For Joy's Sake

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Show them she was glad to be there with them. That she thought the acts they had waiting for them were worth their time and money. Show ample appreciation for both the acts and her guests.

  “Julie.”

  Hunter placed his hand over both of hers. She separated them. From his. And then her own hands from each other.

  “It’s fine,” she said. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “I didn’t stand her up.”

  She didn’t want to hear. It was none of her business. She couldn’t make it her business.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “SHE LEFT A voice mail asking me to meet her Sunday night. I didn’t ever say I would.” He’d been planning to, though. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t. But he hadn’t stood her up. He hadn’t said he’d see her and then failed to do so.

  That was important.

  “As a matter of fact, I texted and told her I couldn’t make it.” Late. He’d texted late. After she’d texted him when he hadn’t responded.

  He thought about taking his phone out of his pocket and proving it to her. But he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t called Mandy by one of his often-used pet names for her, like Sexy.

  While he hadn’t done anything wrong—he was careful not to put himself in situations that could get messy—he found himself not wanting Julie to know about that particular nickname.

  “It’s none of my business, Hunter.”

  She was distancing herself. “I’m making it your business.” He looked her straight in the eye.

  Guests were arriving steadily. He pulled her to the side and let Trina greet their guests, along with a couple of the board members. He and Julie would each have to make their rounds. As far as he was concerned, they could do them together but not until he’d done everything he could to bring the smile back to her eyes.

  He wasn’t holding her hostage. She could walk away at any time. She didn’t. She met his gaze.

  “It’s none of my business,” she said again.

  “I don’t think it’s a question of whose business it is,” he told her. He was speaking to the look in her eyes, the change in her demeanor, not to the words coming out of her mouth. “I think that her appearance here made you uncomfortable. For whatever reason.”

  Hunter knew she prided herself on honesty. Pretty much anyone who came in contact with her knew that much about her.

  Honesty.

  If they had nothing else between them, they had to have that.

  He’d learned intimate things about her. She’d shared them with him. Of her own free will. That meant something.

  It meant a lot.

  And it meant a lot that she was still standing there, listening to him. “I’m telling you that you’ve got no reason to be uncomfortable.”

  He hadn’t stood up a woman. He didn’t treat women shabbily. Lie to them. Or in any way misuse them. He loved women.

  He loved people.

  His job was to help them have fun.

  Didn’t she get that much about him?

  “You’re dating her.”

  He hadn’t seen that coming. Probably should have. He’d been too busy feeling her tension. Trying to ease it.

  “We hang out on occasion. We aren’t a couple. We aren’t even an item. When one or the other of us is at loose ends and wants to go out, we’re a phone call—or a text—away.”

  “You’ve had sex with her.”

  In that second, he wanted nothing more than to have sex with Julie Fairbanks. And reeled himself in. Quickly. Thankful he’d worn his longer tux jacket that night.

  She was staring at him.

  Honesty.

  “Yes.”

  She couldn’t expect him to have been celibate.

  Julie’s nod, her abrupt turn as she started to walk away, struck him as wrong.

  “Hey, it’s not like I’ve slept with her this week,” he said. “Not since before Sunday night.” He wanted it clear. Since Sunday night he’d thought of no woman but her.

  “So... Saturday night?” She’d turned back. Sounded hurt. He almost grinned. She cared! Julie Fairbanks was jealous!

  He’d been so busy trying to get her to see that he wasn’t a scumbag male, he hadn’t figured out what was really getting to her.

  “No, not Saturday night, either,” he said, moving in closer. God, if the woman only knew. She was the one woman in the world who had no reason to be jealous of any other woman.

  That thought pulled him up short. But it didn’t stop him completely.

  “I haven’t slept with her since I started having this...thing for you.”

  There was still doubt in her eyes. A different kind. A better kind. She was doubting the wisdom of this conversation.

  Good.

  “You remember our talk a week ago Saturday was supposed to get rid of it...this...thing. But it didn’t.”

  She ran her tongue across her lips, and that was as good as hitting a hole in one.

  “What is this...thing? You never really said.”

  Aha. She was curious. Julie Fairbanks, a woman who hadn’t dated in ten years, was curious about him. His lower region reacted again. Just that quickly.

  But as overpowering as the thought—and its accompanying reaction was—it was subdued by the one that came right after. With Brett Ackerman’s early warning in the mix.

  Julie’s different. She’d been badly hurt. She’s not a woman a guy’s going to have fun with.

  Julie hadn’t dated in ten years because she’d been severely damaged. She needed a man with healing power, with staying power.

  That man wasn’t him.

  * * *

  NOTHING HAD CHANGED. Julie knew that. She had to know, couldn’t help but know, she kept telling herself.

  For the rest of the night, she was aware of Hunter Rafferty. Whether he was sitting beside her, which she actually enjoyed, or across the room in conversation with others, she was aware of him.

