"You're right. How do we get them to talk to each other? Maybe you could go over and get your grandfather and walk him over to Cecelia."
"Yeah, that's not going to happen," he said dryly. "Just give it a few minutes."
She waited for about thirty seconds, then said, "I can't just do nothing. Watch my table and hand out desserts to whoever wants them. There's no money involved. It's all free. You can do it."
He knew he could do it; he just didn't want to. But Juliette was already walking away. He moved behind her table and almost immediately was deluged with people wanting desserts. Sara gave him a hand when he had to go looking through plastic bins for more cookies, but otherwise he was on his own.
At one point, he saw Juliette talking to Cecelia, then he lost track of her.
"What's this?" Doug asked, approaching the table with an attractive redhead. "You're working desserts now, Roman?"
"Just holding down the fort for Juliette."
"So things must be going well there," Doug said, a knowing gleam in his eyes.
"Who's your friend?" he asked, ignoring Doug's comment.
"This is Valerie Marks—Roman Prescott."
"Nice to meet you," she said, extending her hand.
"You, too," he replied.
"Valerie is in public relations," Doug added. "She's going to help me with my campaign."
"I am not just going to help you; I'm going to get you elected," Valerie said confidently.
"Sounds like you're set," Roman said, thinking that Doug and Valerie made a good match. Not that he expected Doug to get serious about a woman right now. He had one goal on his mind and that was being mayor. "What can I get you?"
"We want some of the Wish cookies," Valerie said, slipping her arm through Doug's. She gave him a sideways glance. "I already know what my wish is. What about you?"
"Same as yours," Doug said with a laugh. "Two Wish cookies, Roman."
He handed them each a cookie on a napkin. "Here you go. Enjoy."
As Doug and Valerie moved away, he saw Juliette and Cecelia in conversation. He also saw that his grandfather had seen Cecelia as well. He knew what he needed to do and that was not to get his grandfather to move; it was to get Juliette out of the picture.
"Sara, would you mind keeping an eye on the table?" he asked her.
"Sure, no problem."
He moved across the room as the band began to play. "I think this is my dance," he told Juliette.
"Oh, but—"
He cut her off. "You promised."
"You go and have fun with this handsome young man," Cecelia said.
"All right. We'll talk later."
"I'm sure of it," Cecelia said.
As he pulled Juliette onto the dance floor, she said, "I was just about to take her over to your grandfather, Roman. He kept getting into conversation with other people, but he was finally free."
"I know, but I told you that the next move had to be theirs. Look." He swung her around so she could see his grandfather approaching Cecelia. "I knew he wasn't going over there while you were with her."
"So you didn't want to dance with me; you wanted to get me out of the way."
He laughed. "I did want to dance with you, and I also wanted to get you out of the way. You can say thank you."
"Thank you," she said with a grin.
They fell silent as they watched Vincent say something to Cecelia. She murmured something back. And then they stopped talking, but their eyes never left each other.
"I'm so nervous," Juliette whispered to him.
"Me, too," he admitted as they just swayed to the music, their attention on the older couple.
"Oh, my God, they're going to dance," Juliette said, her arm tightening around him.
To his amazement, Vincent took Cecelia's hand and led her to the dance floor.
"It's working," Juliette added, excitement in her voice.
"I think it is," he agreed.
Vincent and Cecelia weren't dancing particularly close, and there was tension in both of their bodies, but it was the kind of tension that spoke of a lingering attraction. Was it possible that these two could find their way back to each other? He hadn't actually believed that until now.
His grandfather caught him looking and gave him a rare smile, then he pulled Cecelia a little closer.
"Did you see that?" Juliette asked.
"I did. But I think they're just going to dance; I doubt they'll announce an engagement when the band stops playing."
She made a face at him. "I know I'm way too involved in this, but it just makes me so happy to see them taking the risk. Thanks for helping to get him here."
"As if I could resist you. You're a force of nature, Juliette Adams."
"I just want people to be happy."
"I want you to be happy."
"I am, but…"
"No," he groaned. "No buts…"
"I should probably get back to my table."
"Or you can let everyone get their own desserts." He pulled her up against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. "How does that sound?"
"Like a really good idea," she said with a soft sigh.
"Then let's dance."
She wrapped her arms around his neck as their bodies swayed in perfect rhythm.
They danced through the next three songs without a thought to breaking apart. But when the band went for a faster song, Juliette suggested they take a break. It was fine with him. He didn't want to dance as much as he wanted to hold her.
They walked back to the dessert table, hand-in-hand.
"Everything is pretty much gone," she said. "Just two Wish cookies left."
"Looks like you might have two takers," he said as his grandfather and Cecelia approached the table.
"Hello, Roman," Cecelia said in her sweet voice.
"Nice to see you," he said.
"We wanted to thank you," Cecelia added, her gaze encompassing Juliette. "Both of you. You encouraged us to come here, and, well, it's been very nice." She looked at Vincent with her heart in her eyes. "I can't believe we haven't spoken all these years."
