by Nalini Singh
“Thank you.” Juliet made sure her fingers didn’t brush Jake’s as she took the flute. But it didn’t do much good when the rest of his body was pressing up against the side of hers. The man was a furnace.
“Why the death glare?” Jake raised an eyebrow.
“That’s my resting bitch face.”
The faintest warming of his eyes—and yeah, that was potent—before Molly tapped him on the shoulder to pass him a flute. Taking it, he didn’t seize the opportunity to talk to someone, anyone, else. Instead, he shifted his attention back to Juliet after thanking Molly. “To clarify, is that your only resting face, or am I the recipient of a special one?”
Juliet almost laughed, would’ve probably snorted champagne bubbles up her nose if she’d given in. “I have a repertoire.” She smiled her fakest smile, just to see what he’d do. “But don’t worry, you only have to remember this one—it’s the only one you’ll ever see.”
Wide eyes. “I think you need to consult a doctor, Jules—your face seems to be cracking in the most bizarre way.”
She absolutely would’ve snort-laughed this time if Sailor’s voice hadn’t cut through the limo. “To Gabe and Charlie!” The second-eldest of Jake’s brothers held up the flute in his hand after everyone had a drink—with Esme and Emmaline given soda in lieu of alcohol. But that soda had been poured into “grown-up” glass flutes that each girl held with utmost care.
Heart threatening to go scarily mushy again, Juliet raised her flute along with the others. Jake clinked his flute to hers and they drank. Their eyes locked in silent combat, part of a battle that had been going on since the day Callie tugged Juliet aside at lunchtime and whispered that “Jake invited me to come watch his game!”
Callie had been like a tiny star that day, she’d been so buzzy and bright. Juliet hadn’t understood what her scholarly best friend saw in the gearhead jock who swaggered around the school thinking he was all that and tomato sauce, and seriously, what kind of a date was it to invite Callie to watch a bunch of sweaty boys slamming into one another?
But in the end, she’d had to admit that Jake treated Callie like a goddess.
Like his just-married brother, Jake didn’t hide it when he was into a girl. He used to wait outside Callie’s classes to walk her to the next one. Callie, in turn, had turned up to every one of his rugby matches, Jake’s personal cheer squad. She’d dragged Juliet along despite all of Juliet’s attempts to wriggle out—Juliet liked sports, but standing on a muddy and freezing winter sideline while a bunch of equally muddy jocks chased a slippery oval ball hadn’t been her idea of a good time.
But she’d gone, because Callie had always been her truest friend. It would’ve been easy for the other girl to drop her as they grew and Juliet’s grades began to slip, her suspensions and warnings rising at an inverse rate. Callie’s parents had certainly not liked Juliet and often told Callie she could do better.
But Callie, nonconfrontational but stubborn, had ignored them.
Juliet’s breath stuck in her chest, because in the end, she’d let down her friend. It hadn’t been her fault that she couldn’t attend Callie’s funeral, but it still felt that way. She hadn’t even been able to send flowers, she’d had so little money. Barely enough to pay for a small amount of data on the aged phone a sympathetic teacher had gifted her.
The only thing she’d managed was to send an email to Jake. Not to Callie’s parents; they would’ve deleted it at once. Jake being Jake had replied to tell her that he’d received the email and that he’d read out her words of friendship at the funeral.
Before today, that was the last time they’d spoken.
“Oh damn.” A drop of champagne slid wet and cool down her cleavage. Not thinking about it, she lowered her finger and wiped up, then licked the champagne off the wet tip.
Her eyes collided with Jake’s while her finger was in her mouth. Heat burned her cheekbones. He was looking at her like she’d walked out of a cave wearing nothing but a bearskin and dirt.
Making a face at him, she sucked more deliberately before popping her finger out of her lips, just daring him to say something.
