Foolish Games (16 page)

“Why didn’t you?” He posed the question gently.

“My reputation was already in tatters. My parents were dead, and I barely knew my grandmother. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I wanted someone to love. Someone who was all mine and would love me back. I know it’s silly, but I’ve never once regretted my decision.”

Hank saluted her with his wineglass. “
Silly
is not a word I’d ever use to describe you, Annabeth. And I commend you for the job you’ve done with Will. I can’t imagine it was easy.”

It hadn’t been easy. But somehow, against all odds, her son had turned out well. A success.

“Did you ever try to find Will’s father? You didn’t have to do it all alone financially.”

“I did, when I finally discovered I was pregnant. I went to Camp Lejeune but was told he’d died in a friendly fire episode shortly after he deployed. There were no parents to contact because he’d apparently grown up in the foster care system. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was kind of glad he didn’t have any family. That way, I didn’t have to share Will with anyone. It was just me and my grandmother, and I couldn’t have given my son up.” A bemused sigh escaped her lips. “I guess I’m a lot like more like my daughter-in-law than I thought.”

She hadn’t realized she was crying until Hank reached across the table to wipe away a tear.

“Hey,” he said. “Why don’t we eat this delicious dinner your friend prepared and enjoy the sunset?”

As they ate their meal, Hank offered up the occasional anecdote from what he termed Sophie’s teenage drama. It was obvious he adored his daughter, and Annabeth wondered what it would have been like if Will had had a father who adored him as much.

The sunset was everything Hank promised. By the time they’d packed up their picnic and traversed the dark island back to the ferry, it was a chilly ride back. Still, she huddled on the outdoor deck, Hank’s arms around her, watching the lighthouse fade in the distance.

Once in Chances Inlet, Hank deposited the picnic basket back at the inn. Sophie had gone to the movies with Lynnette’s granddaughter and wouldn’t be back for another hour. They stopped at the Patty Wagon again for some lemonade before ambling through the back streets to Annabeth’s house.

Hank’s voice punctuated the darkness. “You know, Annabeth, you are a lot more than just Will’s mother. Or a shopkeeper in Chances Inlet. You can be whoever you want to be.”

They were fifty yards from Will’s house. She could see Julianne silhouetted in the window carrying Owen up the stairs. While Annabeth appreciated Hank’s confidence in her, she was comfortable in Chances Inlet. She’d made mistakes in her life, yet the town accepted her anyway. As one of its own. Her business and friends were here and that was enough for her. Reinventing herself somewhere else was just too much for Annabeth to take on. She didn’t know why Will, and now Hank, couldn’t understand. One thing she did know, she didn’t want this magical night to end.

Tugging on the hand he’d wrapped securely around hers, she pulled him deeper into the trees. When they were out of sight of the house, she stood on her toes and kissed him. It was a tentative kiss at first, until he took the reins and began kissing her back.

Hank leaned his back against a tree, pulling her in closer contact to his hard body. Annabeth sighed as she opened her mouth wider to give him better access. Her hands fisted in his shirt before he broke the kiss to push his glasses on top of his head.

She nuzzled his neck as his hands squeezed her backside. Their lips found one another again. One of them moaned, she wasn’t sure who.

Suddenly, the yard was flooded with lights.

“Who’s out there?” Will shouted from the verandah.

“Ah, hell,” Hank whispered. “Please tell me he doesn’t own a shotgun.”

Annabeth couldn’t help it, she laughed. Hank held her closer, but that only made her giggle harder. He chuckled along with her.

“
Mom?
Is that you out here?”

She could hear Will coming down the steps.

“Have dinner with me and Sophie tomorrow.” Hank whispered in her ear.

She nodded against his chest. “Go!” she managed to get out between giggles. Hank stood there flattened against the tree, at least the parts of him that could remain flat. Annabeth laughed harder as she stepped out into the yard, now lit up like a Christmas tree lot. Will was advancing toward her.

“Mom! What the hell are you doing out here?”

“None of your business. Go back inside where you belong.”

Her son’s eyed narrowed to slits. “What’s that on your neck?”

“William Anthony Connelly, I respect your privacy. I expect you to show me the same courtesy.”

“Oh, for the love of . . .” Will swore. “I’m happy to respect your privacy, but I’d really rather not find you necking in the woods with HANK OSBOURNE!” he roared.

“Will!” Julianne called from the porch. “You’ll wake the baby!” She waved at Annabeth. “Hey, Annabeth. We were just going to have dessert. Would you like to join us?”

