Meant to be More (Meant to Be Series Book 4)

by Amelia Foster

  Which was probably a mistake of the most epic proportions when she shot him a challenging glare and stood, the sheet falling from her body and taking all the oxygen in his lungs with it.

  “Sure thing, Sparky.”

  Even if he tried there wasn’t a chance in hell he could stop his eyes from tracking every sway of her hips and perfectly round ass as she walked away with more confidence than should legally be allowed. As soon as the door clicked closed behind her he flopped back against the pillows and scrubbed his eyes with a groan.

  What in the hell was he doing?

  He sprung up from the mattress and snagged the boxers that somehow were hanging from the lamp on the dresser on the opposite side of the room. He slid them on, needing a barrier of some kind in place so he didn’t run into the shower and join her. The water spray echoing from the luxurious bathroom was tempting as hell. Especially when his mind began creating images of drops tracking from one delicious little freckle to the next.

  He grabbed the suitcase that was still sitting right beside the door where he’d dropped it last night and plopped it onto the sofa in the living area of the suite. The room seemed like a waste for one night, but Georgia had insisted they needed at least some time away.

  And then promptly berated her husband for expecting Dean back at work Monday morning.

  He rooted through the luggage until he located the jeans and casual shirt he’d packed. An irrepressible grin took over his face. This sort of “honeymoon” would probably be shot down by ninety percent of women, but it would be something Jillian would love.

  Dean balled up his clothes and tucked them under his arm, resting his shoulder on the frame, waiting for Jillian to appear. She pulled the door open and jumped slightly, resting a hand on her chest, bare above the knot holding the towel wrapped around her.

  He quirked a brow with a blatantly mischievous smirk, his gaze traveling up and down her barely covered body. Crossing that line with Jillian was either the smartest or stupidest decision of his life.

  She smacked his upper arm and crossed the room to fish out clothes from the suitcase he’d left open on the chair. “You’re impossible.”

  Dean just laughed and whistled a random tune as he closed himself in the bathroom. Somehow the steamy space managed to retain the light, airy citrus scent that defined Jillian despite her use of the hotel provided body wash.

  He forced his mind to anything but her as he scrubbed himself clean and quickly dressed. He had a plan and he was impatient as hell to put it into action.

  By the time he emerged from the bathroom, she was dressed in denim capris and a white top with blue and mauve stitching and cut out shoulders. It was the quintessential bohemian look she’d mastered early into her freshman year of college.

  “Ready to go, Mrs. Monroe-Carlisle?” Maybe a little cheesy, maybe a little pathetic, but he really liked how that sounded.

  Jillian tilted her head to the side and her gaze went from amused to stormy to something he couldn’t read in under five seconds. “What exactly do you have planned?”

  He grabbed the suitcase from the chair with one hand and snaked the other arm around her waist pulling her firmly against his body. “If there is one benefit to fake marrying your best friend, it’s that he will for real know exactly how to show you a good time.”

  ***

  Jillian

  Present Day

  The naked gray building looked more like a warehouse than anything else and gave Jillian exactly zero clues about what was contained inside. She tilted her head and gave Dean a quizzical look as he threw his tiny sports car into park. She had been fairly impressed that the car his parents had bought for him as a graduation gift remained as spotless and immaculate as it had when it left the showroom floor.

  As always, Dean knew her better than anyone else and immediately responded to her unasked question. He turned slightly in his seat to face her. “You keep talking about all the things I’m giving up because of this.” He gestured back and forth between them. “But I know you and I know that being in one place, being stuck in my townhouse with nothing to do is probably going to kill you.”

  She dropped her gaze to her lap and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “It’s more complicated than what I want.”

  Dean hooked a finger under her chin forcing her to look him in the eye. “What you want is my top priority.”

  A wave of emotion washed over her, the realization last night that the feelings she’d had in high school resurfaced and were far stronger than before still so fresh and leaving her already aching heart raw. He had no idea the impact of those few words.

  She swallowed back the lump that had formed so quickly in her throat and put on a smile she hoped appeared far more carefree than it actually was. “You’re aiming for BFF of the year aren’t you, Sparky?”

  He winked and smirked, then climbed out of the car before answering. In the handful of seconds it took him to round the hood she closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Having sex with Dean might have been the biggest mistake she ever made. With damn near anyone else she could have fallen into a friends with benefits relationship easily. It made sense for her in nearly every aspect.

  But Dean was the one person it couldn’t happen with and she should have known better than to try.

  Before she was ready, he yanked open the door and held out a hand to help her out of the low riding vehicle. “I’m pretty sure I’ve had that particular award in the bag for at least twenty years.”

  He laced his fingers through hers and tugged her toward the glass front door. If she tried, she wasn’t sure she could count the number of times they’d held hands, but deep within herself she noticed a change. One she was positive was one-sided, but present nonetheless.

  And in that moment she wasn’t sure she could survive the end of their supposedly fake marriage that was currently far too real.

  “So, what’s the plan here, Sparky?”

