Unmasking Juliet

by Teri Wilson

  Seriously?

  Her feet slid to the floor. Her knees had gone wobbly, so she kept a firm grip on the counter even though she would have loved nothing more than to turn tail and run.

  Either that, or wring Leo Mezzanotte’s neck.

  It might have been a while since she’d done this sort of thing, but she was fairly certain it was bad form to kiss a woman within an inch of her life and then dump her on her ass. Literally.

  “You know, if you’ve changed your mind about this, you could have just said so,” she spat. What was his problem? Did he have a sudden yearning for his mysterious ex-fiancée or something?

  His back was to her. Not that she was actually looking at him. She was too mortified to look anywhere but the floor.

  “What? Of course I haven’t changed my mind. But, Juliet, we need to get Cocoa to the vet.”

  That got her attention. Even faster than being tossed off his lap. Her head snapped upward. “The vet?”

  Leo turned around. His hair was mussed, his blue eyes dark and serious, and there was a rather captivating knot in his jaw. “She got into the chocolate while we were...otherwise occupied.”

  “What? No.” Juliet shook her head, not wanting to believe what she was hearing. Chocolate was toxic to dogs. Everyone knew that, especially chocolatiers.

  He held up an empty saucepan as evidence. Not a trace of chocolat chaud remained. Cocoa had licked it clean, not that Juliet could blame her. It was that delicious.

  She looked at her dog, standing beside Leo with her big tail swinging like a pendulum. Every shaggy hair on Cocoa’s normally cream-colored muzzle was covered in rich dark cocoa.

  “I can’t believe this.” Juliet was fanatic about keeping Cocoa away from chocolate. She had to be, seeing as it was an occupational hazard.

  And the dog was trained. Hadn’t Juliet taken her to eight weeks of doggy obedience school at that big pet store in Sonoma Valley? She was perfectly behaved, other than the unusual Mezzanotte-induced barking habit. But that was more of a personality quirk than problem behavior. Right?

  Counter-surfing had never been an issue before, which meant that the lure of Leo’s special hot chocolate was irresistible even to dogs. Wasn’t that great news? Super. Just super.

  She was on the verge of tears all of a sudden. “How did this happen?”

  The corner of Leo’s mouth curved into a smirk, and his gaze dropped to her opened blouse. How it had happened wasn’t exactly a mystery.

  She looked down at her bra, on full display. Red lace, with tiny satin bows on the straps. It had actually been a gift from her mother, who’d taken the whole Italian belief in wearing red underwear for New Year’s a bit too far and gone for the whole matching set. It looked awfully brazen in the fluorescent light of the kitchen, as if she’d planned this entire encounter.

  Damn her cultural heritage.

  She wrapped her blouse around her torso, and a hot tear slid down her cheek.

  Leo closed the small gap between them and wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. “Hey, don’t worry. We’re going to get her to the vet. Everything’s fine.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t see how it could be true. Things were far from fine. The first time she’d kissed him, she’d managed to lose the support of Royal Gourmet for Arabella Chocolate Boutique. But apparently that wasn’t bad enough, because she’d gone and kissed him again.

  And now her dog was poisoned.

  This was all her fault.

  “Come on, let’s go.” Leo grabbed her hand and led her to the back door of the shop, flipping off lights as he went.

  The two dogs trotted alongside, as though they were all headed to the dog park for a rousing game of Frisbee. It was all happening so fast. Juliet didn’t have time to think long enough to devise any sort of sensible plan. Before she even realized what she was doing, they were all buckled into Leo’s car. A sporty little number. Very racy. Very Leo.

  Oh, God, what was she doing in his car? She couldn’t be seen out in public with him.

  She reached for the door handle, even as he was pulling out of the parking lot. “Leo, just take me across the street. I can deal with this on my own.”

  He shot her an irritated glance. “I’ll do no such thing.”

  “Leo, please.” She glanced over her shoulder. Arabella Chocolate Boutique, with her car parked in its drive, was rapidly disappearing into the darkness.

