But now that he thought about it, he’d sort of taken that and run with it, sitting back and gliding through life. And Mom and Pops hadn’t expected too much. Hell, he realized in a moment of insight, he hadn’t expected too much from himself.
Why try hard if no one expected anything from you? Wasn’t that why he’d avoided Juliette from the beginning, because she was too much trouble? Maybe it wasn’t the trouble aspect at all but more that he might fail. That she would be a challenge had been apparent from the get-go. But there was something about her, something that made him want to dig deep, to not just walk away.
Alberta tapped her head with her fan. “You do, you know.”
He hoped like hell so. “Well, let’s get a move on. I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
“That you do, my boy, that you do. But I have faith in you.”
He and Alberta—an army of two.
He hoped it was enough.
6
“OKAY, THAT’S A WRAP,” Tessa said, ending the rehearsal.
Juliette’s attention had only been half on the task at hand, much as it had been all day.
“Enjoy the weekend and I’ll see everyone on Monday,” Tessa added. Rehearsals were limited to Monday through Friday evenings.
Tucking her notes and clipboard beneath her arm, Juliette didn’t let any grass grow under her feet. She beelined for the exit. All evening she’d made sure there was someone else around as she and Sven worked on the set. She’d felt him looking at her, watching her—not in some creepy way. It had been kind of nice except it was distracting.
Once their eyes had met and held across the stage. Heat had stolen through her as if his fingers were actually sliding over her skin in a gossamer caress. Her breath had quickened, her pulse pounded, heart raced…and her brain had issued a loud, resounding no. Fight or flight? She wasn’t sure how much fight she had in her to combat the attraction she felt for him, so flight was the only viable option. Plus, she specialized in flight.
She hurried down the stairs, welcoming the slight breeze against her heated cheeks. She’d almost reached her truck when boots sounded on the stairs behind her and the wind carried Sven’s scent.
“Wait up, boss,” he called out.
In spite of her need to escape, his “boss” foolishness coaxed a smile out of her. Her hand on the side panel of the truck, she paused, turning to him. “Yes?”
He sauntered over, his tool belt hanging low on his hips. Okay, she was losing it because she found it incredibly sexy. A tool belt. She’d definitely taken leave of good sense.
He stopped, once again, backlit by the sun, looking like some tool-belted, larger-than-life Norse hero. “I was hoping you could help me out.”
She doubted it. “What do you need?”
The husky rasp of her voice gave it an altogether different meaning. For a moment she glimpsed something slightly wicked and hot in his blue eyes.
The air between them seemed to sizzle. She looked away first. Over his shoulder, Ellie waved goodbye. Juliette absently returned the wave.
Sven shifted, as if determined to catch and hold her attention. “I ordered dinner to go from Gus’s.”
She didn’t see what this had to do with her at all. A part of her brain registered that he was, quite possibly, the most handsome man she’d ever met. And once again, that had nothing to do with the matter at hand, even though she didn’t know exactly what the matter at hand was. “Okay…”
“They gave me two dinners.”
“I see.” Well, she didn’t really, but he’d paused, so she had to say something. She trusted that momentarily his meaning would be as clear as the blue in his eyes.
“And then I had to drop my truck off at Donna’s and it won’t be ready until tomorrow afternoon, so I don’t have a ride home.” He looked at her expectantly.
“What about Skye and Dalton?” She didn’t care if she sounded slightly desperate. She was. It was too nice, too comfortable, too cozy at Shadow Lake with Sven.
“It didn’t work out. So, what do you say? Could you give me a lift?” She supposed she could drop him at the road. “And help me out with the extra meal?” So much for dropping him at the road.
She hesitated, wanting to say yes, not wanting to say yes. God, the man turned her into a mess.
“Just for the record, this is not a date. Not remotely a date.” Why was she smiling? Why was her resolve to stay away from him crumbling second by second? “See, if it was a date I would be showered—” she would not think about him naked in the shower “—and would’ve changed clothes, so it’s not a date. This is a favor. You’d definitely be doing me a favor, helping me out.”
He was fun and somewhere along the way she’d forgotten how to have fun. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever actually known how.
She grasped at one last straw. “Petey?” Petey lived out past Shadow Lake.
Sven shook his head, his hair brushing against his shoulders. “I tried. He’s got a date with Donna tonight. He’s going to help her with an engine—mine. See, that’s a date. Look, don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but you’re my last resort. I really hated to ask you because I was afraid of this very thing, that you might misconstrue my intentions, and I know how you feel about the date thing. I suppose if you’ve got something else going on I can walk.”
She couldn’t help laughing at his foolishness.
He grinned. “It’s only about six…maybe seven miles. It won’t get dark for another couple of hours or so.”
It was all so ridiculously over the top, how could she not say yes? And how was it that she seemed totally susceptible to this particular man’s charm? The more pertinent question would be who could possibly be immune to his foolishness?
She shook her head in resignation and exasperation. And somewhere inside her, no small measure of excitement and anticipation blossomed unbidden, like a rainbow appearing at the end of a storm. “Just get in.”
