Foolish Games (An Out of Bounds Novel)

by Solheim, Tracy

  Roscoe crouched down to sort through the papers. “It looks like she’s starting another company.” He whistled through his teeth. “And guess who’s providing the financing?”

  The question was rhetorical because Will already knew the answer.

  “She sold you out to her brother to get herself back in the design world. Looks like she plans to use Owen, too.”

  “No!” Will roared, slamming his hand against the stainless steel fridge.

  “How much more evidence do you need, Will? Jesus! She tried to steal your son from you. The woman must be a sexual sorceress in the bedroom if you can overlook all that.”

  Will lunged at him, but Roscoe was adept at avoiding his clients’ punches after all these years.

  “Settle down!” Roscoe yelled at him. “I’ve only let one of my clients actually deck me and only because I owed it to him.” Roscoe pulled a kitchen chair between them. “You pay me to watch out for you and to tell it like it is, but you don’t get to shoot the messenger.”

  Will felt a great weight settle in his chest as he slumped into the desk chair. He wanted to wail. Had her love been a lie, too? His gut rolled just thinking it. All of his life, he’d been the kid looking in the window from the outside. Watching his friends love and be loved. His mother loved him, but she’d been too busy making sure they both survived to notice those painful moments when all the other boys played catch with their fathers or went on father-son campouts together. Or the dads who wouldn’t let their daughters date him because of where he lived or his parentage. The kids in school who’d cozied up to him to get help with their homework but made fun of his Goodwill clothing behind his back. Even in college, he’d stood apart from the rest, the poor scholarship kid whose mother could barely afford even a bus ticket for him to go home for the holidays while they were jetting off to tropical destinations.

  But finally, he’d thought he’d found true happiness with Julianne. She and Owen would be his family. They would belong to him and he would belong to them. Could it all have been just a lie?

  “Will.” Roscoe’s voice permeated the fog. “We need to get back to Baltimore. Ron can fly us back as soon as we can get over to the airport.”

  “Not until Julianne and Owen get back.”

  Roscoe sighed. “Okay, yeah. You need to say good-bye to your son. We can go over custody scenarios on the flight back.”

  Will didn’t want to think about how this was going to impact his son. He just knew he needed to speak with Julianne. To ask her directly if she’d done what Roscoe thought or if it was just a big misunderstanding.

  “Maybe you could throw some things in a bag while we wait,” Roscoe prodded him.

  “Yeah.” Will slowly stood. “They can’t compel me to testify, can they?”

  Roscoe didn’t respond immediately. “No. But the league has made it clear you’ll be suspended if you don’t.”

  Will’s legs felt like wood as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

  • • •

  Julianne sang along to the U2 song on the satellite radio. It had been a beautiful day. They’d found two potential mill sites, both well within the price range Sebastian had specified. Patricia had been a pit bull, hammering the owners with construction questions Julianne wouldn’t have thought of. Annabeth had been a bit subdued all day, but she’d kept Owen occupied and happy. She’d left the two of them at the inn with Patricia while she’d come home to find Will. Although she’d only been gone for the day, she missed him.

  The purpose of their fake marriage was so Will could bond with his son. But the real bonding had been between Will and Julianne. The potent attraction that had pulled them together on Sea Island was now a fierce connection. She’d told him she loved him the other night, and he hadn’t run screaming into the ocean, which she took as a positive sign. They still hadn’t talked about their future, however. It was as if neither one of them wanted to broach the subject, choosing to live in the moment instead, enjoying what they could of each other. Julianne hoped they could sustain whatever it was between them, because she now knew she couldn’t live without Will.

  She cautiously steered the SUV up the drive when she noticed another car parked near the house. There was a rental car sticker on the bumper, but nothing else to identify its owner. Pulling her car beside it, Julianne turned off the ignition and hopped out, quickly striding up the steps.

  “Will!” she called as she entered the kitchen. His large form sitting stonily at the kitchen table startled her.