  “Juliet, your dog just consumed about ten ounces of bittersweet chocolate. Seventy percent grade. And I had a little something to do with it. What kind of man would I be if I just dropped you off at your car?”

  Well. What was she supposed to say to that? You’re a Mezzanotte. I can only assume you’re evil incarnate.

  “I think it’s probably a good thing that she’s so big. That much chocolate would probably kill a tiny dog.” Leo nodded toward Sugar burrowing quietly in his lap.

  The little poodle looked even tinier snuggled against him like that. “How on earth did you wind up with a toy poodle? I’m sensing there’s a story there.”

  His mouth tilted in a half smile. “Well, since you asked nicely this time, I’ll tell you. I rescued her. She was a stray, nothing but skin and bones and terrified of people. I started leaving a bowl of milk out for her by the back door of La Maison, and after a few weeks she finally let me pet her. She’s come a long way.”

  That explained it. But he’d left out a crucial piece of information. “And the girly rhinestone collar?”

  His expression darkened. “That was my fiancée’s doing. Ex-fiancée.”

  A hot spike of...something...hit Juliet right in the solar plexus. She was horrified to realize it felt an awful lot like jealousy.

  “So you were engaged?” she asked, trying her best to sound disinterested. And in all likelihood, failing miserably.

  “Yes.”

  That was it. Just yes. Apparently he wanted to discuss his ex as much as she wanted to talk about George Alcott III. It was no surprise when he abruptly changed the subject. “What kind of dog is Cocoa, anyway? Some kind of wirehaired pointer?”

  It was a common mistake. Juliet shook her head. “She’s a Spinone Italiano.”

  He took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at her. “That’s quite a mouthful.”

  “It’s an Italian breed. I first saw one when I was about thirteen, and I was instantly besotted.” She’d seen the dog at a wine fair. All these years later, she couldn’t remember which one. The Napa Wine & Arts Festival, maybe? The memory of that sweet dog had stuck, and as soon as she’d moved into her condo she’d adopted Cocoa. “They’re such sweet-natured dogs, and I suppose it didn’t hurt that their name reminded me of spumoni. I’ve always called them ice-cream dogs.”

  “Spumoni, huh?”

  “You know—the Italian ice cream with three layers and bits of cherry inside?” Her favorite dessert. Besides chocolate, naturally.

  “I’m familiar.” Of course he was. He’d gone to Le Cordon Bleu. He could probably whip up a batch of spumoni in his sleep. “So, an Italian dog for an Italian girl.”

  Her thoughts went at once to her red bra. Ugh. “I guess you could say that.”

  He grinned. “My mother would have loved you. She was Italian through and through.”

  Right. Cara Mezzanotte was probably spinning in her grave this very instant. “Leo, please. I think you and I both know your mother would have hated me with a passion.”

  His grin faded, and the knot in his jaw made a sudden reappearance. Mmm. Quite appealing, in an angry sort of way. Every bit as sexy as she remembered. “I suppose you’re right about that.”

  They rode in silence for the remainder of the trip to the emergency vet clinic in Sonoma, unless the sound of Cocoa retching in the backseat counted as conversation. Oddly enough, the pro
spect of an eighty-pound dog vomiting all over his leather seats didn’t appear to faze Leo in the slightest. He looked cool as a cucumber over there in the driver’s seat, with his charmingly rumpled dark hair and his lean, muscular arms stretched toward the steering wheel.

  How did a pastry chef end up with arms like that? It wasn’t natural.

  Not that anything about the current state of affairs was natural. She shouldn’t be here with him. She shouldn’t ever have set foot in Mezzanotte Chocolates. And she most definitely shouldn’t have kissed him.

  Cocoa gagged again. Juliet turned and rested a comforting hand on her dog’s broad back. She would have given anything to turn back time, to have another chance to just walk away when Leo had invited her inside his shop.

  She’d known good and well what she was doing. An investigation? Ha! She’d wanted to see what would happen when they were alone together again, to see if it was possible to recapture the magic of the vineyard.

