Chapter
FIVE
“Well, that was fun.”
Injecting a cool note into her voice, Julia turned away from Warren and picked up her crumpled panties.
He didn’t respond. She fumbled to find her bra, calling upon every reserve of strength she possessed to collect her composure.
“I have an early meeting tomorrow.” She got to her feet, still not looking at him, and slipped into her lingerie. “I need to go.”
She felt his gaze as if it were a touch. He pushed to his elbows, his eyes hooded. Unselfconscious in his nakedness, his skin still damp with sweat and muscles taut, he was totally unfamiliar to her—a man who’d fucked her raw and made her come hard enough to see stars. Not Warren Stone, her sister’s husband, the widower who’d become her best friend.
The man to whom she could never confess her love.
She smothered a stab of guilt, blocking an image of Rebecca with her elegant, lovely features, her sleek blonde hair, always cut in a fashionable bob, her model-like figure.
As a child, Julia had worshipped her older sister, and at first she’d resented Warren when he’d captured all of Rebecca’s attention and then swept her off into marriage. Later, Julia had learned they’d wed partly due to Rebecca’s unexpected pregnancy, but the circumstances appeared to have no effect on their rock-solid devotion and love.
Julia hadn’t envied their marriage—in her eyes, they’d been tied down with children, Warren working all hours of the day, Rebecca stuck at home—but they’d been committed to both each other and their life together. That part Julia had envied. She’d told Warren as much on the night when she’d so shamelessly thrown herself at him.
A hot flush rose to her cheeks. She bent to pick up her shirt. Warren turned away from her and pulled on his boxer briefs. Her focus snapped involuntarily to the flex and stretch of his back muscles, the straight vertebrae of his spine and slopes of his shoulder blades. A sharp longing rose in her to slide her fingers over his back, trace the structure of his bones, learn every part of his body the way she’d learned every inch of his character.
She backed away, afraid she would act on the urge the way she’d almost confessed.
He turned and advanced, his expression set with determination.
“Julia, we need to talk about this,” he said.
“This was a mistake.”
“The hell it was. You’re wrong if you think this hasn’t been waiting to happen.”
She held up a hand, trying to ignore her racing heart. “Spare me the post-coital discussion, please. I’m accustomed to men rolling over and going to sleep.”
Warren frowned. “Don’t you turn Ice Queen on me.”
“I’m not turning anything,” she snapped. “This is who I am.”
“You’re a lot more than that.”
She couldn’t respond. Warren was Rebecca’s husband. He’d always been hers. Her presence had filled their lives for thirteen years through the children and the foundation. So much of the work she and Warren did together was in honor of Rebecca. To keep her alive.
How could Julia have allowed them to cross the invisible line they’d always kept so firmly drawn? How could she have let herself almost confess the deepest secret of her heart?
“I admit it’s been quite a while since I’ve gotten laid,” she remarked crisply. “Thanks for scratching my itch. We should do this again in another thirteen years.”
“All right.” He crossed his arms over his bare chest, his features steeling. “If that’s what you want, I can play the game. We’re doing this again tomorrow. You’ll get on your knees and wrap your pretty lips around my dick. Maybe I’ll let you swallow, or maybe I’ll fuck you again and come on your tits.”
God. A hot shudder rippled through her. She turned away, not wanting him to read on her face that his crude words inflamed her all over again.
“I’ll check my agenda and let you know if that works for me.” She jerked her shirt over her head.
Before she could grab her pants from the floor, Warren clamped his hand around her wrist. He yanked her against the solid wall of his chest, trapping her with the strength of his grip.
“Oh, it will work for you, honey.” His voice was dangerously low, his dark eyes burning through her. “Because you’re mine now. You want me to scratch your itch? Sure. But that means you do whatever the fuck I say whenever the fuck I say it. If you think you can shut me out with your ice, you’re wrong. I have a goddamned inferno.”
Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it inside her head. She’d never seen him so controlling, so determined. Part of her longed to lock herself right up against his body and let him do things to her. She wanted to get on her hands and knees for him, to feel him driving into her from behind, her ass slamming against his flat stomach. She wanted to ride him, pushing his cock inside her as deep as it could possibly go. She wanted them both to come, over and over, until they were exhausted and spent.
