held on tight. A connection flared between them, a oneness. It forged a bond he hadn't expected. Always before, coming home meant Willow's End. Now, he knew differently. Forever more, coming home would mean returning to Callie's arms.

  He didn't want to end the kiss. Didn't want to stop kissing or touching her. He wanted to yank off the rest of her clothes and take her right there, beneath an open sky with the sun glittering down on them like gold dust. But he couldn't. Not when so much stood between them. And not when her passion stemmed from grief.

  Reluctantly, Julian ended the kiss and pulled back. Callie opened eyes filled with regret. Remnants of passion marked her face, color riding high on her cheekbones. He traced the arch of her eyebrow with a gentle finger, then smoothed a strand of damp hair back from her face.

  "I've never seen your eyes look so green. They're beautiful."

  She linked her arms loosely around his neck and smiled. "I'll have to take your word for it."

  "It's amazing how much we've changed over the years." He fought the urge to kiss her again. It wouldn't be fair. Not when her emotions were in such turmoil. Nor would it help them resolve the issues between them. Issues like Willow's End. And the will. And the house repairs. And that endless list of tasks sitting on the kitchen table. Maybe if he focused on all the problems, instead of his desire, he wouldn't be so tempted to make love to her. "But I think it's time to talk, don't you?"

  She nodded, though he caught a hint of nervousness. "A talk is long overdue."

  He rubbed his jaw, suppressing his disappointment. Well, what had he expected when the only reason she'd responded in the first place was her need for solace? "Fine." He levered himself upward and snagged her shirt, tossing it to her. "I suggest we get serious about Maudie and her will. We've a lot to accomplish in less than two months. Which doesn't leave us much time for fun and games."

  No matter how spectacular he found those fun and games.

  Chapter 5

  Rule #12:

  Emotion is like a boiling pot.

  Both need lids,

  and neither belongs in business.

  Callie's eyes widened in hurt disbelief. She swiftly pulled on her shirt, grateful she could hide her face for a few, vital moments while she struggled with the damp cotton. Fun and games? Was that all their kiss meant to him? Hadn't he felt any of the pleasure, any of the attraction, any of the specialness of their embrace? Apparently not.

  She turned her face away in an effort to hide her confusion and dismay from his discerning gaze. She didn't understand. A connection had flared between them during their embrace, a oneness. It forged a bond she hadn't expected. Always before, home meant Willow's End. Now, she knew differently. Forever more, home would be found in Julian's arms.

  But the same couldn't be said for him. No doubt, she'd read too much into his actions. She'd mistaken mild pleasure on his part for something more. Worse, she'd practically begged him for that kiss. Should he be blamed for indulging her whim? It all spelled a simple difference of opinion. A misunderstanding. These things happened. She caught her lip between her teeth. These things happened all the time. Didn't they?

  She took a deep stabilizing breath. She didn't dare let him guess how she felt. "You're right. We should discuss Maudie and her will," Callie agreed
in a subdued voice. "Was her lawyer any help?"

  Julian hesitated, as though in response to something in her words or tone. Then he shook his head. "None at all. As you surmised, Peters has no idea where Maudie stashed her will."

  "Which is what I told you. You can't be all that surprised to have it verified."

  "Not surprised, no. But I am disappointed," Julian admitted. "I hoped he'd offer some clue about its whereabouts."

  Callie gave a little shrug. "Oh, well. Not to worry." She rested her chin on her bent knees. "Her latest note said she hid it good and proper. So I guess we'll just have to keep searching until we find it."

  A long moment of silence stretched between them. "You mean you found another of Maudie's notes and didn't tell me?"

  Was he annoyed? Callie glanced at him. Yup, he was annoyed. "It slipped my mind," she said truthfully. "I've got it right here in my pocket." She leaned back and shoved her hand into her stiff, damp jeans, pulling out a soggy and matted, pink piece of paper.

  Julian raised his eyes skyward. "That's just great." He stood, his restless movements causing the raft to rock beneath them. "I don't suppose you read the note and can tell me what it said?"