  “Hi,” she said warily as she placed her purse on the counter. She took a couple of steps toward him, but something stopped her. He was back to being formidable and unflappable in his business suit and tie. His face was the same stoic one that had greeted her in the hospital over a month before.

  “Where’s the baby?” he asked. Something about his tone made her stomach drop.

  “Umm . . . he’s with your mom. She’s going to walk him back in the stroller. The ladies in the yarn shop like to pinch his cheeks.” She sashayed her hips a little and smiled at him, but he didn’t see the joy in little old ladies cooing over their son. Her smile vanished as unease began to grip her.

  “Will, what is it? What’s wrong?” Her voice shook slightly.

  A movement out of the corner of her eye captured her attention. Will’s agent emerged from the shadows.

  Julianne’s gaze darted from one man to the other. “Hello.”

  Roscoe acknowledged her with the briefest of nods before turning to Will. “I’ll wait outside.”

  Her palms were sweating now. “Will?” she pleaded.

  He stood from his chair and closed the gap between them. She wanted to reach up and wrap her arms around him, but there seemed to be an invisible force field in place keeping them apart.

  “I have to go to Baltimore tonight.”

  Julianne shook her head in confusion. “I thought we were together this weekend. Is something wrong?”

  His eyes were full of anguished fury. “I’m going to be subpoenaed to testify.”

  Her hand shot to her mouth. “No!” she cried. “You said”—she pointed toward the door where Roscoe had slipped out—“he said it was finished. You wouldn’t have to testify. Everything was going to blow over.”

  Her heart ached for him. This had to be devastating for Will. She reached a hand to his face, but he recoiled slightly. Julianne’s chest constricted and the breath caught in her throat as her hand hung there in the air. Unshed tears burned behind her eyelids.

  “It’s not over. I’m being yanked in front of a Senate committee investigating racketeering charges.” His words were like hard blows to her stomach.

  “Se—Senate committee?” Black dots swam before her eyes. This was the point where Will had always stepped in, his big hands holding her, comforting her. But he made no move to help her now, and her heart nearly shattered. With weak knees, she backed up against one of the bar stools and leaned against it.

  “Yes, Princess. You’ve heard of those, haven’t you? I’m sure you must have, since your brother is on the committee that subpoenaed me.” His voice was cold and her body shivered involuntarily. “I have to know, Julianne. Why did you do it?”

  Oh, God! What had she done? She’d ruined everything. “I didn’t,” she cried. Except she had. A gasping sob escaped and she placed both hands over her mouth.

  “All this time, you’ve been here collecting information for your brother. Was it fun, talking to him every day sharing my secrets, Princess?” The look on his face was savage now.

  “It wasn’t like that! I didn’t mean it, Will! I didn’t!”

  “Save it.” Will’s words cracked like a whip. Then he slammed her file folder down on the counter. “How much did he pay you? Was that what this was all about, Princess? Money?”

  She shook her head, the words lost in the sobs. Everything was a tangled
mess and she couldn’t find the right words to fix it.

  “You used me to get money so you can go back to your glamorous life as a designer.”

  “It isn’t like that,” she insisted. “I was going to tell you about the new company next week. It’s not what you think.” She was pleading now. “Will, I would never betray you. I love you. Please, believe me.”

  He grabbed both her arms and pulled her in closer. She nearly sobbed in relief as his body drew near, her own body arching toward his. But he didn’t gather her in or kiss her. Instead, his fingers tightened around her flesh.

  “Why should I believe you,” he snarled, “when all you’ve ever done is try to deceive me. And don’t you dare mock me by saying you love me.” He shook her. “Not ever again, Princess, because I’m not buying it.”

  “William Anthony Connelly!” Annabeth shouted over Julianne’s choking sobs and Owen’s wails. “What is going on here?”

  Mercifully, his fingers loosened on her arms, and that was when she saw it: the wedding band on Will’s left hand. A ferocious sob escaped her now-shaking body. Will’s eyes followed hers to the ring. He tore his hands away and stripped the band off his finger, waving it in front of her face.

