Julianne swallowed hard and then shook her head and shifted her gaze away to the nearby armoire. “I’m s-sorry,” she stuttered. “I didn’t realize you were...”
“It’s okay,” Heath said with a sly smile, enjoying her discomfort. “I’m not bashful and it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
She shook her head, sending a wave of the luxurious golden strands over her shoulders. “I don’t remember you looking like that,” she said, quickly bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. She looked embarrassed to share her observation aloud.
Heath glanced down at the display of his own body and shrugged. “I’m not eighteen anymore.”
He supposed he would be struck just as hard to see her topless after all this time. Hell, he’d barely seen her naked back then. Sometimes when he was feeling particularly masochistic, he would allow himself to imagine what she looked like now beneath her sweaters and her jeans. The teenage girl he loved had become a very sexy and gifted woman. Any gangliness had been replaced with lush curves and soft, graceful movements. Beautiful and aggravating.
She stood awkwardly in the doorway, nodding, not looking at him, not saying anything for a few moments.
“Did you need something?” Heath prompted at last.
Her green gaze shifted back to his, her purpose suddenly regained. “Yes. Well, I mean, no. I don’t need anything. I, uh, just wanted to say thank you.”
“Thank you? For what?”
“For staying here with me tonight. I know you’d rather be laughing and chatting with Xander and Brody. You guys never get to see one another.”
“I see them more than I get to see you,” Heath said before he could stop himself. It was true. As children, they had been inseparable. She was his best friend. The marriage that should have brought them even closer together had driven them apart and he still didn’t understand why. “I miss you, Jules.”
A sadness crept into her eyes, a frown pulling down the corners of her mouth. “I miss you, too, Heath.”
“Be honest. You avoid me. Why?” he asked. “Even if we divorced, I get the feeling that you’d still be uncomfortable around me.”
“I’m not uncomfortable,” she said, but not convincingly.
“Am I being punished for what happened between us?”
Julianne sighed and slumped against the door frame. “It’s not about punishing you. And no, it’s not about what happened in Europe, either. There are just things in our past that I don’t like thinking about. It’s easier to forget when I don’t see or talk to you.”
“Things in our past? Wait...” he said. “Are you blaming me for what happened with Tommy Wilder?”
“No!” she spoke emphatically, raising her palm up to halt him. “You are my savior. The one who protected me when no one else could.”
“But you think of that horrible night when you look at me?” Heath was almost nauseated at the thought.
“No,” she insisted again, but less forcefully. “If that were true, I never could’ve fallen for you. It’s just easier for me to focus on the future instead of dwelling in the past. Our relationship is in my past.”
“Not according to the public records office. It is very much current and relevant. Ignoring things won’t change them. It just makes it worse.”
Julianne chuckled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Believe me, I know. I just don’t know what else to do about it.”
“We get divorced. We can’t just stay married forever.”
“It’s worked okay so far.”
Now it was Heath’s turn to laugh. “Says the woman that just broke up with her boyfriend when he proposed.”
“I didn’t...” she began to argue, and then stopped. “This conversation has strayed from what I’d intended when I knocked. Thank you, again,” she repeated. “And good night.”
Heath watched her slip through the doorway. “Good night,” he replied just as the door shut. Once he was certain she was settled in her room, he cast off the rest of his clothes and crawled into bed in his boxer shorts. The bed was soft and inviting, the sheets smelling like the lavender soap Molly used for linens and towels. The bed very nearly forced him to relax, luring him to the edge of sleep faster than he ever thought possible.
Things hadn’t worked out between him and Julianne, but he wasn’t stupid. He had long ago set aside any idea that their farce of a marriage might become something real. They’d never even consummated it. He’d thought she would come around eventually. It was her first time, perhaps she was just nervous. But then she left for her art program in Chicago without even saying goodbye. He chased after her, driving all night to figure out what was going on. He’d imagined a romantic moment, but instead, she’d told him their marriage was a mistake, he needed to forget it ever happened and practically shut her dorm room door in his face.
He’d been devastated. Then the devastation morphed into anger. Then indifference. After that, he’d decided that if she wanted a divorce so badly, she could be the one to file. So he’d waited.
Eleven years.
As she’d mentioned, it hadn’t been a problem. At least, logistically. He hadn’t met a single woman that made him want to walk down the aisle again, but it was the principle of the thing. She didn’t want him, and yet she was resistant to let him go. Julianne always seemed to have an excuse. They were broke. They moved around too much after school to establish residency. They were busy starting their businesses. Her appointment with her divorce attorney was rescheduled, and then rescheduled again.
After a while, he began to wonder if she would rather stay married and keep it a secret than file for divorce and risk people finding out she’d married him. Her big mistake.
He’d known her since they were nine years old and he still didn’t understand what went on in that beautiful blond head of hers.