  She certainly had her answer.

  “There might be dog vomit all over your backseat,” she said in a quiet voice. Eerily quiet. How could she sound so calm when everything was such a mess? “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry. We’re here.” He reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze before maneuvering the car as close as possible to the front door of the emergency pet clinic.

  He was being awfully nice about all this. Far nicer than George would have been under similar circumstances. It was sweet.

  And very confusing.

  She hopped out of the car and coaxed Cocoa from the backseat. The poor thing looked terribly droopy as she climbed down. She peered up at Juliet with her big brown eyes, wagged her tail in slow motion, and Juliet’s heart melted.

  And sure enough, there was an ungodly mess all over the back of Leo’s car. Somewhere in the afterlife, Juliet’s grandmother was probably doing victorious cartwheels.

  “Thanks for your help. I can get this from here.” She’d allowed him to drive her to the vet. He was free to go. Preferably before someone—anyone—saw them together.

  Leo ignored her. But a telltale twitch in that knot in his jaw told her he’d most definitely heard what she’d said.

  He scooped Cocoa up in his arms and murmured in the dog’s chocolate-covered ear as he headed for the door. “Poor girl. Not feeling so good now, are you?”

  Juliet sighed.

  Again with the niceness. He looked downright heroic, cradling her dog like that. Just like the type of guy who would save a pitiful stray off the streets of Paris. A lump lodged in Juliet’s throat as she followed him inside.

  They explained to the receptionist what had happened, and a vet tech in blue scrubs came for Cocoa at once. She thought the vet tech seemed surprised to see the two of them together. And was the receptionist looking at them funny?

  Get a grip on yourself.

  She was already a dog poisoner. And now she was becoming paranoid. Leo had only been in town for a week, after all. She didn’t even want to contemplate what she’d do next.

  “So she got into some chocolate?” the vet tech asked, his gaze swiveling back and forth between the two of them.

  “Yes, close to ten ounces.” Leo nodded solemnly. “Baking chocolate.”

  The man in the scrubs winced. “Ouch. That’s the worst kind for a dog to ingest. You did the right thing bringing her in right away. We can administer some activated charcoal and get all the chocolate out of her system before it’s absorbed.”

  Juliet nodded mutely. Activated charcoal. That sounded horrid.

  “She should be okay. With any luck, the two of you can take her home in twenty-four hours or so.”

  “Oh, we’re not...” Juliet glanced at Leo. He gave her a steamy look. She tried not to notice how his biceps were bulging under the dead weight of Cocoa’s limp form. “I mean, we’re just...”

  Archenemies.

  The vet tech lifted Cocoa from Leo’s arms and headed toward the back of the clinic muttering something that sounded an awful lot like whatever.

  Paranoia. Definitely.

  “Okay, then.” Juliet released a nervous breath. Maybe she should just stop talking altogether.

  “I should probably get the car cleaned up and check on Sugar.” Leo waved toward the door.

  Of course he wanted to leave. Why wouldn’t he? Cocoa was in good hands now, and Juliet was ready to see him go. More than ready.

  Wasn’t she?

  “Sure, you go on home. Thank you again for everything. I’ll give my cousin a call to come pick me up later.” Why was it suddenly so difficult to say goodbye? She should be feeling nothing but relieved.

  He jammed his hands on his hips. He didn’t look so nice anymore. In fact, he looked angry. “I wasn’t planning on leaving you here alone. I was planning on going out to the parking lot for a minute and coming right back, but since you seem so determined to get rid of me, maybe I should rethink my plans.”

  She lifted her chin and reminded herself that the last thing she needed to worry about right now was Leo Mezzanotte’s ego. “Maybe you should.”

  “Fine,” he spat.

  Good. This was for the best. She shouldn’t spend another second in his presence. The more time they spent together, the worse things got. As much as she hated to admit it, her mother was right.

  Oh, dear God, did she just agree with her mother? Things were even worse than she’d thought.

