Blazing Bedtime Stories (21 page)

G
ARETH KNEW
he was supposed to be a chaperone, but when his date looked as good as Juliet did, admittedly he was having trouble focusing on his responsibilities. Particularly not when all he wanted was to find a deserted room and have his wicked way with her. Preferably against a wall.

“Mom didn’t say you were bringing a date,” his nephew said. Jeremy nodded, seemingly impressed. “She’s pretty hot.”

Gareth grinned, watching Juliet return from the ladies’ room. “Thank you. I think so, of course.”

“Is it a secret that you brought a date, or can I tell her?”

“Keep it under your hat, if you don’t mind. I want to keep Juliet to myself for a little while before your mother gets hold of her.”

His sister, intuitive wench that she was, would undoubtedly recognize what Gareth wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself—that he’d fallen head over heels in love with Juliet Swan. Then they’d have to talk about it and his sister would press him for plans, and at the moment, other than spending as much time with Juliet as he possibly could, he didn’t have any. And given that she’d been a bit…distant since he’d picked her up, he wasn’t altogether sure how long that would be. He suspected she was spooked.
Welcome to the club, sweetheart,
Gareth thought.

He was freaking terrified.

Jeremy snorted. “Can’t blame you for that.” He clapped Gareth on the back, then with a muttered “cool,” strolled onto the dance floor where he reclaimed his date from a group of gyrating young girls.

Looking absolutely stunning in a long Grecian-style white gown, Juliet walked over toward him. “Thank you so much for bringing me here tonight,” she said. “I skipped my own prom, so this is an unexpected treat.”

He frowned. “You skipped your prom?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t have a date and I didn’t want to go alone.”

That was perfectly understandable. But it tugged at his heartstrings to think of her home alone in her room, missing what should have been a memorable milestone in her life. The guys in her class must all have been morons. Then again, would he have recognized what a beauty she truly was at seventeen? He’d like to think so, but he wasn’t certain.

“Well, I’m glad that you’re with me tonight.” He paused, searched her face. “In fact, I was hoping that you’d spend the night with me.” He nuzzled her ear. “We’ll bring in Valentine’s Day in style.”

Juliet’s eyes took on a guarded quality and she shook her head. His stomach turned to lead. He knew—
knew
—before she said another word what was coming. He’d been feeling it all evening, her slowly but surely distancing herself. He couldn’t imagine why, nor could be understand how he’d read things so terribly wrong last night.

“Sorry, I can’t. I’ve actually got a pretty busy morning.”

“More work at Highgrove’s?” he asked, knowing that it was impossible. He’d awakened alone in the grotto and had found her back in the boudoir putting the final touches on “The Ugly Duckling.” Whereas the swan had been uncertain of her beauty before, Juliet had repainted her with a small sensual smile which bespoke intimate confidence.

The change was subtle but significant, and he recognized it in her as well. He’d told her she was beautiful last night and he knew she’d believed him. So why then was she pulling away? What possible reason could she have for backing off when things were going so well between them?

“No,” she said, giving her head a small shake. “Just studio work. Then, of course, lunch at my parents.”

He waited, hoping she’d invite him. He swallowed a sigh when the invitation didn’t come and ignored the uncomfortable prick in his chest.

“Dinner tomorrow night, then?” he pressed. If she was going to cut him loose, then he would
make
her do it. He wouldn’t let her take the easy way out. Frankly, he thought he deserved better than that.

Again, she shook her head. “I’m going to keep things low-key. Stay at home and gorge myself on chocolate.”

“And conversation hearts?” he asked.

She smiled wanly. “Of course.”

“Would you like some company?” Or was she already having company? Gareth wondered, remembering the bleached-blond guy with the dark tan he’d seen pull out of her driveway just as he was pulling in. She’d said he was her stylist, but now Gareth wasn’t so sure.

“You know, Gareth, I think we need to slow things down a bit.”

He felt his temper flare. “That wasn’t the impression I got last night. Do you want to slow things down, Juliet, or end them altogether? I think after the past couple of weeks, you owe me the courtesy of the truth.”

Gauntlet thrown down, Gareth stared at her and waited.

