Once Upon a Time (The Wacky Women Series, Book 3)

by Day Leclaire

  "Frustrated. I'm sorry I frustrate you. I don't mean to." She searched his face, attempting to read his expression. A few years ago it would have been a simple task. Now, she found it next to impossible.

  "We need to talk," he said abruptly. "This nonsense can't continue. We are going to sit down, right this minute, and make some decisions about Willow's End." He looked at her, his gaze direct and determined. "Because the way things stand right now, I don't see how you can possibly keep the house, no matter who inherits."

  Callie stared in alarm, the full import of Julian's words sinking in. "You can't mean... You're not suggesting we sell Willow's End? You can't be serious!"

  "I'm very serious. Sit down."

  The heat shimmered in a hazy curtain, making her acutely aware of the intense humidity. An inconsistent breeze did nothing to alleviate the oppressiveness. Her gaze sought out Brutus. To her relief, she found him close at hand. He stood in a field of clover, snapping at some noisy bumblebees laboring diligently over each white flower.

  Without a word, she dropped to a shady spot beneath the trees and waited for Julian to speak, praying she'd misunderstood him. Nervously, she picked up a whiplike willow twig and methodically stripped off the neat symmetrical row of light green leaves.

  Julian sat beside her. "I understand your desire to honor Maudie's wishes," he began, choosing his words with care. "And I know how much Willow's End means to you. But we need to be practical." He must have realized how much his words hurt, because he reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

  For him, it was an innocent touch, an act of comfort or sympathy. He didn't have a clue the storm of reaction it set off within her. Again. Still. She clenched the stripped willow twig in an iron grip, afraid to so much as move.

  Why wasn't the chocolate cake working? She glanced at Julian. He was a lot of man. Perhaps it took a lot of cake to compensate for that.

  When she didn't reply, he continued, "I assumed you and Maudie had an organized system for these repairs." He fixed her with an ironic look. "Foolish of me, I admit."

  "That's not true," Callie claimed, finding her voice at last. Focus on Maudie and the repairs. The sooner their conversation ended, the sooner she could get back to the kitchen—and the cake. "I told you Maudie left notes telling me what to do."

  Julian shook his head. "Yet, you seem to leap from one project to the next, as though you're pulling her instructions out of a hat."

  He saw Callie's start of surprise and gave an incredulous laugh. "You're joking! Tell me you don't do it that way."

  "If you must know, it's a drawer, not a hat," she admitted with a blush, prudently avoiding any mention of Brutus. Instead she attempted to explain. "I didn't think it mattered which room we pulled apart first, since they all have to be done." Judging by Julian's reaction, she'd have been better off mentioning Brutus.

  "They all have to be done? Why?"

  She cleared her throat and tossed her stripped willow twig into the grass. "Because of the faulty electrical wiring."

  He shot her a look of sheer disbelief. "Faulty electrical wiring? As well as a leaky roof, new walls, exterior and interior painting jobs, dry rot—yes, I saw the dry rot in the study—and God knows what else?" He shook his head. "Callie, how much money do you have in your account?"

  "I'm not exactly sure."

  "How much?"

  She jumped, speaking in a rush. "About fifty-six dollars and eight cents." She paused, remembering the mayor. "Less the fifty dollar donation to help clean Mayor Fishbecker's statue. I guess that leaves—"

  "Six dollars and eight cents." His annoyed disbelief drained away, compassion taking its place. "Do you know how much it will cost to put Willow's End back into shape?" She shrugged and he threw out a figure that staggered her.

  "But Maudie said she could handle the improvements," Callie protested.

  "She probably could have," he agreed. "She had a small annuity that might just have covered the repairs, provided she spaced them out over time. But until we find the will, we won't know whether she took the possibility of her death into consideration when planning them. The bottom line is this. Whoever inherits the house also inherits the expense of the repairs. Somehow, I don't think that's an expense you're capable of carrying."

  Callie bit her lip. "No," she admitted. "It's not." Then she gazed hopefully at him. "You're not sure, though, about the money. There might be enough."

