Victoria's Got a Secret (26 page)

Everything fell together. Every jagged edge smoothed. “Paul.”

He shook his head but didn’t look at her. “It’s too soon, I know. Neil told me to play it cool. I planned to hold it, but seeing you here, in my arms . . .”

She pressed her hands against his cheeks and forced him to look at her. “I love you, too. Always have.”

It felt good to finally say the words. Freeing and so permanent. She’d never uttered them to anyone else because they never fit. They were reserved for him and him alone.

Still, the delay seemed interminable. “Why did we wait so long?” She was the one to ask, knowing full well that any blame belonged to her. He’d tried to hold them together, but she pushed them apart. All of her reasons were valid. They weren’t ready, and pushing forward prematurely probably would have killed them for the long-term.

It all made sense to her, but that didn’t mean he saw it the same way. If his bitterness still lingered, it would surround them until it crushed them.

“Paul?”

“It was a long road. Sometimes pretty awful, but we’re here.”

His eyes were clear and his voice steady.

She knew he was telling the truth. On this one point, they were in sync. “And now?”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Me either.” She stretched, hoping to tempt him into a second round by sliding out of the sheet and showing a bit more skin.

“Guess that means you like what you saw on the Naked News video.”

She expected him to joke. Instead, his smile faded.

“For the record, I like Victoria. She’s hot and fun and very sexy.” He traced her mouth. “But I love Jennifer. Only Jennifer. The rest can come or go, you can make money or we can struggle to pay the bills, being with Jennifer is my only focus.”

Light poured through her, illuminating all the previously dark places. He got it. “So many people can’t see the difference.”

“Then they don’t know you.”

“You do.”

His mouth kicked up at one side. “And I like it all.”

She lifted her hands over her head and flashed him her wildest come-get-me grin. “Show me.”

“Thought you might actually like to see the house,” Jennifer said.

He was fine limiting his access to the bedroom for now, but the next morning he followed Heather and Jennifer through the two-story apartment, listening as they described the rooms. He didn’t see any of it. Jennifer held his hand, and the feel of her skin blocked out all of his powers of concentration.

“You look ready to bolt,” Heather joked.

“I’m fine.” He kissed Jennifer. “Great, actually.”

Jennifer smiled . . . then it faded. “Where’s Luna?”

He knew she was talking English but the words didn’t make much sense. “What is a Luna?”

“My dog.”

The idea made sense. She loved animals. “I didn’t see her last night.”

And he remembered everything—the scent of her skin and curve of her spine. Not one memory of a fuzzy dog.

All of the color leeched out of Heather’s face. “Oh no.”

“What?” he asked.

Jennifer stared at her sister. “She wouldn’t.”

“Anyone want to fill me in?”

The sisters took off for the stairs, screaming as they ran. He followed because the curiosity was killing him. They ran across the hardwood floor, sliding in their socks as they hit the dining room doorway.

“Luna!”

Paul took in the whole scene. Bits of food scattered on the floor. Broken dishes. A dog happily munching on what looked like the remainder of a piece of turkey.

Jennifer shook her finger in front of the dog’s face. “Bad girl.”

Paul ruined the scolding by laughing. The scene was just so perfect. This forty pound ball of fluff had helped herself to a full brunch buffet. He shook until he doubled over.

“This isn’t funny. She ate all the cheese.” Jennifer crouched down to peek under the table. “I think she even ate the lettuce. Is that possible?”

Her disgruntled confusion only made him laugh harder.

“You won’t think it’s funny when she has to go out in the middle of the night.”

That one sobered him. “I’ll take her.”

Jennifer eyed him up. “You plan to be here?”

He saw the words for the challenge they were. She wanted a commitment, an understanding of some sort. With other women, he balked. With her, he couldn’t say yes fast enough. “I will be here for as long as you let me.”

She stepped over a wayward strip of bacon and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I like that.”

He wasn’t going to rush and start thinking about moving in together. He’d done that once and watched her slip away.

“You invite me and I’ll be here.” Catching her in his arms felt right. They fit together, his hard body sliding so perfectly against her softness.

“The invitation is forever.”

But he wasn’t going to say no when she offered up his dream and asked him to take it. “Good.”

Twenty-Eight

There’s always a way.

—Jennifer Hopkins

“B
OSTON
.”

They stood on the back patio of her house the next night, watching the people pass by as the sun faded on the horizon. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him. “That’s his name.”

“Is he a friendly dog or a sloppy dog?”

He kissed her shoulder. “What do you mean by sloppy?”

“You know.”

“Actually, no. But you’ll love him. He’s a Rottweiler.”

She smiled against his cheek. “Of course he is.”

“I remember that day.” The sunshine. The blinding clarity that he would never feel that way with another person.

“I’ve held onto it in my mind through all the tough times.”

He adjusted his hold to pull her even closer. “You want to tell me about those?”

She nodded. “Soon.”

“I can wait for as long as you need.”

She pressed her elbow into his stomach. “You’re just changing the subject. About this dog . . .”

“He’s good. Well, there was this one time.”

“Uh-oh.”

“He attacked another dog.”

She turned around in his arms to face him. “And this dog sleeps with you? You think he’s going to sleep on our bed?”

He loved it when she said
our
bed. “He’s harmless.”

“I bet the other dog didn’t think so.”

“He was this husky. Mean.”

“Like that one.” She waved to the man walking his dog by the patio wall.

Paul felt his eyes bulge. “Jennifer.”

She kept waving, drawing as much attention to them as possible. “Hi Mango!”

“That’s him.”