5
Juliet and Her Blowtorch
Jake’s entire body clenched against the raw sexual heat that smashed through him in a tornado that sought to level everything in its path. Setting his jaw, he forced himself to look away from Juliet’s challenging gaze.
What the hell was wrong with him?
This was Juliet.
Constantly in detention, lippy with the teachers, barely scraping by on her grades, burr in his side, Juliet.
Beside him, she laughed in response to something Mei had just said, the hard-nosed detective more smiley than Jake had ever seen her. Juliet’s laugh was big and husky and warm. Before, when she’d been all gangly limbs, it had seemed too big a laugh for her, but now it was just another weapon in her sensual arsenal.
That laugh wrapped around him, as soft and sexy as her thighs.
Because bad-girl Juliet Nelisi had grown into her bones, no more hard edges to her. Ah hell, who was he trying to fool? The woman was a hammer-to-the-head, bottle-of-whiskey knockout, full of dangerous curves that made him want to explore her inch by inch… then do it all over again.
He curled his fingers into his palm, squeezing tight. He was no monk, but he wasn’t exactly a man about town either; Jake took his time, chose his sexual partners with care. He didn’t do one-night stands or give in to lust. Even if he hadn’t been an intensely private man who wanted his daughter to grow up proud of her dad, he had endorsement deals based on his squeaky-clean image.
He couldn’t afford to end up all over the tabloids.
The last woman with whom he’d had a physical affair was a reporter who did long-form hard news pieces. Rachel had been of the same mindset—she had a rising career that was as far from the tabloids as you could get.
Those tabloids as well as the gossipy women’s magazines liked to run the occasional story about how he had a tragic past with “a lost love,” but that was about it. Hard to wring salacious and scandalous from his determinedly uninteresting-to-the-media existence. There were only so many times they could reprint that old photo of him and Callie they’d managed to source from an old classmate.
Jake was the most boring-to-the-tabloids rugby player in the world, and that was exactly how he liked it.
Juliet, on the other hand, was a staple in those same magazines and tabloids. He hadn’t followed her life, but it had been hard to miss the headlines back when she’d been married to Reid Mescall. He’d spot her face or name on a front page while in the line at the supermarket, notice it because of their shared history.
He’d never, however, bought the magazines or tabloids.
Jake frowned.
Now that he was thinking on the subject, he didn’t remember seeing her on any new covers lately. But since her ex was a media hound, Juliet was of interest to the public by default. And this limo ride was taking an eternity, the erotic softness of Juliet’s body sinking deeper into him with every kilometer they traveled.
He swore he could smell her scent—lush and addictive—even though, logically, that had to be impossible. There were too many of them in this limo. But each breath he took was going straight to a part of his anatomy that had no business being excited on this day. Having a hard-on in his brother’s wedding photos was not on Jake’s to-do list.
He was never so glad as when the limo finally came to a stop inside Auckland Domain. The sprawling green space in the heart of the city was special to Gabriel and Charlotte, and they’d decided to have their wedding photos here and also back at their apartment.
The view from their penthouse was an unbeatable one.
Because of the way everyone had been seated, he and Juliet were the last to get out. Once out himself, he turned automatically and held out a hand. His father had drilled it into him, into all of them, that they were to treat women with respect, like the knights of old in the fairy tales his mot
her had read them.
Of course, Joseph Esera had never had to deal with the fiery virago that was Juliet. Crunching on heroic knights was probably her favorite post-dinnertime snack. Afterward, she no doubt used their bones as toothpicks.
Today she shot him a dark look but put her hand in his and let him help her out from the low-slung vehicle. The shock of the contact ran through him, his body suddenly that of an irrational teenager who hadn’t taken on board any of his rational objections to this inexplicable attraction.
Her hand was soft and warm with a slight unexpected roughness. She did something physical with her hands; he wondered if she’d kept up the metalwork she’d been so good at back in high school. She’d been one of the only girls in that particular class. Jake knew because he’d been in an adjacent class that dealt with car repair and engineering.
