For Joy's Sake

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  She always did—anyplace he’d known her to go. But only during the day.

  “Because it’s at night,” he said, stating the obvious. Surely she wasn’t going to pretend they hadn’t come this far.

  “It’s not like it’s a date,” he continued. “We’re both working...”

  Yeah, he’d spent way too much time on this one. And he didn’t want to find out why it mattered to him, so he wasn’t asking.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” And he thought he’d felt stupid before. That was nothing compared to sitting there in the dark, grinning from ear to ear.

  “I...was actually thinking about the fairness of asking you for a ride,” she told him. “You’re right. It makes sense. I hate to put Colin out on my account. He’s got his own life and schedule and—”

  “And why wouldn’t it be fair to ask me?” he interrupted.

  “I don’t want to lead you on.”

  So they’d come some distance. And they hadn’t. He’d known that. Disappointment consumed the air around him.

  But not for long. Because he didn’t know how to dwell with it. And had no interest in learning. “So... I’ll pick you up at four?” Their guests would start arriving at five thirty. Which would give them an hour together before they had to kick it into gear.

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” There. Disappointment gone. He was going to have fun.

  “Me, too.” He figured she was messing with him. That this was another example of the dry humor she’d treated him to during their first encounters.

  Crazy thing was, this time she’d sounded as though she meant the words. And his body was happy about that. Lead him on, hell. He’d already reached his destination.

  * * *

  JULIE HAD ELEGANT CLOTHES. One of her favorite semiannual events—starting from her thirteenth birthday—was a benefits luncheon that included season previews from the country’s top designers. A portion of every purchase went to the chosen charity. She’d attended it with her mother the first few times. Julie loved clothes. Always had.

  Most of them she donated.

  But her closet was full.

  Thursday night’s choice wasn’t difficult, though. There was one dress, black with a silvery shimmer on the bodice, that had transformed her the minute she’d felt it slide over her body. It fit to perfection, hugging her shape. The dress wasn’t revealing at all, yet it made her feel attractive in a mysterious kind of way. A hint of who she’d once been.

  The shoes she’d purchased to go with the dress were high-heeled. And a bit daring. They were brand-new. And had been on her shelf for months.

  She’d known all week she was going to wear the ensemble.

  Hunter was...safe. She could allow herself to feel pretty. To tap into a little of her quashed feminine power. Not to use on anyone. Just for herself. Just to feel good.

  She added diamond earrings that Colin had given her, her mother’s diamond necklace, and a diamond and onyx ring she’d purchased for herself from a shopping show on television.

  Her purse, a silk-strapped evening clutch, moved gently against her hip as she walked down hallways and through the quiet rooms of the only home she’d ever known. She’d slid down the bannisters she was clutching now as she made her way downstairs. Laughed until she’d almost wet her pants after pranking her older brother. She’d done it all. Loose lid on the salt shaker. Cellophane on his toilet seat—funny but not cool. Mocking and giggling whenever a girl called.

  And she’d been the one who’d given those girls a piece of her mind, too, when one of the rejected suitors started spreading rumors about him, saying he was into threesomes.

  His sexual choices mattered to her not at all as long as they were legal and he was happy. But for someone to spread lies about him...

  Trying to limit his chances to find true love—at least that was how she’d seen it back then.

  And right after their mother had died...

  She’d written an exposé for the school newspaper about the evil of spreading rumors. She was the paper’s editor that year, so she was able to get it printed. She hadn’t named any names, but by describing a certain situation, she’d exposed the girl for what she’d done. And talked about the dangers of spreading trash that would ultimately hurt the person doing the spreading, too. She’d talked about bitterness and the peril of always blaming someone else.

  And karma had come visiting Julie the very next year in the form of a truth she could not tell. And a lie she had to live.

  She’d made some bad choices. Being so desperate to date the school’s star quarterback, the best-looking boy she knew, the boy every girl wanted, was one of them. She’d let her body sail away with her heart.

  No more.

  Her stomach might be swarming with nerves, her heart fluttery, but her body was protected by her mind.

  And her mind told her that Hunter Rafferty was not a threat.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  HUNTER STUMBLED WHEN Julie opened her door as he was approaching to knock. He played it off. Stumbled a second time and made some stupid-ass comment about a court jester coming to call on the princess. He saved the moment.

  And based on Julie’s eye-rolling and the grin on her face, maybe the evening, too.

  And maybe he’d even saved a friendship. If they’d progressed that far.

  What he didn’t save was himself.

  By God, she was beautiful. He’d never been so hungry for a woman.

  Yet the thought of taking her back inside that house or any house, to her bed or any bed, didn’t light an immediate fire within him.

  Or fan the flames she’d already lit.

  For the first time in his life, he didn’t just want bed.

  He wanted that grin. The eye-rolling.

  The realization hit him like a wave he’d miscalculated. A tsunami. Leaving him without air to breathe. Confused. His world spinning with a sickening force.