  He opened the door, released his grip on her, and rested his hand lightly on her lower back as he entered the room a step behind her. “You’ll see.”

  She pressed her lips together, her eyes darting around the space to try to solve the mystery in her head.

  An older man with a receding hairline and expanding waistline approached them with a wide grin and stuck out a large paw toward Dean. “Hey, you did come.”

  Dean shook the other man’s hand in a brief shake. “I told you we were coming.”

  “I didn’t think you were actually serious about that. Who the hell shows up at a place like this the day after they get married?”

  Dean looked down at Jillian, put an arm around her waist, and pulled her close to his side, her body fitting his perfectly and her heart shredding just a little more. “We aren’t your normal, average couple, are we, Jillybean?”

  We aren’t a couple at all, although I am fairly certain I would give damn near anything to make this real right now.

  The vehemence of the thought even shocked her and she struggled to paste a nonchalant smile on her face. For once she was grateful for cotillion and etiquette classes and the ceaseless lectures from her mother to always put on a happy, genial face, no matter how much she was dying inside.

  As much as she could, she ignored the storm of emotions raging havoc in her and dutifully followed the man, whose name she still didn’t know, and Dean as they led her behind a set of heavy metal security doors.

  “So Jillian,” the man said as he led them down a corridor, “you ought to know that Dean brags about your work with Doctors Without Borders all the time.”

  She nodded and some of the turmoil swirling inside her settled. Her work was something she loved, something she was passionate about, and was far more than a simple career choice. She believed with every iota of her being that this was her purpose in life, helping people by actually helping and not slapping a sad picture on a fundraising poster. Although, shortly after she began working, she gained a measure of gratitude for what her moth
er did. Funding was definitely always needed.

  Dean was right. Staying at home for the next eighteen months might kill her.

  She looked up at Dean as the man turned to the left and pushed open another set of doors. “You two have known each other for a while?”

  A small smile curled Dean’s lips as they all stopped just inside the large room. “I’ve changed a bit while you were gone.” His voice was soft, and it was as if they were cocooned in their own small world. “Sam and I have worked together for a couple of years now.”

  “Dean has been a huge help in working with some of our people and helping us get started.” Sam—she was grateful to finally know his name, but annoyed when his voice cut through, breaking the magic spell that had descended over them. He held an arm out and turned in a half circle, encompassing the entire room in one sweeping gesture.

  Jillian drew her brows together as she took in the mountains of medical supplies piled on tables around the periphery of the expansive space. Her gaze darted from the massive hoard to Sam, and then finally rested on Dean. “I don’t understand…”

  Her best friend, who lately she was feeling as though she might not even know anymore, laughed lightly. “I figured for a girl like you, there would be no better honeymoon activity than helping out at Sam’s community outreach.”

  Dean led her to the various tables stocked with syringes and masks and gloves. “Sam and a couple of other doctors in the area have begun a privately funded and privately owned project to help provide those who are homeless or low income with free vaccinations and some basic supplies to protect them while they are out.”

  The other man nodded, a shadow of concern crossing his face. “The state has clinics set up for people to go to, but not everyone feels comfortable in a government run setting. Some avoid being on the radar like the plague. Here we don’t ask for real names or any form of ID. We keep track of who is who on our own, but we just offer safety and help.”

  He grabbed her hand and led her from the room into the next one through an adjoining door. “We also have coats and blankets and sleeping bags.”

  His excitement was nearly palpable and so very contagious as he took her down the hall into a huge kitchen that she couldn’t help but giggle. “And we have dinner every night as well as some bags of food to take with them like juice and granola bars and…what is that look for?”

  Heedless of the warning sirens blaring in her brain telling her that this was a very bad idea, she grabbed his face between her hands and planted a firm kiss on his lips. “Dean Carlisle, you might have just won husband of the year as well.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Dean

  Nine Years Earlier

  Dean skipped a rock across the pond. Then he kicked a clump of grass. Then he pulled a few random weeds out.

  “How long can a graduation possibly be?” He muttered the question into the empty space around him with a grunt. He was still annoyed that Jillian only was allowed to have four guests at her graduation and every spot had been claimed by her parents, brother, and grandfather.

  He sank down onto Fredrock and turned his attention back to her house in the distance, hoping to see any sign of movement that she was home. Waiting was most definitely not his strong suit.

  Finally after nothing short of an eternity had passed, the back door of her house slid open and Jillian sprinted across the lawn toward their spot—still wearing her cap and gown, a fact he found incredibly amusing. Even more so when she had to hold a hand on the hat to keep it from flying off as she ran.

  Dean stood and opened his arms, catching her in a firm bear hug. “You did it, Jilly!”

  She pushed back on his shoulders slightly so she could look him in the eye. “I did! And I didn’t throw up or run away either, so that is a total win.”

  With a deep chuckle, Dean lowered her back down onto her feet. “Definitely counts as a win to have a vomit-less graduation ceremony.” He stood back and eyed her up and down. “I thought your parents were taking you out to dinner after the graduation. Why are you still wearing all that?”

