by Nalini Singh
And no staring at this sharp-tongued ghost from his past.
Juliet had disappeared without warning halfway through their final year of high school; student gossip had it that her family had decided to transfer her to a stricter school after she nearly got suspended for the third time. Calypso had been so anxious, certain that Juliet wouldn’t leave without telling her, but a sympathetic teacher had confirmed that Juliet had officially transferred out of their school.
Gone without a trace—at least until Calypso finally began to receive emails and texts from her friend a month later. At the time, Jake hadn’t asked too many questions about what had caused Juliet’s sudden departure. He’d had bigger issues to deal with. But seeing her now, it brought it all back—the excitement and innocence of their teenage years, the way Juliet and Calypso used to pass notes in class, the occasions he’d caught them giggling hysterically together.
He also remembered skinny and lanky Juliet spending half her life in the principal’s office while small and plump Calypso had been an honors student destined for a top university. But when a befuddled Jake had asked Calypso why she hung around with the troublemaking Juliet, his girlfriend’s defense had been staunch.
“You don’t know her,” she’d said in that quiet way she had of doing, until he had to lean close to hear her. “Jules and I’ve been friends since primary school. She’s funny and kind and she’s never once let me down. You should give her a chance.”
Jake had been determined to try to get along with Juliet for Calypso’s sake—and he had to admit that she’d made him laugh more than once with her acerbic comments and razor-sharp wit—but they’d never been anything but wary acquaintances at best. Calypso had been the bond between them.
Well, Calypso’s skinny best friend with what used to be elbows of doom—she’d utilized those pointy weapons on him more than once—had become distinctly and sensually curvy, her hair sleek and straight rather than a fuzzy braid. But in her eyes lived the troublemaking spark that had always made him want to grind his teeth.
Behind Juliet came Molly, her smile gorgeous. Her hair was dark, her body draped in a midnight-blue dress that fell gracefully to the floor, and she held a small frangipani bouquet bursting with color, the same as Juliet and Mei and Ísa.
The bridal party came to stand across the aisle from the groomsmen. They were uneven in number because Aroha was at the piano, but Harry would stop by the piano on the way out, offer her his arm as her assigned escort.
Jake’s mother, already seated in the front pew, waved Esme and Emmaline over, and the two girls took their seats between their grandparents. Jake could feel the pride and joy emanating from both his parents.
The music lilted into a wedding march rewritten for Charlotte and Gabriel, snapping him back to the here and now. And there came Charlotte, lovely and radiant. She was walking up the aisle on her own—she desperately loved her parents, wanted to honor them by walking with their memory at her side.
Jake had been hanging out in her kitchen with her when she’d shown him the heart-shaped medallions she planned to attach to the backs of her heels. One held the name of her father, the other the name of her mother.
“So they can walk me up the aisle,” she’d said thickly, wiping away her tears with one finger.
Her eyes were luminous behind her veil today, full of an incandescent love, all her attention on Gabriel. His big, brawny brother looked awestruck. Gabe was always in charge, the CEO of his life and his world, but when it came to Charlie, he was a man slayed by emotion.
Jake’s diminutive future sister-in-law was the only person he knew who could stand toe to toe with Gabe and get Gabe to back down. He knew they’d be happy, the same way he’d known Sailor and Ísa would be happy.
Both couples had between them the indefinable something shared by Jake’s parents—a sense of bone-deep comfort that existed beyond the passion and the love. The knowledge that this person would accept them always, even as they changed and grew through the years to come.
Gabe stepped forward to take Charlotte’s hand in his. A gentle laugh rippled through the entire church at his readiness to do this. He grinned, unashamed about his desire to make Charlotte his wife.
Their pastor, a smile on his seamed face, stepped forward. “Dearly beloved…”
Juliet’s stone heart was taking a beating today. First, all that ridiculously beautiful love among the women, sprinkled with sparkling little-girl joy, and now this. Gabriel Bishop, one of the toughest men to ever grace the rugby field—the freaking Bishop—had his petite bride’s hand clasped firmly in his, his heart in his eyes and his eagerness to be her husband unhidden. And Charlotte, just glowing, her happiness a physical pulse that took them all down like sniffling bowling pins.
