by Brooks, Abby
“Well, Ms. Lane,” he said, keeping up the formality she’d used to accept his offer, “why don’t you hop in your former abode there…” He indicated her car and was rewarded with the sweetest giggle. “And I’ll lead you to your newest abode.”
Juliet clasped her hands behind her back and rocked up onto her toes to kiss Ian on the cheek. There was the whisper of her skin against his, the scent of her hair, the rustle of her breath moving past his ear. He wanted to take her face in his hands and kiss her, to part her lips with his tongue and taste her.
She paused, frozen, so close to him.
When she finally rocked back onto her heels, he saw his lust reflected on her face, but there was also something else, too. Guilt? Fear? Yes, it was fear.
Juliet was scared.
Of course she was. The only reason she showed up in Bliss was because she was running from some asshole. Full-on leaving the state kind of running. He’d noticed her license plates at the rest stop yesterday. New York. What could possibly have happened that she needed to put hundreds of miles between her and some guy?
Juliet conjured a smile to hide the fear and Ian didn’t let on that he’d seen it. They could cross that bridge later, after they knew each other better.
Confusion drew her eyebrows together and she scanned the vehicles parked near Good Beginnings. “Where’s your car?”
Ian pointed to his truck—a Toyota Tundra TRD Pro with every single option known to man—parked right across the street. “Right where I left it.”
“Of course. You have a vehicle to match every outfit. How silly of me.” Her eyes lit with humor. “Where’s the power car?”
“Power car?” Ian knew she was talking about the M4 she saw him in the night before, but he just wanted her to keep talking.
“Yeah, you know, the sleek and shiny thing you were driving at the rest stop. The one that says I’m a man who wields money and power and you should all show me proper respect?”
“Is that what you think it says?”
“You don’t think it says that?”
She was something else. That was the exact reason he drove the BMW the night before. He liked rolling up to his parents’ house in style. When he joined the Navy, they hadn’t been happy. Supportive enough, but clear they disapproved. When he received his orders, stationing him overseas to fly fighters, they were significantly less happy. And even less happy than that when he’d been sent home, injured, with an honorable discharge.
That was an understatement.
Ian’s parents were distraught over his injury, but they were over the moon to have him home and alive, especially considering the severity of the accident. It wasn’t every day that someone crash landed a jet and managed to walk away. Not everyone got so lucky.
Even though he understood his parents’ reticence over his career came from the fact that they loved him so damn much, he’d resented not having their support when he was commissioned. Flying planes had been his dream since before he could talk. So, when the investment in his rental properties started creating real cash flow, he promptly bought the car to show them he was okay.
If there was one thing the Moore family understood, it was money.
Juliet was still waiting for his response, so he shrugged and brought out his best smile. “I know exactly what that car says, but more important than that, is what my truck says.” Ian jerked his chin toward the vehicle across the street.
“And just what, exactly, is that?”
“It says get in your car and follow me to your new home.”
Juliet laughed and Ian opened the car door for her, shaking his head as Lulu jumped in and parked herself in the passenger seat. He sprinted across the street and climbed into the truck.
As he led Juliet through the streets of Bliss—out of the little section of shops and restaurants the inhabitants affectionately called downtown, then through the neighborhoods that led to the more remote area where he bought his beachfront properties—Ian went through a mental checklist of Things to Do.
He’d have her sign a lease, but wouldn’t really do anything with it. It seemed like a good idea to keep whatever they were doing feeling like a business relationship. As things stood, it would already be hard enough to keep his eyes off her tight body…
Though his reaction the night before said his eyes wouldn’t be the only problem.
His hands wanted in on the action, too.
He kept an eye on Juliet’s car through the rearview, watching as she bopped her head to whatever she was listening to. He smiled when she started lip syncing. And loved it when they stopped at a light and Juliet lifted her hands from the wheel, dancing in her seat as she clearly sang at the top of her lungs.
There was so much joy in that woman. A lot of it hid under the fear she carried with her out of the city. Or at least, he assumed she came from the city. Something about her screamed high-octane lifestyle. She was too comfortable shaking hands with a man, her strong grip seemed well practiced, but not natural. He envisioned her wearing tight gray suits, hair slicked back into some kind of militant bun.
He liked this version of her better.
Hair down and singing in the sunshine.
He finished the drive with his eyes mostly on her and pulled into the driveway of the small two story that Juliet was going to call home. It wasn’t much. It truly needed a new everything, but he could see through the problem areas to what it would be when he was finished.
Juliet was already out of her car, running toward the front door with its wraparound porch, but she stopped short and…just stared. As Ian climbed out of the truck, she lifted her face to the sky and spread her arms. Turned in a circle, eyes closed, white dress flaring around her gorgeous legs. She came to a stop and beamed at him.
“Oh, Ian,” she breathed. “It’s perfect.”
As she turned back to stare at the house, Ian had to admit she was right. The two of them, standing there, felt right in a way he couldn’t fully explain.
Chapter Eight
Juliet
Ian left Juliet to unpack and get settled while he drew up a lease agreement. She wandered the house, pinching herself from time to time in case she was dreaming.
