Chapter
TEN
“You fired her from planning the Sugar Rush party?”
Hailey stood with her hands on her hips, radiating indignity on her aunt’s behalf. Warren hadn’t expected to battle both Julia and his daughter on this issue, but last night’s argument had placed Hailey firmly on Julia’s side.
“I didn’t fire her.” Warren poured coffee into a travel mug and handed it to his daughter. “I excused her.”
“Oh, please. Dad, she’s been planning that party for ten years. She loves doing it. Why would you take it away from her?”
“Because she’s doing way too much. It’s not good for her.” He didn’t tell Hailey he was concerned about Julia’s migraines—no one else knew she even had them. “And she has enough on her plate with Deck the Halls.”
“Well, she didn’t seem any too happy about being excused.” Hailey lifted her backpack onto one shoulder. “I’m going to stop by her office on the way out and say goodbye.”
Warren nodded, deflecting the usual stab of fear at the thought of his daughter driving back to San Francisco. He’d had to work hard over the years to let Hailey do… well, anything, and still he was plagued by worry that something could happen to her. He’d managed to work through his grief over Rebecca’s death—though it would shadow the rest of his life—but if anything happened to his daughter…
“Hey, I hear you might be dating someone new,” Hailey remarked as they walked to the front door. “Is that gossip or the truth?”
“A little of both.” Hardly a lie. He wasn’t dating Julia, but she wasn’t someone new either.
“Well, I hope it works out.” She moved closer to hug him. “It’s nice to see you doing something else besides working on your models.”
“When are you coming back?” He wrapped his arms around her. As usual, he didn’t want to let go.
“The night before the party.” She reached up to kiss his cheek. “I’ll call you as soon as I arrive, I promise.”
“Sure you don’t want me to drive you?”
“Yes, Dad.” She rolled her eyes and opened the door. “I love you.”
“I love you, Hailey’s Comet.” Warren watched her leave, sending up a silent prayer to the universe to keep her safe.
He headed back upstairs to get ready for work, and was pulling into the Sugar Rush parking lot within the hour. Luke was in his office with a list of potential presidents for Warren to review.
“Looks good.” Warren dropped the list back onto his son’s desk.
Luke studied the paper and shook his head. “I can’t see someone outside the family stepping in. But I can’t see Carson or Evan doing it either. We work great where they are, but as president… I don’t know.”
Warren understood. The president-CEO relationship could be challenging to develop, though he and Luke had created a seamless partnership. Luke guided the company with a big-picture vision and strategy, while Warren focused on successful execution of day-to-day operations. They didn’t always agree, but they both knew how to negotiate and compromise.
The added challenge for them had been getting past the father-son dynamic, but Luke had stepped up to such a degree after Rebecca’s death that he’d proven himself early on. And Warren had been the one to guide the company through the rough waters of Luke’s false paternity suit, which had given them new levels of trust in each other.
A knock came at the door. At Luke’s invitation, Kate Darling, the vice-president of the Corporate Social Responsibility division, came into the office. Smart as a whip and organized beyond belief, Kate had been Luke’s executive assistant up until recently, when Warren, Evan, and Luke had promoted her to VP. Warren had seen a lot of young people both rise and fall at Sugar Rush, and he’d known from the start that Kate would be an incredible asset to the company if they tapped into her full potential. Rarely had he seen someone so gifted.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Stone.” She smiled at him en route to Luke’s desk with a heavy binder. “I didn’t know you were here, but I’m glad you are. I can kill two birds with one stone… oh dear, that was an unintentional but terrible joke. Here’s a draft of the report I’m working on linking Sugar Rush’s social impact to business benefits and metrics. I’m focusing on three avenues of data collection and usage, internal and external communications, and alliances. I’m going to submit it for presentation at the business summit in Europe next year.”
“Excellent, thank you.” Luke leafed through the book, shooting Warren a she’s a rock star glance. “I’ll talk to Evan and HR about connecting you with the other businesses slated to be there. Do you have a minute?”
“I’m free until two.”
“Let’s stop by his office.” Luke rounded his desk and started to the door, pausing to look at Warren. “Dad?”
Warren shook his head. He’d been purposely backing out of meetings and decision-making. “Go ahead. I have other things to finish up.”
Luke’s mouth twisted, but he nodded and stepped aside for Kate to precede him. She glanced from him to Warren, appearing somewhat baffled before heading out the door.
Warren returned to his office, walking past the framed historical photos and advertisements of Sugar Rush’s history. One week until December twenty-third and the Sugar Rush company party where he’d announce his retirement. No turning back now. He’d been so focused on the Matterhorn climb and the mechanics of retiring that he hadn’t thought past those two things. He had vague plans to do other things he’d never done before—scuba in the Great Barrier Reef, take a cross-country road trip, fix the garage door that had been rattling for months. Try the dating scene again.
