"Didn't she?" Barbara's vituperative words brought three pairs of eyes to bear on Juliana.
She swallowed hard. "W-why, I…"
Barbara took a step forward, her jaw jutting out. "Tell him, Juliana. Tell him how you ran into Cary and me at a restaurant. Tell him what you said to us."
This was Juliana's worst nightmare come true. She wanted to turn and run but felt rooted to the spot—literally. Lips parted, she stared at Barbara, incapable of speech.
Barbara suffered no such disadvantage. "And while you're at it, explain your ex-husband's part in trying to pick off a few prime acres of Ben's land."
Ben's lip curled. "Now I know you're nuts. Pete hasn't got that kind of money."
"No," Barbara agreed. "But she does."
People were beginning to stare, but for the first time in her life, Juliana simply didn't care about public opinion. The only opinion that mattered to her was that of Benjamin Ware.
He was looking at her with a kind of painful confusion: Say it ain't so! And she couldn't; she closed her eyes and drew a quivering breath, trying desperately to think what to do.
If she denied everything, what could Barbara prove? Ben will stand by me, Juliana tried to convince herself. He loves me and I love him. That's enough.
Only it wasn't. She expected honesty from him and he deserved honesty from her. Okay, she could tell him about seeing the dynamic duo at lunch and surmising the true identity of the would-be buyer of Ben's land. But how could she ever explain away using Pete as the front man for her own land deal?
With her history, who would believe she was trying to give away money? And even if Ben believed it, could he ever forgive? He, who even refused a handout from his mother?
But what if Juliana brazened it out and married him and then he learned the truth? She didn't think she could stand that, to truly have him and then lose him. If Ben asked Pete point-blank, could Pete handle a bold-faced lie?
Pete and his histrionic abilities lay somewhere in the future; at present, it was a question of Juliana's willingness to tell the man she loved a blatant lie.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. And for the first time in so very long, she saw again the raw-edged pain that had been so much a part of him before.
Before they fell in love. Before they made love. Before he proposed marriage. Before she accepted.
She lifted her eyes to his and said in a voice that was little more than a croak: "I'm sorry. Everything I did, I did because I love you."
12
Ben felt as if he'd been poleaxed. He leaned toward her,, praying he'd misunderstood. "Juliana, let's get the hell out of here. We have to talk." A sudden drum roll swallowed up his words.
The crowd milling around the tight little foursome surged forward. The awards program was about to begin in the next room.
Someone banged into Ben from behind and he stumbled, tried to catch his balance and staggered forward. He felt completely adrift and helpless, unable to assimilate what had just happened. Finally he got his feet under him again and turned toward Juliana—only she wasn't there anymore. She was gone.
The last stragglers disappeared through the doors. He was alone with Cary Goddard and Barbara Snell.
Barbara gave Ben her saccharine smile. "If Juliana had bought that land from you, she'd have resold it to Goddard Enterprises for an incredibly hefty profit. Be glad you found out in time."
Ben stared at the woman. "Found out what?"
"How she's been using you, of course." Barbara's baby-blue eyes widened with an approximation of innocent outrage. "The woman's unscrupulous in business and in pleasure."
"Shut up, Barbara."
Surprised, Ben blinked and turned toward Cary Goddard.
The man looked at Barbara with contempt on his face, yet his voice was curiously soft. "Run along, now," he said, dismissing the woman who stood there with mouth agape. "If you're not there, they might give all your little honors to someone less deserving."
"I—"
"Go, Barbara."
She did, flouncing through the doors and slamming them behind her. Goddard watched her for a moment and then turned slowly.
Looking at him now, Ben tried to remember why he felt such blind, stubborn animosity… and couldn't come up with any reason. At least no reason that made sense.
"Goddard, I think we've got a few things to talk about. Care to join me in the bar? I'm buying."
"You're about to pay?" Goddard's mouth turned down sardonically beneath the full mustache. "I can't tell you how long I've waited for that."
