Once Upon a Time (The Wacky Women Series, Book 3) Page 6

  She laid her hand on his arm, feeling the tension holding his muscles rigid beneath her palm. And though she still felt a certain highly inappropriate sexual heat, her need to reassure him took precedence over everything else. "Mother sent this huge ghastly display of lilies." She relayed the information in a gentle, teasing fashion in the hopes of easing his burden. "And you know how much Maudie hated lilies. At least, she hated them as much as Maudie could hate anything."

  He raised an eyebrow. "What did you do with Helene's poor flowers?"

  She opened her eyes wide. "Why nothing. Much. They made a spectacular mulch for the garden."

  Julian laughed and relaxed against the wooden riser of the step. "I think Maudie would have appreciated that. She always did have an offbeat sense of humor. I remember one time..." His words trailed off and he shook his head, unwilling—or unable—to finish the story. A corner of his mouth quirked upward. "Lord, I miss her."

  Callie rested her head on Julian's shoulder once again, her arms sliding up and around his neck while his slid around her waist. She could hear the slow steady thump of his heart against her ear. He inhaled deeply, almost painfully it seemed, and she squeezed her eyes shut, his pain her own.

  "Me too, Julian," she agreed in a quiet voice. "I can't believe she's gone." His arms tightened about her and she clung to him, sharing his grief.

  She didn't know how long they sat wrapped together. Nor did she know when her feelings of consolation were once again replaced by the sensation she'd experienced earlier. It crept up on her, catching her by surprise. One moment she was in the arms of someone intent on comforting her, and the next he'd become a man she didn't quite recognize. A man holding her to his bare chest in the sweetest of embraces.

  "Julian..." The sound of her voice stirred the air between them.

  She felt his lips brushing the top of her head, his cheek skimming the sensitive skin along her temple. His warm breath teased her hair and she began to tremble. She struggled against the confusion gripping her. Somehow her anguish over Maudie and her need for comfort had become confused with something else. She wanted reassurance, not this strange awareness. She shivered, helpless to conceal her reaction from him.

  "It's all right, Callie. I feel the same way you do," he murmured.

  His mouth hovered close to her ear and she couldn't seem to stop shaking. "You do?" she whispered in surprise. Her eyes fluttered closed and she wished herself well away from here, someplace where she could get things back to the way they were.

  Julian sighed. "It will pass, I promise. Just give it time." He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, the gentle stroke of his fingers hypnotic.

  A feeling of relief surged through her. What she felt was normal. Of course. How silly of her not to realize. She'd read about people having sex at funerals and always thought it bizarre. Now she understood. People simply confused grief for passion.

  Or something.

  "How do you know it'll go away?" she demanded. "How can you be so sure?"

  "Because I felt the same way about my mother. It took time, but the feelings did pass."

  Callie's eyes flew open. "What?"

  "When my mother died I felt the same way you do over Maudie." He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "But once you work through the grieving process you tend to remember the good times, rather than the sad."

  "Oh, no," Callie choked. She attempted to scramble off his lap, desperate to put some space between them. She'd gone insane. Utterly, totally mad. If Julian ever suspected what she'd thought, how she'd felt...

  He'd laugh himself silly, that's what he'd do. Which is exactly what she'd do, as soon as she got away from him, cried herself to sleep and slept for forty-eight hours. She'd laugh about it. Sure she would.

  Julian caught her hands in his, refusing to let her go. "What's going on with you?"

  "Nothing! Not a thing. It's grief. That's all it is. People confuse grief with sex all the time."

  Oh, God. Had she really said that?

  "Grief. With. Sex."

  She closed her eyes, utterly mortified. She had. She'd really said it. Please let her vanish into thin air. Or let Brutus appear and commit some sort of mayhem to distract Julian. Or let a cloud of shame descend and carry her off for the next decade or two. Why, oh why, didn't people have rewind buttons? And, now that she thought about it, did he have to repeat her words the way he had, turning each one into little emphatic sentences?

  "I didn't mean to say that," she claimed.

  "At least, not out loud?"

  "Definitely not out loud."