He hadn’t seen himself with one woman, though. Not until now. And now he had to convince Julia that all of their years had been leading up to this—a life meant to be lived together.
He had no intention of returning to Sugar Rush—and that thought opened a hollowness inside his chest. He wanted to retire. Had been wanting to for well over a year. But he hadn’t yet gotten past the worry underscoring his decision, the one Julia had sensed from the beginning—would he regret it?
After he’d walked away, after the climb was over, would he wish he could still come to work every day? To the company that was part of his blood, the people who were his family, the culture that he’d lived his entire life?
The questions filtered through his mind, unwanted and unspoken. If his answers were all yes, then tough shit for him. He’d made his decision. Told his sons. Nothing—not even regret—could make him change his mind now.
He finished up paperwork and checked his email on the computer. He opened a message from Hans, the head of Alpine Climbs.
Warren, still don’t have your medical info for your file. Please send ASAP.
He ignored a flicker of unease and checked his calendar. He had a doctor’s visit tomorrow for a full physical. He hit the reply button and wrote:
Will have it to you by the end of the week.
He sent the email and checked his phone. Julia still hadn’t responded to his texts or voicemail, which didn’t surprise him. She was becoming an expert at giving him the cold shoulder.
Even though nothing about her was cold. Just the opposite. She was fire, spice, the sun. He’d never forgotten his first taste of her. And he’d spent over thirty years hating himself for not forgetting.
Old, raw guilt rose in him. He’d never betrayed his wife, his children, his sense of honor. At least, he didn’t think he had. But was remembering a form of betrayal? He had no way to rid himself of the memory. And God knew he’d had to restrain himself from Julia for the past thirteen years, as if not touching her was a penance.
But now? Touching her, kissing her, making love to her—it was all so damned right, so perfect, that it was an absolution. What reason was there for guilt anymore? Life was too short. Time passed too quickly. If you didn’t grab what was right in front of you, it was gone.
In mid-afternoon, he drove to her studios. Downtown Indigo Bay shimmered with holiday lights and decorations. Julia’s touch was obvious in the massive Christmas tree that sat in front of the city hall, surrounded by a stage where Deck the Halls would take place. Santa’s elaborate sleigh and North Pole Village adorned the square next to the stage.
His pride in her was endless. Even though he still believed she’d taken on too much this year, she hadn’t expected the bomb of the Evermore deal. But she was still coordinating Deck the Halls with the aplomb of an orchestra conductor—and, more than likely, a few dozen sharp commands.
He parked and went into her office, nodding a greeting at Enzo, who was staffing the front desk.
“Is she in?” he asked.
“Yes, but she sent out a notice that she’s not to be disturbed. So enter at your own risk.”
“I always do.”
They exchanged commiserative looks before Warren headed down the carpeted corridor to Julia’s office. His knock on the door went unanswered, so he opened it and stepped inside. She wasn’t at her desk, but her coat and bag sat in their usual places, and her cell phone rested beside her computer—which partly explained why she hadn’t responded to his texts. He crossed to the closed door of her private studio and knocked.
“Julia?”
No response. He tried the knob and pushed the door open.
She sat on a stool at the drafting table, the sleeves of her white shirt rolled up, her high heeled red shoes kicked off, a pencil tucked behind her ear. She looked up at the sound of the door opening, the crease of concentration on her forehead turning to a frown.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Melting you.”
“Not possible.”
“I disagree.”
She threw him a glower. “You can go pickle yourself, Warren Stone.”
“Well, I am kind of a big dill.”
“I’m not smiling.”
“You are on the inside.”
He stopped by her desk, eyeing the black-and-white and colored drawings spread out in front of her. The pages were filled with intricate images of models wearing an array of clothing—gowns, skirts, dresses, pants, and shirts. Though Warren had known Julia was an excellent artist, he was struck by the sheer amount of detail she’d conveyed, from the texture of fabrics to the anatomy of the models.
“What are these?” he asked.
She waved a dismissive hand. “Enzo should have told you I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“He did. Unfortunately, I like disturbing you.”
An appealing flush rose to her cheeks, indicating she liked being disturbed by him.
“I’m designing dresses for a few Deck the Halls performers,” she said.
“Really?”
“If I didn’t step in, they might have shown up onstage wearing Christmas flannel pajamas,” Julia said. “I couldn’t let that happen. My reputation is tied to the show, after all.”
Warren picked up a sketch of a mini-dress. “Is this one of the designs?”
“No, that’s for my Appear line.” Julia sketched the hem on a drawing of a red gown, shooting a derisive glance at the mini-dress. “I have to rework those concepts too, maybe change the lines and patterns. Hopefully I can secure an investor next time.”