  She didn’t seem to notice. Talked about the upcoming evening during the drive to the private oceanfront villa with a full-size theater where they were holding the gala. The acts would be showing up at five. Each group of performers had been allotted their own dressing room. The window blinds would be pulled up during the first hour while guests mingled and had hors d’oeuvres, allowing them to enjoy the ocean view. The blinds would come down at the beginning of the salad course. The lights would dim, but not go out. And the first act would come onstage. The first paid act—requiring guests to push the buttons at their seat indicating their willingness to donate further—was scheduled over dessert. Guests who didn’t choose to pay wouldn’t be staying for dessert.

  Most of his events had closed guest lists, but tonight’s gala did not. A certain number of guests would be able to purchase tickets at the door—enough to fill the dinner theater. He could’ve had it filled by invite only, but Julie had wanted people who weren’t on the invitation lists to have an opportunity to attend. He’d been all about the money. He could get it for her guaranteed, or they could take a chance on not filling the room. They’d compromised by leaving sixteen seats—two tables of eight—open.

  Trina was his event manager that evening. She’d be handling the payments that came in to keep the evening going. As long as there was one payment, on one tablet, at one table, the next act would go on.

  He’d already paid all the performers. Ticket sales had made that possible. But the tickets had been priced lower than those for most of his events. The idea was to show people such a good time that they’d pay extra to stay. And in the end, the event would make more money than a set price would’ve brought. It was a risk he’d taken with great success in the past.

  A risk Julie had opted to take when they’d first met to discuss the types of events he could
do for her.

  Her willingness to take the risk had been one of the first things that had drawn him to her.

  And maybe it was that willingness that still called out to him. He had the thought just after five as he watched her speak with another Sunshine Children’s League board member, who’d come early to support their effort and speak with guests as they arrived. Anyone who was acquainted with Julie in her current life would probably see her as the farthest thing from a risk taker.

  Knowing what he knew about her now, he could see how they could think that.

  So why couldn’t he accept that she wasn’t going to take any big risks with her personal life?

  She caught him watching her as she walked toward him—as beautiful as any runway model, yet so much more. His mouth opened for the joke that would come as she reached him. The light repartee. But it didn’t happen. He noticed the glow of confidence about her as she relayed the message that twelve of the sixteen open seats were already filled. He’d suggested that instead of selling online tickets for those last seats, they only give them to people who showed up at the door, ensuring that they were going to attend the show. And hopefully spend more once they got there.

  They weren’t out just to sell tickets, but to have guests who’d continue to donate.

  All three of his employees were working that evening. Kyle was backstage with the acts. And Bob with catering. Even after The Time of Your Life got its usual percentage, the Children’s League stood to gain the many thousands it needed.

  “You look great,” he said to her as they moved toward the main entrance where the guests were filtering in. He worked to encourage friendship and conversation among his guests, mingling, while keeping the doorway free so none of them had the uncomfortable experience of waiting in line.

  “Thank you.” Her response was rote.

  “No, I mean...not the dress and all...though, of course, that’s phenomenal...” What the hell, again! Had he lost his damned mind? “Just...you look like you’re having a good time.”

  She was out. In the evening. Which was generally a struggle for her.

  “I am.” Another polite response. One she’d offer to anyone. She glanced at him. Her eyes met his. And she stopped walking. They weren’t at his goal yet—the entryway—but they were close.

  “Seriously, I’m enjoying myself,” she told him. “But then, I know who’s not going to be here tonight.”

  “They could show up at the door.” He’d been worried about it since they got there. Just hadn’t wanted to say anything.

  She shook her head and looked away. Looked...uncomfortable for a second.

  “How do you know they won’t be here?”

  “Because I know it was...suggested to them that they make plans to be out of town for the next few days. That would explain their not being here. This way it won’t become fodder for gossip. You know, people saying it’s a slight on either of our families.”

  He didn’t ask who’d made the suggestion, but he could guess. Colin Fairbanks.

  Hunter did not want to be on his bad side.

  “Wouldn’t that suggestion be made any time you want to attend an evening function?” he said now, a bit confused. If that was all it took...

  Julie’s smile faltered. Only minimally. But he noticed.

  “It would be, if I allowed it,” she said. “And that’s been the case once or twice. I just...oh...” She looked at him. At the door. And back at him. “I just...this is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed myself.”

  Oh.

  Oh!

  “I’m going to be cocky enough to assume I have something to do with that.”

  He wanted to kick himself when her eyes lost their shine. He quickly added, “You don’t have this big secret that no one else knows. Because I know.” As she’d told Joy, secrets weren’t as scary when you spilled them.

  “Yes.” Her smile came back slowly. So did the glow in her eyes.

  He felt as though he was at the crest of a wave. Wanting to ride it indefinitely.

  “Hunter?” The voice came from behind him. He recognized it, yet knew a second of confusion, too.

  Because she’d never been at one of his work functions before.

  She wasn’t part of his professional life. And he didn’t want her to be.