  "All this time I've been comforting you and instead of feeling comfort, you felt—"

  "Horny. There. I said it. And it's your fault! If you hadn't dragged me onto your lap with all that bare chest hanging all over me—"

  "I thought you were grieving for Maudie!"

  She folded her arms across her chest. "I am grieving for Maudie. I'm an emotional wreck. Can't you tell how much of a wreck? If I weren't a total wreck, my emotions wouldn't have gotten confused. They wouldn't have told me to rub myself all over you. And they most certainly wouldn't be insisting I kiss you."

  "Kiss me!"

  "Okay, but only if you're sure."

  She wrapped her arms tight around his neck and planted one on him, allowing her emotions to wreck all over his broad, naked shoulders. Dear heaven, but he had the most delectable mouth she'd ever tasted. Firm, with just the right amount of width and plumpness. Not the least narrow and stingy like the last pair of lips she'd had the misfortune to kiss. No, these were about as perfect a pair as she'd ever taken for a test smooch.

  He inhaled sharply, which turned out to be quite convenient, since it allowed her to sneak inside and sample a flavor as heavenly as it was delicious. Like chocolate. No! Better than chocolate. Much, much better. Who knew that an efficiency expert could be such an incredible kisser? Then again, maybe she shouldn't be so surprised. Julian excelled at everything he touched. He worked hard at perfection. And when it came to kissing, it certainly showed.

  The instant her tongue touched his, the quality of the embrace changed, maybe because he took over—also a typical Julian characteristic. His arms tightened around her and his mouth consumed hers, and he showed her what she'd been missing all these years. Best of all, while he took care of that part of the embrace, it left her free to indulge in a bit of rubbing. Maybe a lot of rubbing. After all, there was a lot of Julian to rub, half of it delightfully naked.

  Her hands skated across the impressive breadth of his shoulders and down a chest with just a hint of fur. Just enough to make her palms tingle. The fur ran from one flat, male nipple to the other. Halfway between the two, she hit an intersection. She hung a "down," following a narrow path of fur. Just like the Yellow Brick Road, only not yellow and not brick, but definitely the path to Oz.

  She bumped over a mass of abdominal rumble strips until she reached a stoplight. She would have run the red and continued merrily on, but Julian seized her hands, no doubt to keep her from getting ticketed for reckless endangerment.

  He pulled back, breathing hard. She pulled back, too, breathing harder. "What the hell was that?" he demanded.

  She blinked. "Seriously? You couldn't tell?"

  His eyes narrowed. "It was grief, right?"

  Um, sure. "Um, sure."

  "Listen. I know we haven't been close this past year." He shook his head as though to clear it. "Despite what just happened. But I'm here for you. Maybe with more comforting and less kissing, though, okay?"

  She nodded, her face ablaze. "Right. Less comforting. More kissing. I'm with you."

  He sighed. "Glad to see we're on the same page."

  "I assume that also means no more rubbing."

  "Definitely no more rubbing. I'm not sure I could handle any more rubbing without needing to do some rubbing in return."

  "And that would be a bad thing?"

  For some reason, he spoke through gritted teeth. "Very bad." He eased her off his
lap and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "We need to go to bed now."

  "Let me guess. Alone."

  "Yes, alone!" His teeth clamped together again and this time a muscle jerked in his cheek. Probably from all that clamping. "Try to get some sleep, Callie. Everything will look better in the morning."

  "If you say so," she murmured.

  He unclamped long enough to smile, then stood, adjusted his sweats, and took the stairs with an odd, stiff-legged gait.

  She stared after him, miserable. Of course it would look better in the morning. How could it possibly look any worse?

  * * *

  A damp doggy kiss woke Callie the next morning. "Not yet, Brutus. I'm still tired." Rolling over, she shut her eyes again.

  Brutus dropped his head onto her bed and sighed. He lifted his huge paw and rested it alongside her hip, nudging her until she responded.

  "Cut it out." She didn't want to wake up, but couldn't quite put her finger on why she felt that way. She was tired, true, but that didn't explain her reluctance to—

  She shot straight up in bed, her memory returning in a flash of horrifying images. "Julian," she said aloud.