Her head snapped back around. “What?”

He tried to drag her back against the wall and out of the line of sight. “That’s him. That’s him.”

“What are you doing?”

“Boston attacked that dog.” Paul pointed in the direction of the retreating man as he spoke.

She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Are you kidding?”

“Hardly.”

Laughter bubbled out and over her hand. “That was your dog?”

The anxiety inside him calmed to a steady boil. “How do you know the story?”

“Everyone knows the story. Mango’s owner told everyone who would listen. He made Boston out to be a vicious killer.”

Paul felt outraged on Boston’s behalf. “Who is this guy?”

“The dog’s owner? He’s my photographer.”

Paul’s lungs deflated. “Well, damn.”

She doubled over. It took another few minutes before she regained her composure and could talk without losing it again. “The real question is, with how our lives have connected and how close we live together, how we didn’t cross paths before that email you sent.”

The last of his worries fled. Here he was worried about pets and stupid neighborhood issues and she was concentrating on their lives together. On a potential relationship. Speaking in terms of them and never just her.

He liked the way her mind was working. “We always did have a case of chronically bad timing.”

She shook her head. “Not anymore.”

A man stepped right in front of her near the front of the deli. He was older, maybe in his late fifties, and from the way his T-shirt rode up on his belly, looked like he’d eaten more than his share of desserts.

He pointed at her. “You’re that woman.”

She hated this part. The overly friendly bordering on combative meetings with people who had seen her on the Internet. Most of her fan meetings were positive, but every now and then, one wandered into danger territory. This guy didn’t seem dangerous, and there were people around and clerks in the store, but he seemed like the entitled-to-touch type. Her least favorite.

“Excuse me.” She tried to maneuver around him.

He stepped closer until less than a body width separated them. “The one who strips on the TV.”

She didn’t bother to correct him. Instead, she tried to slip back and ran smack into the magazine display. Glancing around, she picked out Paul’s back on the other side of the room. He was facing away from her, saying something to the man at the counter as he got out his wallet to pay.

The older man stepped into her line of sight. “Hey, don’t be shy.

I like the show. I really like you.”

“You have me confused—”

“How about a kiss?” The man reached out to touch her.

Paul shoved the other man’s hand away and executed the perfect body block. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just saying hello to the lady. You can wait your turn.” The man tried to look around Paul.

Paul held his ground. “The lady is with me.”

The man laughed. “Man, she’s with everyone. Have you seen her on TV?”

Tension pulsed off Paul. “Get out of here.”

“It’s okay.” She grabbed the back of his shirt. Gathered up a big wad in her fist and tried to tug him closer. He didn’t budge.

“Yeah, Paul. The lady is happy with me.” The man smiled at her. “See?”

“I don’t know where the hell you learned your manners, but they’re rusty. This is a lady, and you don’t touch a lady without her permission. Got it?” Paul didn’t close in or raise a hand to the guy, but the deadly tone to his voice said it all.

“She’s not—”

Paul cleared his throat. “One more word and we settle this outside.”

She yanked the material even tighter in her hand. “Paul!”

“Hey, man. Just trying to talk to her. Tell her I’m a fan.”

She couldn’t see Paul’s face, but she saw this guy’s. The color drained right out of him. Something in the way Paul stood or talked or looked got through.

“Write her a letter.” Paul reached around and slipped an arm around her. “Let’s go.”

They were halfway down the block before she stopped shaking. It took another block before she could say anything. “I’m sorry.”

Paul’s eyebrows slid together as he frowned. “Why are you apologizing?”

She fiddled with her hands, rubbing them together and then linked her fingers to keep from flipping them all around. “Scenes like that don’t happen very often, but every now and then a guy goes too far.”

“And when he does, I’ll be there to stop it.”

“I know it’s hard.”

Paul slowed his pace. “What?”

“Dealing with what I do.”

This time he stopped. With his hand on her elbow, he gently pulled her out of the way of sidewalk traffic and brought her up against the concrete building to his right. “Hold on a second.”

“I just—”

“Jennifer, look at me.” He waited until she did before talking again. “If you have a problem with what you do, then let’s talk about that. But don’t assume I do. I’m not that guy.”

“I know that.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

She blew out the heavy breath tucked in her chest. “We never talked about it. The Victoria thing, I mean. Other men seeing me. I don’t know how you feel about it.”

To her, the decision made sense. She’d gone from being led around by someone else to making her own decisions. Coming back to Naked News on her terms gave her strength. For so long she’d talked about women being in control of their bodies and their decisions, and now she was.

But that was a life she chose on her own, when her decisions affected only her. Now she had Paul to consider. She planned to make a life with him. This time they could unload the baggage of the past and concentrate on a future. So long as he understood her choices and didn’t judge them.

True, he hadn’t been anything but supportive, but she didn’t know how much a guy could handle. He was better than most— the best, actually—but many would deplore the idea of other men seeing their woman naked. It would feed their insecurities and concerns until it destroyed them.

She couldn’t do that to Paul. To them.

“You know what I see when I watch you deliver the news?”

That was her concern. “No.”

“A smart and capable businesswoman. You saw a niche and created Victoria to fill it.”

She couldn’t let him think the outlook she had now, the positive way she viewed the job and her body, was how it had always been. She’d shared with him about parts of her life with Preston, even the hard ones near the end. She talked about the lack of self-confidence and pain in losing her soul.

In time, she’d tell it all. Until then, she needed him to understand that Victoria rose from a dark place. Maybe she walked in the light now, but she was a reminder of something difficult, too. “Other people created her. Preston would say he made her.”