"I didn't know you wanted to," he said gruffly.
"And I didn't know you wanted to. What a pair of old fools are we."
Vincent took her hand. "We're going to keep talking."
"We will," she promised. "Anyway, we wanted to say good night," she added, turning back to them.
"Good night," Roman said.
"We're really happy for you," Juliette put in. "I have two of my Wish cookies left. Would you like them?"
Cecelia shook her head. "I already got my wish."
Vincent smiled at Cecelia. "So did I."
And with that, the two of them walked away.
"That was the most romantic thing I've ever heard," Juliette said, dabbing at her eyes.
"It wasn't bad," he said, not willing to admit his chest had tightened at the look of love in his grandfather's eyes.
"It was better than not bad. You have quite the gift for understatement, Roman."
"True. So are you happy now that you got them together?"
"I am. But—"
"Another but?"
"I could be happier if you danced with me again."
"You've got it."
* * *
"I don't want this night to end," Juliette said as she walked out to her car with Roman. Most people had left the dance already. It was almost midnight, but she'd been reluctant to call it a night until the band had packed up their instruments and they'd been forced out of the hall.
Roman smiled at her. "Does it have to end? Just because the dance is over doesn't mean we have to go home." His finger ran down the side of her face. "We could take a walk, get coffee somewhere, go back to one of our places…"
She was tempted to say yes to any and all suggestions, but there was a logical part of her brain that was screaming caution. "It's too cold to walk, no place still open to get coffee, and I have to go to work in like four hours."
"Timi
ng is everything," he drawled. "I'll say good night then."
She put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for a kiss. His lips were hot in the cold night air, and her head spun from the rush of desire she felt for him. Kissing Roman was like quicksand. Every touch of his mouth took her deeper. She was never going to get out, but then again, she didn't really want to, not as long as he stayed with her.
But he wouldn't be with her…not forever.
The thought gave her strength to push him away.
He stared down at her with a serious gleam in his glittering eyes. "Juliette, we have a few hours until morning."
Her nerves tingled at the promise in his eyes. "I—I can't," she said. "It's not that I don't want to, Roman. But my work is so busy and your life is up in the air."
"I know," he said, a husky note in his voice. "I should get to bed, too. I want to get a good workout in tomorrow before my fitness tests on Monday."
"Fitness tests? I thought it was a physical."
"It's both. I'm flying to South Carolina, to the base at Parris Island, tomorrow night. The tests will start around ten in the morning on Monday. I'll be done by three and be back here around ten o'clock Monday night."
"I didn't realize you had to go somewhere else for the tests. What do they make you do?"
"Everything from running to pull-ups, agility and dexterity tests, rifle skills. The list goes on."
"Do you feel ready?"
"For everything but the results," he said soberly.
"I'm sure you'll do great. Will you let me know how it goes?"
"Yes, but I won't know anything official Monday. It will probably take a few days."
"Maybe you'll have a better idea, though."
"Maybe."
The mood had definitely changed with the turn in their conversation.
She took her keys out of her bag. "If I don't talk to you before Monday, good luck. I really do mean that." Her voice caught a little as a wave of emotions ran through her. "I want you to have everything you want."
"I know," he said, meeting her gaze. "I want the same for you."
She wished what they both wanted was the same thing, but it didn't appear that it was. She gave him a watery smile. "I'll talk to you later."
"Don't work too hard." He shut the door behind her and then stood there with his hands in his pockets as she drove away.
She didn't take her eyes off the rearview mirror until she had to turn the corner.
She had to fight the urge to turn around and go back to him—take whatever time they had left and enjoy every second. But she was afraid to make herself even more vulnerable to the heartbreak she saw coming.
She didn't want him to go back to the Marines. She didn't want him to leave Fairhope, but it wasn't her call. It was up to him to go or to stay.
She hated feeling powerless. It reminded her of when her parents died, when her aunt had taken her to New York, when nothing in her life had been under her control.
Was she really going to give all the power to Roman?
She was still thinking about that when she entered her apartment.
Fifteen
The last time Roman had made the trip from Fairhope to the Marine base at Parris Island, South Carolina, he'd been eighteen years old and a new recruit, not at all ready for the world that awaited him.
Back then, he'd arrived late at night, and had been immediately thrust into a whirlwind of events. He'd gone through processing, gotten a haircut, received his uniform and gear, and undergone a medical evaluation and a strength test. Then it was on to meeting his drill instructors and learning about the Marine Corps, before moving on to a grueling camp that tested him physically, mentally, and emotionally.
As he walked under the sign that said We Make Marines, he felt like he'd come full circle.
Watching the new recruits run by, he was stunned by how young they looked. He was only thirty-one, but he felt like an old man in comparison. These boys would become men very quickly, though. He knew what was waiting for them. He also knew not all of them would be able to handle the pressure. They thought they could now, because they knew nothing of what they would see when they were deployed to fight, to be the first boots on the ground, to face fears others could only imagine. But they would find out. And they would be well-trained.
