Beefcake & Retakes

by Fennell, Judi

  He took a deep breath before opening the door, then strode across the living room, thankful she had her back to him. Though, of course, she turned when he was passing the table.

  “You’ll want to jiggle the shower nozzle if the water pressure’s too low. I have to get someone in to look at it.”

  “Probably just a clogged shower head. I can take a look at it tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that’d be great. Thank you.”

  He smiled—thinly—not wanting to interact with her. He’d thought this would be easier; that his anger at her would be a sufficient buffer. That the time apart would be a sufficient buffer. But, apparently, memories were stronger than distance.

  He shoved open the bathroom door—and stopped cold.

  Good God. The room couldn’t be any more Juliet than if she were standing here.

  He turned around to make sure she wasn’t behind him, caught a glimpse of her hair as she rose from the table, and, this time, he did slam the door.

  Besides the purple that was an essential part of her wardrobe and what he thought about when he thought about her, the room smelled like her. He should have figured it would since there were a couple tubes of that lotion she liked in a basket on the back of the toilet.

  He pulled back the floral shower curtain. A bottle of bluebonnet bath gel was in the wire rack hanging from the showerhead. And he’d bet that loofa smelled like it, too. The loofa that she used on her body.

  Damn. Shit. Hell. He couldn’t say enough words to block out the images assaulting his brain. They’d gotten funky a few times in the shower back when they’d been teenagers and able to make those contortions. God, it’d been amazing.

  He undid the button on his jeans and yanked the zipper down, peeling his clothes off as fast as he could, then turning the nozzle all the way to the right for the coldest water he could get. It’d be the only thing that would get him through a couple of minutes in an enclosure that smelled like her.

  Or so the theory went. But from her lotion to the soap, to that damn loofa that was hanging right at nose-level, he couldn’t get away from Juliet. And then his brain got in on the party, imagining her in here, naked, wet, soapy, gliding that loofa all over herself—

  Shit. Damn. Hell. He was as hard as a rock and he had a feeling even if there were ice cubes falling out of the showerhead, he’ll still want to storm into that dining room, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her back to his room where he’d make love to her for hours.

  Tanner leaned his forehead against the cool tile, hoping—no, praying, and he wasn’t a particularly religious guy—that this intense ache would go away. That his body would calm down, listen to the dictates of his brain, and get off its I-want-Juliet kick.

  Lathering himself up didn’t help. Neither did washing his hair because he wanted her fingers combing through it. In the end, he removed the showerhead from its holder and held a steady stream of ice water on a certain part of his anatomy so he could at least walk the few steps necessary to get out of the shower.

  He used the blue towel she’d given him, among her sea of purple ones, scrubbing perhaps a tad too hard, but he needed to put an end to this insane testiness running below the surface of his skin. As if there were a living thing beneath it, trying to claw its way out.

  How could he have forgotten this insane reaction he had to her? This intense desire to haul her up against him and forget the world existed?

  He’d thought she’d killed that with her lies, but apparently, absence made the hormones grow fonder because this heart definitely wasn’t involved.

  Dude, you’re still married to her… Why not take advantage of that fact?

  Great. Just what he didn’t need—permission from his libido to assert his husbandly rights. He was her husband in name only and he’d do well to remember that.

  He tossed on his clothes, force-feeding himself the litany that she was his wife only on paper. That just because some Justice of the Peace had said mumbo-jumbo over their joined hands seven years ago didn’t mean they had a happy marriage or he had the right to those husbandly rights in any way, shape or form.

  How about those contorted shower forms?

  He turned on the sink faucet and cupped his hands, slashing more cold water on his face.

  Nope, still wanted her.

  He dragged the towel over his face, sopping up the water. Hell, maybe this was that proverbial seven-year-itch. Since he hadn’t been scratching in the last three-quarters of a decade, it was acting up. Demanding release.

  Release would be nice…

  Shit. Damn. Hell.

  He scrubbed the towel through his hair, tugging it through the strands a litter harder than necessary, hoping to focus on the pain on this head instead of the one that was jumping for joy at his libido’s argument. He did not need a party going on in his pants the next time he faced Juliet.

  Which would be in about two minutes—just as soon as he got his junk under control and walked calmly out the door.

  She was sitting in the living room, the kitten curled in her lap, her laptop open on a tray table in front of her, a book in her hand, and the news mumbling in the background.

  “Since when did you start wearing glasses?” Dammit. He should have kept his mouth shut and gone into his room where he could’ve spent the rest of the night reading financial statements. Nothing killed a hard-on like spreadsheets. He knew; it’d been his main source of reading material for the past few months as he’d tried to figure out his future, and even though he didn’t have a girlfriend he was pining after—because he had a wife, one he’d tried to block from his thoughts—sometimes his body demanded attention.

  At least he hadn’t caved and bought bluebonnet hand lotion to help take care of that issue. Mainly because it would’ve created a bigger problem. Both literally and figuratively.

  Kind of like the one that started happening again in his shorts.

  Damn it.

  “Oh, I’ve, uh…” She slid the glasses into her hair, pulling the fall of gold off her face.