Juliet couldn’t believe she was about to cry. She swallowed in desperate self-defense against the stupid wedding virus. She’d girded her loins for this, told herself that she was proof against wedding bells and goofy lovestruck eyes. Her armor of cynicism, tough as a crocodile’s skin, would protect her.
After all, the one genre of book she refused to read was romance. She wasn’t a snob about them, had devoured hundreds as a teen. But she couldn’t make herself believe in happy-ever-after anymore, not after everything that had happened. Except there it was: a great big fat happy-ever-after right in front of her.
The Charlotte whom Juliet had first met had been a shy mouse with fear shadowing her world. It had been surprising and utterly delightful to see her bloom under the attentions of the Bishop, of all people. Big, tough, relentless Gabriel who ate mice for breakfast.
Turned out Charlie was indigestible.
Now here the two were, their devotion so deep and true that Juliet expected to see little cartoon love hearts popping up over their heads.
And oh my God, Ísa was making goo-goo eyes at Sailor, and had she just seen Joseph Esera, senior member of the Samoan community and stiffly formal in his mien, send his wife an “I love you” look?
Ugh. This family was going to test her decision to stay cold and cynical.
Jake was still scowling at her. The sight perked her up; at least some things never changed. A scowl was Jake’s default expression when it came to Juliet. He’d never been able to grasp why his good-girl girlfriend was so loyal to her bad-girl best friend.
Poor Callie, Juliet had always thought, stuck with such a stuffy stick of a boyfriend. But, having seen how he’d smiled and encouraged his daughter just before, Juliet was forced to grudgingly accept that maybe Jacob Esera had his good points.
That Esme was a child confident in her right to be loved was obvious, and though Juliet wanted to credit the elder Eseras for that, the fact that Jake kept a spare pair of child-sized eyeglasses in his car smashed her favorite theory to splinters.
Gabriel’s voice—very firm—as he said, “I do. Definitely. Forever. No out clause.”
Juliet grinned through her incipient sniffles.
Charlotte’s response to the pastor’s question was softer but just as vehement. “I do. Forever and ever.”
Seriously, they had to stop being so adorable—how was she to keep up the curmudgeon act? She was smiling so hard that her cheeks ached, fluffy happy rainbows dancing in front of her eyes.
“You may kiss the—”
Gabriel lifted Charlotte up by the waist before the pastor finished, and she threw her arms around his neck. The kiss they shared was hot and loving and went just a bit too long for the staid old church—and probably for all the tut-tutting aunties who lived to lecture everyone on acceptable behavior.
But even the pastor was grinning at Charlotte and Gabriel’s enthusiasm, his brown face marked by life and lit with love. Lips kiss-wet, the bride and groom turned to face the guests, and the whole crowd rose up to cheer and shower them with flower petals as they walked back down the aisle.
4
It Involves Jake’s Thighs
Juliet had missed the wedding rehearsal because the plumbing in her kitc
hen had chosen that day to pack it in, flooding the entire area. She’d felt terrible for canceling, but Charlotte had assured her it was fine. She’d then sent through a quick list of instructions, so Juliet was prepared to slide her arm through Jake’s as the bridal party followed the newlyweds.
Molly and Fox. Ísa and Sailor. Mei and Danny. Aroha and Harry. Juliet and Jake.
She’d actually found the idea of seeing Jake again in this context kind of funny. Who would’ve thought the two of them would end up arm in arm in a church wedding? Had a fortune-teller forecast that back when they’d been teens, they would’ve both gagged and asked for their money back while Callie groaned.
Anyway, it was just a short walk. No biggie.
Except for the frisson of… something that had hit with a vengeance the first moment they laid eyes on each other in his brother’s backyard. She wanted to brush it off as irritation or annoyance, both things she was very used to feeling around Jake, but she knew full well the weird fluttering in the pit of her stomach was nothing of the kind.