“Nice.” He studied the drawing. “I’d love to see you in this little dress.”
She scoffed. “Those are for women in their twenties. Not fif—I mean, forties.”
“What’s wrong with being in your fifties? Longevity is power.”
“Not in fashion.” Julia shaded the edge of the red dress. “Fashion is all about the young.”
“So there’s a lot of competition for young women consumers, right?”
“Loads of it.” She slanted him a glance. “Why?”
“From a business angle, why try and break into such a highly competitive market?”
“Because it’s the biggest market.” She set her drawing aside. “Some people would probably say it’s the only market.”
“Is it your market?”
“I style a lot of women in their twenties. Of course, many of my clients are also older women who have no idea where to start creating a personal style. Or where to find flattering clothes.”
“Which is why they need you to help them.”
“Exactly.”
Warren had the same feeling he sometimes had at Sugar Rush when they were developing a new product—the sense that something was missing but he didn’t know what. Spencer often had the same instinct, though he worked through it with science. Warren examined everything else—market research, competition, advertising, focus groups.
What was Julia missing?
“I need to get going.” She put her colored markers away. “We’re getting the Deck the Halls stage decorated this afternoon, and I need to supervise.”
She got to her feet, bending to put on her shoes. Warren let his gaze wander to the slight gap in the neckline of her shirt, which exposed a pale V of skin and a hint of cleavage. That alone heated his blood. He’d always been aware of Julia as a woman, but now that he knew exactly how she felt and tasted, he’d never be able to get enough of her.
“Hey.” He rested his hands on the table and leaned closer to her. “Sorry about last night. I’ll take you to dinner to make it up to you.”
She hesitated, then straightened and shook her head.
Irritation bit at him. “Julia, we are the same.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Yes. And we can be even better than we are.”
Her mouth tightened. She started to pass him. He closed his hand around her arm, bringing her closer, her shoulder against his chest. The scent of her perfume, of her, washed over him like a hot summer breeze.
“She’s not here anymore,” he whispered.
Julia closed her eyes. Something inside her seemed to give way, like the turning of a lock.
It wasn’t enough, he knew that. The past—Rebecca—was too much a part of them to be settled with easy platitudes. But it was the truth. And Julia had become a part of him too, as essential to his and his children’s lives as sunlight to a garden.
He brushed his lips over her temple, settled his hand on the back of her warm neck.
“You can’t hide from me,” he said. “You can try to ignore me, freeze me out, pretend like you don’t want me… but you won’t succeed. I know you.”
“You don’t know everything about me.”
“I know more than I did last week. I’ve always known you’re sharp and controlling, and now I know that in private, you want to give up that control. And I want to take it.”
Her slender throat worked with a swallow. “Don’t you dare think you can—”
“You’re not pushing me away.” He tightened his grip. “And I won’t seduce you here either. Because the next time we make love, we’re doing it in your bed or mine. I’m going to strip you nice and slow so I can enjoy every part of your gorgeous body. I’m going to kiss you all over, watch the way your eyes darken and your skin gets that pink blush that makes you look like a sunrise. Then I’ll slide my hands over every part of you—your breasts, your thighs, your hips, your ass. I’ll feel you start to tremble and get all tense and hot. Then I’ll spread your legs and touch your pussy. You’ll already be wet and ready because you’ll want it as much as I do. You’ll arch your hips and say Warren, please in that throaty voice that sets my blood on fire.”
“God.” The word escaped her on a low breath. “I can’t battle you. You’re too strong for me.”
“No.” He slid his arm around her waist, preventing her escape. “We’re perfectly matched. That’s why we’ve been so good together all these years.”
He brought his other hand around to her throat, turning her face toward him. Heat burned the air. Her eyes flickered with a thousand fires, her breath caressing his lips. A memory emerged of the first time they were this close, when his thoughts had been a tangled mess and he hadn’t known what to expect.
Now he knew. Longevity was power.
He’d seen the best and worst of people. He’d been with other women, traveled the world, walked through dark tunnels of pain in search of light. He’d been strong when he hadn’t wanted to be. He’d hated being helpless in the face of circumstances he couldn’t change. He’d wondered if there was a god and he’d prayed to the stars. He’d loved fiercely, felt joy so big his heart couldn’t contain it all, and clawed his way up through the black hole of grief.
Now he knew the touch of Julia’s lips was a gift. She was a gift.
He touched his mouth to hers. The pulse in her throat beat against his palm. She slid her hand over his chest, up to his shoulder. Her body fit against his, her soft breasts pressing against him, her other arm twining around his waist.