Juliana rang Pete's doorbell and Sandy answered. "What's happened?" she exclaimed, gesturing for Juliana to enter. "Have you been crying?"
"No." It was a lie, of course, but pride was about all Juliana had left. "Is Pete home?"
"Here, Juli."
At the sound of his voice, Juliana whirled, hands clenching at her sides. "Pete, I've got to talk to you."
He frowned and cast a questioning glance at his wife. She nodded, and without another word, left the room.
At a loss to begin, Juliana glanced around her. A comfortable room, a room where people lived. Nothing like the beautiful blue and cream living room in Juliana's house. Juliana would never allow children's toys to litter the floor, or a man to kick his shoes off under the couch.
Pete led her to the couch. "Sit down, hon. You look all done in."
She shuddered. "It hit the fan tonight," she said.
"Want to tell me about it?"
"No. But since I dragged you into all this, I thought I owed it to you." For a few minutes she sat there, giving in to the numbing sense of defeat. Pete waited patiently. At last she looked up. "Barbara confronted me at the ball tonight. When it came to the moment of truth, I just couldn't lie to Ben."
Pete sucked in his breath. "How'd he take it?"
"That's a stupid question!" she flared. "How would you take it? I'm sure he thinks I tried to get his land by nefarious means so I could make a killing by reselling it. For all I know, Ben thinks I… I got close to him for that very purpose."
"How close is close?"
She tried to conceal her anguish. "Don't ask." She couldn't meet his eyes. "I've really screwed everything up, but I was trying to do the right thing. I thought I'd changed so much, learned so much because of everything that's happened."
Pete's hand settled on her shoulder. "What did you learn, Juliana?"
She gave a short bitter laugh. "That even a bad haircut grows out." She ran her hand through her short brown hair.
He smiled, but didn't let her evade the real issue. "What else?"
She thought for a minute, pursing her lips. "I guess I've learned that love and happiness are more important than money and public opinion," she said slowly.
Pete's jaw dropped. His astonishment brought a faint smile to her stiff lips. "And I've learned that I'm not immortal. There may not be a tomorrow."
"Just in case there is, you'd better settle things with Ben tonight, Juli."
Despair weighed even more heavily about her shoulders. "It's hopeless. He'll never forgive me."
"How do you know? Have you groveled? What have you got to lose at this point except pride?"
Hope flared. "You think there's a chance?"
Pete looked disgusted. "How the hell would I know? All I know is that I believe you. Maybe Ben will, too." He laughed. "This is weird—I'm giving you advice and you're listening."
She pressed her hands together in her lap. "Our marriage must have been hell for you," she said. It was a new thought. Up until now, she'd always thought of the marriage in terms of her own disappointment.
"Yeah, it was, part of the time. Most of the time. But there were good times, too. Good and bad, it's all over now."
"Yes." She stood up. "Did I ever thank you for your kindness while I was in the hospital?"
"No. But no thanks are necessary."
"You're wrong. Thank you and I'm sorry and I love you are words that should be said more o
ften."
"More often than listing and commission and sold!" he teased.
He stood up and she put her arms around him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "For everything. And I thank you, also for everything." She kissed his cheek. "And I love you. You gave me a wonderful daughter and ten years of your life. All I ever gave you was a hard time and an inferiority complex."
"Yeah, but it didn't stick." He pulled back and smiled. "You have learned a lot, Juli, and changed a lot. I hope Ben is man enough to realize it."
She tried to laugh. "I'm afraid what he'll realize is that I've been playing volleyball without a net." She caught her lower lip between her teeth until she regained control. "We went to the party in my car. He drove, and I took off without the key. I walked here—can you give me a ride?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cluster of keys. "Take my car," he said. "You can return it tomorrow." He unclipped a key and handed it to her.
"Thanks."
"You going home?"
"I don't know. I honestly don't know." She paused with her hand on the doorknob. "I've got to find a place to do some serious thinking."