The last time she’d felt anything near that flutter, she’d been on her couch eating strawberry-swirl ice cream while wolf whistling at the fit actor who played her favorite doctor on Shortland Street. But that had been a mere whisper in comparison to this massive reverberation that had zapped her entire system to speechlessness.
Guilt bit into her.
She shook it off, almost able to see Callie rolling her eyes at her. Her best friend knew Juliet’d had zero salacious thoughts about Jake when he’d belonged to Callie. Her thoughts had leaned more toward culpable homicide. She had no reason to feel guilty just because her adult body was insane enough to be attracted to Jacob Esera—who smelled far too good next to her.
Like freaking mountains and manly man and all that other stuff they talked about in aftershave commercials. She’d always made fun of those commercials, but now she was like the token brainless woman in the most recent ad, the one who wanted to snuggle up to her man and just smell him.
Well, too bad.
Her urges weren’t getting no satisfaction. She’d rather stick a fork in her eye.
“He’s amazing, Jules. Just give him a shot.”
“With a tranquilizer dart you mean?”
Even as the memory of Callie’s laughing shove against her shoulder made her lips twitch, Jake’s muscles clenched under her palm. He was probably also clenching his jaw. At least if she wanted to confirm, she could just glance across—they were the same height, but only because she was wearing heels. At five eight in bare feet, she was tall for a woman, but all the men in this family were over six feet in height.
It irritated her that Jake had the physical ability to look down his snooty nose at her.
Deciding to focus on something else, she glanced around, taking in the smiling faces and teary-but-happy eyes. Everyone in their best clothes, their coats abandoned in the cloakroom to reveal bright, happy color. Structured and beautiful puletasi—full-length dresses, or skirts and tops, featuring traditional prints—on the women with Samoan heritage. Flowy lines and block colors on others.
As for the men, some had broken out a crisp lavalava—a traditional Polynesian skirt—to go with their shirts and ties, while others stuck with suits, but everyone was in formal gear. That, she knew, hadn’t been a demand by the bridal couple. She had a feeling it was simply expected in this church.
Juliet’s grandparents’ congregation had been similar.
When two mischievous flower girls ran sneakily past to follow directly behind the bride—on best behavior once they’d reached their destination—her lips kicked up. Other children had wiggled out to stand at the aisle end of the rows of seats, all the better to see the bridal party. A small Indian boy wearing the cutest Indian-style gray suit, complete with silver embroidery, shot a sunny smile Juliet’s way, his cheeks round and his eyes dancing.
Juliet recognized him as belonging to Ísa’s funny and intelligent friend, Nayna. Having gotten to know and become friends with Charlotte, too, over the time since Charlotte had fallen for Gabe, Nayna had joined them for the prewedding festivities. Her handsome husband had been part of the male cohort, and had acted as an usher today.
Their gorgeous little boy was going to be trouble as a teen, Juliet thought with a sense of kinship. She looked forward to seeing him dance at the reception. Because no Samoan family wedding was ever without dancing—and from all she’d seen, Gabriel Bishop deeply respected his stepfather’s heritage, so there’d be dancing, of that she had no doubt.
Juliet intended to dance until her feet hurt. One of her best friends had just married the love of her life; it was a night to celebrate and to not consider the opinions of a certain male member of Charlotte’s chosen new family.
Jake probably considered dancing indecorous.
The doors were open, the afternoon sunshine pouring in as Gabriel and Charlotte stepped out to be met by another hail of petals from the guests who’d managed to get out before the wedding party headed down the aisle.
Laughing, the couple ran to the gleaming white stretch limo that’d eventually take them to the reception. First, the entire bridal party—Alison and Joseph included—would stop for photos. Ísa’s siblings, Harlow and Catie, had also been ordered to come along to the photo session as the newlyweds wanted shots with the entire family.
According to Charlotte, Harlow and Catie had spent so much of their teenage years with the Bishop-Eseras that Alison and Joseph treated them the same as their boys. And though both had been abroad during Gabriel’s courtship of Charlotte, Juliet’s friend had come to know and fall in love with the two in the time since.