He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. His nerves flared with heat, pressure tightening his groin. She tasted like everything good—honey, spices, the sweet flavor of cherries that belonged only to her.
“I wanted to forget that night,” he murmured against her lips. “But I didn’t.”
“Neither did I.” She eased away from him, her eyes dimming with guilt. “But I can never live up to my sister. And what if you and I take that step and it messes everything up?”
“It won’t. We’re stronger than that.”
She plucked at a button on his shirt, not looking up but clearly listening.
“I want you because I know you so well,” he continued. “You’re an incredibly strong woman who’s overcome a lot. A selfless, amazing friend who goes out of her way to help others, even if she’d never admit it, and who will always be there for my children.”
“The kids don’t even really need me anymore.”
“Yes, they do. So do I.”
He lowered his mouth to hers again. She sank against him, her hand spreading over his chest.
A buzzing noise sounded in his ears. He tightened his grip on Julia. For a heart-stopping instant, he braced himself instinctively for an attack of dizziness.
“…have to take that.” Her voice filtered past the sudden fear, her hand sliding reluctantly away from him.
He took a breath and let her go. She walked to her desk and pressed the buzzing intercom.
“Minnie the Pitbull is trying to reach you,” Marco announced through the speaker. “Line one.”
Regret laced Julia’s expression as she glanced at Warren. “I should take that.”
He nodded and stepped back toward the door. “I’m not letting you get away, Jules.”
Before she could respond, he left the office. He pushed away his lingering unease as he got into his car and drove home. Julia’s earlier words echoed through him.
This was a mistake.
No, it wasn’t. He wouldn’t let her keep thinking that, much less believe it. Yeah, they’d both made mistakes years ago, but they’d made up for them countless times over. They’d spent their lives doing the right thing, helping and supporting their family, working hard for their careers. They’d done good deeds for the community, for their friends and employees. No fucking way was any part of their relationship, especially a blazing new facet of it, a mistake.
He needed to make Julia see that. They’d gone through too much together. He wouldn’t tolerate her self-condemnation or regrets. He wouldn’t let her distance herself from him.
He wouldn’t let her run away again.
Twenty-nine years ago
“Becca, you don’t get to decide how I live my life!” Julia snapped.
His muscles tensing, Warren edged in front of his wife as if to protect her from her younger sister’s wrath.
Julia was on fire—her blue eyes blazing, her long blonde hair a tangled mess around her shoulders, her pale skin flushed with anger. In a red cotton tank dress that left her tanned shoulders bare, her arms lined with silver and string bracelets, she vibrated with righteous anger, like the rattling of a shiny bell.
By contrast, Rebecca was as composed as a marble sculpture in her navy pleated skirt and silk blouse, her hair pulled into a smooth chignon at the base of her neck. She crossed her arms and leveled a cool look on her younger sister.
“I’m not deciding anything,” she said. “I’m telling you it’s about time you grow up and figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life.”
“Just because you did?” Julia spread her arms out. “That’s what you really want, isn’t it? You’re embarrassed by my divorce because you always wanted me to be like you, to get married to someone like him…” She waved an irritated hand toward Warren, “…and live in suburban torture.”
Rebecca’s lips tightened. “What I want for you is that you stop roaming around the country like a hobo and do something with your life. Go back to school. Get a good job. Meet a man who isn’t going to lure you into a quickie wedding and then dump you just to get back into favor with his rich family.”
“Rebecca.” Warren rested his hand on his wife’s back, hating the undiluted distress on Julia’s face, the angry tears shining in her eyes that she still refused to let fall. “There’s no need for that.”
“Clearly there is a need if she can’t figure this out herself,” Rebecca replied tartly.
“I can figure it out,” Julia cried. “Look, I came here because I need a place to stay just over the holidays until I make plans to go to Mexico. I thought you’d be happy to help me out, but apparently I was wrong.”
“Of course we’ll help you,” Warren said.
“But you have to get your act together,” Rebecca added. “And you can’t go to Mexico, for heaven’s sake. What on earth would you do there?”
“Whatever I want.” Julia tossed her head with a sneer.
Rebecca sighed. She crossed to take Julia’s shoulders, her expression softening as she gazed at her younger sister. “Julia, I hate that you married Sam because he ended up hurting you. I hate that you find it necessary to roam the country like a gypsy when you have so many other gifts to offer. You’re so smart, you’re a fantastic artist, you’re incredibly creative, you sing like an angel… but you’re wasting your talents. You’re wasting your life.”
“I am not.” Julia yanked away from her and stalked to the other side of the kitchen, her fists clenching. “Just because I’m not living my life the way you are doesn’t mean it’s a waste. And you telling me that makes you no better than Sam’s stupid parents!”