The last thing Annabeth wanted to do was make small talk with her son right now. “No, thank you, Julianne. I have an early day tomorrow. I’m going home. Thank you, though.”

“I’ll walk you home.” Her behemoth son was being a tad overprotective.

“It’s only across the driveway, Will. Your mother isn’t in any danger. If it makes you feel better, come up here and stand next to me and we’ll both watch her safely to her door.” Julianne winked at Annabeth.

Will tried his game face on her, but Annabeth was immune. She strolled inside unaccompanied, making a mental note to offer to watch Owen for Julianne every day for a week.

Owen kicked his feet and pumped his arms in his bouncy seat.

“I’m going to have to start calling you Cheerio, little man. You’re way too happy in the morning.” Will took another swallow of his coffee, reaching over to wipe a spit bubble off his son’s chin. “Daddy is not a morning person, so you’re gonna have to tone it down a notch.”

The baby let out a delighted gurgle at Will’s words. Will smiled in spite of himself. Now nearly two months old, Owen was awake for longer spurts of time. Usually Will didn’t mind, but this morning he’d hoped to have his son fed and back to sleep before Julianne finished her shower. Unfortunately, Owen had other ideas, meaning there wouldn’t be a repeat of yesterday morning’s soaping of his wife’s back, among other things.

For the past two days, he and Julianne had secluded themselves in the house, taking care of their son and each other. Since her storming of his bedroom, they’d had sex at least a dozen times, and Will still couldn’t seem to get enough of her. What they hadn’t done was talk. At least not about their relationship. That subject seemed to be the elephant in the room, neither of them wanting to disturb it.

That wasn’t the only thing Will had been avoiding. Roscoe had been calling and texting him since their phone conversation the other night, but Will hadn’t bothered to answer. The mess with Bountygate was getting uglier, and Hank and Roscoe had been correct: Will’s name was right in the center of the storm. He needed to decide what to do, but Paul Zevalos wasn’t returning his phone calls, either.

As if all that weren’t enough, finding his mother in the woods outside the house making out with his team’s GM was proof enough that Will’s world was beginning to resemble a busted play. He wasn’t naïve enough to think his mother had remained celibate since his birth; she was young and very pretty, after all. But she’d been discerning of her reputation, and his, for many years, keeping her relationships very private. Much as she kept the rest of her life. Hank Osbourne, on the other hand, cut through a swath of rich divorcées like Brody Janik ran through defenses after a catch. His mother wasn’t on the same level with the socialites Hank wore on his arm. Will still believed Hank was using his mother to gain information on his relationship with Coach Zevalos, and he worried she’d end up hurt.

Julianne’s cell phone buzzed in its charger. Her phone had rung twice already this morning and it was barely nine o’clock. Will handed Owen a mini Blaze football. The baby’s hands immediately clamped around it, his long-fingered hold sparking a burst of pride in Will before Owen brought it up to his mouth and began gumming it.

With Owen now occupied, he meandered over to where Julianne’s phone sat on the desk. He told himself he wasn’t snooping, just curious about whether he should alert her that she had messages. This was the problem with their not having talked. Will was fairly certain he knew all her secrets—surely she couldn’t have more—but her brother was still a major player in Bountygate, and Roscoe’s warnings about not trusting her played like a highlight reel in the back of his mind.

Two missed calls and one text message from her brother. His whole body tensed. The shower was still running upstairs.
Damn it!
If he didn’t check, Roscoe’s voice would poison every interaction he and Julianne had today, including the sexy one he’d been planning for the boathouse later on. If she had something to hide, she’d keep her phone locked or out of sight. With one finger, he slid the keypad open and read the text from her brother.

Call me. You haven’t checked in for two days. I need to know what’s going on with Will. How’s the baby?

A bead of sweat ran down his back. She was checking in with her brother daily? He didn’t get the impression they were that close. And she was giving her brother updates? On him?
No!
Will wasn’t going to let Roscoe’s paranoia get to him. He needed to trust Julianne. And not just because he was beginning to
need
Julianne.

“Dude, are you just gonna let that kid gum that football to death?”

Will jumped at the sound of Brody’s voice, nearly flinging Julianne’s phone onto the tile floor.

“Jesus, Janik, have you ever heard of knocking?” Will gently placed the phone back in its spot.

“I didn’t have to knock. I saw you from the verandah so I knew you were home.”

“What are you, a freakin’ peeping Tom?” Will needed a punching bag to take out his anger on, and Brody had arrived uninvited. “What if my wife were walking around naked in here?”

