No, heart. No more gooing. In fact, tell the guy he can make his own nighttime hot toddy.
“Of course I won’t forget.”
…
It had been hard enough trying not to look at Jules at the hotel this morning. At least that sheet had left something to the imagination. But being in the same room with her while she wore nothing but a towel and her hair half damp hanging over her shoulders…
She was smart, too. Quick-witted, and she made him laugh, made him want to hold her hand and squeeze if he ever needed to.
He might not want to be married, but that didn’t mean he minded hanging out with her, maybe share just one kiss—for old time’s sake.
Suddenly, his childhood bedroom felt way too small and stifling.
“I’ll just grab my stuff and get dressed in the bathroom.”
“Why?” Jules was humming while running a comb through her long mermaid hair. Hell, she might as well be sitting on a rock singing a Disney song.
He swallowed. “Don’t you want privacy?”
“It’s fine. Not like I want to jump your bones, Dexter.”
“I know…” He broke off and forced out a deep exhale. All right, so maybe he needed to be away from her towel-covered body more than she needed to be away from his. Fine. He’d been with top models in Manhattan. No need to get tied in knots over Jules Bloom.
And just like that, he dropped his towel. “Getting back to building our story,” he said conversationally, “you were going to tell me about yourself. We’ve covered the champagne and your love of oils. What else should I know?”
“My birthday’s June twenty-second, making me a Cancer, but I was two weeks late—you know what that means.”
“Not a clue,” Dexter said, pulling a clean and pressed shirt from his bag.
“It means I was born to be a Gemini.” She paused to laugh and set down her comb. “I might be indecisive and talk too much, but nothing like a Gemini. Cancers can be tenacious, but our element is water not air, so obviously… Dexter!” She flung a hand over her eyes and spun around. “You can’t walk around like that.”
At her reaction, he felt a victorious smile curl his mouth. “Thought you didn’t want to jump my bones.”
“I don’t!”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Dexter.” She pointed in the general direction of what his towel should be covering. “You’re taking up my personal space.” The parts of her face he could see were turning pink. The roguish tease in him enjoyed watching her unravel. When he did nothing to alter the cause of her complaint, she marched over to him, keeping tight eye contact, picked up the towel, and threw it at him.
It bounced off his stomach and hit the floor.
“Be polite,” she growled, gripping the knot of her own towel.
This girl. Everything out of her mouth made him want to smile. “Oh, my not being polite is what this is about?”
“Dexter,” she said, not using her inside voice. “Don’t make me…”
“What?” he asked when she didn’t finish. “That sounds like a challenge. I’ll bet you—”
“Dex?” There was a knock. “Jules? Anything wrong?” Suddenly, the door was opening, and Dexter’s sister was about to walk in on him wearing absolutely nothing.
Without thinking, he grabbed Jules around the waist and pulled her to his chest.
“What are you—”
“Shhh, hold on,” he whispered, then fell backward onto the bed, Jules landing on top of him.
A second later, he heard Roxy squeak in alarm. “Oh, sorry! I’m sorry!”
Breath momentarily knocked out of him, Dexter answered in a hoarse voice. “What did you expect when you walk into two newlyweds’ bedroom without knocking?”
“I did knock. I thought I heard…loud voices.”
When Jules tried to roll off him, he was forced to hold her tighter to keep her in place. “That was us.” He ran a hand down her spine, sliding it under the towel that had slid halfway down her back during their fall to the bed. “My little honey’s used to thicker walls.” Jules struggled, but her muffled protests were blocked by her thick hair. “No, no, you’re not leaving me, sweet pea,” he cooed, kissing the top of her head. “Roxanne didn’t mean to disturb us. She’s about to lock the door on her way out.”
“Right, sorry.”
He heard her turn the knob lock, then shut the door.
For a moment, neither of them moved. And for the first time, Dexter took in the feel of her skin against his in the places where no towel was between them. Now he really couldn’t move.
