For Joy's Sake

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “What does ‘for now’ mean?”

  “Nothing. I don’t date.”

  “But you might in the future?”

  “I... Someday. I’d like...to have a family.”

  “And in the past?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’ve never been on a date?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. Where had she gone to school? A convent?

  “I...dated. It’s been years.”

  Brett’s warning came back to him. She’d been badly hurt.

  He wanted to know what had happened. Based on his intimate knowledge of the evening’s schedule, he gave them another hour outside, at the most. If she was willing to stay there that long.

  “He must’ve really done a number on you.” He put his observation out into the air—not directing it at her. As if that somehow made a difference.

  “Who?”

  “Whoever put you off dating.”

  She let the statement lie there, and he wondered if she was reneging on her agreement to help him get rid of the “spell” in exchange for not telling her brother she was leaving. If she did try to get a cab, he was going to follow through and tell Colin Fairbanks that his sister was on her way home before she could make it into the cab.

  Because he didn’t feel comfortable not doing that. Hunter might not have a clue how to be a good thing in Julie’s life, but Colin would know. And by putting it in her brother’s hands, he could rid himself of any responsibility.

  “I have an inability to trust.”

  Her words fell like rocks at their feet. The waves weren’t all that far off. The surf should’ve been calling to him right about then.

  She didn’t turn it into an issue with the guy. Whoever he was. Didn’t even mention a guy—other than not refuting his assumption that her lack of dating had to do with one.

  “Well, you don’t need to worry about me,” he said. “I don’t get tangled up in making promises, which is how trust is broken. Broken promises and all that...”

  Smoothing the waters without a lot of forethought. Yep, that was his way.

  He was usually better at it.

  “You date, but don’t make promises?”

  “Yep.”

  “Do the women you’re with understand that?”

  “Yep.”

  “What about a family? Kids?”

  “They’re great. Just not for me. I’m not the guy who’s good at having other people rely on him for their happiness.”

  “Happiness comes from within.”

  He liked to think so.

  “Besides, you’re talking out of both sides of your mouth, don’t you think?” she added. He wanted to believe that it was a hint of lightness he heard in her voice. Maybe even teasing.

  “How’s that?”

  “You make your living by showing people a good time. If you weren’t able to keep them happy you’d be out of business pretty fast.”

  “Ah, but there’s a difference between showing someone a good time for an evening, and being responsible for their long-term happiness. Hence, my no-promises philosophy, and my only-asking-for-dinner strategy. I know my strengths. And my limitations.”

  He was glad they were finally having this talk. Yeah, getting it out was good.

  “People are responsible for their own happiness,” she said. “In any relationship, they’re as tied to your happiness as you are to theirs. You contribute to a happy life for each other—or not—but the ability to be happy? That comes from within.”

  Her words set him on edge. In a curious, not angry, but definitely uncomfortable way. “For someone who doesn’t even date, you sure have a lot to say on the subject of relationships.”

  “I’m single. Not ignorant.” Shifting, she drew attention to the straight set of her shoulders. The fragile-looking neck. And nicely ample breasts that her black dress highlighted—and hid, as well. While current California female fashion seemed to lean toward daringly low-cut cleavage, her high-necked yet sleeveless dress was far sexier.

  “Besides, that goes for any relationship, not just couples,” she said.

  She was also pretty damned sure of herself. A turn-on. Damn it.

  “So you don’t look to your brother to make you happy?”

  “Of course not.”

  “But there are things he can do that make you happy?”

  “There are things he can do, or not do, that please or displease me, but those are momentary reactions. Having him for a brother is a happy part of my life, but for a lot of years, I had him, and I was still unhappy.”

  Definitely surf time for him. And yet, there he sat.

  Knowing that she’d been unhappy for a lot of years. Wanting to know more.

  Not wanting to think about what he knew about obligations to your loved ones and their happiness. Not wanting to disengage her from her views on the subject.

  “Anyway, you should think about kids someday,” she told him. She was apparently on a roll now that he had her talking. Getting way too intense for him. Normally he’d be heading out by that stage of a conversation. But he still couldn’t leave her to get a cab on her own.

  “And why is that?” he asked, in spite of his certainty that he didn’t want to hear the answer. Curiosity won out.

  “You’re so good with Joy. Exactly the kind of dad a kid needs.”

  She’d had a good father. He couldn’t blow off her opinion based on a lack of experience on her part. No matter, he had another way to defuse it. “I stuck my finger in cookie dough. And sneezed. I’d hardly call that being ‘good’ with her.”

  “You seem to know when her tension’s starting to overwhelm her.”

  That was stretching the truth. A lot.

  “And she’s comfortable enough with you that she responds when you distract her.”

  He ate cookie dough. And sneezed. Hunter didn’t get what she wanted from him on the whole Joy thing. He’d already agreed to tag along the next day, and had in no way indicated that he’d back out. As long as Edward wanted or needed him, he’d be there. He’d given his father his word. She didn’t have to build him up, or make his contribution look like more than it was.