  But it was true—Arabellas and Mezzanottes weren’t destined to be together. Her grandmother had known that fifty years ago when Leo’s grandmother had stabbed her in the back. Her father knew it. Her mother, brother and cousin all knew it. Even the Mezzanottes knew it.

  The crazy thing was that Juliet knew it, too. But when she was around Leo, she had difficulty thinking straight. Or keeping her clothes on, apparently. So the prudent thing to do was to keep her distance. No more Leo Mezzanotte.

  Starting right now.

  * * *

  Leo didn’t particularly want to stay with Juliet at the vet’s office. He really didn’t. The heat they’d managed to generate in the kitchen had cooled considerably, and in the aftermath, he’d begun to seriously question what he was doing. He’d very nearly married another woman. Recently. What on earth was he doing with Juliet? He should be avoiding anything remotely resembling a romantic entanglement like the plague. He needed time to get his bearings. Time to get his head on straight.

  Time. Lots and lots of time.

  And even if he’d had all the time in the world, the last woman he should be attempting to bed was Juliet. The ridiculous Mezzanotte-Arabella feud aside, she was still his competition. She’d made no secret of the fact that she wanted his chocolat chaud recipe. And if his uncle got wind of the fact that he was gallivanting around with an Arabella in the middle of the night, Leo would never hear the end of it.

  It wasn’t as though he was the nurturing type, anyway. Rose could have testified to that. He might have had it in him to rescue a stray dog, but that was completely different. Dogs didn’t harbor any expectations. They were simple creatures. Women, on the other hand, were not. And Juliet was an Arabella, which meant she was as far from simple as she could get.

  But abandoning her didn’t feel right. And the fact that Juliet fully expected him to do just that infuriated him.

  The nagging headache he’d had all day blossomed into full-blown jackhammering behind his eyes. All his life, Leo had seemed to disappoint people at every turn. Most recently, Rose. But she was just the latest person who’d expected more from him than he’d been willing or able to give. His father had wanted him—ordered him, basically—to stay in Napa and help run the family business.

  Leo had seen the handwriting on the wall. He’d seen himself working, holding down the fort at the store, making excuses for his father when he disappeare
d to pursue his extracurricular interests. Since he’d been a kid, his dad had used him as an alibi in one way or another. At least once a month, his dad had taken him to the track under the guise of spending a day with him at the park. To say his father hadn’t taken the decision well would be an understatement.

  And then there’d been his mother, whom Leo had let down in the cruelest way possible. He liked to think he would have done the right thing and come home before the lymphoma claimed her...if his father had bothered to tell him she was sick. Until he’d been called home from France for the funeral, he hadn’t had a clue.

  And now Juliet Arabella seemed to think that by virtue of his last name, he was some kind of monster. A monster she had no trouble seducing, he noted with a heavy dose of irony. But a monster nonetheless.

  He should have been relieved. For once, he was dealing with someone who expected nothing from him. Yet the more Juliet acted as though she was waiting for him to up and leave, the more determined he became to stay.

  Until she finally got her way, and he stormed out.

  He pushed his way through the doors of the animal clinic, trying mightily to ignore her reflection in the polished panes of glass. She looked so pitiful standing there all alone, with her arms wrapped around herself and her hastily buttoned blouse all askew.

  Pitiful, yet undeniably cute.

  He did his best to push that image of her out of his head as he cleaned what seemed like a gallon of dog puke from his backseat. All the way back to Napa from Sonoma Valley, he tried to forget the way those sad eyes of hers pulled at him, even as she’d ordered him to leave. But when he guided his car down the only street he’d ever heard of that boasted not one but two gourmet chocolate boutiques right across the road from one another—a sight he’d never even come across in Paris—she was still at the forefront his mind. Along with the things they’d said to one another.

  Since you seem so determined to get rid of me, maybe I should rethink my plans.

  He cringed. It sounded like something a lovesick kid would say.

  Then he remembered Juliet’s response. Maybe you should.