A snapshot came to mind of Juliet with her face half-hidden by safety glasses, expertly handling a welding torch. While his own teacher’s back was turned, he’d managed to snap a picture of her as sparks flew around her face. He’d sent it to her at lunch—and been shocked when she replied with: This is awesome. Thanks.
That had been their politest interaction. Ever.
As far as hands went, his own were all kinds of roughed up. The kind of work he did in the gym to stay on form didn’t allow for softness, and rugby wasn’t exactly a gentleman’s sport.
“Thanks.” Juliet released his hand the instant she was out on her feet.
“Gee, don’t hold on too long,” he muttered, though he should’ve been thanking her.
Another smile that came straight out of central casting for insincere. “Aw, little Jakey needs me to hold his hand. Come on now, baby.” She held out a hand.
Tugging his suit jacket closed, he did up the button. “Did you forget to take your vitamins this morning? You’re acting extra feral.” He couldn’t believe the words had come out of his mouth; only Juliet could make him regress to the point where he sounded like a seventeen-year-old dipshit.
Then Juliet laughed, that big husky sound washing over him like a caress. “You’ve gotten faster with the comebacks,” she said, her eyes dancing. “Back in school, you mostly just tried a macho-stud glare.”
That was because she’d been like an alien species with which he’d had no familiarity.
“Juliet! Jake!” His mother’s voice, her hand waving them over.
The two of them began to move.
The limo driver had parked in a spot between the rotunda and the Winter Gardens—two huge greenhouses from the 1900s that housed blooms of every variety as well as tropical plants. Jake sometimes brought Esme here on rainy weekend days when the two of them were getting restless being cooped up inside.
They usually went by his brother’s and picked up Emmaline too. His daughter’s favorite thing in the gardens was the cacao tree when it fruited, while her cousin was fascinated by the hanging pitcher plants. The three of them would wander leisurely through the Winter Gardens, then—if the girls had been good—he’d take them for afternoon tea at the nearby café.
Weirdly, the two were always impeccably behaved on those days.
Jake bit back a smile at the thought, his eyes on their two little forms as they walked hand in hand between Ísa and Alison. Molly and Mei were ahead of them, holding Charlotte’s train up off the asphalt of the parking area. The photographer and his assistant, meanwhile, had come ahead in their own vehicle; the photographer now waved Charlotte and Gabriel toward the rotunda while taking candid shots along the way.
His assistant lugged the gear for the more formal shots.
Unsurprisingly, the wedding party attracted attention from people out enjoying the sunny Saturday; smiles broke out over countless faces. A couple of kids were playing in the rotunda when they arrived but got quickly out of the way at first sight of Charlotte. A minute later, they sighted Gabe, then Jake and Danny, and their eyes rounded.
Rugby fans right there.
Since the kids had been so good about vacating their play area, Jake would make sure they got an autograph or a picture with him and Danny. He didn’t think they’d be taking off before the wedding shoot was over—even now, one had turned to call over a couple on a picnic blanket who had to be their parents.
The photographer didn’t bother giving Gabriel and Charlotte any instructions after the first few minutes—the two were so madly in love that everything they did was beautiful, their faces glowing. At one point, Gabriel scooped Charlotte up into his arms without warning, her veil trailing to the floor in a delicate waterfall. His tough-as-nails brother’s face was a picture of delight, Charlotte’s full of laughter.
Meanwhile, he and Juliet stood silent as sphinxes next to each other. It wasn’t comfortable. It was very uncomfortable. Prickly. As Juliet had always been. Full of sharp edges that kept the world at bay. Only Calypso had been invited in.
“So you transferred to another school,” he finally said, trying to make some kind of a connection, some kind of conversation in honor of the girl who’d touched both their lives. “Was it because you got expelled?” He hadn’t asked too many questions of Calypso back then, had just been glad that she was no longer stressing about her friend’s disappearance.
