More Than You Know (16 page)

Her hand had raised to touch his face for a second, and there had been something in her eyes . . . then it was gone as soon as he'd glimpsed it. She'd grinned, patted his cheek, and strode past him out the door without a look back. Sassy vixen, that woman.

But now, as he lay in bed in the dark, his mind was grinding away, not letting him sink into sleep.

First of all, it bothered him that she wouldn't stay the night with him. Not only that, but she very obviously wanted to leave. She'd left the last time too. He'd never seen a woman flee the scene as quickly as Julia did. In his experience, women always wanted to snuggle after, and talk . . . well, okay, fine. This was a woman who apparently didn't go for postcoital tenderness of any kind. He
liked
the postsex cuddling; she didn't. Or, if she did, she wasn't having it with him. It ate at him a little bit. Just a little bit. But that bothered him, because he didn't know why it ate at him.

Then there was the way she completely and willingly lost control during sex. It was mind-blowing. It was the only time he ever saw her allow herself to lose control, to surrender to her senses, to stop thinking, and just
feel.
And hot damn, did she. When he went down on her, she'd given in gladly. She let herself melt, let him take over, let herself drown in it . . . even now, he started getting aroused thinking of her. Julia lost in the throes of passion was the hottest goddamn thing he'd ever seen and heard.

He loved how she let all her inhibitions go, how she really enjoyed it—and that she wanted him to enjoy it too. When Julia had sex, it wasn't a selfish act; she gave as good as she got, and it obviously turned her on to do so. It gave him a tiny window into the hot-blooded woman she tried to hold back most of the time, unless she was onstage. There was a raging fire burning under her cool, tough exterior, and it fascinated him. He wished she'd release that passion in places other than the stage or in bed. That she could loosen up across the board. That she could let herself be . . . lighter.

He enjoyed life. But she saw life as a fight, something to get through and survive day-to-day. Something or someone had obviously hurt her enough to make her feel that way. And that made him sad for her. He wanted her to have some fun once in a while, and hoped she was at least having fun with him.

What wasn't fun, however, was what she'd said when he first got to her dressing room that night. Ho-ly shit, Ms. Tough-As-Nails had thought he'd been playing her by purposely not coming to the lounge once he'd slept with her, like a proclamation of triumph over her or something. He hadn't expected that. He'd been floored by her attitude . . . which really, once he thought about it, wasn't about anger. That was a front. She'd been
hurt
by the perceived slight. He felt bad that she'd thought that of him, and been wounded by it. Even if she'd done it to herself, with him not lifting a finger, he felt guilty for it. Guilty enough that he'd snapped back at her, and he wasn't proud of that.

But there was one thing that bothered him the most, the little thing he'd seen that had surprised him and wouldn't let go . . . the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was making his wheels spin. He flipped onto his side, punched the pillow to fluff it up, and sighed as he stared toward the wide windows.

Dane had been with a lot of women. That went without saying. He'd had the pleasure of bedding women of all ages, from all walks of life. Julia was the oldest he'd been with, but only by two years. He'd been with women in their late thirties. He'd been with a few
very
sexy divorced women who were mothers. Hell, in his opinion, in bed they were the hottest of all. They were more comfortable in their own skin, knew what they were doing and what they wanted. Truth be told, he'd enjoyed his encounters with those ladies the most.

The first night he was with Julia, all their sex had taken place in the dark. Not because she was shy, but simply because they'd been too busy grabbing at each other to take time to turn on a light. But tonight, when he'd hiked her dress up in her dressing room, the lights were on. He could finally really look at her voluptuous body, take in and memorize her curves with his hungry eyes. And he knew what he'd seen. They were faint, the palest silver, but they were absolutely there on her lower abdomen: stretch marks. At some point in her life, Julia had been pregnant. And if she hadn't given birth, she had been far along enough in the pregnancy to leave stretch marks.

She'd never mentioned any children. She'd told him she was divorced, but that was the extent of her divulging any details about her past relationships. She was, or had been, a mother.

Now, Dane found himself wanting to ask her a hundred new questions that were none of his damn business. Curiosity gnawed at his insides. Because Julia interested him. He had grown to genuinely like her, on top of lusting for her constantly like a damn horny teenager. She was sharp, had a wicked wit, and was so damn smart. But the more he got to know Julia Shay, the more he realized there was so much about her he didn't know. And that she worked very hard to keep it that way.