  "Yes." Callie hesitated. "You won't get angry?" He gave an impatient shake of his head and she confessed, "Maudie said she left a note which would reveal the location of her will. All we have to do is find the note."

  "First we have to find a will, now we have to find a note?" He struggled to keep control of his temper. "What could Maudie have been thinking?" He stared down at Callie. "Did she explain why she's done this, aside from the fact that I work too much and need a vacation? Though if this is her idea of a vacation, I think I'll stick to writing my book."

  She avoided his gaze. "I think she might have mentioned another reason."

  "What precisely did she mention?" he bit out.

  Callie tumbled into speech. "Maudie felt we'd grown apart recently and hoped this would bring us back together." She held her breath waiting for an explosion that never came.

  "Now that's the first reasonable thing she's said so far, especially considering what we were doing a few minutes ago," he announced in a calm voice. "Okay. Let's think this through."

  He reached down and snagged his shirt, thrusting it over his head. Next, he ran his hands through his hair, combing the short, unruly strands back into place. Callie watched the change with regret. Her Julian fast disappeared, replaced by the super analytical Mr. Lord. All he needed were those darned businesslike glasses to revert to the formal executive.

  "Where have you found these notes?" he asked with brisk efficiency.

  "Everywhere." He planted his hands on his hips and stared at her. She gathered that meant she should elaborate. "The notes about the will were in the study and the dining room. But her notes about the repairs she put everywhere. I've found them in drawers and under rugs, in the flour canister and under couch cushions." She shrugged. "I just gather them up when I find them and stick them with the others in my bedroom."

  Julian simply shook his head. "Considering your feelings toward Willow's End, I'm amazed by your nonchalance. Perhaps this will help spark your interest. If we don't find that will, you don't inherit Willow's End. I don't inherit Willow's End. According to Peters, my father would inherit her entire estate, lock, stock, and crazed St. Bernard."

  Impossible. Julian must be mistaken. "But—"

  "Not buts about it, I'm afraid. From what I understand, if Maudie was the last person in possession of the will, and it can't be found within a reasonable period of time, the court presumes she revoked it."

  He allowed his words to sink in before adding, "So, my sweet, if you don't want your home sold out from under you to finance one of Jonathan's South American expeditions, you'd better help me figure out where she put that note, not to mention the will."

  Callie's eyes widened in alarm. Her home. She could actually lose her home, and Brutus right along with it. She stared up at Julian in alarm. "No! We have to do something. You can't let Jonathan take away Willow's End and Brutus."

  If he felt any satisfaction at her change of attitude, he didn't show it. "It's all right, Callie. We'll find it. Don't panic. All we have to do is figure out how Maudie's mind worked."

  That did not sound good. Not good at all. How was she supposed to know the workings of Maudie's mind? For the first time she fully appreciated Julian's position. No wonder he'd been so upset by her attitude.

  "We can handle it," he attempted to reassure. "If we work together, I'm confident we can straighten out this mess."

  She nodded, fighting to keep from hyperventilating. "Right. Work together."

  He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. "Now pay attention." His voice contained a hard edge. "This is what I want you to do. Round up those kids of yours next time they come over and sell them on the idea of a treasure hunt. Give them the run of the place." He paused. "Within reason. But have them look for Maudie's notes."

  She nodded, more than willing to cooperate. How could she have known the will would be so important? "All right, if you say so."

  "I say so." Julian paced the raft, his restlessness a palpable thing. "With that book of mine to complete I only have so much time I can commit to this nonsense. I can't afford to play games, certainly not ones involving a will that might or might not exist."

  A trout broke the surface of the lake, leaping for a fly, and the sun flashed off its iridescent scales. No time for games. Callie turned her head and stared out across the calm green water. Kissing her had been fun and games. A waste of time. Did he consider sitting in the sun, talking, a waste of his time, as well? Probably.

  Her mouth drooped. She hated the changes in Julian over the past two years. He used to be so much fun. Inventive. Creative. Always one with a ready laugh and a zest for life that left her breathless. When had he started to calculate time with her in terms of wasted minutes or hours? When had he run out of time? He used to have all he needed with some to spare.