  "Or there might not. In this case I'd rather err on the side of caution." He tucked a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear and spoke gently. "Sweetheart, don't you realize it's too much for you? It's not just the money or possible lack of it. You can't cope with any of the things you've taken on. Or with the people who take advantage of your generosity."

  She firmed her lips into a stubborn line. "I can manage."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Can you? You have fifty dollars to your name and you give it away. You have a list of tasks sitting on the kitchen table that would stagger an army. The repairs to the house are monumental and totally unorganized. Don't you see you're out of options here? Something's got to give before you wear yourself out. There isn't any other reasonable choice but to sell."

  Callie shook her head. "No, Julian. I can't. I love Willow's End."

  He stared past her toward the house. To her surprise, deep affection slipped across his expression. For a moment, she thought he'd relent. Then his jaw firmed. "I love the place, too, sweetheart. But it's only a house. What's the old saying? Home is where the heart is. You know it's the people who make the home, not the wood and brick and mortar."

  Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head again. "But Willow's End isn't just a house, Julian." Her voice broke on his name. "It's our home. Please, please, don't take that away."

  He reached over and put his arms around her, holding her tight against him. "I'm not taking it away. But, think about it. I'll be back in Chicago soon. You can't manage on your own. I'd worry about you."

  "I'll get it all taken care of before you leave." She pulled back and stared up at him. "Give me a chance to prove it to you. I can cope. You'll see."

  He inhaled deeply, then reluctantly nodded. "All right, Callie. We'll give it a try."

  She smiled at the reprieve. "Thank you."

  "Don't look so relieved. I still think selling is our only option. In the meantime, we need to settle a few vital points."

  "Anything," she agreed. Deep down she knew Julian couldn't sell his home any more than she could. Once his heart overruled that logical brain of his, he'd discover the truth for himself. But if it would help placate him, she'd agree to shave the earth with a butter knife if it meant keeping Willow's End. "Name your conditions."

  He counted off on his fingers. "First. We sit down and organize a proper plan for the repairs."

  "Agreed."

  "Second. You give top priority to finding Maudie's will. Third. No more donations of time or money until you take care of your current commitments."

  "I can do that," she said confidently. It would be a snap. "What's fourth and final?"

  "Fourth and final." His voice took on a steely quality. "You don't remove one nail or one piece of plaster or one floorboard without my approval."

  "Done." She grinned, relieved beyond measure he hadn't asked anything too difficult. "Thank you, Julian. I can't imagine what I'd do if I lost Willow's End. You don't know how much it means to me."

  He smiled at her and cupped her face. "I have an idea. It's a special place, isn't it? Though not nearly as special as its chief resident."

  He'd taken his glasses off, though Callie couldn't recall when. His eyes had turned a warm, dark brown. Like chocolate, she thought hazily.

  Thick.

  Rich.

  Chocolate.

  His head lowered, and Callie knew—knew—he intended to kiss her again. She trembled in anticipation, praying he wouldn't notice, but her emotions were still out of whack, her barriers too flimsy to successfully hide her reaction to him. If
he kissed her, she'd respond the way she had last night, the way a woman does with a man she wants in her bed. And that would ruin everything. She jerked free of his hold and jumped to her feet, backing toward the lake.

  "Callie?" Julian stood up, frowning. "What's wrong?" He followed, closing the gap between them.

  He's going to know. He'll figure it out.

  A curious glint entered his eyes and a discerning sort of smile touched the corners of his mouth. Sudden awareness, clear and unmasked, showed in his expression. He stalked her, like a predatory animal picking up the scent of his prey, his intentions unmistakable.

  "Callie—"

  She seized on the first thought to pop into her head. "Boy, is it ever hot. We should go for a swim. That would be perfect, don't you think? A nice cool swim?"

  The words were no sooner out of her mouth than Brutus came charging across the meadow. He gave a single, excited bark before two hundred pounds of anxious-to-please dog hit her square in the chest. Callie shrieked, her arms flailing like windmills. With a smothered oath, Julian grabbed at her, but the attempt came an instant too late. She fell over backward into the lake. Julian, his hand clamped on her arm, fell right along with her.