Lights burned in the windows of Juliana's house, so Ben pulled into the driveway. He jumped out of the Mercedes and sprinted to the door.
"Juliana!" He pounded with his fists, putting his shoulders into it. "Open up!"
The door swung wide and Paige stood there, frowning. "Are you crazy? It's the middle of the night!"
"Oh, it's you." He peered over her shoulder. "I want to talk to your mother.";
"She isn't here. I thought she'd be with you. Wasn't the ball tonight?" She stepped aside for him to enter. She wore creased khaki-colored trousers and a safari shirt and she looked tired.
"I didn't know you were home." He hesitated inside the living room, looking around.
"We got back a day early." She stifled a yawn. "You look gorgeous." She ran an appreciative glance over him. "So where's Mother?"
"Damned if I know. There was a… let's call it a scene. She took off, and when I saw the lights I thought she'd come home."
"Well, she didn't."
Ben glowered at the girl. "You don't seem overly alarmed."
"She's a big girl, in case you hadn't noticed." She shrugged elaborately. "I'm beat. I'm going to bed. Lock up. when you leave, okay?"
She left him standing there.
"Wake up, dammit!" Ben pounded on Pete's front door, stepping back every few seconds to peer toward the wing where the bedrooms were located. Finally a light came on. After another interval of frenzied pounding, the door swung open.
Pete stood there, weaving groggily. "Judas Priest, Ben, pipe down, will'ya?"
"Have you seen Juliana?"
Pete stifled a yawn. "Sure. Lots of times.".:
"Everybody's a friggin' comedian!"
Ben's roar seemed to shock Pete awake. Into the sudden silence, a soft, scared voice called out from the darkness inside. "Honey, what is it? What's wrong?"
"See what you've done," Pete started to close the door. "You woke Sandy."
"Daddy, who is it?"
"Now you woke the boys. Go home, Ben. This is no time of night to come calling."
"Dammit, Pete!" Ben stuck his toe out to stop the door from closing in his face. "All I want to know is whether or not you've seen her tonight."
"Yes! I loaned her a car. Now go home and let me get some sleep." Pete banged the door against the intrusive toe. When Ben jerked back, the door slammed with a decisive click.
Ben stood there, angry and thwarted. And only then did he realize that he hadn't asked Pete a single question about his alleged part in the great land rip-off.
Some things were just more important than others.
Juliana sat in darkness in Ben's kitchen and waited. And so, she thought, it all came down to this. The very course of her life hinged on the outcome of the next few hours… maybe even the next few minutes.
She felt numb helplessness, as if events were out of her hands and speeding at a breakneck pace toward some conclusion beyond her control. He had so many reasons to turn against her, and only one to turn toward her.
He would have to take her on face value or not at all. On faith… on blind trust… on love.
At that moment she loved Benjamin Ware more than she had dreamed possible. A future without him was unthinkable, yet she found it impossible to believe he could forgive her for deceiving him. If the tables were turned, could she forgive him?
She hoped so—she believed so—but how could she ever be sure? Changing was so damned hard. Being a reformed person took almost as much effort as preserving liberty—the price of both was unceasing vigilance.
She folded her arms on the tabletop and lowered her head with a sigh. How to explain the way things turn out? If the aneurysm had ruptured as she drove her car along the freeway or while she was home alone, she probably would not have survived. But it had happened here, in Ben's kitchen. And being the kind of man he was, he couldn't just take her to the hospital and wash his hands of her.
Later, he had pushed and prodded and forced her back into the mainstream. When she faltered, he was there, a steady presence she'd grown to trust implicitly.
"Don't depend on me, because I can't protect you," he said once, but she'd depended upon him anyway, because she'd had to. And he had protected her…from loneliness, from self-doubt, but most of all, from giving up.
She shuddered. She saw the person she had been in a far different light, now. What she had called confidence she now classified as arrogance. What she'd considered a professional attitude now seemed mere impatience. And. what she'd believed to be self-sufficiency had turned out to be a fear of commitment resulting in years of loneliness.