  She and Julian. On the steps. With rumble strips and rubbing. And big, fat, juicy kisses that reminded her of chocolate. No, that were better than chocolate, though she'd never thought it possible. She drew her knees to her chest and groaned, burying her head in her arms.

  Brutus scrambled onto the covers and shoved his nose into the circle of her arms, forcing her to look up.

  "What? You want to know what happened after you deserted me last night?" she asked the anxious dog. "I made a total fool of myself, that's what happened." She struggled out from under the massive body trying to take up permanent residence on top of her. "There I sat, on Julian's lap no less, feeling all prickly and strange, when—"

  Brutus growled low in his chest.

  "No, not him. Me. I'm the one who went insane." Callie gave him a fierce hug, brandy cask and all, burying her face in the thick tan-and-white coat covering his shoulders. "Julian's been a perfect gentleman. He tried to comfort me. I'm the one who's gone off the deep end."

  Brutus snorted, apparently agreeing with her.

  "Give me a break, will you?" she said in offended tones. "I'm mixed up because of Maudie. My circuitry's gone haywire. I... I'm in emotional overload. Once things calm down, so will my feelings. It's only natural I'd turn to my only sort-of relative in my time of need."

  She shoved Brutus away and glared at him. "That's a disgusting noise! I've already admitted I made a mistake. Now, what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to face him after what I did? As if I didn't have enough to worry about." The dog made a sound remarkably like a snicker. "You just watch it, buster. Now get off the bed and turn around."

  She waited until Brutus had done what she'd requested before hopping up and stripping off her nightgown. She dressed quickly, sparing a few minutes to brush out her hair and tie it back with a bright red ribbon. For Maudie.

  Callie nibbled on her lip, wishing the night before had never happened. How could she justify that kiss to him? Or that rubbing? Well, he wouldn't have to worry about any of it any longer, she resolved.

  "Starting today, Julian's nothing more than an old, but dear friend to me," she announced to Brutus. "That's it. No more funny sensations. No more goose bumps or butterflies. Certainly, no more rubbing or kissing. When I look at him it'll be like looking at chocolate cake. It may be yummy but I don't have to eat it."

  Brutus rolled his eyes and moaned, his long pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

  Callie hesitated. When was the last time she'd managed to pass up a slice of chocolate cake? Valerie's birthday party? No. She'd had two pieces that night. The end of school celebration? She shook her head, realizing she couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to resist it. Perhaps she should consider choosing a different analogy.

  She eyed Brutus sternly. "You know what I'm trying to say. So I don't want to hear another word on the subject. He has his book to write and we have Maudie's notes to take care of."

  She crossed to her nightstand and pulled out the small square drawer, upending it on the bed. Dozens of slips of paper cascaded over the sheets. "Okay. Let's see what we've got here. Which one shall we work on today?"

  Brutus joined her by the bed and waited while she arranged the bits of paper face up and spread them out in neat rows. He examined each in turn, then picked one up in his mouth and dropped it in Callie's lap.

  "The dining room?" she asked. "Are you sure? It's a lot of work. Maybe we should finish up in the study, first. Julian didn't seem very happy about the lack of walls in there."

  Stubbornly, Brutus shook his head, and Callie yielded with a little sigh. "Maudie did seem anxious we get that room done. Okay. We'll do it your way, but you'll have to explain our decision to Julian when he finds out."

  A door slammed downstairs and Brutus trotted toward the sound, his ears cocked. He looked over his shoulder and gave a little bark before charging from the room. Callie jumped up and hurried downstairs after him.

  Julian stood at the bottom of the staircase, mere inches from where they'd sat the night before, his arms folded across his chest, his head turned toward the front door. He'd covered up all that impressive bare chest with an elegant deep brown suit. His dark gold tie reflected the faint pinstripe in his suit and he resembled nothing more than a sophisticated stranger. He raised one eyebrow inquiringly, staring at something out of her range of view.

  With confused dismay Callie realized the sensations she'd felt for him, far from dissipating overnight, had come back full force. A sudden overwhelming craving for chocolate cake crashed down on her and her stomach grumbled.