She’d been three months along by then.
“Was that the rumor?” Juliet made a face. “Tell me that at least I was suspected of having done something wildly scandalous.”
He leaned in close, the scent of her intoxicating. “Affair with the principal.”
“Ew!” A sudden poke at his upper arm. “You made that up.”
“Did I?”
A look that told him the virago would wait for her revenge—then scorch him dead. “I got sent to Samoa,” she said at last. “Phone confiscated, the whole strict discipline, straight-home-after-school thing. I only managed to message Callie after a teacher took pity on this lost transplant from New Zealand and gave me her old prepaid phone. I used to do homework for a couple of other kids to earn money to load it with data.”
Because Juliet had never been stupid. No, she was extremely smart. He’d once seen her scribbling in her math book during a lesson and peeked over her shoulder, expecting to see a rude doodle. Instead, she’d solved the complex math equation the teacher was still patiently explaining. That she’d had such trouble with her grades probably had to do with the fact she’d worked most nights as well as on the weekends.
He’d had part-time jobs too, but nothing so onerous. “What about the money from your job here?” he asked, recalling the times he’d gone in late with one of his older brothers to pick up groceries and seen Juliet at the checkout. She’d been the picture of politeness to his brothers.
It had been weird.
So much so that one day, he’d gone back to fetch a chocolate bar he’d deliberately forgotten to bag and asked her if she’d been possessed by a nice demon.
Her response had reassured him that Juliet was still Juliet.
Today she shrugged, and it threatened to draw his eyes straight to the vee between her generous breasts. “I was a minor, so my aunt had access to my bank account. She used what I’d saved to pay for my ticket to Samoa.”
Jake looked at the line of her profile, searching for all the things he could feel but that she didn’t say. Her words had been offhand, without anger, but that was impossible after such a major forced shift in her life—especially one paid for with money she’d worked hard to earn. The Juliet he’d known had always been angry.
“Who did you stay with in Samoa? Grandparents?”
“Yup. My dad’s parents.”
“How was it going to school there?”
A pause before she said, “I had to repeat a grade.” Words that held more unspoken things. “Let’s just say things were a bit messed up.”
Jake shrugged. “I repeated a grade too.”
Dark eyes met his, a softness to them that cut him off at the knees it was so unexpected from this woman made of prickles and armored to the teeth.
This wasn’t a topic on which Jake spoke often, not even to his brothers. And he hadn’t had a non-family best friend for a long time. Most of the guys his age who played rugby were still unfettered by family obligations and lived a life that he couldn’t—and didn’t want to—emulate. No late-night drinking sessions for Jake, no taking off on weekends away without planning well ahead of time.
He got along better with the older guys on the team, the ones with families of their own, but their mutual responsibilities meant they didn’t hang as much. Because they got it, got that Jake’s daughter was his responsibility and he loved her. He wanted to be there for her. Esme didn’t have a mum, just him.
While his entire family was always around, ready to help, he was the one who kissed her good night and got her up in the morning. He was the one who went with her to get her school supplies, and he’d learned how to braid hair so he could braid hers.
All these things, and more, he usually never spoke aloud.
Today, however, maybe because Juliet had known Calypso, he found himself saying, “Yeah, I hope so. She would’ve been a hell of a good mum.” Calypso had been the one with the plans, the one who’d made lists of what their baby would need.
“She chose Esme’s name, didn’t she?”
Of course Calypso would’ve shared that with her best friend. “And she made all these videos, talking to Esme while she was pregnant.” Cradling her belly while speaking to her “sweet baby.” “Esme likes to listen to and watch them sometimes.”
Danny had helped Jake load all the videos into the cloud and set a backup so Esme would never lose access to them. “We do that on Mother’s Day.” His daughter had grown up knowing that she’d had a mother who’d loved her very much. “I just wish that Calypso could see who Esme’s growing up to be—she would’ve been so proud.”