Secret Fantasy Page 14

  “No problem.” But his reluctant groan contrasted with his words. “I need to check in at home first anyway.” His deep blue eyes bore into hers. “But we do need to talk over breakfast.”

  Something in his voice caused a shiver to take hold and she wrapped her arms tighter around her. “Sounds ominous. But yes, we do need to talk.”

  She pulled herself out of bed and wrapped the satin robe around her naked body before starting for the bedroom door.

  “Juliette.”

  She turned. “Yes?”

  “It’s only ominous if you take it that way.”

  She inclined her head and let herself out, his cryptic statement ringing in her ears.

  Juliette stepped through the living area to the terrace to discover the waiter setting down her order. As if by magic, he’d appeared within minutes of his phone call. She shook her head, amazed by Merrilee and her staff’s efficiency. After placing the order on the table, the waiter left, leaving Juliette in peace.

  She poured the drinks and unwrapped the basket of rolls, croissants and Danish, recalling the last time she and Doug had discussed the merits of sweets. Then, they’d exchanged an erotic prelude of things to come. A prelude to this morning, when she’d tasted him more thoroughly than she’d ever imagined, given to him in a way she’d never felt inclined to give to another man. Including her ex-fiancé.

  “Hello, Juliette.”

  “Stuart!” She thought she’d conjured his voice, but she turned to find herself facing him. Shock and disbelief rippled through her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Fulfilling a fantasy, same as you.” He stepped onto the patio, his shiny loafers gleaming in the sun. He wasn’t dressed down as most of the guests; rather, he wore a pleated pair of tan slacks, a designer belt and his usual well-pressed collared shirt.

  His staid, conservative dress only made her glaringly aware of her own lack of clothing and she pulled the collar of her robe tight around her throat. “What kind of fantasy would bring you down here?” she asked, certain his visit had nothing to do with fantasy and everything to do with her.

  “You remaining silent, of course.” His piercing stare bore into hers. “Not that I told Ms. Schaefer-Weston that.”

  Juliette wasn’t surprised Stuart had fed Merrilee a story. He had probably used an assumed name, too. Merrilee’s ethics were too strong for Stuart to gain access to Secret Fantasy any other way. Glancing at him now, Juliette recalled her sister’s words about how his sudden silence had unnerved her and Juliette inhaled deep. Now she was the one shook up—by his unexpected presence and the lengths to which he’d obviously gone to join her on the island resort.

  She swallowed hard. “I already said I wouldn’t expose you. Any reason you couldn’t take me at my word?”

  “Your sudden disappearance concerned me. It’s not like you to run.”

  His dual implication wasn’t lost on her. “It wasn’t like you gave me a choice. You lied to me and a marriage has to be based on trust.” And on love, Juliette thought.

  She supposed in a way she ought to be grateful for the revelation at the church. If not for her last-minute discovery before she said I do, she would have realized eventually that what she felt for her own husband was not real love. Because now she knew what honest and true love felt like. It was what she felt for Doug.

  “So without the marriage vows, how do I know I can trust you?” he asked wryly.

  “Because you know me. You have known me for years.” She didn’t miss the irony. She’d known him for an equally long time yet she’d been blindsided by his lies and illegal associations. Would Stuart realize the incongruity as well? At the very least she prayed that he wouldn’t suspect she was misleading him, that she’d already revealed the details of Stuart’s shady dealings to Doug, and that she planned to tell her father as soon as she returned. The senator, Juliette assumed, would take the story to either the police or the press. Either way, Stuart wouldn’t be seeing the election ballot, never mind her father’s Senate seat.

  But she had known him for years. Which led her to a lingering question. “Why, Stuart? Why get involved in dirty deals and money laundering?”

  He shook his head. “You really don’t get it, do you? Maybe we grew up next door to each other but you grew up with the money and the spotlight. I had to work for it.”

  “And you did. You worked hard and you made it. You’re almost there.”

  He sighed. “I figured Bob’s connections would give me the money to back me up as well. But what they say is true. Before you know it, you’re in too deep.”

  “So get out. It isn’t too late.”

  “It is unless I want to lose everything. I won’t let that happen. And your silence will make sure my dreams come true.” Stuart picked up a leafy hibiscus she’d laid on the table, twirling it in the air, examining the petals. “So what’s your fantasy? What are you looking for that I didn’t give you? That I knew nothing about?”

  She forced a laugh. They’d known so little about each other it was pathetic, Juliette thought. In less than a week, Doug understood her better than Stuart had after a lifetime.

  She shrugged. “Gillian surprised me with the trip. She created a fantasy. I’m just living it out,” she said, hoping he’d leave it at that.

  “It involves a man.”

  Juliette raised her eyebrows, wondering how he’d known, then silently berated herself. Between her skimpy robe and the intimate setting she’d staged, she’d given herself away. “I can’t imagine you’re jealous. Not when all you saw in me was a stepping stone to easier election.”

  Since he’d reluctantly admitted as much at the church when he realized there would be no ceremony, Juliette saw no reason to couch her words now.