He wanted to know why. What had happened? Where was her child? Had something horrible, unthinkable, happened to the kid—was that the loss she'd talked about? Was that why she'd gotten a divorce?

And most of all . . . why did he care? That question burned hottest of all, searing and poking at him. Why did he want, almost need, to know what had happened in her past? Why did he want to figure her out so badly that he was inches away from calling his private investigator to find out everything he could about Julia Shay?

He wouldn't, of course. He respected her too much for that. Besides, that wasn't who he was. Tempted as he was, he wouldn't have been able to live with himself if she ever found out he'd done it, especially after he'd promised her he never would. No. That wasn't the way to go.

He sighed, flipped onto his other side, and closed his eyes to try to get some sleep.

Maybe one day, he'd find a way to get her to tell him all those things on her own.

Maybe he needed to figure out why the hell this was keeping him up at night.
No strings
meant he wasn't supposed to care. It was just fun, hot sex. Right?

Dane flipped questions in his mind for a long time before finally falling asleep.

Chapter Ten

Vaguely aware of her cell phone ringing, Julia roused from a deep sleep. Eyes still closed, she felt for it on her nightstand and answered the call without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?” Her voice was nothing but a gravelly whisper.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Dane's jovial tone came over the line. “Did I wake you?”

“Yes,” she said, rolling onto her back. She opened one eye to glance at the clock; it was 9:00
A.M.
“It's Monday. Why are you calling?”

“Jeez, you're a grouch in the morning, huh?” He paused before adding, “I mean, I wouldn't know. You don't like to stay the night.”

She didn't need the little reminder. But she couldn't help it, the corners of her mouth quirked up. She was glad he wasn't there to see it. “You woke me up. I haven't had coffee yet. I'd keep away from me until I do.”

“Not a morning person, I take it,” Dane said.

“No. I'm a night owl. Always have been.” She yawned. “So, Boss, what can I do for you?”

He let out a wicked laugh at that. “Oh, I can think of plenty of things.”

A shiver ran over her skin. His sensual voice, playful and sexy in her ear, affected her more than she could believe. “I'm sure you could.”

“You know it. But that's not why I'm calling,” he said. “You have any plans tomorrow afternoon?”

She thought for a few seconds. “No, not really. Why?”

“I was wondering if you'd spend the day with me.”

Her eyes opened wide. She was fully awake now, even without coffee. “What?”

“What ‘what.' You heard me,” he teased. “I asked you to spend the afternoon with me.”

“Yes. But . . . why?” she asked warily.

He laughed. “So I can kidnap and torture you in the basement of my father's mansion, of course. God, Red, you're always so suspicious.”

“I am,” she said. “So, why?”

“I'm coming out to Long Island for the day. Gonna take a ride out on the boat all afternoon and relax, then I'm meeting my sister and brother for dinner at seven.” He paused. “I just thought it might be something nice to do, if you were available to join me for the boat ride. No strings, Julia.”

Her mouth went dry at his earnest tone. She was pretty hard on him sometimes. He continued to be nice to her regardless, had even seemed to accept that this was who she was. Maybe he just liked a challenge. But it was time to give him some niceness back. With genuine warmth, she said, “That's nice of you. I haven't been on a boat in years . . . sure, I'd like to come. Thank you for asking.”

He was quiet for a moment, and she figured she must have shocked him with her pleasant answer. “You're welcome. Glad you'll join me. So . . . you live in Blue Harbor, right?”

“Yup.” She knew he knew that. “My street address should be on the paychecks you sign.”

He chuckled. “Right. Okay. I'll pick you up around ten-thirty. We'll have lunch on the boat, just hang out. I'll have you home around five, six at the latest. Sound good?”

“Sure.” She rolled over onto her side to look out her window. Blue skies and hazy sunshine. “What am I wearing?”

“Casual. Whatever you'll be comfortable in on a boat. Shorts, sundress, whatever. Maybe sensible shoes, though, not those high wedge sandals you usually like to wear.” His tone turned mischievous. “Which is a shame, since I love when you wear stilettos. Hmm. No panties would be nice. . . .”

She laughed. “You're incorrigible.”

“I am!” he said proudly. “Lots of sunscreen, O Pale Redhead. The sun can be really strong, especially when it reflects off the water. And bring a swimsuit.”

“Umm. Okay.”