  “I’m all done with your foolish games.” He stormed out the door toward the pier.

  “No!” Julianne cried, running out onto the verandah behind him. “Please, Will!”

  But her cry was whipped away by the rising wind. It was too late; his long strides had already carried him to the dunes. She wept along with her son as Will tossed the ring into the high tide. Julianne’s knees buckled at the sight and her body landed in a heap on the wood decking.

  She wasn’t sure how she got to her room. Several hours had passed since the confrontation with Will, and darkness had settled like a shroud over the house. Switching on the bedside lamp, Julianne had vague recollections of Will stepping around her crumpled form earlier and kissing a tearful Owen on the head. He’d told their son he’d be back in a few days, but he hadn’t bothered speaking to her. Then he drove off in the rental car with his agent.

  Julianne’s eyes were heavy and they burned. Her legs wobbled as she made her way to the nursery. Owen was sleeping fitfully in his crib. As she gently rubbed a hand over his back, he instantly calmed to a deeper sleep. The wind whipped beyond the windows and the ocean roared. How foolish she’d been, always worried the sea would sweep away the ones she loved. The ocean hadn’t taken Will away; Julianne had accomplished that with one misspoken sentence. And the pain was like a knife wound to her belly.

  Voices rose from the kitchen. It sounded like Annabeth and Patricia below. Julianne crept toward the stairs.

  “I don’t know what happened, Patricia. I’ve seen him look at her like that before, but those other times, he had pure lust in his eyes. Today . . . today it looked like he actually hated her.” It sounded as if Annabeth choked out the last words.

  Julianne swallowed around the lump in her throat. Will did hate her. And she couldn’t blame him. He’d trusted her with his secret when he hadn’t trusted anyone before. And look what she’d done with his trust. She silently trod down the stairs.

  “Oh, come on Annabeth, it can’t be all that bad.” Patricia handed her friend a cup of tea.

  “I’m afraid it is that bad,” Julianne said softly from the doorway.

  Annabeth sprang from her seat at the table. “Julianne, will you please tell me what’s going on?”

  “I wish I could, but I’ve already unintentionally divulged one of Will’s secrets. You’re going to have to go to him for this one.”

  “For heaven’s sake! You’re just as cryptic as he is. Will isn’t talking. He won’t answer his cell or return my texts. One of you needs to tell me what’s happened.”

  “Umm, I don’t think we need either of them to explain it to us anymore.” Patricia pointed to the television screen in the great room. She grabbed the remote to turn up the volume as the ten o’clock news began and an image of Will disembarking from a small plane filled the screen.

  “Baltimore Blaze All-Pro linebacker Will Connelly is the first NFL player to be served with a subpoena to appear before the Senate committee investigating racketeering in the National Football League, stemming from allegations surrounding Bountygate.”

  The three women watched in silence as a man handed Will an envelope, a disgusted Roscoe looking on.

  “According to sources within the senate, Connelly has information that can substantiate the rumors of an alleged bounty scheme. Connelly’s testimony could make or break several lawsuits filed by players claiming to have been injured as a result of the scheme.”

  Annabeth gasped.

  “Sources close to Connelly say he will invoke his Fifth Amendment rights, a move that will ensure him an indefinite suspension from football, according to the league office. The hearing is scheduled for next week. No word yet from the Blaze as to whether Connelly will participate in the team’s mandatory mini-camp also scheduled for next week.”

  The tears were running again down Julianne’s cheeks, their salt stinging her raw skin.

  Annabeth whirled on her. “Dear God, Julianne, what did you do? When you said you sold your soul to your brother yesterday, did that include selling my son’s as well?”

  Julianne had gone numb hours ago, so Annabeth’s words didn’t inflict the pain they might have. Wrapping her arms around her midsection, she stood there and let Will’s mother attack her, happy that he had someone in his corner.