  “I’m just glad I can help.” The words were inane. He didn’t want to think about Joy. Or Edward. Or the young woman who was missing from both their lives. Or the aunt in the hospital, either. He didn’t want to think about the man who was a surfer, just like him, beating up on his wife and sister. He couldn’t do a damn thing to fix any of it.

  “So...did this do it? Is the spell gone?”

  She’d turned her head, was actually looking at him as she spoke. He couldn’t see as much of her expression as he would’ve liked. The moon was out, but not shining directly on them.

  Nothing pithy came to mind. Nothing to lighten the sudden band of emotion that had him by the throat. “I don’t think so,” he told her, adding a grin and hoping that he came off as teasing.

  “There’s absolutely no future in it,” she told him so matter-of-factly that he almost did laugh. As though she could dispel any attraction he might feel for her, any malady of the heart that could befall a guy where she was concerned, just by saying so.

  “Ah, but that’s the thing about spells,” he said. “They aren’t about the future. Or the past. They just...are.”

  When she turned her head back out toward the sea, he knew his remark had hit home.

  And he was glad.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  IT WASN’T THAT the night was unseasonably warm. Sitting out on that bench with Hunter, knowing that otherwise he’d carry out his threat to let her brother know she was leaving, Julie should have been pissed. At the very least. Instead, she felt...warm. From the inside out. In places that had felt cold for most of her
life.

  She couldn’t explain the sensation. Not to herself, and certainly not to anyone else—therapists included. For the moment, she just experienced it.

  He’d seated himself at a safe distance.

  And conversation-wise, she was holding her own. With a man. In the dark.

  Not talking business.

  The realization was heady. Invigorating.

  So was the fact that she wasn’t afraid.

  Maybe she should have been. If she’d been afraid a little sooner in the past, she might have saved herself from the most heinous life-changing event. But maybe not.

  She was a hell of a lot more aware now than she’d been back then. She and Hunter were completely alone—but they also weren’t anywhere he could do anything to her. The valet wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation, but he could see them. And unless Hunter planned to drag her across the large expanse of grass to the beach and ocean beyond, there was nowhere for him to take her but back toward the valet. The other direction led to a ten-foot-high privacy wall surrounding the property.

  All information she’d taken in before she’d agreed to sit with him.

  He was doing her a favor, really. Providing the means for her to enjoy the night air, the slight scent of ocean beyond. The moon.

  Rather than feeling claustrophobic and tense at the event...

  And his silly talk about a spell was oddly engaging.

  No different than cookie dough and sneezes. Hunter was an entertainer. Just not one who needed a stage. She was curious about him. The real him.

  “Are you pretty close with your dad?” she asked. He’d said he was helping Edward at the request of his father.

  He shrugged. “We see each other once or twice a year,” he said.

  “What about your mom?”

  “She visits more often. I call her once a week. She calls more if she needs to talk.”

  He was close with both of them. That was nice.

  He was lucky.

  “Did she remarry, too?”

  “Nope. Mom says once in a lifetime was enough to convince her that once was enough.”

  He had a grin on his face, which was shadowed. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not, but figured he was—and that there was also truth in what he said.

  “What about siblings? You have brothers and sisters?”

  “Nope.”

  An only child of divorced parents. Who both visited him. A picture was forming in her mind. Still vague, but there. Kind of like sitting in her studio and letting the image appear one stroke at a time.

  “I’ll bet you were popular in high school.” He was the type.

  She’d been popular, too. Outgoing and social like her mother. She’d had her pick of dates. And, like more than half the girls in her class, had fallen for the most popular, outgoing, good-looking guy. Unfortunately, he’d gone for her, too.

  Shivering, she pulled her thin wrap from her elbows up over her shoulders. She wasn’t going to visit that memory again this evening. She was enjoying the night air. The moon. Being away from the people inside the building in her peripheral vision.

  “I knew how to have a good time,” Hunter said with a casual shrug that looked...sexy in his tux, taking her mind off herself. “I fancied myself as a surfer dude.”

  A vision of a younger, seminude Hunter, his blond hair windblown and maybe a little longer, superimposed itself on the image she was forming of him. “Were you good at it?” she asked, her artistic eye approving the vision.

  “I won some competitions.”

  Of course he had. Just like another young man she’d known. David Smyth had been a competitive surfer in high school. Maybe they’d even competed against each other.

  Another shiver. She waited for the aversion to come. The moment she knew she was going to run at all costs—when her studio called out to her so strongly that she couldn’t deny the summons.

  “A boy of privilege...” She said the words aloud. She wasn’t sure why.

  Not only was the boy who’d stolen her trust and happiness, her ability to have normal relationships, a charmer like Hunter, he’d also been a surfer—like Hunter.

