Unravel Me (35 page)

“No. You handled the crowd back there without a tremor. I admire the hell out of you for it.” Maybe that was just another reason he was aching so damn bad. Juliet didn’t need him.

“Then why, Noah? Why are you here?”

She’d already asked him once, and he was such a mess he didn’t have a decent lie left in him. “To see you. I just had to see you tonight.”

“What for? Do you have something to tell me?”

“Yeah.” It came out then, things he should have said, things he shouldn’t say, and then those he couldn’t hold back. All of then tumbled out of his mouth, but none of them eased his pain. “I have to apologize. I have to say I should have given you the choice that day a year ago. I have to say that I love you, that I’m
in
love with you, and I have to tell—oh, hell, Juliet, I need to tell someone who would understand—Tim . . . My friend Tim died today.”

“
Noah
.” There was a catch in her voice. “Noah, I’m so sorry.”

He had no idea who moved first, but they were in each other’s arms. She was warm and familiar, but beneath her willowy frame he sensed the resilience that had held her together through her great loss and into her new life. He breathed in her scent, he breathed in her strength, and it steadied him. His pain lessened as he felt his muscles relax for the first time since hearing the news.

Tim
, he thought, closing his eyes to revel in this brief respite in her embrace,
I hope you’re finding such peace wherever you’re resting now.
He managed his first deep breath in hours. Then a second.

All right
, he told himself, figuring he should let her go now.
All right
. He tried moving away but that toughness of hers came into play and her arms refused to release him.

“Wait a minute,” she said, her gaze narrowed on his face. “Did I hear right? Did you just say you’re in love with me?”

Shit.
“You caught that, huh?” He kept his hands loose and relaxed at his sides. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

He saw her swallow and in the glow of the streetlight he detected the flush rising on her cheeks. “Why not?”

Why not? No matter how closely they were pressed together, the reason why not stood between them, as big as if he was really the size of the cardboard cutout Gabe had made of his photo. Why not was America’s high-class hero, General Wayne Weston. In comparison to her husband, Noah Smith, convict’s son and soldier-from-the-sticks, had nothing to offer this woman. He’d known it from the start but for a few weeks had allowed himself to forget that fact.

“Because . . . because it made me really glad to hear it, Noah,” she said.

What?
Startled, he watched her swallow again.

“When I saw you just now, I knew . . . I knew . . .” She hesitated, then plunged on, “Well, I’m done with hiding away and hiding how I feel. I want you. I want you back in my life.”

Despite his best intentions, his hands lifted, one to her hair, the other cupped that sweet indentation at her waist. “I can’t . . . I don’t . . .” Christ, what to say? She was dangling half a dream in front of him. He wanted everything with her, he wanted it all, but another, better man already filled her heart.

He dropped his arms and broke her hold, putting breathing room between them. “I can’t come back into your world and start washing your windows again, Juliet.” Christ, and it made his blood boil thinking about it, because he was afraid if she insisted that he’d settle for just that.

She stiffened. “That’s not what I meant.”

“And I also can’t be the ‘any warm body’ in your bed when you feel like you want one of those.”

“That’s not what I meant either!” Hot color shot across her face. “You know I’m not asking for a servant. Or a gigolo. You know me better than that.”

“Juliet . . .”

The three syllables seemed to incense her. Her body went rigid. “ ‘Juliet’ what? You make me so mad! You’re leading me on again, damn it, playing Mr. Hot-Then-Cold. ‘I love you, I’m in love with you, I need you,’ you said that, and then you back away.” She crossed to her front tire and gave it a swift kick.

Noah winced, even as she took aim again. He grabbed her elbow and yanked her out of range before she could hurt herself. It only served to turn her ire back on him.

“Because that’s what I want,” she said hotly, wrenching her arm out of his hold. “A man who will love and need me in the same equal measure that I love and need him. I thought for a minute that was you.”

Her eyes were bright with anger—or something else.