  At just that moment, he glanced around and saw her. "There you are. Good. Your little, ah, work detail wandered in a few minutes ago. I was just about to go up and get you."

  Good grief, it was as though their kiss the night before had never happened. How did he do that? While she fought to control the streak of red heating her cheeks, he didn't appear the least uncomfortable or self-conscious. Well, if he could do it, so could she. Maybe.

  She continued down the stairs and joined him, catching sight of the two sixteen-year-old high school students who made up Maudie's third request. She could understand the doubtful tone in Julian's voice. The two didn't exactly inspire confidence.

  Donna, her blond hair streaked with shocking shades of pink and purple, stood gazing at Julian as though he were a watering hole and she'd been lost in the desert for three weeks. Cory, her biker boyfriend, looked on and glowered, slapping his motorcycle gloves against his jeans.

  Oh, dear. This little scenario did not bode well for their day. Perhaps she shouldn't explain the particulars surrounding Cory and Donna's presence at Willow's End. Why borrow trouble? She glanced at Julian, noting his narrow-eyed expression. She definitely wouldn't bother him about it. Not today. He had enough on his plate without worrying about this. What a relief she hadn't mentioned it to him last night.

  "You're leaving?" she asked with a guileless smile.

  He nodded. "Yes. But I want to talk to you before I go." He gave one final, skeptical look at her "detail" and led the way into the study. "About your workers—"

  "It sure is hard to find good help these days," Callie said brightly.

  "So I noticed. Which is why I don't think having those kids—"

  "Fortunately for me, they're affordable." She gave an embarrassed shrug, worried he might put his foot down over Donna and Cory and she'd be forced to explain Maudie's final request. "In fact, they're all I can afford." She didn't lie. Free help, even if it constituted court appointed free help, came well within the definition of affordable.

  Julian hesitated an instant, then reluctantly nodded. "If it means getting this place in shape, I guess they'll have to do." He took a quick look around the study and for the first time she saw the room through his eyes. It wasn't a pretty picture.
>
  The plaster had been completely stripped from the walls, and shattered chunks of it lay scattered on the floor. To her relief, Julian didn't look too closely at the exposed beams, missing the dry rot uncovered by a few strategic pokes of a screwdriver. Instead he gazed up at the chandelier, which hung drunkenly from frayed wires.

  He glanced from the ceiling to her, and then to the water-damaged floorboards, warped into wavelike ridges. "This is interesting," he said. "New, isn't it?"

  "We had a small leak."

  "Uh-huh. And Noah got caught in a spring shower." With some deliberation he turned his back on the worst of the mess and addressed the issue at hand. "Maudie's lawyer agreed to see me this morning. I'm hoping, despite what you told me, that he'll have a copy of her will, or know where she might have kept it. I also want to make certain we've covered all the loose ends."

  "That sounds reasonable," Callie agreed with caution.

  "Thanks," he said in a dry voice. "In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep an eye open for her will while you and your helpers clean up around here. I can't stress how vital it is that we find it."

  "No problem. It'll turn up."

  He looked as though he wanted to dispute her statement. Instead he shook his head, saying, "I know I told you I'd help with Maudie's second request, but these repairs are more extensive than I realized. Are you sure you can handle them along with all your other projects?"

  "Of course I can." She attempted to inject confidence in her reply. She must not have succeeded.

  He eyed her doubtfully. "I don't know, Callie. I think you should hold off doing anything further until we've had time to analyze the situation. This sort of endeavor takes a lot of time, not to mention money. Have you factored that in?"

  She bit down on her lower lip, wishing he hadn't brought up the small, bothersome issue of money. Finances had become rather tight recently. Not that he needed to sound so pessimistic. "Julian—"

  "I'll tell you what. Let's play it by ear and see how it goes. Fair enough?"

  "Fine," she agreed, relieved.

  "We'll need to get busy if we're going to find that will, fix this place up, and still leave me enough time to finish my book on deadline. I'd also like to discuss the plans you and Maudie drew up for organizing these repairs."