“Why the hesitation?” he asked. “I've seen you very naked, in varying interesting positions. Don't tell me you're shy to wear a bikini in front of me.”

“I'm not shy,” she said. “I don't own a bikini, so you're out of luck there. And . . . well, I can't swim. So if you're thinking of tossing me overboard, know that I'll sink like a stone.”

“Really?” Dane said, surprised. “Huh. Well, okay. I won't toss you overboard, then. And I guess that means skinny-dipping in the Sound is out. You've foiled my best plan, but I guess the heads up was a good thing. If my headliner drowned off my boat, that'd be
really
bad publicity.”

She laughed again. “Okay, Charming. See you tomorrow.”

“Great. It'll be fun. See you.”

She ended the call and stared out the window. Flurries of excitement circled in her belly. And she was smiling. Like, the goofy smile of someone smitten. Ugh.

“Get a grip,” she scolded herself, and launched out of bed, energized and ready to start her day. Coffee first, though. She had her priorities in order.

Deciding to treat herself, she threw on a blue cotton sundress and flip-flops and went a few blocks into the center of town, to the local coffee shop. She preferred frequenting that store over Starbucks; always a supporter of the little guy. The barista, who knew her, smiled when she walked in and made her an iced mocha latte, her usual. Julia also got a plump, delicious-looking blueberry muffin, and sat at one of the four tiny tables by the window to enjoy her breakfast.

Just after she'd taken her first bite, a young blond woman entered, holding the hand of a precious blond toddler. He couldn't have been more than two years old. Julia's enthusiasm for the day dried up and disappeared as she watched the little boy coo and babble at his mother. He tried to run toward the shelf of handmade mugs, but the woman scooped him up into her arms, smacked a kiss on his round, rosy cheek, and placed her order with the barista.

Julia's heart ached. The pain and longing suffused her bones.

“Mama!” the boy squeaked, and wrapped his little arms around the woman's neck. He blew raspberries onto her skin, and the woman and barista laughed together.

Tears stung Julia's eyes. She grabbed her things and rushed out of the shop.

 

 

As the town car drove through the small town of Blue Harbor, Dane stretched out in the backseat and looked out the window, enjoying the scenery. He'd always liked Blue Harbor. It was one of those cozy little North Shore communities tucked into the land but right on the Long Island Sound, with picturesque shops, cottages, and homes. It felt, to him, like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting—it had that kind of quaint, small-town charm.

When they got to the center of town, the charm of it enveloped him. Window boxes on storefronts and hanging buckets on lampposts spilled over with colorful flowers. A few people strolled slowly along the sidewalk—nothing like the rushing, vigorous strides of millions of Manhattanites. What had once been many old, weathered cottages in the center of town had been restored and turned into restaurants, boutiques, and galleries. It didn't surprise Dane that Julia would choose to live here. It was an enchanting village, slightly artsy, and scenic; but more than that, it was also quiet. The biggest things that happened here were the Art Show and Craft Fair in the spring, the Seafood Fest in the summer, and the Harvest Festival in October. The rest of the time, most of the time, it was so quiet it was almost sleepy. For someone so guarded, who cherished privacy and kept to herself, Dane could understand the appeal of Blue Harbor for Julia.

When the driver pulled up to a large, charming three-story Victorian just past the town center, he was surprised to see Julia sitting on the top step of the wide wraparound porch, waiting for him. He surveyed the well-kept house—pale yellow paint, accented by white shutters and the white railing that lined the veranda, the neatly kept lawn and colorful flowers—and deduced that someone had taken great care to renovate the house. As the car stopped and he got out, she gave a small smile and rose from her rocking chair. From behind his sunglasses, Dane took her in and warmed inside. She looked so damn pretty. Dressed in a long tank-style maxi dress, a swirling mixture of all shades of blue, her hair down and blowing lightly in the breeze, she was delectable.

“Hi, Red.” He smiled wide as he went up the steps to greet her. “You look gorgeous. Those blues are great on you.”

“Thanks.” She lifted the hem of the dress from her ankles to better show him her feet. “Followed your advice.” She was wearing navy Converse. The funky sneakers made him smile wide.

“Jesus, those are cute.” With a quick yank, he tugged her in for a kiss. He sipped from her lips, slow and easy. But her soft mouth opened under his, responding instantly, and it pulled him under. He deepened the kiss, letting his tongue tangle with hers. Every time he touched her, that spark was there, shooting warmth and want throughout his body.