It really did seem like a long time ago that he had been that young. But today wasn't about his past but rather his future. When the group of runners passed, he continued on to the fitness center, where he'd begin his day of testing.
It felt strange to see uniforms again, to salute, to be back in the Corps. This had been his world for thirteen years, and he'd loved being part of it. He'd never thought he would leave, but having been forced to be out of it the past few months, he had to admit that his perspective had started to change. He'd seen another world, one he might like just as much, and that life included a woman he didn't want to lose.
But he also didn't want to lose his career. Would he have to choose?
That question had been worrying him almost as much as whether or not he would be fit enough to have a choice.
Only one way to find out.
He jogged up the steps, then paused as the door to the center opened, and a man in uniform came out. The square-faced, hard-jawed, bald man was very familiar. Sergeant Jerry Woods, his first drill instructor, had been both his hero and his tormentor. He couldn't believe he was still here, still training recruits.
As he saluted, he realized the sergeant was now a major.
Major Woods stopped and gave him a hard look. "Roman Prescott?"
"Good memory. Congratulations on the promotion, sir. It's good to see you again."
"Thank you. What are you doing here?"
"I'm trying to get my job back. I've been on medical leave for a few months. I'm here for an evaluation."
"Right," he said with a nod. "I heard what happened to your unit. I was proud to hear how you handled yourself, how you protected your fellow soldiers. I wasn't surprised, though. I can pick winners from the first day of boot camp."
He'd never guessed that his drill instructor had thought he was a winner, especially not during those first weeks. "I appreciate you saying that now. I didn't think that was your opinion back then."
The major cracked a smile. "I like to give my recruits something to strive for."
"You always did that."
"Good luck today. Remember what I always told you—"
"You can do more than you ever thought you could," he finished.
"Don't forget it."
"I won't." As the major left, he moved into the fitness center and signed in for his scheduled tests.
He felt charged up after seeing Major Woods. The man had always inspired him to do better. Hopefully, that would be the case today.
For the next several hours, he was put through a series of grueling tests and then a thorough medical evaluation. When he was done, he had just enough time to grab his bag from the motel where he'd spent the night and head to the airport. While he was waiting to board his plane, he called Juliette, eager to hear her voice. Unfortunately, his call went to voicemail.
He felt incredibly disappointed. It felt like forever since he'd last spoken to her, but she was probably up to her elbows in flour and sugar.
He left a brief message. "It's Roman. I'm getting on a plane in a few minutes. Call me back if you have time. Everything went well," he said, then hung up, feeling frustrated that they hadn't connected.
She'd been on his mind all day, through the three-mile run, the stomach crunches, the push-ups and pull-ups, through the hearing and vision tests, even at the rifle range, which was not a good place to have a woman in your head.
He put his phone back in his pocket and stretched out his legs, feeling a weary ache in his muscles. He'd pushed himself to the limit today. He'd done everything he could. Now it was up to the medical evaluation board, and he had no idea what would happen.
He knew most of his resul
ts were good, but the hearing was still an issue. He didn't know how bad it was, because the lab tech running the test had been non-committal. There had also been some limit to the range of motion in his shoulder. Were the problems enough to kick him out of the Corps or at the very least get him reassigned?
He really wished he knew. He was tired of waiting, tired of wondering.
On the other hand, he wasn't quite ready to hear the final decision. Because then he'd have to deal with reality, a reality that might take him away from a woman who'd become very important to him, a woman who wanted nothing more than to put down the deepest roots possible in the town she'd been born in. She wasn't going to want to follow a man around the world. She needed the roots, the community, to be happy. She'd left New York to get them, and she was well on her way to her goals. He couldn't ask her to change those goals for him.
Could he?
* * *
Damn. She'd missed Roman's call. Checking the clock, Juliette saw it had come in fifteen minutes earlier. Maybe he was still waiting to board his plane. She wiped her hands and called him back.
"Hello?" he said.
"It's me. I wasn't sure if you'd gotten on the plane yet."
"I've got about five minutes."
That was nowhere near long enough for everything she wanted to say to him, but she'd take it. "How did it go?"
"It went well. I passed all the combat-ready tests. It's down to the physical limitations. There was some improvement since my last medical evaluation. Will it be enough? I have no idea."
He sounded a bit down, even though he'd just said everything had gone great. "Well, you did everything you could do. When will you find out?"
"Soon. I talked to the commander of my unit, and he said there's something coming up they'd like to use me for, if I get cleared. He was going to see what he could find out."
The idea of him leaving soon made her feel weak, and she pulled over a stool and sat down. "Where would you go?"
"I honestly don't know anything more than that."
"Do you feel ready to return?"
He didn't answer her question right away, then said, "I would be ready if I needed to be." He paused. "How are things going with you? Are you baking right now?"
Sweet Somethings Page 21