  Every time she thought about the fact that she was going to be driving home with him that evening, that she was the one leaving with him, her stomach gave a peculiar little leap.

  Because he knew her truth.

  It was...nice being with a person who knew. She didn’t have to hide.

  So, yeah, maybe at some point, another stage of her healing would be to tell more people. The more she told, the freer she’d be.

  The thought stopped. In most cases, when people were privy to big things, dramatic things, they gossiped.

  Made assumptions.

  Formed judgments.

  She couldn’t bear that. And she didn’t have to bear it, Dr. Larson had assured her. The one blessing about the way everything had happened in the past, and again the previous year, was that it’d been kept out of the papers. To protect the Smyths. But to protect her and the other victims, too.

  She wanted that protection. Needed it.

  And that was okay.

  Being raped didn’t mean you had to wear a label.

  But having Hunter know...

  “When was the last time you went out with her?” She and Hunter were sitting together at their table, two acts post dessert. Which meant four opportunities to make more money still ahead.

  The act was a teenage boy doing comedy. She was sure he was funny; judging by the laughter and clapping in the room, he was hilarious. Hunter had laughed to the point of guffawing a couple of times.

  She might have found the humor if she could shut up her mind long enough to take it in.

  To give Hunter credit, when she leaned over and asked the question, he gave her his immediate attention.

  “I don’t know. We had dinner. A couple of weeks ago, maybe. I don’t keep track.”

  Her heart droppe
d. Without cause or justification.

  “You slept with her then?”

  “No.” He was smiling but watching the stage now, so probably whatever had just been said was funny. No one else was laughing. But Hunter was certainly the life of the party. Good humor started with him. “I haven’t slept with her since the first Sunshine Board meeting.”

  Since he’d met her? Was that what he was implying? Oh, God, she hoped not.

  And hoped so.

  That wasn’t fair of her. Or right.

  “You have no reason to be celibate because of me,” she pointed out for both of them. Her mind knew the words to be true, so she took comfort from them.

  “Who said I’m celibate? I just said I haven’t slept with Mandy.” His grin had expanded. And he was looking directly at her.

  And that was when she understood. Hunter was messing with her. Because he knew her. He understood. And knew how to bring lightness to even the darkest moments.

  Her darkest moments.

  “Well, if you don’t sleep with someone, just see that she doesn’t show up and glare at me,” she told him. “Because I’m not responsible for the women you don’t have sex with.” She was grinning.

  Until he spoke again.

  “The hell you aren’t.” The words were said under his breath. Not meant for her to hear.

  But she’d heard them.

  * * *

  THE SHOW WENT for all ten acts. More than half the guests had remained for the last act, and a good many of them were voting for an encore that didn’t exist—donating money that would bear no return. They remained at their tables. Having one more drink.

  Chatting.

  So Hunter made a quick decision, and set about charming the ten acts—all of whom had remained for a final bow, hoping to be noticed by at least one of the two talent agents in the audience—to come out front and mingle for another hour. To greet all the remaining guests. Chat with them.

  In exchange, they’d all have a shot at meeting each of the two agents in attendance, having personal conversations with them.

  Julie ended the evening with ten thousand dollars more than their estimated high. Hunter had another success under his belt, new prospective names on his client list, and additional names on his donor list—the list of those who wanted to be invited to future events.

  And the night went far later than planned. It was almost one in the morning by the time he opened the passenger door of the Escalade and held Julie’s hand as she stepped inside.

  She had to be exhausted.

  He would be, too. Later. For the moment, he was energized. His adrenaline pumping. Feeling good. What a great party.

  Another success.

  A great evening.

  As he walked around to his side of the SUV, he started thinking about asking her out for breakfast—bacon and eggs at some all-night joint. Just to be able to sit and talk to her. To savor the success. Relive the key moments. Share the ones they’d experienced separately.

  And to make sure they were okay. That Mandy’s unexpected arrival hadn’t damaged the tenuous relationship they’d formed over the past week.

  Just because it was temporary didn’t mean it had to end right now. Or before the whole situation with Edward and Joy was settled.

  Before Cara was found.

  And Joy had a home other than The Lemonade Stand.

  At least until then.

  “I was jealous of her.” Julie’s words greeted him as he opened the door and climbed inside. Preempting his breakfast question.

  “Jealous of whom?” Playing stupid was beneath her. But pretty much on par for him.

  “Mandy.” Her head on the back of the seat, she’d turned to look at him. “I was jealous of her.”

  It wasn’t any great revelation. He’d been giddy for most of the night because he’d already figured that out. Confirmation was nice.

  Except it meant that now they had to talk about it. Every instinct he had shied away from even getting close to that one.

  “You have no reason to be,” he said, going for quick and easy. Hoping to end the whole topic and open the way for his breakfast question.