He rounded the front of the truck to the passenger side. “Thanks. And for the record, if we were on a date…” He trailed off as he opened the door and climbed in.
She settled in the driver’s seat. “I’m going to regret asking, but what? Finish it.” She fit the key in the ignition, turning it over.
“I like my women in dresses.”
Really? He was totally incorrigible…and irresistible. “Then today is your lucky day that we don’t have a date, because not only am I not one of your women—” the very notion tightened her entire body “—I don’t own a dress.” She headed north.
“For real? You really don’t own a dress?” Ha. She’d got him. “Wait…yes, you do. You had on a dress one evening at Gus’s. I saw you.”
Actually, she had a closet full. She loved wearing dresses at home and she occasionally wore them into town. She liked soft loose flowing materials that were both feminine and comfortable. Some women liked frilly underwear, she liked dresses.
And she was sad and pathetic because the fact that he’d noticed made her want to smile all over…or run screaming in the other direction. And she’d never felt more alive and such a ridiculous sense of joy at teasing like this with him. She laughed. Again. “I had you going for a minute.”
“Only a minute. Hey, don’t forget to swing by Gus’s.” He waved her over.
“Why do I need to stop by Gus’s?” Nonetheless, she pulled over.
“Dinner.”
“You said they gave you two orders by mistake. How can that be if you hadn’t picked them up yet? Riddle me that, Joker.” And come to think of it, where were his take-out boxes? He had her so befuddled she couldn’t think clearly half the time.
“Alberta.” He didn’t miss a beat. “She’s psycho, you know.”
“Psychic.”
“Same difference. Anyway, she told me on the way to rehearsal Lucky was going to screw up and give me an extra meal. Who am I to argue with Alberta?”
Her earlier conversation with Logan came to mind. Yes, Logan was incredibly fortunate
Sven hadn’t been interested in Jenna because Jenna wouldn’t have stood a chance and Logan would’ve been so knocked out of the running. In her book, other men paled in comparison to Sven.
* * *
SVEN WATCHED JULIETTE as she finished the last of her dinner from the plastic box on her lap. Once again they were on the front porch, enjoying the remnants of sunlight across the lake’s surface. Her profile was etched in relief—her straight nose, the ridge of her cheekbones, the pout of her lips, the curve of her eyelashes.
“You have an interesting face,” he said.
Rain began to fall, pinging against the roof. “How’s that?”
“It’s the angles and curves.” As if someone had opened a water faucet, the random drops became a downpour. The curtain of water veiled them in privacy, further isolating them from the rest of the world. There was a feeling of rightness to it.
“Guess it’s just as well that you didn’t leave me to walk home,” Sven said, eyeing the onslaught.
“What? Do you think you’d have melted?”
She was actually teasing him. He liked it.
“There’s one way to know.” He stepped off the porch into the downpour, spreading his arms and facing the sky. Within seconds he was soaked. Despite being heavy and steady, it wasn’t a driving, stinging rain.
“Sven!”
“You’re right.” He grinned at her through the downpour. “I’m not melting.”
She walked to the edge of the porch, laughing. He loved making her laugh—it made him feel good all the way through.
“You’re crazy.” There was amusement, wonderment and maybe a tinge of wistfulness in her tone.
“Well, I am wet, maybe a little crazy, but definitely not melting.” He took a step toward the porch. “Wonder if you’d pass the test?”
Her eyes widened. “Don’t even—”
He advanced. “What? Scared of a little rain?”
She retreated. “You wouldn’t—”
“Dare?” He kept coming. She had no idea how much he was willing to dare. “Oh, Ms. Miller, yes, I would.”
She was still laughing and protesting and shaking her head when he gained the porch. “No.”
He scooped her up and paused. She was warm and dry and oh so right against him. Then he carried her down the stairs out into the deluge.
“Sven!” She was laughing, delight and outrage and something indefinable dancing across her face. He stood, holding her, her hip pressed against his groin, her head at his shoulder, as the water washed over both of them.
He set her on her feet, the water plastering her hair against her head, molding her clothes to her curves. He didn’t, couldn’t release her. She felt too right in his arms. Mascara streaked her cheeks. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “You are melting.”
He reached down and swiped the dark streak from her pale skin. In that instant, the laughter died between them. He was certain he’d never seen a woman more hauntingly, achingly beautiful than the one standing before him with her once again too-serious brown eyes and bedraggled hair.
His finger against her skin, he cupped her cheek in his palm. “You are so beautiful.”
“You’re crazy.” But this time the words were spoken softly, as if he couldn’t possibly think her beautiful standing in the pouring rain.
“You do seem to have that impact on me,” he said.
He wrapped his other arm around her and kissed her. It was a melding of skin and water and warmth in the spring rain. She wound her arms about his neck. The last vestige of sanity deserted him with the stroke of her tongue against his and the press of her breasts against his chest. Her nipples stabbed against him through their clothes. Desire thickened his cock.