His wife’s anger rose again in the set of her shoulders. Warren put his hand on her arm, again stepping between her and Julia.
“This argument is getting us nowhere,” he said. “Julia, you can take the guest bedroom on the second floor. Get a good night’s sleep and tomorrow we can—”
“Oh, shut up.” Julia whirled to pin him with an angry glower. “You don’t need to act like my father, just like she doesn’t need to act like my mother. I’m twenty-one years old, which means I can do whatever I want.”
Rebecca shook her head. “Not if you’re staying in this house with our children.”
Julia made a noise of frustration. The back door banged open, and seven-year-old Luke ran through the living room past the elaborately decorated Christmas tree. He entered the kitchen, trailed at a slower pace by Evan. Both boys were covered in dirt and grass-stains from whatever epic game they’d invented in the backyard.
“Can we have gingerbread cookies?” Luke shouted, grabbing a stepstool to clamber up to the kitchen cabinets.
“Hands washed first.” Warren grabbed hold of his son and carted him over to the sink, moving to make room for Evan.
As always, his heart clenched painfully at the sight of the younger boy, who’d already seen more hospital rooms and faced more health problems than any six-year-old boy should have to. But Evan was a force, battling his heart condition like a prizefighter and always trying his damnedest to keep up with his older and younger brothers.
His focus shifted to his sons as he helped them clean up and procure several cookies.
“Want one, Aunt Julia?” Evan extended a cookie to Julia, who was standing by the windows, hugging her arms tightly around herself.
She managed to smile at the boy, reaching out to ruffle his dark hair. “No, thanks, kiddo.”
He shrugged off the oddness of anyone turning down a cookie before he and Luke ran back toward the door. Rebecca stepped into the doorway, her arms outstretched to block their exit.
“What’s the password?” she asked.
“I love you, Mom,” Luke yelled, throwing his arms around her in a hug. Evan did the same, and Rebecca latched both boys into a tight embrace before stepping aside to let them pass. They ran outside amidst shouts of “Ahoy, matey!”
A heavy silence fell over the kitchen. Julia looked at her sister—such a blatant plea in her eyes that something inside Warren wrenched painfully. He caught his wife’s eye and indicated that he wanted to speak to her in the adjoining room.
“We’ll be back in a minute,” he told Julia, who huffed in annoyance.
When he and Rebecca were in the dining room, he closed the door and gave his wife a pointed stare. “Sweetie, you are all she has left.”
Pain flashed in her eyes. “I know. But I’ve tolerated her running around for the past three years, and look what happened. What if she keeps doing this and ends up in an even worse situation? She can’t go to random festivals and sleep in cars or camp out with people she doesn’t know. What if someone hurts her far worse than Sam did? I’d lose my mind, Warren. I just want her to be safe.”
She pressed her hands to her cheeks, her eyes glistening with tears. Warren gathered her into his arms, inhaling the sweet, familiar scent of her. His heart softened, an old sense of awe rising in him at the reminder that she was his. Even now, he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve Rebecca in all her goodness, her certainty of her place in the world, her natural ease with motherhood.
No wonder she was so frustrated with Julia, the wild child who wanted to explore forests, sleep under the stars, stow away on ships just to see where they’d take her.
Rebecca slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. “We also have to think about the children, Warren. If Julia hooks up with a bad crowd…”
“No. We won’t allow that.” He pressed his lips against her forehead. “She’s still upset about Sam. She’ll see reason once she’s calmed down.”
“I will not!” Julia shouted from the kitchen.
Warren and Rebecca exchanged wry, exasperated looks.
Yes, she will, he mouthed to his wife. She smiled, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him before they returned to the kitchen.
Julia was pacing like a caged tiger, her bracelets rattling and her hair flying around her shoulders with every sharp turn. She stopped to glare at her sister.
“I’m not you,” she snapped. “I will never be like you.”
“I am aware of that fact,” Rebecca replied, her spine stiffening in response to Julia’s irritation. “However, if you intend to stay in this household, you will abide by our rules.”
“Like washing my hands before eating a cookie?” Julia retorted. “I’m not seven, in case you forgot. I know how to be an adult.”
“And yet your actions speak otherwise,” Rebecca said.
“Oh, forget it. I don’t need this shit.” Julia whirled on her heel, grabbing a patchwork cloth bag from the table before stalking to the door. “So sorry to trouble you with my request.”
Rebecca sighed, dismay etching her features. “Julia, don’t go. Look, we want to help you but you need to meet us halfway.”
“What I need is to get away from my fucking perfect older sister who will never like me exactly the way I am.” Julia yanked open the door, her tears finally spilling over. “So to hell with you. I’ll find somewhere else to go.”
