by Joss Wood
She wouldn’t allow thoughts of love and forever to mess with her mind. She was smarter than that.
Noah...
Sex against the wall with his onetime best friend. He was not proud. Noah ran a hand over his face, listening as water hit the basin in the bathroom adjacent to his office. He hadn’t intended that to happen...
Liar, liar...
He hadn’t been able to think of much else than touching Jules—tasting her, sliding into her warm, wonderful heat—since he’d returned to Boston. And since he was being honest, he could admit, reluctantly, that he’d told her the truth when he’d said that he’d often thought about doing that and more since their decade-old kiss. He’d sailed many oceans and had spent many long nights, waves rolling under the hull, imagining doing just that.
But not up against a wall. Not for their first time... That was all types of wrong.
Noah tucked his shirt back into his suit pants and ran his hands through his hair. He dropped to his haunches and picked up Jules’s sketch pad, smiling a little at her girlie, swirly handwriting. He closed the book, picked up the colored pencils that had rolled off the table and placed them on his desk. What now? Where did they go from here?
Noah looked at the closed door and wondered what was going through Jules’s smart head. Hell, what was going through his? Not much since he was still trying to reboot his system. All he was really sure of was that sex with Jules was the best he’d ever had and, yeah, he’d had his fair share. He’d been single all of his adult life and sex wasn’t that difficult to find.
But that had been a physical release, some fun, something he enjoyed while he was in the moment but rarely thought about again. Jules, sex with Jules, was not something he was going to be able to dismiss as easily. Or at all.
Yeah, it happened at the speed of light—something else he wasn’t proud of—but he had a thousand images burned into his brain. Her eyes turned to blue the wetter she became, her brows pulled together as she teetered on the edge. The scar on the top of her hand, the perfect row of beauty spots behind her ear. Her mouth, the combination of spice and heat, feisty just like she was. Her scent—he’d never be able to smell an orange again without becoming mast hard. She’d ruined citrus for him...or made it ten times sexier.
And, God, how was he supposed to work twelve inches from where he’d had the best orgasm of his life? Unless he moved his desk, his concentration would be forever shot. In the morning he’d move his desk to the opposite corner. There wasn’t as much light and the view was crappy but he’d manage to get some work done.
Or maybe he was kidding himself. Just having Jules back in his life was a distraction he didn’t need.
He needed her to complete this project... She was red-hot at the moment and was in the position to pick and choose her clients. Paris wanted her and only her.
Once Jules produced her portfolio of design ideas for Paris to look at—hopefully she’d fall in love with one of the proposals, and quickly!—Paris would sign off on the design and a hefty pile of cash would hit his bank account. He’d use that money for the down payment on the house. He already had a preapproved mortgage in place to tide him over until he sold his apartment in Wimbledon and George paid him out for his share in their yacht rental business in Italy.
Ridiculous that he had many millions in assets but, thanks to the timing of other investments, he was experiencing a temporary cash flow problem.
Up until fifteen minutes ago he was also experiencing a sex flow problem.
His phone vibrated on his desk, and Noah picked up the device, wishing the damn things had never been invented. He saw the missed call from earlier, frowned at the unfamiliar Boston number and saw that his caller had left a message. Dialing into his voice mail service, he lifted the phone to his ear, keeping one eye on the bathroom door.
“I cannot believe that you would embarrass me this way! Paris Barrow told me that you are seeing Jules Brogan! How dare you, Noah? Her of all people! Why didn’t you just take out a banner ad stating that I meant nothing to you?”
Noah looked at the screen, cut the call and shook his head. Getting harassed by your ex was a very good way to chase away any lingering fuzzies. It was also a great way to kill the mood.
Crap. Ignoring Morgan, leaving her long text messages unread and not confronting her directly was not getting his point across. It didn’t matter whether he was in a fake relationship with Jules or neck-deep in love with her or anyone else, what he did and who he did it with was nobody’s business but his own. He was going to have to meet with his ex and explain to her, in language a five-year-old could understand, that his love life was firmly and forever off-limits.
Noah rubbed the back of his neck. Obviously his return to Boston had flipped Morgan’s switch.
The door to the bathroom opened and Noah saw the resigned but determined look on Jules’s face. Nothing had changed.
Having sex up against the wall—hell, having sex—was going to be a onetime thing.
Damn. Crap. Hell.
Jules rubbed her hands on her thighs before folding her arms, causing her breasts to rise. And, yep, his IQ just dropped sixty points back to caveman mentality. “So, that happened,” Jules said, darting a glance at the corner. Judging by her trepidation, he expected to see that the wall had caught alight.
And how was he supposed to respond to that? Yeah, it happened. He wanted it to happen again... Next time in a bed.
“Not one of our smartest moves, Lockwood.”
And here came regrets, the we-can’t-do-this-agains. Jules lifted her tote bag off the floor and brushed past him to pick up her sketch pad and pencils. As he pulled in a breath, he smelled that alluring combination of sex and citrus, soap and shampoo. All girlie, feminine Jules in one delightful sniff. His junk stirred.
“I’m going to head home. It’s been a long day.”