* * *
Julianne sat in a rocking chair on the back porch clutching a big mug of steaming coffee. She had barely slept last night and she desperately needed the infusion of caffeine to make it through today. She’d lain in bed most of the night thinking about Heath and how he was so close by. Her mind had wandered to their first trip together and how wonderful it had been. Even as young as they were, he’d known just how to touch her. With the backdrop of Europe, so romantic and inspiring, behind them, she thought she might be able to overcome the fear. She’d been wrong.
The familiar ache of need had curled in her belly, but she’d smothered her face in the pillows until it faded. It didn’t matter how much she’d loved him back then. How much she wanted him. It didn’t stop the fear from nearly strangling her with irrational panic. If she couldn’t give herself to Heath, the one who protected her, the one she was closer to than anyone else... When it came down to it, she had been too messed up back then to be with anyone.
Heath was right, though. They needed to move on. She’d dragged her feet. Hoping the words would come easier after all this time, she made excuses. If the years had taught her anything, it was that the truth could be more painful than a lie. She lied for everyone’s sake, including her own. To have a real, honest relationship with Heath, she would have to tell him the truth about their wedding night. And she just couldn’t do it.
That meant that all there was left to do now was clean up the tattered remains of their relationship.
And there would be time for that soon. Other more pressing issues had to be addressed first, like arranging her move and seeing her father through his heart surgery, but even those could wait until after she’d had her coffee and settled into her day. It was early. The sun had just come up. Heath was still asleep and there was no sign of life from the bunkhouse. For now, it was just her, the cool air and the pine forest that spread out in front of her.
At one time in her life, those trees had been her sanctuary. Whenever something was troubling her, she could walk through row after row, losing herself in them. And then Tommy Wilder came to the farm. She never imagined someone could hurt her so badly and not kill her
. The physical scars healed, but the emotional ones lingered. The trees had turned their backs on her that day, and she’d refused to go out there any longer. The boys had gladly picked up her share of chores in the field and she took on more responsibility in Molly’s Christmas store. Her mother thought that it was Julianne’s budding artistic spirit that drove her out of the trees and into the shop.
That was so far from the truth. It was actually the other way around. Her refuge in the shop had fueled an artistic creativity in her she didn’t know she had. She started helping Molly decorate and make wreaths, but soon she was painting the windows and molding Nativity scenes out of clay. She was keeping so many painful, confusing things inside; it was easy to give her mind over to the intricacies of her art. It was only her good fortune that she was talented at what she did and was able to turn her therapy into a career.
The rumble of car tires across the gravel caught her attention. A moment later, Molly’s Buick rounded the house and parked beside her Camaro.
Julianne got up and walked to the stairs to meet her. “Morning, Mama. Is Daddy doing okay?”
Molly nodded. “He’s fine. Feeling well enough to shoo me home for a while. His surgery is tomorrow morning, so he wants me to take a break now, while I can.”
That sounded like Daddy. He hated to be fussed over, just like she did. “I’ve made some coffee.”
“Thank goodness,” Molly said, slowly climbing up the stairs. “That sludge at the hospital hardly qualified.”
They went inside and Julianne poured her a large mug with a splash of cream and one spoon of sugar. She joined her mother at the kitchen table, where she and Heath had had their uncomfortable conversation the night before. Looking at the weary, worn-out woman across from her, Julianne knew she just couldn’t let her parents find out she’d eloped with Heath right out of high school.
It wasn’t because of whom had she married, or even how. If Julianne hadn’t been such a mess and things worked out, Molly wouldn’t have been happy about them eloping, but she would have come around. The problem was explaining what went wrong between them and why she wasn’t willing to work things out. Everyone would want to know how they could marry and break up in an instant. She couldn’t even tell Heath that. How could she tell her parents, who had no clue that Tommy had ever laid a hand on her, much less ruined their daughter?
Julianne refused to be anything other than the cool and confident daughter of Ken and Molly. She supposed it was growing up as the only child of parents who desperately wanted more children. They loved her without question, but at the same time, they were always vocal about their disappointment in having only one. When they started taking in foster children, it made it even harder to get attention. At first, she tried to excel in school to prove to them that she was good enough to make up for being the only one. She was well-behaved, polite and never caused the tiniest problem for her parents.
It had worked. To a point. They were always quick to praise her, but her parents continued to bring in foster children. Perfection became her way to stand out and get noticed. It wasn’t until after the incident with Tommy that she threw an uncharacteristic fit and demanded her parents stop bringing in other children and pay attention to her for once. It was selfish. And she felt horrible doing it. But she couldn’t risk another boy coming to the Garden of Eden who might look at her the way Tommy did.
“Are you doing okay this morning?” Molly asked her.
“Yeah. Heath stayed in the guest room so I wouldn’t be alone. We talked last night and a couple of us are going to come stay here for a few months. Through the New Year, at least, to help with Christmas and such.”
Molly’s chin shot up—her mother was ready to argue—but she stopped herself and nodded. They both knew she couldn’t run the farm alone. Her petite frame and increasingly stiff fingers couldn’t haul Christmas trees twice her size. Having the kids here would take the pressure off of her and keep Ken resting the way he should. “Which of you are coming up?”