  He shook his head. “Jealous is the wrong word.” He reached out for her hand, but she stepped back, away from his touch. “I’m serious, Juliette. I am concerned. You need to watch the company you keep and what you say. Otherwise no matter how much I may believe you’ll keep quiet, I won’t be able to protect you.”

  “I have kept quiet, and your concern is touching but unwarranted.” She leaned on the white chair, gripping the cool wrought iron for support. She wasn’t comfortable lying anymore than she was complacent with his trip down here and his so-called concern. “I’m not involved with anyone that’s a threat to you or your partners.” She said the last word with disdain.

  “If that’s true, then how about sharing the name of the man you’re…involved with?” Stuart said.

  She stopped herself from glancing back toward the inside of the house and giving Doug’s presence away. He could walk out at any moment or she could yell and he’d be by her side in an instant. But she refused to make a scene when she could possibly avoid one.

  She didn’t believe Stuart wanted to hurt her. He just needed to pacify his well-founded fears. “Whoever I see is no longer your concern.”

  “I told you I’m worried about you.”

  Juliette laughed. “More like you’re worried about what I might reveal.”

  “That goes without saying, considering who you’re involved with.” He stepped closer, watching her closely.

  “First you ask me who I’m involved with and now you sound as if you know. Well, which is it?” she asked, running out of patience for Stuart and his games.

  “I asked if you cared to share the name. I wondered if you even knew.”

  “Of course I know. It’s Doug…” she said, her voice trailing off. “I don’t know his last name.” She admitted that truth reluctantly, hating to give Stuart any more power over her.

  “Houston,” Stuart said. “Douglas Houston, the Chicago Tribune reporter that broke the initial story.”

  Impossible, she thought, shaking her head. Her stomach cramped but she ignored the pain. “You’re confusing him with someone else. His name is Doug, yes. But he’s from Michigan, not Chicago.”

  Yet he hadn’t revealed his last name, Juliette thought. Not even after she’d ba
red her soul and admitted her deepest secrets. Not even after they’d made love had he shared something as basic as his last name. Her heart shouted it was a coincidence but her head reminded her she’d been hurt and used before—by the man standing in front of her.

  “He’s a reporter,” Stuart said firmly. “And if he’s been spending time with you down here under false pretenses, he’s a liar as well.”

  “You’re one to talk,” she muttered. “Doug’s a…writer,” she said, her stomach plummeting once more. He’d followed in his adopted father’s footsteps, he’d said. “And his family?” Juliette asked in a soft voice. “Are they reporters, too?”

  “Journalists through and through. Are you satisfied now?”

  She believed him but she was by no means satisfied. Betrayal twisted her insides and self-disgust took hold. When would she learn? She was not a good judge of character when it came to men. She never had been, never would be.

  Juliette lowered herself into the nearest chair. “Go away, Stuart. You came and made your point. Doug is a Tribune reporter and the last person I should reveal my secrets to. And now that I know he’s as much a lying snake as you are, you have nothing to worry about, right?”

  Pure relief washed over his face. If the situation didn’t make her feel so pathetic on her part, she’d have laughed out loud.

  He stepped toward her and knelt down. “You have to know I never meant to hurt you. We were friends and I thought we could have a good life.”

  She shook her head. “I have nothing more to say. That ought to make you ecstatic, right?” She waved a hand, dismissing him.

  “You’re smart, Juliette. You always were. And you love your father. In this case, that combination will serve you well.” His implicit threat made, and apparently having gotten what he came for, Stuart was happy to be gone, leaving Juliette alone with the painful truth.

  She’d fallen in love with another man who’d used her for his own selfish ends. Ever since his original article was printed, then retracted, Douglas Houston’s name wasn’t worth squat. Another lovely word courtesy of her sister’s students. But one that fit. And Juliette had just foolishly given Doug back his entry into Chicago’s political circles.

  She’d given him the information he needed to back up his original story and clear his muddied name. Information that would crucify Stuart and his partners, and set herself up as a walking target should any of them discover that, not only could she connect them, but she’d blabbed their secrets as well.

  DOUG WATCHED Barnes’s retreat. His heart in his throat, he decided to give Juliette a few minutes to digest the information and pull herself together before facing him. It was the least he could do.

  Hell, he needed to do the same. He’d been too damn complacent, Doug thought. Too sated by their incredible lovemaking and then caught up in his mother’s concerns over his father’s health.

  He’d been distracted, which had dulled his reporter’s instincts, and he’d never expected to come upon Stuart Barnes and Juliette. Having locked the doors when he ran inside earlier, he’d never thought she’d head out to the patio alone. He hadn’t been thinking, period.

  And when the sound of conversation drifted toward him from outside, Doug prayed he’d find the waiter serving breakfast. He wasn’t so lucky. He’d stepped closer to discover Stuart Barnes had paid Juliette a visit.

  Though Doug hated ceding control, he’d quickly realized he had no choice. Should he make himself known, he’d risk Barnes jumping to the correct conclusion—that Juliette had already spilled her news. So he opted to wait and take his case to Juliette later when they were alone. Opted to allow her to make clearheaded decisions without his presence distracting her. So he’d remained out of sight, knowing he could protect her if the need arose. But nothing could alleviate the feeling of helplessness he’d suffered as truths that should have come from him were revealed in a way that gave Doug no chance for damage control. He’d listened as his future had been slowly but surely destroyed.