“But if you can’t or won’t be that man,” she continued, “then eff . . . eff . . . No, let’s make this simple and clear, Noah. If you won’t be that man, then fuck you.”

It was the F-bomb that finally got through to him. His head cleared for the first time since hearing about Tim, and Noah looked at her, really
looked
at her. Her face was red, her hair a little mussed, her fingers curled into tight fists. The Juliet who had been the general’s wife was a lady, always controlled and composed. But this Juliet,
his
Juliet, was a woman with temper and passion.

Hah. He got it now. Really got it. This was what he had to offer her—himself, a man who brought out this woman, this real Juliet. And he would take pleasure in her every mood and every flame forever.

Except looking at her angry expression, he wasn’t sure she’d let him.

“Okay,” he told her, taking hold of her again. She tried jerking free, but he was firm. “You win.
We
win.”

Her chin jerked upward and heat leaped in her eyes. “This isn’t a game.”

“Not a war either,” he said. “Both sides can come out of this stronger. United.”

He felt the tension in her muscles ease. “Noah. I don’t want to fight you any longer,” she whispered. “Not when I love you so much. Not when I need you so much.”

The last of the wall he’d tried to put between them crumbled. With those blue and green eyes on his, he knew, he finally believed there was a place inside her heart for him, too. And if she was strong enough to take the chance on him, he could do no less. “I love you, too,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion and hope. “I need you, too.”

He hauled her closer and kissed her, unsurprised when fire flashed around them. It was only an imitation of the passion he felt for this incredible woman.

“Noah,” she said against his mouth, and that brightness flashed once more, forcing him to look up. It wasn’t only love lighting up their world, he realized, but that damn paparazzo who had been plaguing them for weeks.

“Get lost,” Noah said, returning his gaze to Juliet, to
his
woman, the one who unbalanced and who steadied him, too, both in equal measure. “Get lost now.”

“Or what?” the man asked, taking another photo.

“Or I’m going to sic the lady on you. She’s tougher than she looks and I imagine she’ll kick your ass.”

Juliet laughed, her whole face alight with happiness. “I’ll bet he’s softer than that rubber tire.”

“Just give me a quote and I’ll go away,” the tabloid guy offered.

“We’re getting married.” Noah lowered his forehead to touch Juliet’s. “Yes?”

Her smile was brilliant. “Yes.”

So brilliant that his heart ached to see it, because he owed her one more thing. Before he really let her make such a commitment to him, he owed this brave, generous woman who thought she loved him his very last, his very own secret.

“Juliet.” He cupped her beloved face in his palms. “Listen for a minute. I’m not sure I deserve you. I—”

“What are you talking about?”

He blew out a breath. “I’m not the man you think. I’m not noble; you should know that. You should know what you’re getting if you take me on.”

Her hands closed around his wrists. “I
am
taking you on,” she said, her voice fierce. “Do I have to start throwing things to make you believe that?”

“I’m not like the general,” he said, determined to get through his confession. “I’m not that kind of man. What I feel for you . . . oh, God.” He thought of all he held in his hands and of all he could lose.

“Noah.” Tears brightened the blue and green of her eyes. “What is it?”

“You have to know . . . I could never sacrifice like he did. I’ll hold you to me with my last ounce of strength.” He swallowed past his tight throat. “The way I love you . . . I want you beside me today and tomorrow and the next day after that and when I take my very last breath.”

Tears spilled over to catch in her eyelashes.

“Is that all right?” he asked, as one of her hot tears rolled over his thumb. “Are you okay with that?”

She nodded as more tears fell. “It’s what I needed to hear to make me the most okay ever. I want a partner, Noah, not a protector.” Then she pressed closer and he gathered her against him. “But in regard to those ‘lasts’ you spoke about . . . I fully expect sixty blissful years first.”

Epilogue

Real love stories never have endings.