  She ducked her head and looked up at him through her lashes. “You couldn’t be there and I wanted you to see me, so I put it back on.” Her fingers traced the lettering on the gold stole around her neck that declared her Valedictorian status in bold, black letters.

  “Oh!” She hiked up the skirt of her robe and fished around in the hidden pocket of the white dress she wore beneath it. She entered her passcode into her phone and held it out to him. “Brad recorded my speech for me. Want to watch?”

  He took the device with a broad smile and sat down on Fredrock, patting the smooth stone beside him. “This definitely classifies as must see TV.”

  Jillian grinned back at him and took a seat beside him, drawing her legs up so her knees pressed into her chest. “All you’re missing is the popcorn.”

  “I’m good like this.” Dean put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him, holding the device out so they could both watch. “Now hush, this is rumored to be the speech of the century.”

  Resting her forearms on her knees, she shook her head. “Not even close there, Sparky.”

  The images on the screen blurred and then the audio cut out. Jillian gasped and grabbed the phone from him. She turned it on and off then did a hard reboot. “No, no, no, no, no.” She looked up at him, the corners of her eyes glittering from unshed tears. “It’s not working. What the hell did he do wrong?”

  Jillian mad was entertaining. Jillian sarcastic usually meant she was cracking jokes at his expense. Jillian passionate was a work of art.

  But Jillian on the verge of tears was Dean’s only weakness.

  “Hey.” He hooked a finger under her chin and brought her eyes up from the device she clutched so tightly he was sure she’d crack the glass screen to meet his. “Why would I want to watch a video anyway when I have the real thing live and in person?”

  Her mouth fell open and she shook her head. “I can’t…here?”

  Dean held a hand out to her and helped her stand up on Fredrock. “Take it away, Ms. Monroe. You have a completely captive audience of one.” He winked. “But don’t take too long, I don’t have popcorn and I’m starting to get hungry.”

  Jillian’s eyes lit up. “Ice cream?”

  He groaned and smacked the heel of his palm to his forehead. “Fine, I’ll feed your never ending appetite after you deliver your valedictorian speech.”

  The sun began setting just over her shoulder as she spoke, kissing her red hair with the fading light and creating a natural spotlight behind her. She fidgeted with her stole as she started speaking, but soon fell into a natural rhythm and delivered every word with passion and conviction.

  Two things that defined her life.

  And two things Dean couldn’t manage to discover about anything other than his best friend. Their relationship was the most precious thing in the world to him and he’d protect it with everything he had.

  ***

  Jillian

  Nine Years Earlier

  “Dean Carlisle.”

  As soon as the superintendent called out his name, Jillian leapt to her feet, screaming and cheering, clapping until her palms stung. She was certain he couldn’t hear her with his parents, brothers, and sister-in-law all just as loud, but she loved being able to show how proud she was of him.

  After the ceremony closed, she ducked and pushed her way through the crowd until she located Dean and promptly launched herself into his arms.

  “Sparky, I am so proud of you!” She squeezed his neck tight and gave a small squeal in his ear.

  He held onto her tightly for a moment before setting her onto her feet. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t top of the class like some people, Miss Valedictorian.”

  Jillian rolled her eyes. “It’s a pointless title that means absolutely nothing.”

  “Hey, Deano.” Some guy with sandy blond hair walked up to them, clasped one of Dean’s hands in his and patted Dean on
the back with the other one. “We survived.” His gaze landed on Jillian and they lit up with appreciation. “This your girlfriend?”

  She opened her mouth to correct the other man, but Dean draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side before she could speak.

  “Yeah, it is. And we have plans so I have to go, but I’ll catch you around, Tyler.” With that Dean steered her away from the crowd toward where his parents and siblings stood.

  Jillian stood back for a moment as they all hugged and congratulated him. Dean’s immediate declaration that she was his girlfriend was confusing and unsettling.

  And reignited the want deep inside that she was desperately trying to ignore.

  He broke away from his family and grabbed her hand. “We’re going to meet them at the restaurant.”

  She looked over at him out of the corner of her eye as they wove through throngs of people to find their way to the parking lot and, eventually, located his car. She kept her mouth shut until they were both inside and buckled and stuck in a line of traffic.

  “So want to clue me in on what that was all about?”

  Dean drew his brows together and frowned at her. “What was what about?”

  Jillian offered a strangled laugh. “The whole “yeah, this is my girlfriend” bit? I mean, I’m not saying I’m not flattered, Sparky, but that’s usually something you ask the girl about first rather than just deciding on your own.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Look, I like Tyler, but he’s a jerk. He’s seen us at the dance, so it was a reasonable point to make.” He rested his wrist on the steering wheel and looked over at her. “He’d hound me for your number and quite possibly follow us to dinner.”

  A brief moment of hope flared in her chest. If Dean was that concerned then maybe…

  “Only you and I know how ridiculous that is. Everyone else could easily picture us madly in love.” He maneuvered the car through the vehicles parked on either side creating a small ally to exit.