She changed into her swimming suit, a red-and-white polka dot, high-waisted bikini, and lowered herself into the water until it skimmed the tops of her shoulders. It was heavenly and exactly what she needed. She closed her eyes, leaned back and let the buoyancy take care of her troubles for a while.
“Next to leaving your tent door open all night, falling asleep in several feet of water must be the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard of.”
Kate’s eyes sprang open to find Julian looking down at her. She sat up with a start, water splashing all over the sides of the tub and onto Julian’s white T-shirt. He didn’t back up right away, and the wet patch spread, allowing Kate to see the perfectly rigid form of his abdominal muscles underneath.
Julian cleared his throat, forcing Kate’s still-groggy mind to focus somewhere else. The sky. That was a safe place to look. She blinked at it once or twice before realizing Julian was right—the sun was considerably lower than when she’d first gotten in the tub. Still, there was no way she’d been asleep for longer than ten minutes. Tops.
“I’m pretty sure I’d wake up the moment I slipped under and stopped being able to breathe,” she scoffed.
“I’m not arguing that,” he said with a laugh. “But you look like a lobster that’s been boiled alive.”
Kate jumped to her feet, the water sluicing down as she looked over her body, horror quickly taking hold. Shoulders, arms and the generous display of cleavage the swimsuit offered were bright red, and she realized she radiated with a heat that had nothing to do with the warmth of the water or Julian’s proximity. She pulled at one of the straps on her suit and peered underneath. The line between white happy normal skin and bright red damaged skin was perfectly straight and painfully obvious. Her face was tight too, and she could see the tip of her nose throbbing like Rudolph’s.
“That’s gotta hurt,” Julian said. He didn’t sound the least bit sympathetic. “You should put sunscreen on before you go out in the sun.”
“I know that,” Kate said through her teeth.
“And you’re certainly not going to win over my men if you walk around looking like a mangled piece of meat. I don’t care how small your swimsuit is.”
“It’s not small!”
Julian looked her over, shaking his head sadly. “Yes, it is. Practically nonexistent. I think the sun’s gone to your head. Maybe you should call it quits before you lose a leg or get cancer or something.”
“I’m fine,” Kate managed.
But she wasn’t. She kept her teeth clenched to avoid any muscle relaxation in her face, a dam against the swirling mass of tears building up. It wasn’t the pain—of course she’d been sunburned before—so much as the humiliation. Of all the people who had to find her like this, it was Julian. Perfect outdoorsman Julian, who cared about her only as the woman who was derailing all his plans.
Her face began to fall.
“No. No way. Don’t you dare cry.” Julian took a step back, his hands upraised.
“I’m. Not. Going. To.” Her breath shuddered with each word, and they both knew very well that was where she was headed.
She wished he would go away. Her clothes, her shoes, her dedication to the JARRS group—they were a testament to her love of all things feminine. She liked feeling gentle and light and in control of the way she presented herself to the world. But that didn’t mean she was weak. That didn’t mean she broke down in tears because she wanted to.
“Shit. Yes, you are.”
And suddenly, his arms were around her.
He held her lightly, with a gentlemanly attention to the placement of his arms. One wound around her waist and the other cupped the back of her head, cradling her against him with an alarming degree of tenderness. She was still wet from the hot tub, her suit pressing a wet pattern into his already damp clothes.
She shook with the effort of suppressing her sobs, but Julian didn’t chastise her for it. He didn’t do anything, really—didn’t speak and didn’t try to take advantage of their sudden nearness or her apparently miniscule swimsuit. He just let her cry, and she melted right into his kind embrace without regard for anything but a strong pair of arms and an overwhelming sense of rightness. It would be so easy to get used to this, to fall into a pattern in which Julian called the shots and she jumped into line at the first opportunity of getting near him.
Swiping furiously at her eyes with the back of her hand, she sniffled and tried to regain her bearing. “I’m sorry. That was—”
He stepped back and chucked her gently underneath the chin. “That was what I deserved, and I’m sorry I was such an ass. I’ve never had to worry about sunburn, but I’ve seen Michael blubber like a baby over a patch of red skin at least half a dozen a times.”
Julian’s gaze seemed fixated on the burn at her chest, and Kate felt suddenly exposed to more than his ridicule.
“Um…I’m going to go change,” she stammered. For once, her blush probably didn’t show all over her face. It was a small trade off.
“Do you have something strapless to wear?” Julian asked suddenly, his voice catching in his throat. “Like…er…one of those little floaty dresses you always have on?”
“Ye-es.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Put it on. I’ll meet you over by my tent when you’re done.”
Kate backed into her tent, somewhat dazed by the compassion in his voice. Julian being nice was more powerful than a thousand Scottish warriors on the field. It made her want to pack up and walk away. It made her want to come back only when he was ready to see her as so much more than his enemy.
It would be so easy to let him win, to let him have the park. He’d take her in his arms, plant a kiss on her lips and promise to make it up to her. They could each attend the events that mattered to them, meeting up in the aftermath to explore whatever it was that made her body pound and her heart soar whenever he was near. It was practically laid out in front of her. All she had to do was say the word. All she had to do was stop fighting.