“Julia!” Alarmed, Rebecca hurried to the door, but Julia escaped first. She slammed the door behind her and ran toward her rusty yellow VW Beetle. In seconds, she was backing out of the driveway, tires squealing.
“Warren. Oh God, why did I say that?” Rebecca pressed her hands to her eyes. “No one gets me as riled up as she does.”
Warren pulled on his jacket and grabbed his car keys from the counter. He stopped beside Rebecca, tugging her quickly against him. “I’ll find her.”
“Bring her back safely,” she called as he headed out the door.
“I will.”
He’d never before broken a promise to his wife. He got into his car and headed in the direction Julia had gone. Night had fallen. For the past seven years, they’d been living on the outskirts of San Francisco while Warren worked at the Stone Confectioners’ factory. His father had given him an entry-level corporate position, slated to begin the following year, so in a few months he and Rebecca would move their family south to Indigo Bay.
Warren drove, his gaze sweeping the streets and parking lots for Julia’s car. Christmas lights shone in shop windows, a weary attempt at cheer. Two hours passed without success. His concern intensified. He didn’t have the same antipathy toward Julia’s lifestyle that Rebecca did—in fact, he kind of envied it—but he sure as hell didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.
He stopped once at a pay phone to call Rebecca and tell her he was still looking before he started his search again. For all he knew, Julia had left town already.
He passed restaurants, coffee-houses, bars. Nothing. He stopped at several gas stations to ask if they’d seen her car, but no one had. He circled the outskirts of town, stopping at a red light near the onramp to the freeway. He peered through the dark at the bars clustered along the streets.
Jackpot. The yellow Beetle sat under a lamp in the parking lot of a rundown bar. Warren pulled over, parked, and hurried inside.
Smoke hung in the dusky interior, along with the smells of beer and liquor. Blue-collar workers sat at the bar and the round tables, a sagging Christmas tree sat in the corner, and “Silent Night” came from a jukebox.
There she was.
Relief flooded him. Julia sat in a dimly lit corner of the room, the table in front of her scattered with both empty and half-full glasses. An instant later Warren noticed the man standing beside her, leaning too close to chat her up. Her expression was tight, and her eyes burned.
Warren stalked to the table, his fists clenching. “Leave her alone, man.”
The guy straightened with a frown. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Her husband.”
Julia’s eyes widened. The guy stared at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Warren held up his left hand and pointed to his wedding ring.
“How come she don’t got one?” the guy snapped, jerking his head toward Julia.
“She just walked out on me,” Warren explained. “I’m trying to get her back.”
The man’s expression cleared. He gave a short laugh and shook his head. “Well, good luck with that, man. She’s a feisty one.”
He saluted Warren with his beer bottle and sauntered away. Warren pulled out a chair next to Julia and sat. A wary glint flickered in her gaze. Her skin was flushed, her eyes glassy and pupils dilated. The strap of her dress had fallen down her arm, exposing the top part of her breast. He reached out to put it back in place, trying not to notice the soft warmth of her skin.
“Thanks,” she finally said, reaching for a half-full glass on the table. “I mean, he was getting aggressive. I didn’t like it.”
“You shouldn’t be here alone.”
Her mouth tightened. “You sound like my sister.”
“Your sister made some good points.”
“So did I.”
He acknowledged that with a nod, gesturing to the clutter of glasses on the table. “How much have you had?”
“Not enough to forget.” She laughed, then swallowed the liquor and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You want one?”
Warren shook his head. Julia rolled her eyes.
“’Course not. Because you’re perfect too, aren’t you? Perfect fucking Warren Stone and his perfect fucking wife.”
“I’m not perfect.”
“Yeah, well, you look perfect,” she muttered. “You and Rebecca. Like… what’s his name? The movie actor and his wife. The super-hot guy who was in the movie about the cops.”
“I don’t know.” He pushed a glass out of her reach. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
“I don’t have a home.” Her forehead creased. She studied the glasses and chose one that still had liquor at the bottom. “I wish I did. I wanted to. I thought Sam and I would have a home one day, you know? Like you and Becca. I mean, I didn’t want to be like you because you have really boring lives, but I wanted… I thought we could get a little beach house or something, a place to go after we travelled. A place where we could be happy.”
Her blue eyes filled with fresh tears. Warren’s insides twisted.
He hadn’t liked Sam when they’d first met a couple of years ago, his defenses locking against the other man’s disingenuous vibe and lack of direct responses. What do you do? Oh, you know. A little of this, a little of that. Where are you going next? Wherever we want, man. Any plans for the future? Sure, after I consult my fortune teller.
He’d told Julia as much, but she’d been starry-eyed with love for the guy. Next thing Warren knew, they’d gotten married in Vegas and were starting a cross-country road trip that would conclude with a visit to his family.