The place definitely needed work.
Lots and lots of work.
But she could already see how gorgeous it would be when they were through. Virtually every room had floor-to-ceiling windows and the ones in the living room and master bedroom looked out over the beach. No one had cleaned the 80s off the kitchen yet, and the stove was filthy, but beneath all that was ample cabinet space and even more windows.
Juliet laughed. Ample cabinet space for all the stuff she didn’t have. She brushed the thought aside. Those things, the material things, she’d gather more of them along the way. For the time being, she had all she needed and that was more than enough.
Let’s not take that positivity too far. Because right now, you don’t have a couch or a bed and that’s definitely gonna suck.
Determined not to let anything ruin her mood, she reminded herself that she had a roof over her head, which was more than she had just a few hours ago. “I’ll figure out the furniture thing soon enough,” she said to Lulu, who perked her ears and cocked her head. “Maybe someone will have a yard sale or something. Or I could check out a Goodwill.”
Knowing she wasn’t going to have to use her money on rent each month, Juliet felt more comfortable allocating a little toward disposable income. If she could find a decent couch, it would serve as a bed, too.
It took her all of four trips to bring everything she owned into the house. She opened up the box labeled ‘Kitchen’ and pulled out the dishes Peter never let her unpack. It felt really damn good to slide them into a cabinet next to the sink. Same thing with her silverware and the chunky coffee mug she bought from a street vendor when she first moved to the city. The stuff might not cost thousands of dollars, might not be fine china or name brand anything, but it was hers and that meant something.
&n
bsp; The few clothes she brought looked silly hanging in the monster closet. Didn’t matter if she spread them all out or bunched them together, it just looked sparse. She glanced around the empty master bedroom. Seemed like sparse was the name of the game for a while.
Her laughter echoed in the vast room. It needed new paint, and the hardwood floors were damaged under the massive window, but paint was easy. And she was willing to bet Ian knew what to do about the floor. She imagined gauzy white fabric draped around the window, pooling on the floor and framing the view to the water. She’d angle her bed so it was the last thing she saw each night and the first thing she saw each morning.
There was only one thing left to do before she could consider herself completely moved in. She bounded down the stairs and out the front door, crossed the sun-scorched porch and took the steps two at a time. Lulu chased after, barking in confusion at her excitement.
The houseplant she’d had since college was in the backseat, wilting in the heat. She yanked open the car door and picked the thing off the floor behind the driver’s seat. It began as a little shoot of a plant in a pot that fit on her desk near her computer. Four years later, it almost reached her waist and sat in a pot so heavy, Juliet grunted with effort as she hoisted it out of the car. It would go right under the windows in the living room, so that when she looked out toward the water, she could see her old life and her new life at the same time.
The pot hit the ground with a heavy thunk and the leaves shook with the impact. With a gentle heave, Juliet slid the thing into place and stood back to admire her handiwork. Not bad, if she did say so herself.
“So,” came a voice behind her, “what do you think?”
Juliet whirled and her heart stuttered when she saw the shape of a man in the door she’d left open while bringing in the plant. Logic told her it was Ian, but fear whispered it was Peter. It took her a second to get logic and emotion on the same page.
“I love it,” she said. “I mean, I know it needs work, but I can see what it’s going to be when we’re done, you know? Those windows! And the wraparound porch. And the kitchen…Ian, it’s a dream come true.”
“I wouldn’t go that far quite yet. You haven’t seen the work we’ll have to do to get us from where we are to where we’re going.”
“I’m not afraid of a little hard work.” She couldn’t wait to show him just how true that was. Ian had been incredibly generous, and she intended to pay him back tenfold. She could paint in the evenings while he wasn’t there. And while she might not have done a lot of construction work in the past, she was a fast learner and she wasn’t afraid to sweat. He only needed to tell her what to do and she’d be there, ready to help.
“We’ll see how you feel about that tomorrow afternoon.”
Clearly, Ian was going to need some convincing as to her worthiness as an assistant. “Never underestimate a girl who’s survived in the city and hasn’t started talking to inanimate objects yet. You gotta have some fight in you to survive that place.”
“I don’t doubt it. But Juliet?” Her heart surged to hear him say her name. “You talk to that little dog all the time.”
“That’s not the same!”
Ian pushed off the wall and sauntered over to drop some paperwork on the kitchen counter. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I’m just saying, maybe you’re not as tough as you think you are.”
She made a face. He was trying to be silly, and she wouldn’t dare show him that he’d hurt her feelings, but he definitely touched a nerve. That was all she ever heard in the business world. You’ve gotta be tough. Don’t let them see you cry. Be stronger than the strongest man. She’d taken that advice to heart and built a totally impenetrable wall of sturdy resilience around herself and donned it each morning like armor. She’d show Ian Moore just how tough she could be.
Keeping a smile on her face, she crossed the room to lean on the counter next to him, fully aware of the millimeter of space between their shoulders. “Tell me what we have here.”