J
ULIET’S STOMACH
twisted into a knot of dread. She’d really wanted to avoid this. But apparently Gareth had sensed the change and wasn’t going to allow it. Juliet had absolutely no experience in breaking up with someone and decided that it wasn’t to her liking, particularly when she suspected she’d fallen in love with the man she was attempting to end things with.

Which was all the more reason she’d decided she had to break things off with him. She had to beat him to the punch, to insulate her heart to the best of her ability. This was—he was—quite simply, too good to be true. Guys like Gareth didn’t fall for girls like her. Makeover or no, it just simply didn’t happen. Hoping for it, wishing for it wouldn’t make it so. She was smart. She was practical. And her smart, practical mind told her this could not last. She’d be better off to take what she’d gotten—wonderful memories of the most wonderful sex of her entire life—and be done with it.

And though it was really tempting to savor a Valentine memory with Gareth, Juliet just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Every year would mark the anniversary of something she’d loved and lost. She didn’t care what Tennyson had said, she didn’t want that. Didn’t think she could bear it.

But Gareth was right. After the past two weeks—and particularly last night—she did owe him the truth. “Are you sure you want to talk about this now?” she asked.

“My shift is over at midnight,” Gareth said. “That’s five minutes away, so I guess now is as good a time as any.”

She’d been afraid he’d say that. Juliet released a shaky breath. “I actually think we should quit while we’re ahead,” she finally admitted. “What we’ve shared has been great,” she admitted, cursing the crack in her voice. “But, as I said, things are moving a little too fast for me.”
And I have a wonderful memory I want to savor. I don’t want it spoiled with a broken heart later
.

He stared at her, his mossy green eyes in torment. “Are you saying you don’t want to see me anymore?”

Damn, this was much harder than she’d thought it would be, and she hadn’t counted on it being easy. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words, essentially to break her own heart, so instead she merely nodded, just the slightest jerk of her head in affirmation.

Ironically the intro to Journey’s “Faithfully”—one of her all-time favorite ballads—suddenly played through the speakers, the last dance of the night. Rather than say a word, looking defeated and hurt, Gareth merely took her hand and led her out onto the dance floor. He held her close, his big warm hand at the small of her back, the scent of his aftershave in her nostrils. She breathed him in, imprinting this moment in her memory.

And above the music, a sound only she could hear, she could have sworn she heard her own heart break.

V
ALENTINE’S
D
AY
and Cupid, the chubby winged bastard, had screwed him again, Gareth thought as he sat in his recliner and watched the sun peep through the blinds. Sleep would have offered an escape, he knew, but he hadn’t even tried. Instead, he’d come right in, opened a bottle of Scotch and had nursed it off and on all night while staring at his painting.

His gaze zeroed in on her signature in the corner and he felt the back of his throat burn. What the hell was wrong with her? Couldn’t she tell that they had something special? That this wasn’t just some damned harmless going-nowhere fling?

Evidently not. Because, according to her, she had very little experience with relationships. He snorted. For someone who had so little experience, she’d certainly mastered the breaking-up part pretty damned well. Because he’d wanted to retain the smallest portion of his pride, he hadn’t argued with her last night. He’d wanted to, but…couldn’t.

A knock at his front door sounded, momentarily disrupting his morose thoughts. Juliet? he wondered, his heart giving a pathetic jolt. He bolted up from his chair and hurried to the door.

Keith, his former business partner, stood on his front porch. “Last person you expected to see, eh?” his old friend asked.

“Yes,” Gareth admitted, taken aback. Obviously, Keith had come here for a reason, so rather than press him, Gareth just waited.

Keith shifted uncomfortably. “Listen, man, I just wanted to tell you again how sorry I am about what happened with Courtney. I was a total ass, and a worse friend, and I just—” He smiled awkwardly. “I just wanted you to know that.”

Gareth nodded. “You still seeing her?”

“Er…no. Haven’t seen her in months.” He looked relieved about that, Gareth noted, feeling a bit vindicated.

“Look, this isn’t about me getting my job back,” he said. “I’m working. I just miss hanging out and talking football, shooting the shit, ya know?”

Gareth did know. He and Keith had always been close. A guy needed friends. Particularly when he’d just been so thoroughly dumped.

Keith’s gaze slid over him and he winced. “I know that I came here to apologize, and, well, this isn’t exactly in the right spirit of things…but you look like hell, man. You been hitting the Scotch?”