That hadn’t ended well. Or maybe it had, because at least Julia had escaped the fucker before getting in deeper than she already was.
“…like Laura Ingalls Wilder,” she was saying.
“Sorry, what?”
“I wanted to be like Laura from Little House on the Prairie. It was my favorite book. I thought it would be so amazing to travel in a wagon, run barefoot on the prairie, wade in the creek… I just wanted to be free. I thought I could be with Sam. So much for that dream.”
She tilted her head back and drained the glass.
He took the glass from her. “Enough, Julia. You always have a home with me and Rebecca.”
“Right, where she treats me like a five-year-old.”
“She only wants you to stay safe.”
“What about you?” She blinked at him, her eyes shiny and unfocused.
A warning signal flashed in Warren’s brain. “I want you to stay safe, too. Which means you can’t come to places like this and drink too much.”
“I don’t usually drink so much.” She peered at the glasses. “I’m just so bummed out, you know? I loved Sam. Like really loved him. I know Becca doesn’t believe that because we weren’t like you, but love doesn’t have to have just one definition.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“But he obviously didn’t feel the same way about me.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with a crumpled napkin. “Because he picked money and a law firm over me. What kind of man does that?”
“Not a good one.” Warren pushed his chair back and stood. He didn’t want her staying here, but he couldn’t bring her home drunk. Rebecca would be upset, and there’d be yet another rift between the sisters.
“Come with me.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and dropped a few twenties on the table. “You need to sober up before we go home.”
“I was pregnant.”
He went cold. “What?”
“When we got married.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I didn’t know before, but I found out a month later.”
Warren’s hands fisted. “Did he know?”
Julia nodded, her breath hitching on another sob. “I thought for sure he’d tell his family to go to hell when he found out I was pregnant, but he didn’t. He didn’t tell his parents anything. Then after the divorce was final, I wanted to get my shit together before going to Becca because I wanted to prove to her I could handle being pregnant by myself. But I… I miscarried a week after the divorce was final. I never told anyone. Please don’t tell Becca. I don’t want her to think I did something to cause it.”
She put her head in her hands and sobbed. Anger—no, a red-hot burn of rage toward Sam Craven—filled Warren’s chest. He put his hand on her head, stroked her hair.
“Rebecca would never think that of you,” he said gently.
“She might.” Julia lifted her head and swiped her arm over her face. “Don’t tell her.”
“I won’t,” he promised. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
She regarded him through reddened eyes. “You’re so nice, Warren. You know that? You’re, like, a nice man. You’d never choose a law firm over my sister.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” He slipped his hand under her arm and helped her to her feet. “I promise, it’ll all work out.”
She sniffled again, but grabbed her bag and walked with him to the parking lot, gripping his arm to keep her pace steady. He steered her away from her car and toward his sedan.
“We’ll get your car later.” He opened the passenger side door. “Get in.”
“Where are you taking me?”
He had no idea. He closed the door, went around to the driver’s seat, and started the car. He’d drive around for a while, maybe find a 24-hour diner where he could get her some coffee.
“Can we get ice-cream?” Julia asked.
“Ice-cream and alcohol are not a good mix.”
“I’m hungry.”
Warren drove, scanning the streets before finding a take-out pizza joint. He ordered a large coffee and an order of breadsticks, bringing it back to the car.
“Oh, wow. That smells amazing.” She took the bag from him and inhaled. “You are so nice.”
He started the car again, hoping she’d be sober enough after eating that he could take her home.
“Can you pull over so I can eat?” Julia asked. “I don’t want to get carsick.”
Warren drove into the empty parking lot of a park and came to a stop. Julia opened the door and got out with the bag of food, taking a deep breath of cool night air. He picked up the coffee and followed her out.
“I feel better already.” She hitched herself onto the hood of the car and opened the bag. She ate a breadstick and moaned with pleasure. “So good.”
Warren checked his watch. Past one. On the way home, he’d find another pay phone to call Rebecca. He leaned against the fender beside Julia, studying her as she worked her way through the breadsticks. She wasn’t beautiful like Rebecca, but she had a tousled, gypsy-girl appeal, a wildness that his lovely wife lacked. Julia’s hair was thick and tangled, her skin browned from the sun, her legs long and bare.
“Want one?” She extended the bag to him.
He shook his head. “Drink the coffee, too.”
“Yes, sir.” She took the lid off the Styrofoam cup and sipped, eyeing him over the rim. “You like to order people around, huh?”
Unease prickled his chest. He’d known Julia for seven years, and though they didn’t see each other regularly, he’d never gotten a flirty vibe from her. He’d sure as hell never felt anything inappropriate toward her.
“I strongly suggest,” he corrected.