  But no longer. Now business was his god and time his taskmaster, while she'd become a distraction. Clearly, he didn't like distractions.

  Callie stood. "I should be getting dinner ready," she announced in a small voice. "I think I'll swim back now, if you don't mind."

  "You're right. As enjoyable as this has been—"

  "I know. It's time to get back to work," she finished for him, struggling not to show her hurt.

  Julian's hands dropped to her shoulders and he pulled her around to face him. "I was going to say that as enjoyable as it's been, I don't want you to catch a chill. The trees are blocking the sun and the breeze has picked up a bit."

  "Oh."

  "Yes. Oh." He continued to study her expression, his hands gently stroking her arms. She couldn't suppress a shiver. Of course, he noticed. "What's wrong, Callie? You've been acting very strangely the last hour or so."

  "Nothing," she denied, wishing he wouldn't touch her. If she'd been aware of him before, it didn't compare to what she felt now. His hand, warm and heavy, came to rest on the bare skin above her elbow.

  "It's that kiss, isn't it?" he guessed with uncomfortable accuracy. His lips curved upward, as though savoring the memory of their embrace. Callie caught her breath at his expression, only to release it in a rush when he added, "Forget about it, okay? Pretend it never happened. I'd hate for our friendship to be ruined over a meaningless kiss. Bad enough we let the misunderstanding over Gail come between us, without compounding our error."

  A meaningless kiss. Compounding our error. He'd never know how cruelly his words cut. She lifted her chin and stepped away from him, putting on a brave smile. "You're right," she agreed. "It's foolish to let one meaningless kiss spoil things."

  He grinned. "Good girl. Now take off your jeans."

  She stared at him. "What?"

  "You heard me. Take off your jeans."

  Her heart began to pound. "Why?" She managed to get the word past a throat gone bone dry. She swallowed. "What do
you want them for?"

  His eyebrows shot up. "I don't want them at all. I just want you to take them off before swimming back to shore. You nearly drowned getting out here. You'll find the going much easier if you don't have twenty pounds of dead weight pulling you under."

  Callie gave an emphatic shake of her head. "Forget it. I'll take my chances."

  "No, you won't." Julian turned his back to her, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm not looking. I won't even peek, I promise. Strip down and leave your jeans on the raft. I'll bring them with me and you can slip them on in the shallows."

  With a sigh, she unzipped the damp jeans and stepped clear of them, uncomfortable in only a shirt and underpants. Julian, Callie noted with mixed feelings, kept his promise and didn't move a muscle. Taking one last tantalizing look at him, she dove into the water and struck out across the lake.

  Even giving her a head start and hampered by the extra clothing he carried, he still beat her to shore. He stood on the beach watching her approach. Remembering the shortcomings of her shirt, Callie crouched low in the water.

  "Could you throw me my jeans now?"

  For an instant, she didn't think he would. He held them in his hand, a wicked grin on his face. Then, relenting, he tossed them to her.

  "Seems a shame, though," he commented regretfully. "Especially since I know for a fact that my, ah, ex has the prettiest legs in all of Willow." With a wink, he headed for the house.

  Callie clutched the wet jeans to her chest. "I'm not your ex-anything," she shouted at his departing back. She bit down on her lip. "I guess I'm not your anything at all."

  * * *

  Early the next morning, Callie slipped into the kitchen, determined to get an early start on her chores. And the list. She looked at the floor in distaste. With all the dust stirred up by the repairs, the linoleum didn't stay clean for longer than a day or two. A thorough sweeping and swabbing was in order. Rolling up her sleeves, she set to it.

  The sweeping part took no time at all, the rhythmic movement of the broom and the satisfying results giving her a feeling of accomplishment. Getting the bucket and mop from the pantry, she filled the metal container with hot soapy water and began the more prolonged chore of finding the white beneath the dingy gray of the floor. Halfway through the job, the phone rang.