Charlotte had included Catie in all the prewedding celebrations.
Honestly, Charlotte’s heart was the biggest thing about her. Juliet had wondered if, once Charlie came to know her, she’d run fast in the opposite direction—because Juliet’s heart was as heavily shielded as Charlie’s was open and generous.
But Charlotte insisted on believing that Juliet had “a heart so generous” she had to protect it against hurt. Juliet had decided not to disabuse her friend of that notion or to share the fact she still threw random objects at the screen when her pinhead ex showed his lying face.
Since she couldn’t afford to keep replacing her TV, she threw soft objects while pretending they were rocks hitting Reid’s swollen heads. Yes, both of them. The one above his shoulders and the one he went around swinging in the face of any woman vaguely blessed with breasts and an ass.
But Reid had no place here, she thought with a breath that had her lungs filling with Jake’s manly-man scent. Damn it. Exhaling as quickly as she could, she kept her mind on what was to happen next. While the bridal party did the photos, the guests would make their way from the church to the reception venue to be plied with food and drink and entertained by acts put together by the children and teenagers in the extended-kin group.
With how both Gabriel and Charlie valued family—including friends who had become family—Juliet had a bet going with Aroha that the two would begin birthing their own private rugby team within the next nine months.
A year at the latest.
She and Jake didn’t say a word to each other as they walked to the second stretch limo. It was big enough to fit the entire bridal party and yet somehow—thanks, universe—Juliet found herself trapped in a corner with the heat of Jake’s body pressed to hers. He’d gotten a whole lot bigger since the last time she’d been this close to him: big shoulders, muscled thighs, ripped biceps, all were kind of a given with rugby men. He was sleeker than heavily built Gabriel, but in rugby, muscle was a matter of degrees.
A sleek, elite rugby player was still pure hard muscle and bursts of incredible speed on the field, their fitness and toughness legendary. Jake’s thighs were probably like rock.
For all that’s holy, Juliet, stop thinking about Jake’s thighs!
Her mind immediately wandered to what it’d be like to bite down on one of those thighs an
d whether his warm brown skin was dusted with black hair all over or— Stop, Juliet! Stop this insanity at once!
“Cut it out, you two.” Sailor’s words had her cheeks going blazing hot… until she realized he was talking to Catie and Danny—who’d been sniping at one another from opposite sides of the limo. “Put down the swords for one day.”
“They wouldn’t know what to do with themselves then.” Ísa laughed. “The last time the two of them were on good behavior, they ended up so traumatized that Catie had to leave the country.”
“Ha ha,” Catie said, the skirt of her flowy, breezy dress arranged neatly over the knees of her prosthetic legs.
Honestly, Juliet wouldn’t have known they were prosthetics if Catie hadn’t whipped one off during yesterday’s celebrations to show off a new way to attach it to her stump. The younger woman had also shown Juliet a picture of a skin that gave one prosthetic the look of a cybernetic leg.
“My faves are my racing blades though,” the champion runner had said. “I’m the wind on those.”
At twenty-two, Catie was at home in her body in a way that Juliet had never been at her age. She’d been physically awkward even at her best, all skinny arms and legs and bones that felt uncoordinated and too big for the world; she’d also been reeling from the collapse of her marriage six months earlier.
But man what a difference breaking free from Reid had made.
The women’s magazines might taunt her for “eating away her grief over the end of her marriage,” but Juliet much preferred the way she was now. She felt ownership of her body, enjoyed the way it moved, how it looked. As if she’d grown into those bones, finally hit her stride. The women’s mags could go suck on their fake sympathy. She was going to flaunt her curves and love her life.
Anyone who tried to judge her could go sit on a cactus.
Jacob Esera especially.
“Here.” Jake handed her a flute of champagne.
Sailor was at the front end of the seating area in the limo, pouring sparkling golden liquid into clear flutes held out by his wife. Who he winked at just then, a wicked smile creasing his cheeks.