It had taken a catastrophic illness to penetrate the rigid shell of her conceit. She'd survived, but not intact—the violation of her brain had left her with a shaven skull and memory glitches that magnified her vulnerability. But in another sense, it had made her aware of her humanity.
Through it all, Ben was there. And she had fallen in love with him.
Why hadn't she tried to lie her way out of this? She'd asked herself that question over and over again. The old Juliana would have, not because she enjoyed lying, but because the stakes were high enough to justify it. The new Juliana couldn't have lived with herself.
Immersed in her own misery, she felt the weight of a hand settle on her head. She gave a little cry and bolted upright in her chair.
Ben stood there, a darker shape in the dark room. She didn't need to hear his voice or see him to identify him; the energy that surged from the palm of his hand into her scalp was enough.
"Please," she whispered. "I'm sorry I deceived you."
"Don't explain." His naturally gravelly voice sounded even rougher and deeper. He slipped his hand down over her skull to the back of her neck and drew her to her feet.
He's going to throw me bodily out of here, she thought wildly. She had never felt such leashed intensity in his touch, and her heart leaped and plunged wildly. She licked her lips, searching for words that could make a difference.
"You've got to give me a chance, Ben." She hated the trembling note of panic in her voice. Somehow she had to make him listen. She would even take Pete's advice and grovel—anything, anything at all to make him understand. "Everything I did I did because—"
"Shut up." He pulled her against him, holding her there with one hand at the back of her head, the other at her waist. "There's nothing you can say that will make a difference."
"Don't say that!" She grabbed the lapels of his tuxedo and hung on. "You've got to—"
"Will you shut up?"
He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face into the curve of her neck. For a moment she stood there, too surprised and confused to understand. He held her so tightly that she felt the vibration of his heartbeat, heard the ragged intake of his breath.
Trembling and uncertain, yet determined to dare, she slipped her arms beneath his an
d slid her hands up his back, wanting to hold him in her embrace forever.
He sighed. "That's better. Now I'm going to be adult about this and give you a choice. Do you want to talk or— what the hell. I'm not going to give you a choice."
He leaned forward and tumbled her over his shoulder and stood up. His sudden action knocked the breath out of her and she dangled, bent at the hips, across his broad shoulder. Her breasts pressed against his back.
She stiffened. "What are you doing?" she cried. "You said I had a choice!"
"I lied." He carried her into the bedroom. His hand slipped beneath the gray gauze skirt to stroke up her silken legs and she stifled a groan.
He dumped her on the bed and leaned over to switch on the light. She stared up at him, her breath catching at the lusty expression on his face.
She struggled to sit up. "Wait a minute," she pleaded breathlessly. "We can't do this—not until you understand why I've acted so stupid."
"Stupid?" He yanked off his bow tie and tossed it aside. The tuxedo jacket followed. "Is it stupid to love someone enough to try to help them whether they want help or not?" He spoke fiercely but not angrily. "Parents do that all the time. Didn't your folks ever say to you, 'You'll thank me for this some day'?"
"Of course, but I never believed them."
She couldn't tear her mesmerized gaze away from him as he snapped the suspenders off his shoulders. He kicked off his shoes and dropped the suspenders around his hips. Swearing impatiently, he fought the buttons of his shirt, his task made harder because he watched her and not what he was doing.
He tossed the shirt aside. "Damn but you're a stubborn woman!" He dropped to his knees on the bed beside her. He didn't touch her, just stared into her eyes. "Do you love me?" he asked in a voice more gentle than any she'd ever heard from him.
"Oh, yes. Yes, I love you. That's why I—"
"I love you, too," he said. "That's all that's important, at the moment. Shut up and kiss me."
She had never received a command with such joy. She rose to a sitting position on the bed, jerky as a puppet on a string, and slid her arms around his neck. Her eyes asked a question—Am I dreaming?
One More Chance Page 18