It had but, thank baby Jesus, it ended with a bang. Noah gave himself a mental kick to the temple for the thought. It was asinine, even for him. He frowned, wondering when she was going to spit out what she was actually thinking...
This isn’t a good idea. This can’t happen again. Let’s pretend I didn’t get nailed against a wall and that it wasn’t the most head-exploding, soul-touching sex of my life.
Jules half smiled as she held the sketch pad against her chest. “Let me work with what you gave me and hopefully I’ll have a couple of sketches, sample materials for you in a couple of days. Will that work for you?”
What was she rambling on about?
He’d left stubble burns on her neck, her blouse was incorrectly buttoned up. Noah wanted to undress her, take her on the desk and then, when he was done, he’d dress her again. Properly this time.
Or maybe he’d just hide her clothes and keep her naked.
“Noah?”
Jules looked at him as if expecting an answer. What the hell did she say?
“Oh, God, you’re getting weird. I didn’t want us to act weird,” Jules muttered, shifting from foot to foot. “Are you waiting for the other shoe to drop, the sky to fall down? Relax, I’m not going to ask what this means, whether we can do it again. I’m fully aware of your bam-wham policy.”
Bam-wham... What?
“What are you talking about?” Noah was impressed that he managed to construct a sentence that had the words in the right order.
Jules patted his chest, much like his mom had to placate him when he was ten. “It’s all good. No. That was something that had been building to a head for ten years and it needed to erupt. Now we can go back to doing what we do best.”
“And that is?” And why did he sound like he had a dozen frogs in his throat?
Jules’s smile was just a shade off sunny. “Being friends.” Jules patted his arm this time and it took Noah everything he had to not react. “I’m out of here. I’ll talk to you in a day or two, okay?”
And, no, it most definitely was not okay.
Jules...
Ladies and gentlemen, the award for Best Actress goes to Jules Brogan.
Oh, why couldn’t sex with Noah have been meh and blah? Why did it have to be skin-on-fire, want-more wonderful? It had taken a herculean effort for Jules to turn her back on Noah and leave the office. Now at the bottom of the stairs leading to the reception area of the marina’s office, she ignored the burning urge to retrace her steps.
She and Noah didn’t have a future. They never had. He was only in town long enough to complete this project and within a few weeks, maybe a month or two, he’d be gone again. If she didn’t keep her distance she would be staying behind, holding her bleeding heart in her hands. This time she wouldn’t only be mourning the loss of her friend but also her lover.
She’d cried enough tears over Noah, thank you very much.
As more tears threatened to spill, Jules could only pray that Noah wouldn’t follow her in order to continue their going-nowhere conversation. And situation.
She couldn’t allow history to repeat itself; that was just stupid. They needed to keep their relationship perfunctory and professional. Two words that weren’t associated with sex.
What had she been thinking... Had she been thinking at all? Their kiss so long ago had knocked them out of the friends-only zone and had, admittedly, rocked her world. How could she possibly have thought she could handle sleeping with him?
Then again, when Noah touched her, when his eyes darkened to that shade a fraction off black, her brain exited the room and left her libido in charge. Her libido that hadn’t seen much action and couldn’t be trusted to make grown-up decisions.
Jules waved off the night manager, who offered to walk her to her car, and stepped into the warm night. Pulling in a deep breath, she waited for the night air to clear her head. Walking down the marina, reason and sanity returned.
Use that brain, Brogan.
She wasn’t living in Victorian times; this wasn’t a catastrophe. She was fully entitled to have sex with and enjoy a man, his skills and his equipment. This didn’t have to mean anything more than it was: a moment in time where they did what healthy adults did. It was sex, nothing more or nothing less.
A fun time was had by all up against the wall.
She wasn’t a poet, nor was she a liar... Jules sighed. Despite her brave words to Noah and her insouciant attitude, sex did mean something to her, sharing her body was a curiously intimate act. She never slept with men unless the relationship was going somewhere...and, because there hadn’t been many contenders to feature in her happily-ever-after life, she was a shade off being celibate.
Sleeping with Noah had been an aberration, an anomaly, a strange occurrence.
Jules pushed through the access gate to the marina, turned to look back at the double-story office building and blew out a long, frustrated breath.
She couldn’t sleep with him again. It was out of the question. He’d hurt her, disappointed her, and she couldn’t trust him not to do that again. Erecting a wall between them was the smart, sensible course of action. It was what she had to do.
So why, then, did it take her five minutes to open her car door and another ten to start the car and drive home?
Seven
Callie...
Callie hugged DJ and Darby, and then pulled Jules into her arms, keeping her there for an extra beat, wishing she could ask Jules to stay behind, to demand that Jules tell her why she’d spent most of breakfast staring out of the window of the coffee shop, her thoughts a million miles away.
“Are you okay, baby girl?” Callie whispered in her ear.
Like she did when she was a little girl, Jules rested her forehead on Callie’s collarbone. “I’m fine, Mom.”