Most of the men she’d dated in the past had loved that she didn’t fight them—on anything. Not where to go to dinner, not about the little quirks that irritated her, not even when it was or was not a good idea to end the relationship. Her last serious boyfriend had even commented on it, celebrating their six month anniversary with a toast to the easiest relationship he’d ever had.
She couldn’t help but feel that Julian saw her the same way. She’d been fine as long as she was willing to fall in line with his plans, as long as she let him barrel over her with his claims of heroism and Scottish prowess. But the moment she stood up for herself—the first time she’d done so in as long as she could remember—she stopped being someone worth caring for.
And that hurt. Almost as much as the growing suspicion that being cared for by Julian was something that mattered a lot more than winning the rights to the park.
Kate rummaged through her bag until she found the pink, floral strapless dress she knew was in there. Jada had laughed when she saw it included in Kate’s camping suitcase, but Kate was never happier to see it in her whole life. Light cotton and loose comfort. She wouldn’t be able to wear anything else for days.
Half-afraid the others had returned and were waiting outside to witness her most recent folly in the wilderness, Kate took her time getting dressed, carefully setting the bikini out to dry and looking, unsuccessfully, for a salve to put on her burn. All she had was hand lotion, and she knew from experience that scented products and sun-damaged skin were not happy bedfellows.
When she finally emerged from the tent, it was to find a camp still devoid of life, a cover placed carefully over the top of the hot tub. Kate glared at it. She’d be happy never to see that thing again.
Julian was picking up some of the garbage that had gathered in the men’s camp, so he didn’t hear Kate until she stood right behind him.
“Will this do?” she asked, holding her arms out to showcase the dress. She stopped short of giving a girlish little twirl.
&nb
sp; He barely gave her a second glance, damaging any remaining vestiges of Kate’s pride. “Yep. It’s fine. Come over here. We’re going to want to do this outside.”
“Do what?” Kate busied herself looking around, but she couldn’t pretend not to notice the way her entire body reacted to his command. Warm flooding filled her abdomen, and she was suddenly aware of each breath she took. In. Out. In. Out. She was master of her own actions—her own thoughts. She just had to keep breathing.
“This.” Julian held up a spray bottle and gestured for her to take a seat on the practice caber. He gave the bottle a few squirts, and the pungent scent of vinegar filled the air. Kate wrinkled her nose as far as the pain would allow.
“Vinegar?”
“Trust me. I told you I work in construction—in Arizona most of the time. You wouldn’t believe the burns some of those guys get. Blisters. Ooze. You’re barely pink in comparison. Now sit.”
Kate sat. The moment her bottom touched the wood, Julian began spraying her all over with the vinegar, and she relaxed almost immediately. The droplets were like little gifts from the sky, cooling her skin and taking away the pricking sensation that covered every square inch. The only time he touched her was to lift her hair off her back, and goose bumps raised all along her spine at the double sensation of the liquid and his fingertips grazing the nape of her neck. His hands were light and moved with assurance.
Forearms. Hands. Magic.
She really needed to get control.
“Close your eyes and I’ll get your front.”
She was happy to obey. There was no way she could sit there and watch as he examined her all over. Few things were more erotic than the way a man’s eyes lit up when gazing at something he wanted, whether it was a plot of land with a scenic overview or a woman in a low-cut, strapless dress. And Kate didn’t think she’d be able to sit there and view firsthand what it was that shone more powerfully in Julian’s eyes.
“Okay, you’re good.” He handed her the bottle as soon as he was done, and if he’d been examining her breasts, he gave no indication of it now. “You’re probably going to want to have Jada or Anne do this again in a few hours. You’ll barely even notice the sunburn tomorrow.”
Julian turned to walk away, but Kate grabbed his arm to stop him. “Thank you,” she said softly. “It must bother you to help the enemy.”
He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes dark. “You’re not my enemy, Kate.”
Kate didn’t lift her hand from his arm while she waited for him to say something more. Words struggled on his tongue—she could tell by the way his jaw tightened and loosened in a rapid succession. But before he could speak, voices rose up from the little copse of woods. Michael, Nick, Anne and Jada, with a volleyball under her arm, popped out from the trees, one at a time, laughing and triumphant.
“What am I, then, Julian?” she asked.
His voice was barely audible as he pulled his arm away and turned his attention to the new arrivals, but Kate didn’t breathe until the words reached her ears.
“You’re a distraction.”
Chapter Eleven
Weakening Lines
It should have been a perfect evening.
The sky had been clear all day, so there was no moisture in the air. The night was crisp and clean, the scent of pine trees and roasting meat filling the camp and Julian’s lungs. After what was apparently an epic volleyball match lasting most of the afternoon, the campers were hungry, tired and sunburned, though not nearly to the degree Kate had been a few hours ago. The need for food and rest united them in a peaceful search for the necessary remedies—almost a whole side of beef and plenty of alcohol to wash it down.
McClellan had even surprised them all by producing a guitar, an old battered thing covered in bumper stickers he kept in the back of his truck for just such an emergency. Any minute now and they’d all be holding hands and swaying to “Kumbaya”.