A slow grin spread over Brody’s face, further stoking Will’s anger.

“So it’s now that kind of marriage, huh?”

Will still wasn’t sure what kind of marriage he had, but he wasn’t discussing it with Brody. He lunged across the kitchen at him, but the agile tight end, adept at avoiding linebackers in pursuit, danced out of his way.

“Dude, I brought breakfast!” He shook a white paper sack from the Queen of Hearts Bakery in front of Owen’s face. The baby squealed in delight. “Do you want a scone, little dude?”

“Give me that!” Will snatched the bag from Brody, his stomach rumbling as the scent of fresh blueberry scones wafted out of the bag. “You’ve done your good deed for the day, now get out.”

Brody turned one of the kitchen chairs around and straddled it, tickling Owen’s bare feet as he sat in front of the baby. “No can do. Roscoe told me I couldn’t leave until I physically saw you call him. Seriously, that guy’s a pain in the a . . . keester.” He winked at Owen. “I may have to look for other representation if he keeps using me as his tool.”

Roscoe was getting desperate if he was resorting to forcing his other clients to do his bidding. Not that Brody had to be forced to butt into Will’s business. He’d seemed to make a career of it. Will pulled out his cell phone and texted his agent, telling him he’d call him when he was damn well ready.

“Done.” He shoved the phone back into the pocket of his shorts. “Now, you can go.”

“Jeesh, your daddy is grouchy in the morning,” Brody said to the baby.

Will rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, Brody, you were right the other day. This . . . thing could get a little ugly before it gets resolved. While I appreciate your lapdog determination—”

“Hey!”

“—you’ve got a good career going and I don’t want it to get tarnished by a bunch of gossips who want to take down a good coach.”

Brody looked him in stony silence.

“Really, Brody. For yourself and the team, you need to distance yourself from me right now. Get out of here. Go back to Baltimore. And please, take Hank Osbourne with you.”

Brody chuckled. “Sorry, dude, but the Wizard of Oz is pursuing his own agenda here in town. I have no pull with him. But I
am
leaving today, and it has nothing to do with you bossing me around.”

Will was relieved, and not just because Brody was always underfoot. He’d meant what he said about protecting his teammate’s career and the reputation of the Blaze. “When’s your flight?”

“You’re leaving, Brody?”

Julianne breezed into the kitchen, clean and sweet-smelling in a V-neck T-shirt and jean shorts. Her hair was still damp, pulled back from her face in a big clip. She looked fresh and bright-eyed and Will wanted to throw her over his shoulder, carry her upstairs, and muss her up until her lips were swollen and her scent was musky.

“And look who’s still up!” She nuzzled Owen’s toes while Will groaned behind her. “Ooo, give me that sloppy, yucky ball, sweetie.” The baby shrieked as she tried to take the football from him.

“Hey!” Both men yelled at the same time.

Julianne rolled her eyes, handing the ball back to a screeching Owen. “I hope Carly has a girl,” she mumbled.

Will handed her a cup of coffee from the Keurig. “Are you going back to Baltimore?” she asked Brody.

“Cape Cod, actually. My whole family gets together for a three-day party at the beach every Memorial Day weekend.”

“Well, by the time you get there, you’ll have missed most of it,” Julianne pointed out.

Brody shrugged. “They can be a little . . . overbearing en masse like that. My sisters invite all their single friends and I feel like I’m at a cattle auction or something.”

Julianne peered over the top of her coffee mug at Brody. “Some guys would love all that attention.”

“Yeah, well, it’s impossible to make everyone happy, and by the end of the weekend, one or all of my sisters will be gunning for me. It’s better to keep my visit as brief as possible.”

“Oh! Speaking of your sister . . .” Julianne put down her mug and went to rummage around the desk. Will tensed for a moment, thinking she’d notice her phone wasn’t as she left it, but she tossed it aside to pull out a large envelope. The same one that Brody had brought his sister’s picture in.

“Here.” She handed it to Brody, a shy look on her face. “I finished the design.”

Brody’s jaw dropped. “You did?”

“I don’t know if she’ll even like it, but if she does, I know a seamstress in Boston who can make the gown.”

He pulled the sketch out of the envelope and a wide grin broke out over his face. “Wow, Julianne, this is perfect. I know she’ll love it because it’s . . . her. You’re a genius.”

“Sophie had some ideas for jewelry pieces, too.” Julianne lifted a now-whimpering Owen out of the bouncy seat.