He wanted to strip her naked and feel the slide of her bare skin against his. He wanted to take her turgid points into his mouth, fill his hands with her bare bottom and ease into her slick channel as the rain fell over them.
It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He was no longer content with just knowing the taste of her lips and the feel of her tongue. He kissed the side of her jaw and moved to the tender wet flesh of her neck. Her sigh seemed to float above the ping of the rain against the roof. He licked the rivulet of water along her collarbone.
He molded his hands against the curve of her back, feeling the dip of her spine against his fingertips as if she were pliable clay taking form beneath his touch.
He captured her nipple in his mouth, suckling her through the cloth and she curled her fingers into his shoulders. And then she pushed ever so slightly away with her palms and he immediately released her.
She stumbled to the porch and up the stairs, wrapping her hands around the post, as if seeking its support. He joined her.
The water molded her hair to her scalp and her clothes to her curves. Her nipples were outlined against her wet shirt. Much as he longed to scoop her up again and carry her inside to peel away her wet garments and lay her naked on his sheets, he felt her wariness.
The steady rain, punctuated by their uneven breathing, filled the space around them. Water puddled beneath them. He could at least dry her off.
“I’ll be right back,” Sven said, moving toward the door.
“I need to leave.”
“Hold on.”
He hurried into the cabin and grabbed the other clean towel from the bathroom—he only had two since it was just him—and returned to the porch.
As if carved in stone, Juliette hadn’t moved. She reached for the towel. Ignoring her outstretched hand, he plied the cotton over her hair. She stood stock-still, her eyes wary, her expression guarded as he dried her face and neck.
He wasn’t sure what surprised him more—his compulsion to do this or that she allowed it. He moved behind her, blotting the back of her neck. Finally, he draped the bath sheet about her shoulders.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to rest against his chest and hips. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. For a second she leaned back into him.
“Juliette,” he spoke impulsively, from the heart. “I don’t want you to go tonight. Stay, please.”
She shook her head, stepping away and out of his arms. He could’ve kicked himself for speaking without thinking first, for pushing too hard too fast.
“I can’t. I’m not… No.” She wrapped her arms about her, grasping the towel’s edges, pulling it tighter.
“I understand. It’s okay. I’m sorry I…I shouldn’t have asked.” He felt uncharacteristically tongue-tied and gauche.
“Don’t.” She turned and rested her fingers against his lips. “Please don’t apologize.” She dropped her hand to her side. “I should go.” She placed the towel over the back of the chair.
“I know.” He didn’t want her to leave and he crazily, desperately didn’t want her to leave without knowing he would see her again before Monday’s rehearsal. “I’m going to pick out a puppy tomorrow afternoon. My dog I’d had for ten years, Susie, died last summer. I’m finally ready for another dog. Will you come with me? I’m going out to Marsha Monroe’s to pick one. She’s got a litter of ten. I could use some help. Please.”
The rain ended as quickly as it had begun.
“But it’s your dog, your puppy. I don’t know why.…”
He didn’t know why, either. “Neither do I, really, but I want you there.”
She stood silently for what seemed like forever. Finally she spoke. “What time?”
Yes! “Around two. I could swing by and pick you up about one forty-five.”
Another long pause and he found he was holding his breath.
“Okay,” she said, stepping off the porch.
“Drive safely going home tonight.”
“Of course.” She looked at him as if he’d truly lost it. He was pretty sure he had. “This is Good Riddance.”
The gravel crunched beneath their feet as he walked her to her truck. “You just never know. Look, call my cell phone now. That way you have my number and I have yours. Then
drop me a text when you get home.”
“That’s not necessary.” She opened her door. “I’ve been getting home on my own for a long time.”
“I’d sleep better.” He’d never felt this protectiveness before. There was something about her that seemed to call to something inside him; that made him want to put himself between her and the rest of the world. She wasn’t weak and she wasn’t clingy, but it was as if he felt needed for the first time ever, which was damn strange considering she hadn’t even remotely hinted at needing him. If anything, she’d given off exactly the opposite vibe.
She climbed in. “I assure you, you’ll sleep just fine regardless.” She closed the door, ending the conversation. Almost.
“Yes, boss,” he said.
Sven had a feeling sleep would be a long time in coming tonight.
* * *
JULIETTE PILED HER WET clothes in the bathtub—she’d deal with them later—and belted the terry-cloth robe around her waist. From the kitchen, her kettle whistled. She padded into the other room and poured boiling water over a tea bag.
A warm cup of ginger-peach green tea, decaf, was just what she needed. Setting the timer for four minutes, she picked up the phone.
She could also use an ear and a word of advice to help her sort through things. The sounds of the various wind chimes drifting through her open kitchen window failed to soothe her as they usually did.
None of it brought any relief from the restless longing inside her. The dampness between her thighs had nothing to do with the pouring rain. Her body clamored for Sven’s touch, for the hot wet of his mouth on her breast, the gust of his breath against her skin. It was as if her sexuality, long dormant, had roared to life with a vengeance with his touch.
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