Julian sat with them, but his mind wasn’t anywhere near the festivities. After a few hours of weightlifting at the gym earlier in the day, he’d returned to his apartment to find a message waiting for him. It was a courtesy call, from the assistant of a one Bonnie Horton, Vice President of Public Relations at Rockland Bluff Whisky.
“We’ve received an update from the Scottish Highland Society,” a light, cheerful voice had chirped into the phone, “notifying Ms. Horton of the possibility of a change of venue. Her schedule is very tight over the coming weeks, and I will take this opportunity to remind you that we do need to be informed of any changes to the itinerary immediately. Last minute surprises do not reflect well on the reputation of Rockland Bluff Whisky.”
Julian had stabbed at the answering machine in irritation. The SHS hadn’t told them anything—he’d already discussed the situation with the regional director, and he’d placed the fullest confidence in Julian’s ability to make everything work.
No, that call came from an entirely different quarter—Kilroy. Julian would stake his entire reputation on it. Apparently, the man had been playing the role of Tattle-Tale Number One.
A visit to his mom’s house hadn’t proved very beneficial to his state of mind, either. He’d come in to find her sitting at the table paying bills, a stack to one side as high as her glass of iced tea. The moment he came in, she swept them all into her hand and out of sight, but when he asked her if she needed any help—he did have a small savings account, and she was welcome to every penny—she’d somehow turned the tables on him and ended up pressing a twenty dollar bill in his hand and convincing him to take his sisters out for ice cream.
And what a joy that had been. They wanted the treat about as much as he did, even though he was a lot better at hiding it. It didn’t make sense. The girls had always looked up to him, if a little shyly, and his visits usually felt like a big vacation for all of them. This wasn’t a vacation. This was a visit to the dentist without Novocain.
“What’s this I hear about a new boyfriend, Nala?” he’d asked casually over the chocolate sprinkles.
“He’s just some guy from school, Jules,” Nala muttered, stabbing at her ice cream with a straw. “I don’t know why you have to be all up in my business. It’s not a big deal.”
“That’s not what you wrote in your diary last night,” Beth called back in a sing-song voice.
“You did not, you little worm!”
“I did too! And if you don’t want me reading it, then you shouldn’t put it under your mattress. I bet you a thousand dollars Mom reads it too. What a lame hiding spot.”
Julian had found himself nodding in agreement. That’d be the first place he’d look.
Nala, in her infinite teenage maturity, retaliated by flinging her ice cream at the both of them and missing by a wide distance. In the end, Julian had to hustle them all out of the shop under the watchful eye of the proprietor, racing against a large glob of vanilla ice cream that ran down the inside of the front window.
In short, he’d accomplished nothing that day. A return call to Ms. Horton ended up at her voicemail. His mom still had that stack of bills to attend to. And when he’d dropped them off, his sisters stormed up to their bedrooms without another word.
“What’s with the mood?” Michael took a seat next to him and handed him a plate containing three hamburgers. Julian grabbed one.
“It’s not a mood, Mikey. It’s life. Dude, is this thing even cooked all the way through? It looks like it’s barely dead.”
“Eat it, Jules. Protein is more powerful when it’s raw and dripping with juice. Like all of a man’s meat.” He uttered a guttural roar for good effect. “We’ve got the fire going for the tub after dinner. You joining us this time?”
“I don’t think so.”
They were all well past the age when co-ed camping was novel, but something about their situation had turned them into a bunch of kids away from their parents for the first time. Everyone except him, that was. It wasn’t that he was against having a good time—during the off season, he and the
other construction guys would hit the bars six nights out of seven and consider themselves lucky if they fell asleep before the sun started rising. But this wasn’t the time or the place for such freeform fun. There was a reason they were all out here, and in the next few days, that would have to become patently clear. No one was solving anything by playing volleyball and eating undercooked meat.
A glance over at Kate only reinforced his decision to decline the invitation. She looked miserable. The bruise on her forehead was at its full purple peak, a contrast to the pink skin that covered her upper half. She was wrapped up in a blanket against the cold that always followed a bad sunburn, and she looked about as happy to be there as he felt.
He realized, with an oddly sinking sensation in his chest, that it was the right time to strike. She was down. He could end this tonight.
“You go ahead, Mikey. I’ve got something else I need to do.”
Michael followed the path of his gaze to where Kate sat. “Yeah, there is. It’s about damn time too.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Sure thing. If you say so. Hey, gang—eat up. Last one in the tub has to haul in the firewood.”
With a wink, Michael rounded everyone up—everyone except Kate—and directed their attention to the pursuit of the flesh. Julian shook his head and tossed his food aside. The man had his back. That was never in doubt.
Julian offered Kate a tentative smile from the other side of the circle. “And then there were two.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you ever get the feeling we’re playing camp counselor to a bunch of horny fourteen-year-olds?”
Julian shuddered. “Can you imagine a worse job on the whole face of the planet?”
“Yes.” Kate grimaced. “You could be a bookstore manager.”
Love is a Battlefield: Games of Love, Book 1 Page 16