Ten
Julianne leaned her head against the cool granite countertop, her eyes closed tightly in an effort to keep the room from spinning. Owen was beginning to fuss and she didn’t have time for a nervous breakdown.
“Has she eaten anything at all today?” Annabeth’s voice sounded as if she were under water. Not a good sign.
“I have no idea.” Will’s voice was clearer; she could easily make out the sound of his disgust. And closer, she could feel the heat radiating off his body from where he stood beside her. “Here, drink this.”
Julianne cracked open an eyelid. A tall glass of orange juice sat on the counter. It would be easy to reach for it and drink it, but her arms felt like cement. She hadn’t eaten more than a banana today, but it wasn’t the lack of food that was causing her faintness, it was the familiar panic attack she felt whenever she got near an ocean. Of course, she’d never actually fainted before this. Annabeth might be right, Julianne would be better able to handle the situation on a full stomach.
Owen began his catlike wailing, his I’m hungry cry, and Julianne’s body moved instinctively off the bar stool she was perched on. Will grabbed her immediately.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he ordered, pushing her back down and placing the glass in her hand. “Drink this. Mom and I can take care of Owen.”
Annabeth had already scooped Owen out of the car carrier and was carrying him around the warm great room adjacent to the kitchen. As Julianne’s mind began to clear, she took in the room’s stunning décor. High ceilings and floor-length windows took advantage of the view. The furniture was light wood, upholstered in seafoam green. Ceiling fans whirred softly overhead. The far wall was lined with bookcases with a small fireplace tucked among them. The room was flawlessly accessorized, every knickknack placed properly for display. Everything was so perfect the room looked like a magazine spread.
Will put together a bottle for Owen and handed it to his mother, who sank down on a leather bench overlooking a well-appointed screen porch that could have been featured in a gardening catalog.
“Drink,” Will commanded, refocusing her attention.
The orange juice was cool and tangy. Julianne felt her head clear a little more with each sip. Of course, that meant Will’s menacing form came into focus as he belligerently stood in front of her.
“So what drug is it this time?” he asked quietly, presumably so his mother wouldn’t overhear.
“Excuse me?” Julianne sputtered.
“You heard me. Last time it was migraine medicine that made you loopy. You don’t look like you have a headache, so what’s today’s excuse, Princess?”
Julianne slowly stood. Unfortunately, she gave up the advantage of being at eye level once she left the bar stool, but she wasn’t going to take his accusations sitting down.
“I. Don’t. Take. Drugs.” She spun on her heel and marched into the kitchen. The preponderance of culinary equipment nearly took her breath away, defusing the heat of her anger a bit. Everything about the room was state of the art. The appliances gleamed like new. Pots and pans hung above the massive eight-burner range looking as if they were shined daily. The spices in the elaborate spice drawer were filled to exactly the same level and were placed in alphabetical order. This kitchen was a chef’s fantasy. Like the rest of the rooms in the house, it looked unused—almost like a movie set.
Will prowled up behind her. “Something laid you out back there. I swear if I find out you’re using, you’ll never see Owen again.”
As threats go, Will’s had teeth. She shivered slightly at the thought of him taking her son away. But Julianne had the truth on her side. At least the truth about not taking drugs. She pulled a bag of peanut butter crackers out of the diaper bag, willing her hand not to tremble. “I just had a baby. I’ve spent the last five weeks in a hospital eating and sleeping only when I had to. I’m hungry. That’s all.”
Will donned his William the Conqueror expression, which probably intimidated plenty of quarterbacks but had little effect on Julianne.
“I’m happy to pee in a cup for you. You just say the word.”
He didn’t so much as blink, and Julianne slid past him as she shoved a cracker into her mouth. Annabeth was humming softly while Owen sucked forcefully on his bottle.
“Your home is lovely.” Except for the fact that the ocean churned right outside the front door, but Julianne figured her mother-in-law considered that her home’s best advantage and not a curse, so she didn’t mention it.
“Thank you, but I can’t take the credit for decorating it. Will arranged for it.”
“That kitchen is to die for. You must love cooking.”
Annabeth laughed softly. “I rarely cook. And when I do, not in that kitchen. I have a small guest house on the other side of the garage. It has the best view.”
“So you don’t actually live in the house?” Julianne was starting to feel queasy again.
“No, the main house is Will’s. He uses it to entertain when he’s in town.”
More like he uses it to thumb his nose at the locals who’d dissed him as kid, she thought. Julianne was starting to put together a more detailed picture of Owen’s father. Sure, his mother wanted to remain in town, but Will wasn’t going to let her live in anything short of a spectacular show home.
“There are plenty of take-out menus by the phone in the kitchen. Everyone is happy to deliver,” Annabeth said quietly so not as to disturb Owen, whose eyes were slowly drifting shut. Of course they delivered. Will probably counted on everyone in town wanting a look at his fabulous bachelor pad.
“Actually, I love to cook. It relaxes me.” Julianne strolled back into the kitchen. “I’m pretty sure I could happily whip up a few meals here.” She pulled open a few cabinets to check for supplies.
“I thought you said you weren’t doing any cooking while we were here?” Will asked, as he trailed her around the kitchen as if to ensure she didn’t pilfer anything.
Julianne whirled on him, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “I said I wasn’t going to cook for you.”
Will opened his mouth to speak just as Annabeth walked into the kitchen, a sleeping Owen in her arms.
“He’s asleep.” Annabeth smiled wistfully as she gazed down on her grandson. “I forgot how beautiful they are when they sleep.”
“Remember that when he’s screaming at two A.M.” Gently, Julianne took the baby from her. “Did you have a chance to get a crib, Will?”