Then she wanted him to take her in his arms and fucking cuddle her until she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
He put his hand between her legs, edging his fingers underneath her panties to where she was still wet and aching from his cock. He circled her swollen clit. A tremble rocked her. She struggled not to writhe against the pressure of his fingers, to beg him to make her come again.
Just as she was about to surrender to the urge, he let her go.
Julia scrambled to put on her pants and shoes, her face hot. She’d lost this battle and it was her own damned fault. Trembling, she hurried to the door.
“We’re not done here, Jules,” Warren said. “No fucking way.”
The steely certainty in his voice lanced into her like an arrow. No one knew better than her that Warren Stone was a man who got what he wanted.
But he’d never had to battle her hard-edged resolve, the brick walls she’d constructed to keep people out.
She hurried outside, slamming the door behind her. As she drove home, she tried not to think about the fact that Warren was the only man in the world who could demolish those walls with nothing more than a kiss.
“Here’s the final line-up for Deck the Halls.” Marco handed Julia a sheet of paper. “I’ll meet you over at the theater tomorrow night for rehearsal number one, unless you need me to escort you so you don’t cut and run.”
“Don’t get your hopes up.” Julia scanned the schedule.
“I put Poodle-O-Doodles in the first act because apparently the dogs have a naptime at…”
Marco’s voice drifted from her attention, as had pretty much everything else today. Except for her memories of Warren.
A shiver rippled down her spine. Her body still ached deliciously from their encounter last night. She hadn’t been able to keep it—to keep him—far from her thoughts. She certainly hadn’t been able to stop reliving his touch, the scrape of his stubble on her skin, the thrust of his shaft inside her, over and over—
“…and then the Wee Tinsel Dancers will come out for their tap dance with the Gingerbread Man,” Marco said.
“Fine.” She waved for him to take the paper away. “Looks great.”
“Did you just say looks great?”
Julia sighed. “It will suffice for now, Marco. You may leave. Really, I insist.”
He smirked and left her office. Julia suspected he would bring her a kale salad for lunch, the little toad.
She rose from her desk and went to the private studio adjoining her office. Unlike her business space, her studio contained a drafting table, mood boards covered with photos, textiles, and graphics; shelves of fabric rolls and samples; mannequins, and a sewing table cluttered with measuring tape and scissors.
She sat at the drafting table, which was covered with sketches for her proposed Appear line. She studied a drawing of a tailored shirt, trying not to hear Vincent Peck telling her it was outdated and old.
She’d been in the fashion industry long enough to know how trends worked. And her recent experiences with Polly and Kate had taught her that younger women didn’t always care for high-end fashion, but they did need flattering, well-made clothing that was easy to mix and match. With the right patterns and fabrics, some whimsical, fun touches, Appear could be a unique line for young, working women.
Though the Evermore deal had hit her right where it hurt the most, she had to find a way out. A way up. She had to believe in herself, to not believe Vincent Peck’s criticism that her designs were uninspired. That she didn’t have the credibility to create an authentic line for young women because… well. Her young days were behind her.
Fuck him. It wasn’t as if Peck was any spring chicken, so what did he know?
She set her drawings aside. She’d get back to them later when she had time to think of new concepts.
She left her office and strode to Enzo’s desk. His head jerked up at the sound of her heels clicking across the floor.
“The Zuzu photo shoot proofs?” She held out her hand.
He shuffled through papers on his desk and produced the folder. Julia took it with a nod, eyeing the surface of his desk. It was covered with stacks of paper, a musical Christmas tree, two dying plants, hand sanitizer, and a number of little trinkets—troll dolls, a dinosaur paper clip holder, wind-up robots, and a tabletop air hockey game.
“This is unaccept…” Julia stopped. “What is that?”
“What?” Enzo whirled around, as if ready to defend himself.
“That.” Julia stabbed her finger at the multicolored cube half-hidden behind the printer. “Is that a Rubik’s Cube?”
“Oh, this. Yes.” Relieved, he held up the cube.
Julia snapped her fingers and opened her palm. Enzo dropped the cube into her hand and backed his swivel chair away. She studied the mixed-up cube. They’d been popular when she was a kid, but she hadn’t seen or attempted to solve one in years.
And why would she have? It was a ridiculous waste of time, trying to get the colors on a cube to align.
“Uh, will there be anything else?” Enzo asked.