“I’ve had a drink or two,” Gareth admitted, opening the door wider to allow Keith inside. A silent gesture, one that indicated he was accepting the olive branch. Keith grinned. “You only break out the hard stuff when you’re having woman trouble,” he said, taking his usual seat in the other recliner. “Anyone I know?”

“Hell, no,” Gareth said, “And stay the hell away from her.”

Keith grimaced. “Is this going to become a frequent warning?”

Gareth glared at him.

“Because it’s cool if it is—I deserve it. I’d just like to know.”

“Not a frequent warning, no. I can’t warn you away from someone who’s ditched me, can I?”

Keith made a face. “Damn, man. That bites. What are you going to do?”

Gareth frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Look, I know that we haven’t spoken in a few months, but I can read the signs here.” He gestured to the liquor. “You’ve polished off almost a full bottle of Scotch, you haven’t gone to bed and you haven’t bothered to turn on the television for any sports therapy.” He shrugged and helped himself to a swig from Gareth’s bottle. “That tells me all I need to know about this girl.” He grinned. “She’s done what no other woman has managed to do.”

“Really?” Gareth replied sarcastically, surprised at how easily they’d fallen back into their old routine. “And what the hell is that?”

Keith grinned. “She’s caught you.”

Gareth remained silent.

“Then thrown you back.” He shrugged, picked up the remote control and surfed channels until he found a college basketball game. “The old Gareth I knew wouldn’t have stood for that.”

Gareth sat there for a minute, absorbing Keith’s assessment. He blinked, stunned, and looked at his friend. Sweet God, he was right. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he sitting here like a pathetic lump? The woman he loved was sitting down at her parents’ table today—once again, without a date on Valentine’s Day—and he was here, halfway across town.

Hadn’t he just remembered she didn’t have any experience when it came to relationships? He was the one with the so-called Master’s degree. Letting her call the shots was the height of stupidity. She didn’t know that the hell she was doing.

Luckily for her, she had him to point out the flaw in her logic, Gareth decided.

He abruptly stood. “You’re right, Keith.”

His friend sighed happily. “I usually am.”

Gareth quirked a pointed brow.

“But not all the time,” Keith replied quickly.

“I’ll see you later,” Gareth said, heading for the shower. “I’ve got to go get caught again.” And if she wouldn’t listen to reason, then he’d just have to
impress
her again.

“J
ULIET
,
you’ve barely touched your chicken divan. What’s wrong? Are you ill? Are those infernal people at the Internet dating sites still bugging you?”

Juliet offered a wan smile to her mother. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m just not hungry.”

“But chicken divan is your favorite,” her mother persisted, unwilling to let it go.

“Leave her alone, Cecilia,” her father admonished. “She’s an adult. She’s allowed not to be hungry.”

“I know she’s allowed,” her mother replied. “I just don’t like it. It makes me worry.”

“I can’t get over the difference that hairstyle makes on you, Juliet,” Portia said. “You look fabulous.”

“Thanks,” Juliet murmured, because a response was called for. If this is what doing the right thing felt like, then she would have been much happier being wrong.

If she’d ever been more miserable in her life, she couldn’t recall. What had she been thinking? Why had she thought breaking up with
Gareth now rather than later would be better, when breaking up at all was still going to make her wretched?

She was an idiot.

He was the greatest thing that had ever happened to her and she should have had sense enough to hang onto him and make more memories before he broke things off with her. Would he do that? Certainly. But at least she could have enjoyed his company and that lopsided smile and those haunting green eyes a little longer. She could have made love to him over and over again, enjoying every second of his touch.

Remembered heat stole through her limbs and settled in her sex and her lips tingled from that sweet, desperate kiss—one he’d hoped would change her mind, she realized now—last night when he’d walked her to her door.

A gentleman to the end.

Because that was just the sort of man he was. One who could make her laugh until her sides hurt, make her toes curl, make her want things she’d never dared to hope for before. One who would forgive a friend the greatest insult and chaperone a nephew’s prom to save the kid embarrassment.

A good one, Juliet realized, tears burning the backs of her eyes.

The doorbell chimed, announcing a visitor. Excellent, Juliet thought. She’d give up her chair and go home.