  Why the hell was Mandy there?

  * * *

  JULIE WASN’T SURE what hit her first. The suggestively yet appropriately dressed beauty who’d just called Hunter’s name in a tone that implied she knew him well. Or the way he stiffened when he heard that voice.

  The cleavage on that glittery gold neckline wasn’t the lowest in the room. The swell of breast it showed wasn’t the most skin being exposed. But from her thick black eyeliner to the bright red polish on her toes, the woman oozed sexuality.

  “Hunter?” She was already approaching them as he turned toward her. Julie took a step back, intending to ease away, hopefully before the introduction stage. Maybe do a last check on her makeup and hair in the bathroom. Take a breather. Have a moment to herself.

  Check backstage to be certain that no one was having a problem...

  “Hey, baby, I couldn’t believe it when I checked the website and saw that you had tickets left for tonight. Since when do you do the ticket at the door thing?”

  The woman’s grin seemed genuine. But there was something about her voice, a brittleness in her tone, that kept Julie’s feet in place. Weighted down.

  Hunter was allowed to know women. They were allowed to know him.

  Allowed? How had that word crept into her thoughts?

  Expected was more like it.

  The man was gorgeous, funny, successful. And incredibly popular. Of course women would gravitate to him! She’d seen the evidence herself—even with the married women on the Sunshine Board.

  “Mandy, what are you doing here?”

  His tone was different, too. And if her last rationalization had freed her to leave the scene, that tone kept her right where she was.

  That hadn’t been an upbeat, have-fun, tone. It had held...history. He knew the woman well.

  It made sense that he’d know women well. The man was past thirty. He’d have a sex life. A healthy one.

  But...he’d been asking Julie out.

  Not to bed. Just out. He’d already said he didn’t want to be exclusive with anyone.

  Still...

  “When you stood me up on Sunday, and then didn’t answer on Monday, I figured I’d better come and make sure you weren’t being held hostage or something.” Mandy chuckled. It sounded sexy. She glanced at Julie, who suddenly felt stupid standing there in her straitlaced gown. Superfluous.

  Until Hunter turned to her. Her cheeks flushed. Her heart opened a crack. And then he said, “Mandy, this is Julie Fairbanks. She’s the one who hired me for tonight’s function. She’s on the board of the Sunshine Children’s League.”

  That hurt. Mandy was clearly personal. Julie, who’d sure as heck felt personal the other night at her pool, was a client.

  “Oh!” Mandy’s smile seemed to relax, but at that point Julie was just as convinced she could be imagining the reaction. “Maybe you can help me then. They tell me all the tickets are gone. And here I am, all dressed up and ready to donate.”

  Not even Julie could miss the pouty look the woman sent in Hunter’s direction. A clear mandate for him to put in a word to his client on her behalf. To do whatever it took to find her a seat.

  At his table, Julie was certain. Their table.

  The value of the seat Julie had at his table diminished. She was about to offer it up when Hunter said, “Sorry, Mandy, we’ve hit the fire code max. You know me. I never turn away money for a client if I can help it, but we’ve already maxed out our overage.”

  Julie wanted t
o say she’d be happy to eat backstage.

  To watch the show from back there, too.

  “Seriously?” Mandy looked from Hunter to Julie and back. “Wow. Congratulations!”

  “It’s all Hunter’s doing.” Julie heard herself say the words, wondering where they’d come from. It wasn’t what she’d been thinking.

  More like, I’ll forgo dinner. You take my seat.

  Julie had no front-and-center role in the night’s event. Didn’t really have to be part of it. She was background. She’d need to greet certain guests. Check in with her fellow board members. She had to be on hand to formalize and approve the final monies tabulated. But she didn’t have to eat. Or sit.

  “I’m sure it is,” Mandy said, giving him a long look that said something. Julie just couldn’t translate it.

  She had a feeling Hunter could, though. And did.

  Still, he’d told the woman no.

  And Sunday night. The night he’d been at her pool, with her, he’d stood Mandy up.

  For the moment, Julie was the chosen one. That felt good. Damned good.

  Until she realized, again, that he’d obviously made a date with the woman for Sunday. How else could he have stood her up?

  Which meant he’d made that date while trying to cajole Julie to go out with him, too.

  He’d said no strings attached, she reminded herself. And she’d made it more than clear, over a period of many months, that she wasn’t going on a date with him.

  She hadn’t gone on a date with him. And had no plans to. But still...

  He’d held her hand. Not like a high school, he’s-my-boyfriend thing. Like...way more than that. Like... She didn’t know what.

  And none of these thoughts were fair to him.

  Precisely why she, like Lila, was not healthy material for a relationship.

  “Sorry about that...” Hunter called her attention back to him. Mandy was gone. And Julie was standing there wringing her hands. Wishing she was in her studio.

  But knowing she didn’t have to run home to be okay. She was fine. She would eat. Converse. Clap. Show her guests a good time.