  “That’s kind of irrelevant, don’t you think?” Her tone was lazy, calm, as she continued to rest against the seat, watching him.

  No, he didn’t think so. Or he wouldn’t have said it. But, yeah, it could be. “How so?” His internal cringe at the question didn’t stop it from happening.

  “Because whether you’re dating her or not, having sex with her or not, I have no reason or right to be jealous.”

  “I wasn’t aware that reason and right were requisite for jealousy.”

  Proud as he was of his response, the emotion was temporary. Far too temporary. Gone in seconds. Replaced by an aching need to lean over and kiss her.

  As though in that kiss, he’d prove his point.

  He just wasn’t clear what that point might be. So he asked, “You want to stop for breakfast on the way home?” and started the engine.

  “I’d rather you let me make you breakfast,” she said. “It’s my specialty.”

  She didn’t want to prolong her public exposure. He knew that. But she was willing to prolong their time together.

  “What about Chantel and Colin?”

  Her brother and sister-in-law had been at their table that night. Hunter hadn’t exchanged more than two sentences with them. To his knowledge, neither had Julie. They’d been across the table from each other. And all of them were occupied with various other people.

  Colin and Chantel had left after the last act.

  And before the lights went up and the final tallies.

  “They wanted me to call when I got home.”

  Call. It took him a second to realize that when you lived in a home as large as theirs, with suites on opposite ends of the house, it would make sense to call.

  “One or the other of them will be up waiting for the call. Probably both of them. In case I need to talk.”

  He wondered how often that happened. Had a feeling it wasn’t all that often. But he really liked the idea that they’d wait up anyway.

  Julie deserved it.

  She was that special.

  “You going to tell them I’m coming in with you?”

  “Are you coming in?”

  “If you want me to.”

  “Then I’ll tell them you are.”

  And she did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  JULIE HAD BEEN PLANNING to make crepes. Because they were kind of hard to do, and hers were better than average. She’d wanted to impress him with one of her strengths to compensate for the obvious weaknesses. The weirdness.

  Hunter wanted bacon and eggs. To be fair, she hadn’t mentioned crepes to him.

  “I have Canadian bacon,” she said as she led him to the enormous kitchen with its professional cook station. The double refrigerators of her parents’ entertaining days still graced one corner of the room. Only one of them was used for anything more than beverages. The two double ovens seemed a little like overkill, too, as she tried to see the room through his eyes.

  “They’re great for Christmas cookie baking.” She pointed to the ovens.

  He smiled, responding to her earlier comment. “Canadian bacon is fine.”

  He wanted his eggs scrambled, with two pieces of toast on the side. Then he offered to make the eggs, which he cracked with one hand.

  She asked him to teach her how, which used a few more eggs than they’d eat, but she laughed as she tried. And she learned, too.

  “I’m surprised your brother hasn’t come out here,” Hunter said as they settled at the table in the breakfast room with their plates of toast and eggs scrambled with onion and Canadian bacon.

&nb
sp; “He trusts you.”

  “Didn’t seem that way the other night.”

  “He didn’t know it was you. And besides, even if he didn’t trust you, we both know that I have to learn to trust myself. To trust my own judgment again.”

  Probably a little too much information, she thought—middle-of-the-night conversations tended to go that way. Whether you were twelve or twenty-eight.

  “The way I figure it these days,” she said, “the chance of being wrong or making a bad choice is better than not making any choices at all.” She took another bite of egg, enjoying it. The taste on her tongue. The texture.

  She was enjoying watching him eat, too. Hunter savored his food, seeming to relish every aspect of it. Finding fun in it, just like he did with everything else in life.

  “I spent a lot of years not living at all.” She’d written the first four Amy books, though. She’d always be grateful for that.

  Hunter didn’t know about Amy.

  She didn’t want him to know.

  If he knew that Amy was her creation, it would be like getting undressed in front of him. They were only hand-holding friends.

  Her mind flashed a memory of Mandy, looking so sexy, calling Hunter’s name.

  A pit seemed to open in her stomach. She felt again the whisper of body parts that hadn’t whispered to her in many, many years. Just as she had earlier that evening.

  Her body was confused. But her mind knew the truth.

  “You have to understand that my being jealous tonight...it doesn’t mean anything.”

  “It means something to me. That’s my right. To feel what I feel. You can’t take that away from me. Or control it.” He was being a jerk. Challenging her with a grin on his face.

  “I’m serious, Hunter. I don’t want you to make more of it than it is. It’s...not fair to you, my feeling that way.”

  “Not fair to me? Now you’ve made me curious.”

  “Because it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not going to date. It doesn’t change who I am.”

  “I think it does. People change every single day of their lives, Jules.”

  Jules. Sounded like Jewels when he said it. Another warm breeze swept through her.