  Damn, Juliet was pretty. Naturally so. Like most women, she wore makeup, but unlike most women, she didn’t need to. She looked just as beautiful without it. Sure, her lips and cheeks were a bit paler, but that just made her blue eyes stand out more. He’d always loved losing himself in her eyes.

  He tore his gaze away and glanced out the window.

  Big mistake. It was dark. A cocoon of black that enveloped them here in this house together.

  He swallowed. Hard.

  “Eye strain from all the paperwork and computer work. I find they help me when I’m tired. Make my eyes less scratchy.”

  “Ah. Good. Makes sense.” At least something did. “Speaking of tired…” He pointed to the door to his room. “Night.”

  He was pretty sure he heard a “Goodnight” as he reached his room, but his heart was pounding too heavily, the blood rushing through his veins too loudly for him to be sure. And that was a good thing. Because no matter what way he looked at it, being in the same house—especially if they were on opposite sides of it—did not constitute a good night in his book.

  Juliet closed the book. She hadn’t been reading the words anyway. She’d tried to, but the truth was, she’d been listening to him in her bathroom. Had heard the pull of the rings across the shower curtain bar. Heard the squeak of the faucet as he’d turned on the water. Heard him pull the shower curtain back into place, and heard the change in the fall of the water when he’d been under the spray.

  And then her imagination had gone wild. And she’d let it.

  While she remembered very well what Tanner looked like naked, that little show a week and a half ago had only sharpened the memories. Fine-tuned them. Honed them. Into the perfect projectile to spear her heart.

  The kitten stretched against her thighs, her own little projectiles spearing into Juliet’s flesh, doing a fabulous job of pulling her out of her hormone-induced stupor.

  “What do you want, baby?” She picked the
kitten up and nuzzled her nose with her own, then tucked her into the crook of her neck. She knew what that kitten wanted; the same thing she did: someone to curl up with tonight. To feel safe with. To feel loved.

  Sighing, she nudged the tray table out of the way and then clicked off the TV. She usually had the television on for background noise, but the news was too depressing. Lord knew, she didn’t need anymore depressing things in her life. Keegan’s death, Nana’s illness, and the end of her marriage were her triple play. Three strikes and she was out. Things could only go up from here.

  But then her doorbell rang.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Hey, Juliet! Great to see you!” Delia, a former member of the cheerleading squad, second runner-up for homecoming queen, and the girl Tanner had called a Juliet-wannabe the entire twelve years they’d been in school together, waved at her from the front stoop, then walked up and gave her a hug as if the last time they’d seen each other was a few days ago instead of over a decade ago.

  Why did Juliet think this impromptu visit right after Tanner got back to town wasn’t an accident?

  “Hello, Delia. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, you know.” Delia put the little bounce into her pose as she crossed her arms and cocked a hip to the side. “A bunch of us were out to dinner tonight, talking about school, and someone mentioned they heard Tanner was around, and I figured, since I was going by your neighborhood on my way home anyway, I ought to stop in and check on the two of you. For as visible as you two were in high school, you’ve been veritable hermits since we graduated. Surely you’re ready to share him with the world after all this time?” She smiled and winked, pretending they were the best of friends and she had the right to say these things. But even if all of that was true, Delia was the last person Juliet would give the skinny on her marriage to.

  “I’m running my father’s company now, so that takes the bulk of my time. And Tanner’s busy, too. He’s still traveling a lot.”

  “Well, that must be a bummer for you. Finally don’t have to sneak around, and now he’s in another part of the country. Ain’t life a bitch?”

  Delia sure was. The woman was fishing with a big ol’ skimming net, looking for scandal. Juliet was not about to give her any. She’d worked hard to keep the story of their happy relationship going among those who knew her best, so she surely wasn’t going to blow it with someone who wanted to gossip about her. One whiff of the truth reached Delia’s nose and it’d all be over in an instant.

  “It’s a juggling act, but we’ve managed to make it work.” If that’s what one could call it.

  “Well, where is your big strapping hunk of a husband? Gosh, I haven’t laid eyes on him since the day you guys got hitched.”

  Delia had always wanted to lay a lot more on Tanner than her eyes. She was the chief barracuda among the sea of many that Juliet had had to worry about.

  Or not had to worry about if she’d believed Tanner back then. But he didn’t know what girls like Delia were like. And her cohorts-in-crime, Savannah and Jamison and Kiley. The four of them were like Medusa—minus the creepy hair. But they had tentacles out in all directions—slithering, slimy feelers of gossip that would never go away.

  Yet now that might come in handy… “Tanner’s in bed. Asleep.”

  “Aw, are you sure you don’t want to wake him up?” Delia put an added emphasis on wake him up as if they were talking about someone’s conquest and not Juliet’s husband.

  Husband.

  It felt so odd thinking that word in relation to him when he was here. In her house. In her life.

  But he was that. Her husband.

  One Delia could keep her money-grubbing, social-climbing, leg-uncrossing paws off of.

  “Not now, Delia. He just flew in this morning and is pretty tired.”