  Brutus sat on the sandy beach and grinned.

  Callie surfaced, sputtering and coughing. It took three attempts, and Julian's help, to sit up. She glared at Brutus. "What did you do that for?" she croaked, searching wildly for the most horrible thing she could think of to say to him. "You... you stupid dog!"

  "Oh, that's telling him," Julian snarled. "That should cut him right to the quick."

  But watching Brutus, she thought perhaps it did. He howled in anguish, then raced back and forth along the shore, barking furiously. Callie chewed her lip, realizing something. By pushing her into the lake at that key moment, Brutus had helped her. He'd provided the perfect distraction and prevented Julian from questioning her any further about her panicky reaction to his touch.

  She peeked over at him. This was not a happy man. Not by a long shot. At a guess, Brutus's life hung by a very thin thread. She cleared her throat. "Uh, your glasses?" she probed delicately.

  "Under the tree somewhere."

  "I don't suppose your wallet..."

  "On the dresser in my bedroom."

  So far, so good. Now for the most crucial question. "Is your watch waterproof by any chance?"

  "So they claim." He examined the expensive timepiece and shook his wrist. "We'll know soon enough, won't we?"

  Callie beamed in relief. "Then there's no problem."

  "No problem?" Julian echoed. His dark brows almost met over the bridge of his nose. "No problem!" His fist hit the surface of the water, sending a spray toward shore. "Are you insane? That dog pushed us in the lake. Deliberately!" He stopped, as though aware of what he'd once again admitted. "And take that look off your face, Callie Marcus."

  "What look?" she asked innocently.

  "You know full well what look I'm talking about." His eyes narrowed. "I've revised my opinion of that animal," he announced. "Slightly. I'll admit—and only admit—he's capable of deliberate, premeditated acts of mayhem. And when I catch the stupid mutt, he'll find himself incapable of even that, because I'm going to turn his hide into a bathmat!"

  Brutus didn't wait to hear any more. With a high-pitched yowl, he took off, sand flying in his wake.

  "You frightened him," Callie reproached.

  "Tough." Julian heaved himself upward, water cascading off his clothing.

  "I don't understand why you're so angry. The water feels great, nice and refreshing." She shook her wet hair back from her face. "Why don't we go for a swim?"

  Julian stared at her, his hands anchored on his hips. If Callie thought his jeans clung before, it didn't come close to comparing to what they did now.

  She closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the burning rays of the sun. Better not to look. Safer. But she couldn't resist taking one more peek. She squeezed her eyes closed again. Yep, much safer not to look. Lord, what she wouldn't give for some chocolate.

  "You're crazy," he informed her. "I mean, I suspected you were moderately insane before. But that particular suggestion has proven to me beyond a shadow of a doubt that you're flat-out, round the bend crazy."

  Callie lifted her chin. "I'm not crazy and neither is my idea. Not when you consider how hot it is and the fact we're already wet. Besides, I was just about to suggest a swim when Brutus..." Best to skip that part, she decided judiciously. "So, we don't have our suits on. Let's be daring and swim in our clothes."

  "Forget it, Callie."

  She lowered her lashes, hiding the sly gleam she knew must be evident in her expression. Only one thing would change his mind. "Bet you a slice of chocolate cake I can beat you to the raft."

  She threw down the challenge like a gauntlet. Julian would find the dare impossible to resist. At least, he'd never been able to resist a wager in the nine years she'd known him. It was one of the first things she'd learned about him when she'd moved to Willow's End. It was also the only silly, irrational thing she'd ever known him to do.

  For a minute she didn't think he'd go for it. Then amusement replaced his irritation and he dove back into the water, striking out for the raft anchored fifty yards offshore.

  Callie set off after him, the heavy drag of her clothing a major handicap. Not that Julian's clothing seemed to bother him. He cut cleanly through the water, outstripping her with ease. By the time she reached the raft, breathless and exhausted, she felt as though she'd run five miles.