“For someone who claims he doesn't have a shoe fetish,” she remarked wryly, “you seem to react to my shoes a lot.”

He cocked his head and considered that. “You have a point. . . .” Flashing a grin, he shrugged. “I think it's just where you're concerned, though. Never been, like, a
thing
before. I wouldn't get too worried about it.”

“You don't worry me.”

“Didn't think so. You're tough stuff.” He glanced around and said, “This house is nice. Looks good for how old it must be.”

“It's over eighty years old,” she said. “My landlord bought it and put a lot of money into the renovations. He and his wife live on the ground floor. Their twenty-three-year-old daughter now rents the apartment on the top floor. I have the middle.”

“How'd you find it?”

“Through a friend of Stephen's, Randi's husband. I was lucky. It's a nice place, I feel safe here, and I'm just beyond the center of town. I walk in every day.” She smiled and pulled away, leaning over to grab a large yellow canvas bag. “Ready to go if you are.”

“You're not going to invite me up to your apartment?” he asked in a light tone.

She blinked. “Um . . . I wasn't planning on it. I mean, I'm here, I have my things.” There was an awkward pause. “Did you
want
to go up there? Need to use the bathroom?”

Why it irked him that she didn't seem to want him in her apartment, he couldn't say. But it did. He swatted it out of his head and said, “No, I'm good. Let's go.”

 

 

“Well, this sure is different,” Julia said as the driver took them to the marina. “Seeing each other in the light of day.”

“And neither of us is flaming into ash as we're hit by the sunlight,” Dane joked. “That's a good sign.”

“I don't know,” she said playfully. “You have a few vampire tendencies.”

His brows raised and a slow smile spread across his face. “Such as?”

“You love to nibble on my neck,” she said, getting hot just thinking about it. “And sometimes, you bite. . . .”

“It's not my fault you're so delicious.” He leaned across the backseat and slipped an arm around her waist to pull her closer. With his free hand, he pushed her hair out of the way for access to the nape of her neck. As soon as his open mouth touched her skin, a shudder ran through her. She felt him smile against her skin as he murmured, “Mmm. Love that sweet spot.”

“Where are we going, anyway?” she asked breathlessly.

“Kingston Point Marina,” he said, the words muffled as he scraped his teeth along her neck.

Her breath caught from the feel of him. “I've never been in Kingston Point before.” She felt . . . swoony. She hated that she felt swoony, even as her head fell back against the seat and her eyes closed.

“You're not missing much,” he said, nibbling and licking now. She squirmed a little and felt heat spread through her like wildfire. “Bunch of pretentious snobs in that town.” His hand slid over her breast, cupped it gently, and stroked his thumb over her nipple, drawing a feathery sigh from her. Then his hand dropped to her knee. “That's a long dress. Lot of fabric to hike up later. Gonna make me work for it a little, huh?”

She grinned. His deep, smooth voice was seductive, and what he was doing to her neck should be illegal. Her hand tangled in his hair as she said, “Didn't want my dress blowing up in the wind, giving anyone a show.”

He laughed softly at that. “Smart thinking. Too bad, though.” He bit down with gentle heat on her skin and she drew a sharp intake of breath. “You're wet now, aren't you. Tell me.”

God, when he spoke to her like that... “Yes,” she whispered. “You bastard.”

He laughed again, but wickedly this time. “You're a lusty woman, Red. I like that about you.” His hand slid up the outside of her leg, over the dress. She twisted to get closer to him. “I should take you right here, right now,” he half-whispered, half-growled.

“Don't you have any self-control?” she said, even as she wished he would follow his own suggestion.

“When it comes to you? Not much.” His fingers traveled over her hip to squeeze her ass as he took her mouth with a slow, sumptuous kiss. She almost melted in his arms. But the car turned and the ride became slightly bumpy. She broke the kiss to look out the window and saw they were traveling up a gravelly path, the entrance to the marina. “We're here. Stop.”

“Don't wanna stop,” he grinned, kissing her again.

“I don't either, but . . .” She pushed him away gently. “Don't want gossip, Boss. Remember?”

His hands ran up and down her bare arms as he looked into her eyes. “And how am I supposed to hide this raging hard-on I have right now?”

She giggled. “You're resourceful. You'll think of something.”