  The smile slipped just a fraction on Delia’s face, but Juliet caught it. Another thing those beauty pageants had taught her: behind every beautiful smile were the eyes of a viper waiting to find a moment of weakness to strike. Juliet had no intention of being bit.

  At least, not by Delia. Tanner on the other hand…

  “Babe?”

  Speak of the devil.

  “Who’s there?”

  Juliet’s head whipped around so fast, it was a good thing Delia wasn’t standing as close as she had been or Juliet’s hair would’ve done a number across her face. “Tanner?”

  “Musta been waitin’ for you, Juliet.” Delia muttered, putting as much innuendo and suggestion into her sentence as was legally permissible in the state without being called lewd.

  If only what Delia was thinking were true…

  “It’s, uh, Delia. Magellan. From high school. Remember her?” Juliet wanted to make some sort of sign to remind him of their cover story, but she could feel Delia’s eyes on her like a hawk.

  Yes, Delia had come fishing.

  Tanner yawned as he walked over to her, his t-shirt hugging a mighty fine set of shoulders… and pecs… and abs, and his shorts riding very low on his hips.

  He leaned against the doorframe and rested his hand on the other side, effectively having her back both literally and figuratively.

  “Hello, Delia. Nice to see you again.”

  “Well it sure is good to see you, too, Tanner.”

  Juliet wanted to toss her cookies at the estrogen undulating off Delia in waves. This was exactly what she’d feared all those years ago and in two months he’d be up for grabs for the likes of women like Delia. And maybe even Delia.

  She threw up a little in her mouth at that.

  “What brings you here at this time of night?”

  “This time? Why, Tanner Wentworth, I can remember when ten p.m. was your starting time. Right out of the gate like a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby.”

  Juliet had to unclog her ears. What was with the thick Southern accent? Since when did Delia sound like Scarlett O’Hara?

  “Those were the days when I didn’t have any responsibilities. Now Juliet and I are so busy with the businesses, we need to go to bed early. Get some sleep, you know?”

  His arm slid around her waist, tossing the innuendo right back at Delia because sleep was not what he was talking about.

  Damn if that didn’t make the butterflies in Juliet’s tummy go crazy. She wished they were going to do what he’d just intimated; she’d toss Delia off the front step so quickly, the girl would be glad she’d learned how to take a fall in cheerleading practice.

  Delia was looking at them as if she didn’t believe them. So Juliet slipped her arm around his waist too.

  She had to stop herself from swooning, though. Seriously, her knees about buckled when she touched him. All that hard, sinewy muscle beneath her palm and against her forearm. And smashed up against the side of her breast. God, Tanner felt just as amazing as ever and it was killing her knowing she was going to have to let go once Delia walked away.

  “Oh, well then, I guess I should be going. Wouldn’t want you two lovebirds to miss out on all that, um, sleep. But I wanted to tell you that some of the football team and cheer squad are getting together tomorrow for a barbecue at three and we won’t take no for an answer. You two have to come. No one’s seen you in years and we want to catch up.”

  They wanted something all right…

  Juliet kept her mouth shut. She actually wouldn’t mind going with Tanner. Have them be there as a couple. Keep the image going. But that was because she wanted it to be reality. Tanner, who didn’t, might have other ideas.

  “We’ll have to see, Delia. Juliet’s grandmother is sick, so we don’t make firm plans these days. Pretty much just fly by the seat of our pants.”

  Delia, damn it, checked out Tanner’s pants. Well, his shorts. That showed off his muscular thighs, and if he’d adhered to his old practices, was commando beneath.

  The thought had Juliet’s legs threatening to give out more so than his arm around her shoulders.

  “Well, let me give you my card so you know where t
o find us. We’re gathering at my place. The patio out back is delightful. My former husband was in landscaping.”

  Which former husband, Juliet wanted to ask. It was well known that Delia had a habit of marrying well. She’d gone to college for an MRS degree and had ended up with two.

  Tanner was not going to be number three. If it was the last thing Juliet did, she’d make sure of that.

  Tanner took Delia’s card with the hand that wasn’t plastered to her waist. Without glancing at the address, he handed it to her.

  Juliet resisted the urge to crinkle the card into a ball. After all, she wanted to go to the party because if merely seeing Delia could get his arm around her, imagine what a group of former friends talking to them would get her.

  Tanner’s hand came off her waist the moment he shut the door on Delia. “So what do you say about going to that party?”

  Hell yes and could they leave now? “I thought you wanted to see everyone.”

  “I do. Haven’t thought about Sean or J.D. or Tank in years. But I asked how you felt about going.”

  “Oh. Well then, of course I’d like to.” With some trepidation. “But what are we going to say, Tanner? About us?”

  “Exactly what you’ve been saying all along. But we’ll want to stick as close to the truth as possible. That losing Keegan was tough, and we had some things to work out. I can’t imagine they’re going to ask more pointed questions after that.”

  Probably not, since he’d be with her. Before? Everyone had wanted to know where he was and what he was up to. Why he hadn’t come around.