“I wonder who that could be,” her father mused. “Are we expecting anyone?” Her father’s gaze slid to her.

Both Portia and Bianca’s dates were present and accounted for. Juliet shook her head. “I’m not.”

Frowning, her mother stood and hurried to the door. She heard her mother’s startled hello, followed by a muffled greeting. “Er, yes, she’s here. Juliet, you say?”

Juliet’s head jerked up and her gaze darted to the dining-room door where Gareth suddenly appeared. Portia gasped and a look of confusion crossed her face. “Gareth?”

Juliet stood. “Er…what are you doing here?

Portia’s gaze darted to Juliet, then back to Gareth. Suddenly, her eyes widened and a huge smile split her face. “Oh,” she said significantly.

Her parents and Bianca looked suitably stunned.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Gareth said. “I didn’t like how things ended last night at the prom and—”

Her father’s bushy eyebrows rose. “The prom? But—”

“Hush, Warren,” her mother said. “Why don’t you and Gareth talk about this in the parlor, dear?” Cecilia suggested.

“Please, Juliet,” Gareth said.

Her heart hammering so loudly in her ears she was almost deaf, Juliet stood on virtually numb legs and made her way into the parlor. She turned and faced Gareth, wondering what on earth could have brought him here.

His woefully familiar gaze traced her face. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night and I’ve decided that I don’t agree.”

“What?”

“Look, Juliet, you’ve admitted that you don’t have a lot of experience with relationships, so I think you probably shouldn’t be the one making decisions about this one for us.”

She blinked, trying to decide whether she should be annoyed or overjoyed. “Are you saying that I shouldn’t have any say-so?”

“No, I’m saying that you apparently don’t recognize that we are perfect for each other and that I’m hopelessly in love with you. I can only chalk that up to your inexperience.” He sidled closer. “But don’t worry. I’m going to take charge now and fix everything.”

Warmth bubbled through her middle and again, that strange vision of Eros’s angel-wing earring flashed through her mind. “You’re going to fix everything?”

He nodded. “I am. And I’m going to start by refusing to let you dump me like yesterday’s garbage and ruin Valentine’s Day for both of us.” He withdrew something from his pocket and placed it in her palm. “Here,” he said. “I’ve got something for you.”

Tears blurring her vision, Juliet looked down and found two conversations hearts resting in her hand.
Be Mine
and
I Love You
.

A strangled laugh broke out of her throat and she threw her arms around him. “I’m s-sorry,” she sobbed. “I was just scared. I didn’t want to get hurt. Things like this don’t happen to me. Things like
you
don’t happen to me.”

Gareth drew back and stared down at her, his green eyes bright and sincere. “Juliet, things like
you
never happen to me. And I’m not letting you go without a fight.”

Her chest bursting with joy, Juliet twined her arms around his neck and offered her lips up for a kiss. “I surrender,” she said.

A whoop of delight sounded from just beyond the doorway and she heard her mother’s feet retreating down the hall, muttering something about setting another plate.

“Do you have a grotto at your place?” Juliet asked, warmth rushing to her core.

He chuckled. “Not yet. But I’ve got a bed.”

That would do,
Juliet thought. “I think I need you to impress me,” she murmured, sliding a kiss along his jaw. “And the sooner the better.”

And They Lived Happily Ever After…

A
ND SO IT WENT
that Juliet and Gareth married on a bright June morning. The bride, no longer laboring under the misapprehension that she was an ugly duckling, glided with swan-like grace down the aisle in a simple white dress. The groom, resplendent in a black tux, waited impatiently in front of the minister.

They built a beautiful house on a lovely little parcel of land which overlooked a small lake. On moonlit nights they could be seen walking along its shore or paddling quietly across its smooth surface in a cozy little canoe. Occasionally, Juliet would peer over the side and study her own reflection. The confident woman who smiled contentedly back at her never failed to make her heart swell with an inner, private joy.

Though life would never be entirely pretty, dear Juliet had learned a very valuable lesson—true beauty comes from within and true love deserves respect.

Juliet painted, and word of Gareth’s talent with sex grottos spread throughout the South like kudzu. He made his fortune creating other private paradises like Highgrove’s, but never one so special—or so used—as the one he built for them.

Because it’s not a happy ending without a lot of great sex!