No, she wasn’t, but this wasn’t the time to push and pry. Not when there were so many ears flapping, Darby’s, DJ’s and also, dammit, Mason’s. She’d introduced him to her daughters and he’d been courteous but professional, thank God. Points to him that he kept his flirting between them.
Enough of him, this was her time with her daughters and she wasn’t going to waste a minute of it thinking about Mason. Callie’s eyes flicked across the restaurant, saw that Mason was looking at her, and she shook her head. Distracting man! He wasn’t, in any way that counted, her type. Too young, too good-looking, too...poor?
God, she was such a snob! She had enough money to last several lifetimes and it wasn’t like Mason was penniless. He had a good business, looked financially liquid. She’d never judged men, or anyone, by their bank balance. Why was she doing it with him?
Because she was looking for any excuse, poor as it was, to keep her distance.
It didn’t matter, nothing was ever going to happen between them! Irritated with herself, Callie stepped back and framed Jules’s face with her hands, sighing at the confusion she saw in her eyes.
There was only one thing she could say, just one phrase that she knew Jules needed to hear. “Just keep standing, honey. Keep your balance until it all makes sense.”
It had been Ray’s favorite piece of advice, one he’d used his whole life. And, except for him dying when he was supposed to be retiring, it mostly held true.
“I needed to hear that, Mom.” Jules managed a small smile. Then the smile evaporated and pain filled her eyes. “I miss him, Mom.”
“I do, too, honey,” Callie said, touching Jules’s cheek with her fingers.
Callie walked her to the door, holding her hand. At the door she hugged her girls again and caught Mason’s gaze over Jules’s shoulder. His blue eyes were on her, a curious mixture of tenderness and heat. Damn that lick of heat spreading through her!
Jules stepped back and when she smiled, mischief danced in her eyes. “He’s really good-looking, Mom.”
That point had crossed her mind a time or two. Callie opened the door and ushered her brood outside. Shaking her head, she retraced her steps to her table, sat down and pulled her notebook out of her bag. Flipping it open to the first page, her eyes ran down her bucket list.
She’d moved to a new house in a different section of the estate so she could tick the first item off her list. She squinted at number two. Seeing tigers in the wild meant planning a trip. Was that still what she wanted to do?
“Learn a new skill? Bungee jump? Have phone sex?”
Callie heard the voice in her ear and when she whipped her head around, she found Mason’s face a breath away, his sexy mouth hovering near hers. Callie wanted to scream at him for reading her private list but her tongue wouldn’t cooperate. Then she felt his thumb stroking her back, while his other hand was on the table, caging her between his arm and his chest.
So close, close enough to kiss.
“Do you know how much I want to taste you right now?” Mason murmured.
“Y-you read... It was private,” Callie stuttered, mortified. Her cheeks were definitely on fire. She’d mentioned sex! On her list! Now Mason knew she wanted some... Callie looked around the coffee shop, convinced that a million eyes—people she played bridge and tennis with—were all watching them, somehow knowing that she wanted to kiss Mason more than she wanted to breathe.
God, she was losing her mind.
“I’ll tell you what’s on my bucket list if it makes you feel any better,” Mason replied, his hand moving up her back to cup her neck, the heat of his hand burning into her skin.
“You’re probably just going to steal my ideas and call them yours,” Callie muttered.
Mason’s eyes flicked down to the list and Callie slammed her hand down on
the page to cover her writing.
“I’ve traveled, thrown myself off a bridge on a rope, don’t need another job. Wouldn’t mind another trip somewhere.” He smiled and Callie’s stomach flipped over. “I have had one-night stands, wouldn’t recommend it.”
Callie placed her face in her hands and groaned. “What are you, some sort of mutant speed-reader?”
Mason’s laugh raised goose bumps on her skin. “Only a few items are on my list, Callie.”
Callie scowled at him. “Do I even want to know?” She placed a hand on his shoulder to push him away but got distracted by the muscles bunching underneath his polo shirt. Nice...
Seeing that she was stroking him like he was expensive velvet, she yanked her hand away and, yes, dammit, blushed again. “Back up!”
Mason flashed her a smile and jerked her pen from her hand before picking up her notebook. Flipping to a new page, he pulled off the cap of her pen with his teeth and started writing.
He flipped the page back to her list, wrote some more and handed the book back to her. Callie looked down, noticing that he’d placed asterisks next to her “have a one-night stand” and “have phone sex” bullet points, drawing a line from both to what had to be his phone number.
Her face turned so hot she was sure that her skin was about to reach meltdown temperature. Mason skated his fingertips down her cheek before sending her a slow smile and turning away.
After a few minutes of resisting the urge to peek—she was embarrassed enough as it was—Callie turned the page and saw Mason’s so-called bucket list. It was comprised of just three bullet points and a sentence.
Take Callie on a date.
Make her laugh.
Kiss her good-night.
See previous page for additional suggestions.
Clever, sexy man. A very dangerous combination.
Jules...
Since arriving at Whip, an exclusive cocktail bar situated in a boutique hotel on Charles Street, Noah had looked on edge. His jaw was tight and his eyes were a flat deep brown, suggesting that he was beyond pissed. But why? What had happened? What had she done?