  And yet, here she sat.

  “You’ve got the wrong guy.” His words interrupted the cacophony in her mind. “I do okay for myself, but don’t mistake me for one of your crowd,” he continued. “Not there and I don’t want to be.”

  One of her crowd? He was confusing her. Until she thought about her last comment. A boy of privilege. She’d been referring to David.

  Not that she’d ever tell Hunter. Or mention Smyth Jr. at all.

  “Your father’s a doctor,” she said inanely.

  “And yours was a lawyer. They’ve had vastly different clientele. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining or judging. I had a great childhood. I just don’t want you to take me for something I’m not. I work in your circles, Julie. I don’t live there.”

  What was going on here? What was he doing? Warning her off?

  Being honest?

  To what end?

  What did he want? Or hope to gain?

  “I’ll bet you were the model son, too.” David Smyth Jr. had been. On the surface.

  “Not hardly.” His chuckle had her looking at him again. Shaking her head.

  “What?” he asked, his face turned in her direction in the darkness.

  “I’m trying to figure you out,” she told him. No finesse. Merely talking out loud.

  “I could take that as a sign that you have at least a smidgen of interest in me.”

  He was teasing her again, and she gave it right back to him. “Just passing the time, since I’m required to sit here.”

  “I actually got into some moderately serious trouble my senior year of high school,” he told her.

  David’s age. When he’d...

  “And your dad bailed you out.” She heard the bitterness in her tone. Wanted so badly to take it back. She couldn’t afford bitterness. It could consume her.

  Again, she marveled that she was still sitting there.

  “Nope. He made me work my ass off to pay my fines and to pay for all the damages, too. I’d been partying with friends, and things got way out of hand. Some public property was damaged. I ended up in jail and was too drunk to get my own number right for the one phone call I was allowed. Lucky for me or not, I was a minor, so the cops called my dad.”

  “I can just imagine that car ride home.”

  She couldn’t, though. Had the vehicle been filled with stony silence? With harsh words? Or a more understanding attitude that “boys will be boys”?

  “There wasn’t any ride. Not that night,” Hunter said. “He told the police that he wanted my ass right where it was. The place I’d earned the, uh, honor of being.”

  Her mouth fell open. She noticed immediately and closed it. She wished she could see his face. He had to be putting her on. He must somehow have heard her story and was trying to...she didn’t know what. She’d made clear that she wasn’t interested in him. That she didn’t date. He had to realize there was no reason to do a number on her.

  He couldn’t know her story. Only a handful of people did. Some suspected. Some surmised parts of the truth. But...

  Brett Ackerman. He and Hunter were friends. Longtime friends. Had he told?

  He wouldn’t. Julie damned her untrusting nature. Brett was one of the truly good guys. She would not allow David Smyth Jr. to taint that.

  “Your dad didn’t have your back,” she finally said because it felt as though his statement required response.

  “Yeah, actually, he did. The next day, he bailed me out. He stood beside me in court. He taught me how to be accountable. And then told me he was proud of me for doing that. He also told me if I loved partyin
g so much, that was fine, but somehow I had to turn it into a positive.”

  Her body tingled. From a breeze she was unaware had passed through? The low timbre of Hunter’s voice? She didn’t know.

  “He sounds like a wonderful man,” she said. Because they did exist. More often than not.

  “He had his moments.” Hunter looked out to sea. So she watched him. “He worked long hours, wasn’t around as much as Mom needed him to be. Which was probably why I got into partying to begin with, according to her.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “I think I was turned on to marijuana by a friend and got hooked on the high.”

  Who said things like that? Was he trying to shock her? To what end?

  So...she refused to be shocked. “Do you still?”

  He turned back to look at her. “Smoke pot? You kidding me? I haven’t touched anything, except an occasional alcoholic beverage, since my one night in jail. Quit it all. Cold turkey. Of course, it helped that my dad was a doctor and had me seeing someone.”

  Wow. For a fun guy, Hunter was...deep.

  Or he was working her. To get something.

  “You aren’t getting in my pants.” She’d probably be horribly embarrassed by that statement in the light of day. She had to cooperate with him on fund-raising projects. See him again. At the moment, she didn’t care.

  She was still sitting there. And didn’t understand why.

  “Thanks for the confirmation,” he said. “I’d kind of figured that one out, but it’s good to know for sure.”

  He was teasing her again.

  And, in spite of herself, she grinned.

  * * *

  HIS LIFE WAS an open book. Hunter had nothing to hide. No deep waters to slow him down. As long as he kept things light, he wouldn’t be a letdown.

  Like his father had taught him, he did what he knew he was good at.

  And something else he’d learned from his father, although inadvertently, was never to let others depend on him for their happiness. Never to promise anything he might not be able to deliver. John Rafferty’s one mistake had been marrying a woman who’d needed things he could never give her.