“May I borrow this?” Julia closed her fingers around the cube.
“Yeah, sure.” Enzo looked mildly baffled. “You can have it, if you want.”
Julia nodded her thanks and stepped away. “Clean your desk. I want it spotless by the end of the day.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Enzo grabbed the wastepaper basket and got to work.
Julia returned to her office. She closed the door and sat behind her desk, studying the silly little Rubik’s Cube.
Really, how hard could it be? If she twisted the right side, she’d have a row of white along the edge, and then she just had to bring the other two edge pieces to the same side… except then that screwed up the yellow row she had created on the other side, which meant she had a mess in the middle section of the… Well, hold on. She needed a different approach, maybe instead of focusing on the rows she needed to get the center square first.
She worked a bit more, concentrating on the white center square before evaluating the other squares to see if she could optimize the rows and…
“Julia?”
She looked up. Marco peered around her office door, his coat and briefcase in hand.
“Okay if I go?” he asked.
“I suppose.” She tossed the cube onto her desk. “Why are you leaving early?”
“I’m not.” He pointed to the clock. “It’s seven p.m.”
“Oh.” She blinked. There must have been a wrinkle in time because there was no way she’d been working on a Rubik’s Cube for over an hour straight.
She waved Marco away. “I’m just going to finish up a few things here.”
“Sure.” He glanced at the cube, his eyebrows raised. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yes, you will.”
When her office door closed, Julia gave a huff of irritation. She opened the bottom drawer of her desk to throw the cube inside, then changed her mind and put it in her handbag instead. That way, she wouldn’t forget to return it to Enzo tomorrow.
She closed up the office and walked along Ocean Avenue, assessing the evening holiday decorations with a critical eye. The charm of downtown Indigo Bay lay in the rows of high-end shops and restaurants clustered beside art galleries, boutiques, and coffee-houses. Historic cottages spoke of the architects and artists who had once lived here, and ivy-covered stone buildings with arched entryways led to hidden courtyards. Multicolored lights wound around the iron lamps lining the streets, wreathes and stars decorated posts, colorful Christmas trees and reindeer adorned the flower beds.
Julia loved the beauty and history of Indigo Bay. She loved the way Sugar Rush presided over the town like a benevolent king, sustaining so much of the economy and residents. She loved that the Rebecca Stone Foundation was the town’s unofficial charity and that it did so much good.
But, god in heaven, did she wish the town didn’t expect the holidays to be something out of a hyperactive, animated Christmas movie.
She went into Asante, an upscale bar and restaurant, and hitched herself onto a stool at the bar. A quick drink might take her mind off the fact that her list of action items was still a mile long, which meant she’d have to put in some hours this weekend.
She had no intention of cutting into her time with her family, especially since Hailey would be back in Indigo Bay for the Stone family tree-trimming party. The tension in Julia’s shoulders relaxed a bit. She hadn’t seen her niece in several months and had planned some outings for them when Hailey returned. Julia couldn’t wait to spend time with her niece. Hailey was a bright spot in the holidays, the Cindy Lou Who of Julia’s Grinchy Christmas.
“What can I get for you, darling?” The bartender placed a cocktail napkin in front of her.
“Scotch. Neat.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Did you expect me to ask for a glass of white wine?” she asked dryly.
“No, but I’ve got a Christmas peppermint martini, if you’re feeling festive.”
“Bah humbug.”
He grinned. “Unfestive scotch coming right up.”
“Aunt Julia.”
She turned to find Tyler waving at her from a booth where he was seated with Luke and Evan. Pleased, she took the glass from the bartender and walked over to her nephews. Tyler moved over to make room for her.
“What’re you doing here?” he asked. “Waiting for a hot date?”
“Hardly.” She spoke with derision, hoping he didn’t notice the flush creeping up her cheeks. She usually deflected Tyler’s teasing remarks about her love life with a roll of her eyes, but this time his mention of a hot date brought up an image of… his father.
Julia took a gulp of scotch. She’d had sex with the boys’ father. And while she’d been totally into it at the time, now in the clear light of day it seemed all the more wrong. What in the world would the boys say if they knew she’d been writhing around on the floor of the great room while Warren—
No need to go there.
She squirmed a little and cleared her throat. “Just getting a drink. What are you boys up to?”
“We’re talking about Dad.” Luke reached for his beer. “The whole retirement thing that came out of nowhere.”