  “This is all a bunch of lies! How could you tell your brother lies about Will?” Annabeth demanded.

  “I have to agree, Julianne,” Patricia chimed in. “Will and the Blaze are known throughout the league for their integrity and fair play. What would even make you think such a thing about Will?”

  Julianne locked eyes with Annabeth. “He wasn’t with the Blaze when it happened.”

  It only took a few seconds for the realization to dawn on Annabeth. With a sharply drawn breath, she plopped down on the sofa. “Oh no.” Patricia sat down beside her, taking her hand.

  Julianne knelt on the floor at Annabeth’s feet, telling Will’s mother and Patricia the tale of his unintentional involvement in Bountygate. Resting her head on her mother-in-law’s lap, she tearfully recounted her phone conversation with Stephen.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose. I was defending Will. I never would have said anything had I known what my brother would do with it. Stephen used me,” she cried bitterly.

  “Hush, Julianne,” Annabeth soothed, gently stroking Julianne’s hair. “None of this is your fault.” She gave Julianne a sad smile. “I’m sorry that I even doubted you. You’re an impulsive woman, but only because you want to protect the people you care about. Your brother is the guilty one here.”

  Julianne gave a heaving sigh of relief just as the thunder rumbled overhead. She was impulsive—and gullible—but it was comforting to know her mother-in-law understood. Too bad Will hadn’t trusted her enough to stick around and allow Julianne to defend herself. It seemed to Julianne that her husband was just as impulsive. Annabeth patted the couch beside her. Julianne climbed off the floor into her mother-in-law’s arms.

  “Well, this is quite a mess,” Annabeth said as she wrapped a blanket around a now-shivering Julianne. As lightning crackled outside, Julianne snuggled against her. For once, she was too preoccupied to muster the strength to be frightened of the weather. Will would be so proud of her. If only he didn’t hate her.

  Twenty-five

  Owen had been cranky all morning, jarring Julianne’s already frazzled nerves. She pushed him along the main street in Chances Inlet, one of the wheels of the stroller squeaking as it rolled along. A strong breeze blew off the ocean, the remnants of the previous night’s storm that had kept most of the tourists indoors. The isolated sidewalk perfectly matched her mood.

  Most of the
town’s residents had already heard about Will’s subpoena. The sports networks quickly connecting the dots had surmised Julianne was the culprit, shredding her brother’s carefully crafted wedding story of her and Will’s reconciled love. Now she was painted as the woman who’d stop at nothing to wrangle out of a marriage of convenience and return to partying in Europe with her son.

  The people of Chances Inlet had been giving her the cold shoulder all morning. Mrs. Elderhaus, Will’s first-grade teacher, however, went one step further, haranguing Julianne on her walk through town. “Shame on you!” she railed at her. “That boy is as honest as the day is long and always has been. You’ve done nothing but cause trouble in his life. If he’s smart, and he is, he’ll dump you like a sack of hot potatoes!” Chin high, she’d stormed off to catch up to the rest of her walking club.

  It was ironic, actually. Will thought the people of his hometown pitied him, mocked him, or considered him less than they were because he didn’t have a father. She wished he could be here today to see how wrong he was. He was one of them whether he’d grown up in the Seaside Vista Trailer Park or in one of the stately houses on the intercoastal waterway. Too bad he’d never understand that.

  As she pushed the stroller into Annabeth’s shop, she nearly ran over Gavin. He blocked her path, his arms crossed over his chest. Gavin wasn’t quite as massive as Will, but he was well muscled and nearly as tall. Whereas Will’s face was chiseled and hard, Gavin’s was more rugged, with laugh lines bracketing his twinkling eyes and a pair of devastating dimples. His wavy hair was always in some disarray from where he’d pulled his fingers through it. Of the two men, Gavin always looked the most approachable.

  Except for today. The hard line of his mouth warned Julianne that Patricia’s son was clearly in Will’s camp. Not that it surprised her. Once again, she was relieved that his friends were still loyal to him.