“Huh, merging the two businesses already,” he muttered low enough for only Will to hear.

Will glared at him.

Brody laughed. “Well, my business here is complete. Connelly, I’m going to kiss your wife now, so you might want to turn your back so you don’t go all caveman again.”

“Like hell I will.”

“Stop it, both of you!” Julianne pulled Brody in for a hug. He kissed her cheek and bussed Owen’s head.

“See you both back in Charm City. And Will, don’t forget to make that call,” he called as he went out the door.

Owen was rubbing his eyes as Julianne turned to him. “What call?” she asked.

Will hesitated. Why was she interested? “I need to call Roscoe, my agent,” he finally answered.

“Oh.” She smiled at him. “In that case, I’ll take this little guy upstairs and put him down for his nap so you can have some privacy.”

He felt like an idiot for not trusting her. “No, I’ll take him. It’s a holiday weekend. I don’t need to talk to Roscoe today,” he lied.

She handed him the baby and he leaned in and gave her an openmouthed kiss that turned fiery in an instant.

“Come upstairs with me,” he whispered.

Her cell phone buzzed just as she turned to follow him up.

“It’s been going off all morning.” Will hoped he sounded nonchalant.

Julianne checked the screen and turned off the phone. “Just Stephen.” She wrapped her hands around his waist, Owen now dozing on Will’s shoulder. “Upstairs, buster.”

“Does he call you often?”

“Ugh, every day since I’ve been here. He’s suddenly turned into a doting older brother. It’s annoying.”

Will laid Owen in his crib, relief coursing through his veins at her words. Roscoe had tainted his common sense with all his warnings about not trusting Julianne. But she wasn’t conspiring with her brother. She couldn’t be because Will was becoming too dependent on the feel of her beneath his hands, the taste of her on his tongue, and the warmth of her wrapped around his body.

He stalked to his bedroom, where she was already naked on the bed. Will whipped his T-shirt off and stepped out of his shorts, her smile of appreciation arousing him more. If he had any niggling doubts about his wife, he’d bury them now, as he buried himself inside her. When he was alone with her, he forgot all about Paul Zevalos, Bountygate, Hank Osbourne, and Julianne’s brother. It was just him and her finding that perfect symbiosis he’d been unable to find with any other woman. For now, that was enough. He’d worry about the world outside Chances Inlet later.

 • • • 

The designs were coming to her fast and furiously now. Only they weren’t wedding gowns. Julianne gently swayed on a porch swing in the lush back garden of the Tide Me Over Inn sketching, of all things, baby clothes. Owen slept peacefully in his stroller, Sophie sitting Indian style on a blanket on the lawn next to him, sorting beads from a plastic container.

“Gwen Stefani designs baby clothes.” Sophie said around the string she held between her teeth. “And she’s cool. Besides, I’ll bet most of your former clients are having babies, and they’d probably buy anything you design. You should really try to market those.”

Julianne couldn’t help but smile at the young girl’s exuberance. The idea of creating an entire line of baby clothes had actually begun percolating in her head over the past few days, although she hadn’t given much thought to how “cool” her new venture might be. Unlike her elaborate, sophisticated bridal gowns, the baby clothes were bright, simple, and fun. Sebastian would have a fit because they screamed mass market, but Julianne wanted other mothers to be able to afford what she was creating. Not that she’d even mentioned the idea to her business manager. She hadn’t even told Will yet.

Glancing across the garden, she spied her husband chatting with Gavin and a few other men she’d seen around Chances Inlet these past few weeks. It was Memorial Day, and Patricia McAlister was hosting her annual picnic for the inn’s guests as well as her family and friends. After nearly four days of seclusion, Will and Julianne had ventured out into town again, this time as husband and wife in every sense. True, they hadn’t done much talking, at least not about anything involving their relationship. She still had no idea where their marriage would end up, but she felt a deeper connection to Will and a greater sense of optimism that things could work out eventually.

As if he sensed her watching him, Will looked over and their eyes met. Warmth pooled in her belly as her body registered the intense hunger in his eyes. He saluted her with his beer bottle before rejoining his conversation. Blushing, Julianne returned to her sketchpad, the lion on the onesie she drew grinning mischievously back at her as if he, too, could read her thoughts.

Could she share her ideas with Will? Julianne scrunched her eyes closed. She desperately wanted someone to share her life with.
To share her dreams with.
Nicky had been her imaginary partner for so many years. But now she wanted the real thing. She wanted Will. The problem was, she didn’t know if he wanted her. For anything more than sex, that is.