“I believe he didn’t tell you sooner because he knew you’d try to talk him out of it,” Julia said.
“Right. Like we won’t now?” Evan asked.
Julia gave them both a repressive frown. “You have no right to try and stop your father from retiring. He’s earned the right to retire early and do something else with his life.”
“What’s he going to do?” Luke argued. “Play poker? Build model airplanes? Without Sugar Rush, he’ll be lost.”
“Unlike you, Lucas Stone, your father’s entire identity has not been wrapped up in Sugar Rush,” Julia reminded him. “I strongly suggest you all listen to him and work to restructure the company instead of attempting to convince him not to retire.”
“I’m telling you, man.” Tyler tilted his head back to take a swallow of beer, then eyed Luke pointedly. “It’s a chick.”
Luke made a scoffing noise. Evan shrugged. Julia’s shoulders tensed. She regarded each of her nephews in turn.
“What are you talking about?” she asked evenly.
Evan sighed. “Ty thinks Dad is seeing someone.”
Julia’s heart stuttered. “You mean a woman?”
“No, a duck,” Tyler replied dryly. “Of course a woman.”
“He has been dating more recently,” Evan admitted. “And he’s been going off with his climbing buddies too. With the retirement thing coming out of nowhere, there’s gotta be something else he’s not telling us.”
“Exactly.” Tyler nodded in satisfaction.
“So you think Dad’s playing the field?” Luke asked. “That’s why he wants to retire?”
“Maybe.” Evan took a few chips from the bowl in the center of the table. “He was vague about his post-retirement plans, right? And a few times over the past month, Hannah and I have asked him to go with us somewhere on the weekends—to dinner, down to Catalina, trip to San Francisco. He turned us down every time.”
“So?” Luke asked. “He’s never been into going out.”
“So maybe that’s changing. And maybe he doesn’t want to tell us yet.”
“Why would he not want to tell us?” Luke argued. “We know he’s seen a few women over the years.”
“A few women.” Tyler rolled his eyes. “What about one super-hot woman? Who’s also into climbing and hiking and stuff?”
Luke’s forehead creased. “You think he’s getting serious about one woman?”
“It’s possible,” Tyler said. “He seemed pretty into that lady Gia a while back. And he’s going on a ski vacation after Christmas, right? He never said he was going alone.”
“Boys.” Julia’s voice came out sharper than she’d intended, honed on the granite rock that had settled into the pit of her belly. “Speculating about your father’s love life is both rude and disrespectful.”
The three of them all blinked in faint surprise.
“Uh, why?” Tyler asked.
“It just is,” Julia snapped. “He wouldn’t speculate about your love lives.”
“Yeah, he probably would,” Evan remarked.
Julia took a swallow of scotch, appreciating the burn as it spread through her chest. Her insides knotted like a ragged hemline. Warren wouldn’t have had sex with her if he was serious about another woman. He had far too much integrity for that. And despite the lustful combustion of their fuck, he also possessed more than enough self-control to have stopped things before they’d gotten out of hand. If he’d wanted to.
Julia wasn’t at all certain she could say the same about herself. And now more than ever, she hated the mere idea of Warren with another woman, which made her nephews’ speculation all the more vexing.
“I’m telling you to stop it.” She slid out of the booth. “Your father’s love life is none of your business. So instead of gossiping, I’d suggest you check your emails and see where I’ve volunteered you for the Deck the Halls finale.”
“Can I dress up as an elf again this year?” Tyler pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen. “Please say yes. I could use the costume when Kate and I get busy… uh, delivering toys to the children’s hospital.”
Evan grinned. Julia compressed her lips and reached for her handbag.
“You’re selling roasted chestnuts,” she informed Tyler. “There is no costume.”
He gave a drawn-out groan.
“What am I doing?” Evan asked.
“You’re setting up seating, and Luke, you and Adam are supervising backstage. There will be more, but those are your jobs for now.”
“Come on, Aunt Julia.” Tyler’s pleading gaze locked on her. “Can’t I help at Santa’s Sleigh or something cool like that?”
“No.” Julia rose, her spine straightening. “You all have your assignments. And stop gossiping about your father’s love life or I’ll give you a whole new definition of the term roasted chestnuts.”
She strode away just as the boys burst into laughter.