Annabeth nearly snorted. “Oh, I’d say. Owen probably has the most well-furnished nursery in North Carolina.”
If it was anything like the rest of the house, Julianne could well imagine. She followed Will up a flight of stairs.
“There’s a second set of stairs leading up from the foyer,” Will explained as they came to a large landing. A leather chair and ottoman sat in front of a picture window, comprising a cozy reading nook, complete with baskets of magazines and a cashmere throw blanket. The entire house looked like it had swallowed a Pottery Barn catalog. “The back of the house is the master suite. You and Owen will be up front. The two guest rooms share a bath.”
Julianne did some quick reconnaissance; if her bearings were correct, the master suite would face the ocean. With luck, her and Owen’s rooms would overlook green terra firma. Will opened the door to the nursery, and Julianne had to bite back a gasp. Not only had Will gotten the crib, but he’d bought every piece of furniture and accessory on the two-page spread she’d given him as a guide. The room looked like it had taken five weeks to put together as opposed to five days.
“How . . . how did you do this?” Julianne whispered as she laid Owen in the crib, covering him with a flannel blanket one of the nurses in the hospital had made for him.
Will shrugged his shoulders as if to say, I’m rich, famous, and a good-looking athlete, need I say more? She understood the situation quite well because, up until a few months ago, she was one of those people who kowtowed to that clientele.
She walked over to the window to draw the shade, relief gripping her as she peered out to see grass and two live oak trees below. Will picked up the monitor and headed through a spacious bathroom into another bedroom. Julianne followed. The room featured a dormer window with another comfortable chair and ottoman. Julianne felt herself relaxing further as she envisioned feeding Owen in the cozy spot each afternoon. If she had to marry a stranger and spend three months living with him, she could do a lot worse. This home was perfect, providing she could avoid the front yard.
Antiques in complementing warm woods were situated throughout the room. A queen-sized iron bed took up the rest of the space, an eclectic mix of throw pillows making it look comfortable and inviting. Julianne suddenly realized how tired she was. Nap when the baby naps, the nurses had advised her. A perfect idea. Unfortunately, there was two hundred pounds of NFL badass standing between her and forty winks.
“These are the toys I ordered.” Will pointed to a box near the closet. “They are all rated as the top toys for enhancing an infant’s learning ability.”
Julianne flopped down backward on the bed. “Oh God! You can’t be serious? Owen is just over a month old and you’re already buying him toys? You have some serious daddy issues.”
Will nudged her foot with his sneaker as he stepped closer to the bed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means.” Julianne pushed herself up off the bed; she didn’t like the way her body reacted to him looming over her. “You grew up poor, without a father, in a town that supposedly treated you badly for it. Now you do whatever it takes to flaunt how you’ve made something of yourself, with new cars”—she spread her hands out wide—“this house, and, apparently, whatever Owen needs, whether he wants it or not.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting the best for my son.” Will stepped closer, his eyes hard.
“No, there isn’t.” Julianne trod carefully. “Owen will love you for who you are. You don’t have to prove anything to him with toys or a fancy nursery. He’s the one person in this world who doesn’t care about your crappy past.”
“You know what?” Will moved in closer so that only inches separated their bodies now. “You weren’t lying before; you aren’t on drugs. You’re just bat-shit crazy!”
“Shh!” Julianne pointed to the nursery.
“Oh no, Princess, you had your turn at psychoanalyzing me, now I get my shot. You gave yourself away when you looked at the window back there. You’ve got a bad case of thalassophobia.”
“Thala . . . lasso . . . what?”
“Fear of the ocean!”
Julianne tried to laugh, but it came out sounding brittle. “Wow, no wonder your head is so big; you’ve got a lot of useless knowledge up there if you can pull that word out. Really, when your football career dries up, you should seriously consider a stint on Jeopardy.”
“Oh, no. The more I consider this theory, the more it makes sense. You fainted when you looked out front—”
“I was hungry!”
“—and you were pretty out of it on Sea Island, where there’s an ocean right outside the hotel. It’s all starting to come together.”
“You really should consider wearing a helmet when you go out on the football field.”
Will snarled at her. “Oh yeah, that’s right. You don’t remember that evening on Sea Island.”
“That part really jacks up your ego, doesn’t it? There’s actually a woman who exists who can’t remember having sex with the great William the Conqueror.” Julianne knew she was taking a risk taunting him, but she’d rather he kiss her than delve into her fears.
He grabbed her arms and pulled her against his body. “Admit it, you’re afraid of the sea,” he demanded.
“Save your brute strength for another patient, Dr. Phil, because you’re way off base here.”
He seemed to be warring with something in his mind, and Julianne suddenly realized how vulnerable she was. “Will,” she breathed.
Will’s lips moved closer. “Say it, or I’ll make you say it.”
Julianne tried to pull back. She wasn’t frightened of Will, just scared of where they both might end up if this continued.
“Don’t.” She shook her head. “Please!”
“William!”
Annabeth’s voice cut through the heated air in the room. Will shook himself before quickly releasing Julianne. She took a step back, rubbing her arms as she did so.
Will’s face was once again unreadable. Annabeth’s, on the other hand, was horrified.
Julianne needed to get away from these people before she fainted again. Will wasn’t the type to let it go, though, so she decided to just come clean. It wasn’t a state secret, anyway.
“I’m not afraid of the ocean,” she hissed. “My mother drowned at sea. It makes me uncomfortable to be near one, that’s all. I’m not afraid of anything. Especially not you!”
She stepped through the bathroom into the nursery, closing and locking the door behind her.