“Heath and I. He’s taking a few months away from the advertising agency. I’ve sold my house in Sag Harbor and I’m moving here until Dad is better, then I’ll find someplace new.”
“What about you and, uh...” Molly’s voice trailed off.
Her mother couldn’t remember the name of her boyfriend. That said volumes about her ill-fated relationship history. “Danny,” Julianne offered. “We’ve broken it off.”
“Oh,” Molly said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Liar,” Julianne said, smiling into her coffee mug as she took a sip.
Molly shrugged, but didn’t argue with her on that point. “I’ve been speaking with a private medical care company about bringing your father home to recuperate instead of putting him in a nursing home. They recommended moving a bed downstairs, and they could provide a live-in nurse for a few weeks.”
“That sounds perfect.” She wanted her father to have the best possible care, but she hated the idea of him in a nursing home, even if temporarily.
“Well, except that you’d have to stay in the bunkhouse. We’d need to move one bed downstairs and have the other for the nurse. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely,” Julianne responded, although the idea of close quarters with Heath didn’t thrill her. Last night was bad enough. “It will give me some room to store my equipment, too.”
“Speaking of which, what about your studio? And your gallery showing? You have to keep working, don’t you?”
“The store is fine without me. My place in the Hamptons does too well to move and my staff there run it beautifully. As for my studio, I’m thinking I can work here and it wouldn’t impact the show. Since I’m staying out there, maybe I can use part of the bunkhouse.”
“You know,” Molly said, “the storage room there hasn’t been used in ages. We could clean that out and you could use it.”
“Storage room?”
“Yes. You know what I’m talking about. In the bunkhouse, under the staircase. It’s about twelve by twelve, I’d say, with a window and its own door to the outside. That’s where we used to hide your Christmas presents when you all were small. Right now, I think it might just have some boxes of the boys’ old toys and sporting equipment.”
Honestly, she hadn’t given much thought to the nook under the stairs. Her time in the bunkhouse was usually spent watching television or messing around with the boys, not surveying the property. “Now I remember. If it’s as big as you say, that would be perfect.”
“If Heath is staying,” Molly continued, “perhaps he can help you get the space ready. There should be some time before the holiday rush begins.”
“What am I helping out with?” Heath stumbled sleepily into the kitchen in jeans, a casual T-shirt and bare feet. His light brown hair was tousled. It was a far cry from his expensive tailored suits and perfectly styled hair, but it impacted Julianne even more powerfully. This morning, he looked more like the Heath she’d fallen in love with. The successful, powerful advertising executive was a stranger to her.
“We need you to help clean out the old storage room in the bunkhouse,” Molly answered.
He located a mug and made his own cup of coffee. “The one where you hid our Christmas presents?”
A light flush of irritation rose to Molly’s cheeks. Julianne had her mother’s same pale, flawless complexion. It was always quick to betray their feelings. They blushed bright red at the slightest provocation.
“You knew about that?” Molly asked.
Heath smiled and took a step farther from his mother under the guise of looking in the cabinet for something to eat. “We’ve always known, Mom. We just didn’t have the heart to tell you.”
“Well, hell,” Molly said, smacking her palm against the table. “Just as well we turn it into a studio, then.”
“Mom says that Dad’s surgery is tomorrow,” Julianne added, steering the conversation in another direction.
Heath pulled down a box of cereal and nodded. “Once we’re
certain that he’s doing okay after surgery, I’ll probably head back to New York for a few days and get my things. I need to make arrangements with work and such, but I can probably be back up here in two or three days.”
Julianne nodded. She had plenty of things to take care of, too. “Same here. I’ve got to close on the house. Most of my things are already boxed up. I’ll put what I can in storage somewhere and bring the rest.”
“How are you going to get all your stuff into that little bitty sports car?” Heath asked.
“The Camaro is bigger than your Porsche,” she countered.
“Yeah, but I’m not hauling all your sculpting supplies and tools. What about your kiln?”
“I’m selling it locally,” Julianne said, although she didn’t know why he was so concerned. “I wanted a new one anyway, so I’ll get it delivered here.”
Heath frowned at her and crossed his arms over his chest in irritation. She tried not to focus on the way the tight fabric stretched across his hard muscles when he moved, but her eyes were instantly drawn to it. She followed the line of his collar to the lean cords of his neck and the rough stubble along his jaw. Her gaze stopped short when she noticed his amused smirk and arched eyebrow. He’d caught her. At that, she turned her attention back to her coffee and silently cursed herself.
“You need movers,” he persisted. “And a truck. I can get you one.”
Julianne scoffed at the suggestion. This was so typical of the way the last few years had gone. They avoided the big issues in their relationship and ended up quibbling about stupid things like moving trucks. She supposed to others, they seemed like bickering siblings, when in fact they were a grumpy, married couple. “I might need a truck, but I don’t need you to pay for it. I’m capable of handling all that myself.”
“Why won’t you—”
HER SECRET HUSBAND Page 3