Finally, Jules lifted her chin off his chest. Locks of strawberry-blond waves hung over her face, but he could see the glare in her green eyes, could almost hear what she was about to yell at him.
At the thought, he was already smiling.
“That was—”
“So she wouldn’t see my junk,” he said. “Self-preservation.”
“Why didn’t you just pick up your towel?”
“It wasn’t the first thing that came to mind.”
“Dexter,” she moaned. But it wasn’t the kind of moan he was used to when he was in this position with a woman. “I have to get off you. So just…don’t look.” Before he could reply, her hands were covering his eyes.
“What about you covering your eyes?” he asked.
“I can be trusted not to look.”
“You don’t trust me?”
His question made her laugh, made her body shake against his. Damn, she better get the hell off or he’d be in big trouble.
Even though she was still covering his eyes, Dexter squeezed them shut tight, straining to picture Brent Celek’s winning touchdown during the playoffs. Or Charles Barkley’s most famous dunk. The next thing he knew, her soft weight was gone.
“Roxy’s such a gossip, she’ll tell everyone,” Jules said, her voice coming from across the room.
Dexter counted to ten in his head, then sat up, thankful she’d thrown a towel over him. “I’m pretty sure people assume we have sex.”
“Don’t say that! Let’s get dressed and get out of this room without another word. Think you can handle that?”
“No way,” he said, catching her eyes in the mirror. “I’m not going downstairs and facing more questions without additional knowledge. You’re liable to run out of the room again. I explained that away once, but they might not believe honeymoon exhaustion again.”
“Someone actually bought that? Wait. Did you tell your brothers about the three condoms?”
Not wanting to make her mad by answering, he puffed out his cheeks and looked at the ceiling.
“Oh, man. Come on. I can’t take much more of this.”
He was about to ask her to please calm down, when she burst out laughing.
Hearing it made Dexter laugh, too. Any other woman would storm out and leave him hanging. Jules, though…she was cackling like a little kid. The sound made something shift in his chest, made him want to go to her so they could laugh together, but instead he said, “You get dressed over there and I’ll get dressed over here, both facing our respective walls, okay?”
“Just keep that towel where it is until it must be removed.”
He chuckled under his breath, took her dress off the hanger, and passed it to her. “You were telling me about being a Cancer, a water sign. Go on.”
Dexter didn’t have much interest in hearing about astrology, but he did want to hear Jules, find out more about what went on in that cute little head.
“It means I’m highly imaginative, creative, tenacious—about some things, but not work-obsessed.”
“Not like me, you mean?” he said, already dressed to his pants, buttoning his shirt, but facing the wall.
“When’s your birthday?”
“September third.”
A new laugh exploded from her side of the room. It didn’t make Dexter feel all that manly knowing the whole house thought they were currently doing the horizontal hoedown.
“Vir
go,” she said when she’d stopped hooting. “I could’ve told you that. You’re practical, a critical thinker, all work and no play.”
“I play some. And is that a bad thing?”
“Cancers and Virgos don’t mesh, compatibility-wise. Heh-heh. Not like we didn’t already know that.”
“When someone brings that up tonight, I’ll tell them flat-out that our love beats all odds.” He heard the rustling of clothes and knew she was putting on her dress. The simple sound of a zipper made his chest feel tight. “Um, what else? Favorite food?”
“Pepperoni pizza with thick crust.”
At that, he couldn’t stop from turning around. “Really?”
She was adjusting the shoulder straps of a flowy turquoise dress that hit the floor. No sleeves, but she was sliding on multiple bracelets. “You’re surprised?”
“No.” He rebuttoned his cuffs to keep busy. “Seems too common for a free spirit.”
“Someone like me should eat nothing but tofu and sprouts?”
He smiled, enjoying when she got feisty, like a kitten who thought it was a lion. “Precisely. And I better not catch you wearing leather,” he said as he brandished his cow hide belt, sliding it through his pant loops.