Ian straightened and Julz immediately missed having him in her personal space. “What we have here, Ms. Lane, is a not-so-standard rental agreement.”
He walked her through the thick packet, highlighting the fact that Lulu was allowed, but would henceforth be called Chopper. Juliet held up a hand. “Hold on Lieutenant Moore, I absolutely will not agree to call Lulu Chopper.” The little dog perked up and ran over to Julz, her nails clicking across the wood floors.
“I’m not sure how you came to the conclusion that this contract was negotiable, Ms. Lane.”
“Every contract is negotiable.”
“Fine. How about you continue to call her Lulu, but I’m free to call her whatever the hell I want?” He paused, pen poised over the paper, a charming smile eviscerating the empty feeling of the house.
Unease whispered across her shoulders as she compared signing a contract with Ian to her Dominant/submissive contract with Peter. Logically she knew it was night and day. Cold and hot. But fear didn’t always listen to logic.
“Fine, I’ll agree to that,” said Juliet and Ian dropped his pen to the paper, scribbling an addendum into the margin.
“Initial here,” he said, all business. “And here,” he said, pointing to a different box after she scrawled her JL underneath his tight, handwritten note.
“Not so fast, my friend. I never sign something without knowing what I’m agreeing to.”
“Savvy business practice, Ms. Lane.” Ian lifted the paper from the counter and cleared his throat, and intoned in a deep, overly professional voice. “The tenant,” he paused and looked up from the paper. “That’s you.”
“Thank you for clarifying.”
“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.” He cleared his throat again and continued reading in his silly deep voice. “The tenant agrees that the owner…” He paused again. “That’s me.”
“I’ve signed a lease before, you know.”
“Just don’t want you to get into anything you’re not prepared to handle.”
“I think I’m good. Please continue.”
“All right. Just trying to be helpful.”
Juliet made a face and slapped Ian on the arm. “You’ve been very helpful. Now, would you please just get on with it?”
“As you wish. It says here that the tenant agrees that the owner has the right to furnish the space as he sees fit at any time during the term of this rental agreement. If the owner doesn’t believe the resident’s furnishings are fit for the space, he has the right to replace them.”
Juliet worked hard to keep her face from showing the great big go to hell that came roaring up from deep in her belly. How dare he assume she wasn’t going to furnish the place properly? He sounded like Peter, supposing he knew what was best and her stuff most definitely wasn’t.
Although, Ian was going to want to rent this place out eventually…
It did make sense that he’d want to ensure the interior was ready to wow potential renters. It wasn’t fair to take her issues with Peter out on him.
But that didn’t mean she had to like it.
With a curt nod, she initialed the stupid box.
“Excellent, Ms. Lane,” he said, drawing out the first syllable of the sentence and rubbing his hands together in a perfectly diabolical gesture.
“Something tells me I’ve just walked into a trap.”
“Whatever would make you believe such a thing?” he asked, putting on a wounded face. He walked her through the rest of the agreement, which was pretty standard except for the parts that outlined she was to keep any receipts for items purchased for the renovations and that the utilities would stay in his name and she was to pay him instead of the power company.
It all looked on the up and up and she signed without hesitating, thinking again of the last agreement she’d put her name to. There’d been butterflies in her belly back then, too. A sense of starting out on a grand adventure. Hopefully, this agreement was the beginning of something wonderful instead of th
e nightmare she endured after the last one.
Ian gathered the papers and took his time surveying the empty living room and adjoining dining room. “You know what? I officially deem your furnishings unfit for this space.” He looked toward the still open front door. “James!” he called. “It’s safe. You can come in now!”
Juliet blinked as a slightly smaller version of Ian bounded through the front door. “Hey there!” The stranger extended a hand, exposing a tattoo that worked its way from his wrist up into the sleeve of his T-shirt. “I’m James, Ian’s younger, and better than him at everything, brother.”
She shook his hand, her mouth still hanging open, looking from James to Ian. “Pleased to meet you,” she muttered, her manners on autopilot.
“Back atcha.” James gave her a warm smile before turning to Ian. “Does she know? Where do we start?”
“Does she know what?” asked Juliet, totally confused.
Ian took both her shoulders in his hands and smiled. “Like I said, I’ve deemed your lack of furnishings unfit and have brought you some replacements.”
Shock dropped her jaw again. “I can’t…I mean, I don’t need…” She was at a loss. She totally needed furniture, but she really didn’t want to take more from the guy than she already had. No more handouts, remember?
“Really?” Ian glanced around the empty space. “Because it looks like you need a whole hell of a lot to me.” She started to stammer out a protest again and he held up his hands. “It’s not that big of a deal. I pulled some stuff out of my other properties. And as you can afford to get your own things, we’ll put mine back.”
“She’ll be able to help next time, right?” asked James, rubbing his shoulders. “Because I already hate you for the size of that couch.”
Shaking his head, Ian thumped his brother on the back. “How can you call yourself better than me at anything when you’re already complaining?”
The men moved out of the house in a flurry of good-natured insults, and Lulu bounded after them, adding her own yapping excitement.