  Julian stood on the rocking wooden surface, chuckling at her futile efforts to lever herself up beside him. He finally took pity on her. Leaning down, he grabbed her hands and heaved her straight out of the water, dangling her in front of him.

  "Are you going to put me down?" she demanded.

  "I'm trying to decide if you're a keeper, or if I should toss you back until you reach full size."

  "I've got news for you. I've reached full size."

  "Huh." He eyed her ribcage, making her squirm. "Not much meat there."

  "That's not what most men say."

  He froze for a split second, his eyes flashing to her breasts. The next second, he lowered her to the raft, deliberately changing the subject. "So, was that supposed to be a real bet?"

  "I noticed you took me up on it." She sat cross-legged on the heated boards and wrung out her wet hair. "You never could resist."

  He shot her an amused look and joined her, stretching out long legs that took up far more than his fair share of the raft. "You mean, you never could resist. When you arrived on our doorstep, you were a shy, skittish fifteen-year-old. Our little bets were the only way to get you to open up."

  She stared at him. "You mean, you don't really like to bet? You did that just for me?"

  "Wagering is illogical, impractical, and a total waste of time." He tossed her a grin. "Except with gorgeous brunettes who never win and make the best chocolate cake in the state. Then it's irresistible."

  All these years Julian had been making bets with her so she'd feel at home. She could feel the color creeping into her face and she offered a tremulous smile. "You're a nice man, Julian Lord." Aware they were entering dangerous territory, she quickly changed the subject. "You do realize that with our clothes on we'll never make it back to shore without drowning. We'll have to spend the rest of our lives out here, eating raw fish and surviving on lake water."

  "Raw fish?" He shook his head. "No way. I'll just wait for the Burns brothers to rescue me. They should be along any night now for one of their midnight fishing parties."

  "You're forgetting," she reminded him gloomily. "When I blew the whistle on them at Maudie's celebration, they were grounded. We'll be stuck here for the next fifty years."

  He leaned back on his elbows and grinned, his voice a suggestive murmur. "Well, my sweet, since it's the weight of our clothes keeping us tied here, we could always peel down to the buff and swim back. Of course, the pile of clothing we
leave on the raft might cause a bit of gossip. What do you think? Can we survive being the talk of Willow?"

  He sat up and in one swift movement yanked his shirt up and over his head. Callie's mouth dropped open. She'd thought he was kidding, but he intended to do it. He intended to take off his clothes and swim back to shore, bare ass naked.

  Julian chuckled, his dark eyes alight with laughter, his grin deepening the lines bracketing either side of his mouth. Little droplets of water glittered in hair that curled loosely back from his brow. He touched her bright red cheeks with a fingertip.

  "Relax. I was joking about skinny dipping. I'm not planning on taking advantage of you, only of the sunshine."

  Callie didn't know whether to be relieved or sorry. He lay back on the raft and she couldn't resist staring at him. No two ways about it, this was one gorgeous male animal. His sleek grace and strong muscular body made for a potent combination, especially stripped of his civilized trappings. And it all spelled danger, pure and simple. Spellbinding, finger-burning, irresistible danger.

  Last night she'd been bold enough to stroke all that delicious danger. Now, in the harsh light of day, she didn't dare. Though she wanted to. She wanted to almost more than anything in the entire world. Almost more than she wanted Willow's End.

  She turned from temptation and lifted her wet shirt away from her body, wishing she could shed hers the way Julian had. It clung uncomfortably to her skin, and she wiggled in response, which only made matters worse. Any minute now her jeans would start steaming beneath the hot afternoon sun. She sighed.

  "Take them off. I don't mind," Julian said without opening his eyes.

  She didn't pretend to misunderstand. "You know I can't do that. Someone might see." Worse, he might see. Might? No might about it. He would. She shivered, the thought chilling her where moments before she'd been sweltering from the heat.

  A smile curved his mouth. "No one will see. The willows block the view. And wet as your shirt is, it's not doing much of a job protecting your modesty, anyway."

  To punctuate his comment, Julian turned his head and looked at her. His gaze touched her body like a physical brand, and for an insane moment she felt he'd marked her irrevocably as his own. His smile grew broader.