“You have no idea about me.”
“Woman. That is why I’m asking questions.” He sighed. “What’s your biggest dream?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, she said, “To make it as a painter. Throw everything into it and not look back, not second-guess myself. Total leap of faith.” She folded her arms and ran her hands up to her shoulders as if she suddenly felt vulnerable. “It’s complicated, though. Difficult.” She dropped her chin. “And scary.”
Dexter understood this on a level Jules couldn’t have known about him. He was in the middle of doing just that…throwing everything into something new and complicated. Trying so hard to not second-guess. And being scared to death that every decision was wrong.
In a flash, he remembered the expression on her face earlier, when she’d been asked about painting, how anxious she’d looked. Why? Seeing her vulnerable and sincerely opening up made that wall in his chest shift again. The impulse screaming in his brain was to walk over to the woman in turquoise and just hold her, just be there like a friend, like a…something more he couldn’t name.
“What’s yours?” she asked. “Your biggest dream?”
He could’ve said the exact thing she had, only changed painter to entrepreneur. Was it odd that two people so different could have something so important in common?
“To make my father proud of me again.”
“Dex,” she said, tilting her head. “I’m sure he is.”
Hearing his nickname while spoken in such a soft and caring voice made a lump unexpectedly block his throat. “I don’t think he is. Not right now.”
She took a step toward him. “Why?”
“Business stuff,” he said, choosing not to share with her how he’d quit his job, disappointed Dad, and was one investor’s meeting away from starting his own company. Or failing completely. Talk about a leap.
“I still don’t know your favorite food,” Jules said. Maybe she also sensed that the conversation was getting too intimate for two people who didn’t believe in relationships. “What kind of wife am I?”
“Warm peaches.”
“Dexter, stop flirting.”
He took in her blushing expression and laughed. “That’s my favorite food. Peach cobbler, peach pie, poached with a sprinkle of cinnamon. Any way I can get it.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “I thought you… Never mind.”
More of that cute blushing. He chuckled under his breath as he tucked in his shirt. “College?”
“Two years at UNLV until my scholarship ran out. But I don’t need a four-year degree.”
“Pretty hard to get a job without one.”
“Maybe in your prepackaged, super-shiny world. But I get along fine.”
“Didn’t mean to offend you.”
She adjusted a long necklace studded with red and green jewels. “I’m used to people looking down on me.”
Taken aback by the tweak in her mood, for once, he thought first before replying. “I…don’t look down on you.” Then he had to consider if that was the truth. “We’re different, but it doesn’t mean I think I’m better than you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Keep telling yourself that.”
He didn’t want to argue the point. They were different, too different—period. Damn good thing she’d reminded him of that fact.
“Anyway, you know my immediate family,” he said. “Both sets of grandparent are alive. Dad’s father is a war vet who loves to talk about his kills. Don’t let him corner you after he’s had three beers—you’ll have nightmares for a year. Mom’s stepfather was raised by an actual British governess. Corporal punishment was big in those days, and he’ll be quick to show you his scars.”
“Don’t let him corner me after three beers?”
That witty charm he’d grown used to was back, replacing the bitterness from a moment ago.
“He’s a bourbon man who’ll drink you under the table. Don’t let him corner you at all. What about you? Parents in Vegas?”
“No.” She turned to look in the mirror. “Mom died when I was sixteen. I was already working full time and got legally emancipated. I don’t remember my father. He left right after I was born. In a way, Mom tried to make up for that by marrying three more times. She really wanted me to have a stable male presence, but none of them took.”
“That sucks.”
“It’s not like they were mean or stole our money.” She laughed it off, even though Dexter knew her well enough to suspect it was forced. “We didn’t have any money to steal. Anyway, Grams has always been my family. She was more stable than anyone.”
Judging by that marriage clause in her will that Jules had explained to him, Dexter seriously doubted Rosemary Granger was stable at all.