  He had to admit Juliette had given her faith in him her best shot. His gut had clenched as she’d attempted to deny Barnes’s claims—an admirable defense of a not-so-admirable man, Doug thought in disgust.

  He’d wanted to put her first. He’d wanted to be able to look himself in the mirror. He shook his head. He’d never be able to face himself again.

  Hell, facing Juliette now would be the beginning of his life-long punishment—a life that didn’t include her. He stepped out of the shadows and into the direct sunlight on the terrace. “Juliette.”

  She swung toward him, her normally bright eyes dull, her expression blank. “It seems we haven’t been formally introduced,” she said, rising from her seat. “We both already know who I am.” She extended her hand but remained stiff and formal.

  His stomach twisted, but not knowing what else to do, he placed his palm inside hers.

  Like she was facing a stranger, she pumped his hand firmly in a cold grip, then released him. “I’d say it was nice to meet you, Mr. Houston, but that would be a lie.” Hurt, betrayal and disbelief were all evident in her gaze.

  But one thing was more painful than the rest. After all they’d shared and as intimate as they’d been, not only did Juliette look at him as if she’d never seen him before, but she looked as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him.

  “I’d like to explain.”

  She glanced away. “The obvious needs no explanation. At least that’s what my dad always says. Then he lets us explain anyway, so you might as well go ahead.” She waved a hand dismissively, as if he were a child wanting to justify bad behavior.

  Which, he supposed, he was. He reached for her hand and she stepped back from his grasp. Frustrated, he shook his head. “Why do I get the feeling nothing I say will make a damn bit of difference?”

  “Should it?” Juliette paced the ground of the small patio. “Why don’t I make it easy for you? You had a story to tell and your name to clear. I had the information. Simple.”

  “If you think back I never once pumped you for that information.”

  She rolled her eyes. “As if you had to. I made it so easy.”

  “It’s called sharing, Juliette. You said it yourself. We shared the most important things in our lives—my childhood and your recent past. I’m a reporter but I never asked you one leading question. Don’t you want to know why?”

  She studied him but he couldn’t read anything in her closed expression. His heart pounded furiously in his chest as he grasped onto his last chance. “I love you.”

  A flash of emotion lit her eyes along with a sheen of tears. “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.” She drew an unsteady breath. “But I do have to admit one thing.”

  Ridiculous hope flared in his chest. “What’s that?”

  “Not only does your reputation precede you, but you should be proud. You’re damn good at your job.”

  Doug clenched his jaw, pain radiating straight to his head. He’d bared his soul and she didn’t believe him. Not that he blamed her. She was right. He’d done his job too damn well.

  “Juliette…”

  “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.” She swung around, placing her back toward him.

  He could have dealt with anger, disapproval or outright accusation but he got none of those. Instead he received apathy—the one thing he couldn’t fight. The one thing that would keep him at arm’s length now and maybe for good.

  “Can you just leave?” She wrapped her arms around herself, protecting herself from him.

  No matter how much he knew he was the last person who would hurt her, she’d never believe him. At least not now.

  “I want you to understand something first. I came for a story about your ex. I never intended to hurt you. Never planned to use you…” he said, his voice trailing off, knowing how lame his words sounded.

  And knowing despite his best intentions, using her was exactly what he’d done, exactly what he’d planned, no matter how he’d exc
used it at the time.

  And if he’d thought beyond his own needs he’d have realized hurting her was inevitable. “I’ll go.”

  If she deserved nothing else from him, she deserved to have her wishes granted. She deserved to have him gone.

  JULIETTE TOSSED the last item of clothing into her suitcase, then zipped it closed. Let loose and be yourself, she thought with disgust. She’d come to a conclusion that had nothing to do with self-pity, just fact—apparently it didn’t matter if she played the dutiful daughter, the politician’s fiancé or Juliette Stanton the woman, all were ripe for being used.

  When a knock sounded at her door, Juliette exhaled a sigh of relief. She’d booked an evening flight back to Chicago today and had called for someone to bring her luggage to the main part of the hotel. But instead of a bellman, she found Merrilee on the other side of the door.

  “I understand you’re checking out early,” the older woman said. Questions and compassion mixed in her gaze.

  “My plans changed.” Juliette stepped back and let her visitor inside.

  “Life rarely goes according to plan.”

  She shook her head and laughed. “You can say that again.” She hadn’t expected to fall hard for any man, especially another one who’d lied to her from the outset.

  “Would you believe me if I told you that the unexpected often works out better than anything you’d planned?”

  “At this moment? Probably not.” Juliette forced a laugh and started to cry instead. The emotion she’d held in check for the last couple of hours came rushing out, sweeping over her in full force.

  Merrilee put a hand on her back and Juliette attempted to wipe away her concerns as easily as she could swipe a hand over her eyes and dry her tears. But neither could be dismissed so easily and she found herself reliving her fantasy by confiding everything about the past few days to Merrilee.

  “I feel ridiculous,” Juliette said when she was done, sniffing and grabbing for a tissue.