“Too bad you weren’t around when Sam and I were at the chapel.” She crumpled up the bag, her mouth twisting. “You could have strongly suggested I said no instead of yes.”
“Would you have listened to me?”
“Maybe.”
“I doubt that.”
“Frankly, so do I.” She tilted her head back, squinting up at the stars. She pulled her legs into a cross-legged position, wavering off-balance for a second. “Oh, shit.”
She clutched Warren’s arm. He let her steady herself on him. Julia gave a breathless laugh, curling her fingers into his shirtsleeve. Her breasts pressed against his forearm, the strap of her dress slipping down again. Warren cursed under his breath and grabbed her shoulders.
“Careful,” he warned.
“I don’t like being careful.” She pushed closer, blinking up at him, her blue eyes luminous in the stark light of the parking lot. “I like being carefree.”
She tugged him so they were face-to-face—her seated on the car hood, him standing. Warning signals flashed in his brain again.
“Come on.” He took his keys from his pocket. “We’re going home.”
“Becca will be mad at me for getting drunk.”
“As well she should be. If you want to stay with us, you need to be responsible.”
She wrinkled her nose. “What a horrible word. Responsible. You sound like Becca.”
He tugged his arm away from her. “Let’s go.”
“Not yet.”
He turned the instant she fisted the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. Her mouth crashed down on his, open, hot, and wet. She moaned, gripping his arms, her fingernails digging into his skin. In the instant of shock before his rationality broke through, he tasted butter on her lips, lemons, something sweet like cherries.
“Julia!” Warren yanked his head away, his chest filling with an unnerving combination of irritation and heat. “Stop it.”
“I don’t want to.” She scooted to the edge of the car hood, twisting her fists into the front of his shirt. Her breathing increased as she hooked her legs around his waist. “Kiss me back.”
“No.”
He grabbed her wrists, untangling her grip from his shirt. She tugged again, rising up to press another open kiss to his mouth. Christ, the girl kissed like she was made for the act—all eagerness and soft, wild heat. She drew his hand to her breast, and again before he could think straight, he felt her hard little nipple against his palm, the heaving of her chest, the warmth of her skin burning through the thin material of her dress. She murmured his name, crushing her body against his.
Goddammit. He ripped away from her so fast she almost lost her balance again. She gave a growl of frustration and slid off the hood, wavering as she took a step toward him.
“Steady.” Warren darted forward, sliding his hand under her arm before she fell.
She lowered her head, her long hair sweeping down to conceal her face. Trembles ran visibly through her body, and he realized she was crying.
He groaned inwardly. “Julia, let’s go home. It’s been a really long night.”
“I don’t want to go,” she wailed, dropping her head against his chest. “I’m sick to death of her being the perfect one and me being the screw-up. I have a life too, and just because it’s not like hers doesn’t mean it’s worthless.”
“She never said it was.” Warren patted her arm gently. “Now get in the car.”
“And go back to your house so you can be with her?” Julia sniffled. “I’m so jealous that you guys have this, like, perfect marriage and I couldn’t even get mine to last more than three months. Why can’t you just give me a taste of what you and Becca have? No one needs to know.”
“Julia, I am married to your sister. I’m… oh, for fuck’s sake.”
She’d pulled away from him and was starting to lower the straps of her dress to expose her breasts.
“Julia, stop it.” Warren held up his hands, his spine stiff enough to break.
“Is that an order or a strong suggestion?” she asked mockingly, twisting one strap between her fingers, lowering it just enough to—
“Everything okay here, folks?” An authoritative voice boomed through the night air, a bright light suddenly shining in their direction.
Shit.
Julia froze. Warren turned to find a police car parked nearby, two officers standing outside the open doors. He moved between Julia and the officers, blocking her from their view, his hands still up.
“Everything’s fine, officers,” he said. “My friend here just had too much to drink and is walking it off.”
“Looks like she’s doing a little more than walking,” the second officer observed, peering past Warren’s shoulder.
“She’ll be fine,” he said, sensing Julia’s distress like a sudden storm. “If you need my ID, it’s in my wallet. Okay if I reach for it?”
The officers exchanged glances.
“Never mind, but you’d both better move along,” the first one said. “We’ll wait for you to go.”
Warren nodded, turning to grab Julia’s hand. She was trembling, her eyes dark and her skin burning red with embarrassment. He guided her around to the passenger seat and got her buckled in. Giving the officers another nod of thanks, he climbed into the driver’s seat and left the parking lot.
Julia huddled against the car door, wiping tears from her cheeks.
“You okay?” He couldn’t help reaching out to touch her hand, hoping to offer some measure of comfort.
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice was very small.
“It’s over. Everything will be different in the morning.”
And it was. Because Julia was gone.