—RICHARD BACH

Juliet loved Malibu & Ewe, especially on midweek late afternoons when it quieted down from the morning and lunchtime rush of shoppers. She wandered to the doors that led to the balcony overlooking the ocean. The bright sun glinted off the water, but the air was too cold to spend time outside unless she bundled up. So instead she stayed sheltered inside the shop, and looked northward through the glass toward Zuma where she’d laid Wayne’s ashes to rest.

What a wonderful man he’d been.

How pleased he’d be for her now.

Cassandra wandered from the back. “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing. Everything.”

The front door banged open with a loud peal of the bells. Their sister burst into the shop, wearing starched chef gear and waving a newspaper. “How did this happen?” she demanded, her agitation disturbing the peaceful atmosphere.

The other two hurried to her, just as she slammed the pages of a tabloid onto the table between the couches. “SURGEON’S SECRET!” the headline screamed. Right below it read: “Renowned Celebrity Doctor Fathers Beautiful Malibu Babes!”

It was all there. The three sisters, with names and photographs. Dr. Frank Tucker’s photo was there, too, as well as a sidebar containing a list of his Hollywood clients and the procedures he’d allegedly performed on them.

“What do you think of that?” Nikki demanded again, waving her hand toward the tabloid.

Cassandra bent down and scanned the text. “I don’t think Oomfaa really had a nose job.”

“Cassandra!”

“Well, it’s the first thing that came to my mind,” she said. “That and ‘Who the heck spilled the beans?’ ”

“I haven’t even thought about contacting him,” Juliet confessed. “My mind’s been on other things since . . .” Her voice trailed off as she remembered that odd conversation with Marlys about Botox. Marlys the tabloid snitch. “Oh, brother.”

“We’ve got a couple of those, by the way,” Nikki said, gesturing to the paper again. “Dr. Tuck has two sons he adopted with his wife. She died a number of years ago.”

Cassandra looked down at the photograph of the plastic surgeon. “What are we going to do now?” she asked, her gaze shifting to Juliet.

The oldest sibling role felt more natural than ever. Putting an arm around each sister, Juliet drew them close, trying to dispel the concern on their faces. “What we were going to do anyway. Have a lovely holiday dinner tomorrow and give thanks that we’ve found each other. As for the rest . . . we’ll figure that out together.”

At that moment, the door to Malibu & Ewe opened again and Noah walked through. She felt her own worry lift as he paced toward her with single-minded purpose. A kiss was already forming on his lips.

As she lifted her face for it, she composed a diary entry in her head.

Turn the page for a preview of the next book in the Malibu & Ewe series by Christie Ridgway

Dirty, Sexy Knitting

“It’s my party,” Cassandra Riley told her companions as she wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’ll cry if I want to.”

The pair on her couch didn’t look up, and the one near the overstuffed chair in her living room continued toying with a small ball of soft yarn. It was leftover from the dress Cassandra had made for herself to wear to the celebration-that-wasn’t, and she fingered the mohair-nylon-wool blend of the crocheted skirt, wishing its blue color mimicked the April sky. Staunching another tear, she pressed her nose to the glass sliding door that led to her backyard. Beyond the small pool with its graceful, arching footbridge, the green of the surrounding banana plants, sword ferns, and tropical shrubs looked lush against the dark storm clouds.

The rain hadn’t let up.

And neither had Cassandra’s low mood.

Thirty years old, she thought, feeling more wetness drip off her jaw, and she was all dressed up with no place to go.

That wasn’t strictly true. Five miles away on the Pacific Coast Highway, at her little yarn shop, Malibu & Ewe, the ingredients for a birthday bash were ready and waiting. But a spring deluge had hit overnight and before her landline phone connection had died, she’d been informed that the road at the end of her secluded lane was washed out. The narrow driveway beyond her place led to only one other residence.

She wouldn’t be partying over there, even if the owner would let her through the doors. Even if he was inside his bat cave.

Though they’d been lovers for four weeks, he’d dumped her yesterday, hard. She suspected that following their public scene, he’d opted for one of his frequent vanishing acts cum ugly benders.