“It’s after five,” he said, glancing out the window. There were already twenty cars, and parking valets running up and down the driveway. “How soon will you be ready?”
Jules lifted her arms and let them fall. “I am.”
She wasn’t wearing any visible makeup, though, and her hair was just hanging in waves. He might’ve preferred her looking that way, all scrubbed and naturally glowy, but weren’t women supposed to gussy up for these things? Bright red lipstick and with hair in some complicated style that would make her look untouchable?
“Okay. Great,” he said, grabbing his jacket, making sure the knot in his tie was square and straight. It was a greenish-blue, coincidentally matching Jules’s dress. “I’ll wait while you put on your shoes.”
“I’m not wearing any.”
“Pardon?” He stared at her in confusion. “We’re going downstairs, around people other than my family. You have to wear shoes.”
“We’ll be in the backyard, on the lawn. No one will notice.” She lifted her dress, displaying her feet, toenails painted pink. She also wore a silver anklet with charms hanging off.
He’d notice her feet; they were sexy as hell—as far as feet went.
“We don’t want extra attention on us, right?”
“Right…” She nodded slowly, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t, she rolled her eyes. “Fine, you want me to wear shoes tonight, I will.” She plopped down on the bed and slid on the same sandals she’d been wearing all day. They laced up her ankles and tied in the back. “Am I presentable enough for you, Senator Uptight?”
She was joking. He hoped she was joking. “Presentable,” he replied as he opened the door, letting her into the hall first. The scented cloud of her perfume or hand lotion or just her trailed behind as Dexter followed her out.
Chapter Seven
Senator Uptight could certainly fill a suit. Not that she didn’t already know that. From now on, that’s all she better see him in. No more lounging around wearing towels in confined spaces. Although a hand towel
would’ve been nice when he’d been standing ten feet away, as naked as Michelangelo’s David.
A tingle ran over her skin as they walked down the hall.
Then he pulled me to him, her disobedient mind replayed. And we crashed onto the bed. For a split second, I thought he wanted to…
She shut that particular door in her mind and bit the insides of her cheeks, thankfully halting all heart gooing. Dexter only looked on her as the hound dog he was. To him, she was nothing more than another female body.
“Hey,” he whispered, nudging her arm. “We’re about to go down the staircase, then we won’t have one second of privacy. Ready?”
“Totally,” she said in a positively firm voice. “Fire away.”
“That’s the spirit.”
“What should I do if I’m asked something we didn’t cover?”
“Smile.” He shrugged one of those broad shoulders. “You can get through anything by smiling. See?” He gave her a toothy grin that looked anything but sincere, making her belly laugh. “Show lots of teeth, like this. Let’s see yours.”
Jules parted her lips like a snarling dog.
Dexter cracked up. “Close, but you gotta smile at the same time. Use the muscles at the corners of your mouth. Try again. Concentrate.”
She hiccuped a laugh. “Gosh, it’s really hard, though. How’s this?” She gave her animated Joker’s smile.
“Closer,” he said, looking at her clinically. “But more like the dazzlingly beautiful woman you are, and less like a serial killer.”
Jules’s psychotic expression froze for a moment. He thought she was dazzlingly beautiful? As his eyes lingered on hers, she felt her expression changing. Her face muscles softened, her lips parted, the corners curling up, and her eyes widened.
Dexter stopped walking and stared at her. “Oh, um, yeah. That’s, um…” He cleared his throat and pulled at his tie like it was suddenly too tight. “That’s the one that’ll work. Distracting as hell.”
For the first time in years, Jules knew she looked dazzling, because she felt dazzling. All thanks to one look and tongue-tied reply from Dexter—which didn’t exactly bode well when she was trying so hard not to go gooey.
At the top of the stairs, he took her hand and looped it through his arm. “If the smile doesn’t work, try making people uncomfortable. That’ll stop them from asking personal questions.”
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