Текст книги "After This Night"

Автор книги: Lauren Blakely

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sometime in the last few weeks he’d decided several things.

That she might be lying. That she might be trouble. That he might be about to become the poster child for fool me twice, shame on me.

But most of all, he’d decided that his gut told him she’d meant what she said. Even though she hadn’t given him the details of why there’d been a man with a gun demanding her presence, he’d made the choice to believe her.

Blind trust, maybe. Or possibly blind something else. Either way, his instincts said she was telling the truth. His gut had served him throughout his career, so he’d decided to listen to it.

Now that he was here with her, he wasn’t thinking with his gut. He wasn’t thinking at all. He was feeling.

His whole body was humming, vibrating at a frequency only she could sense. His skin sizzled, and blood rushed hot through his veins. Nearness to her was an aphrodisiac.

“I like your suit,” she said, going first.

“I like your dress.”

“You’re here,” she said with wonder in her voice as she eyed him up and down. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of the way she looked at him with hunger, need, and passion.

“I’m here,” he said, quirking up his lips. They stood gazing at each other, but they hadn’t touched yet. They were inches apart, and there was something almost fragile about this moment. As if they might break if one of them moved. He didn’t know who would make the first move, but he hoped it would be her since he’d made the effort to show up.

“How?” she asked, still breathless.

“Your sister and her husband.”

“They invited you?” she asked, her lips curving into a wide, gorgeous smile.

“Invited. Or insisted. Take your pick.”

“Really?” she asked, and a breeze blew by, making the soft little tendrils of her hair flutter against her neck. He wanted to bend his head to her neck, layer her skin in kisses that made her shiver in his arms and melt into him, that turned her so hot inside her knees went weak and she nearly buckled with desire. He’d catch her, hold her, make sure she didn’t fall, except into him.

He did none of that. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, or else he’d be touching her, wrapping his arms around her, running his fingertips along her hipbone, covered in the fabric of her black dress.

“Yes. Really. Chris invited me a week ago, and said he needed his lawyer here. Which was about the worst case of acting I’d ever heard, since no one needs his entertainment lawyer at his wedding, so McKenna grabbed the phone, reprimanding him, and then laid it out.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she thought it would make you happy if I were here, and that you being happy was the greatest gift she could have on her wedding day. Well, besides marrying Chris,” he said with a happy shrug. “Far be it from me to deny the bride of my newest client her greatest wish.”

He watched Julia process his words. She swallowed, drew in a sharp breath, and clasped her hand over her mouth, covering a sob. A tear slipped down her cheek.

Instantly, he reached for her, swiping the tear away and leaning in close. “You okay?”

She nodded. “I just love my sister so much,” she said in a broken voice. “But she’s wrong.”

Clay stiffened. No. Not now. Not after he’d taken this big chance. This big leap. Not after all their emails and calls. “Why is she wrong?”

Julia shook her head. “Because I’m not just happy. I’m unbelievably happy that you’re here.”

The darkness lifted, and his entire body felt light and full of hope. She wrapped her arms around his neck, threading her fingers in his hair, and tilting her chin up to him. He ached all over just being near to her. She licked her lips, kept her eyes on him, and he’d never seen a more beautiful woman, nor had he ever wanted to kiss someone as much as he wanted to this very second.

He ran the backs of his fingers softly against her cheek, watching as she leaned into him, her eyes floating closed for a brief second as she whispered, “You may kiss the maid-of-honor.”

“Now that makes me unbelievably happy,” he said, gathering her in his arms, tugging her beautiful body close to his, and brushing his lips gently across hers. She gasped lightly when he made contact, that involuntary sound the most perfect reminder of why he’d listened to Chris and McKenna, snapped up a ticket, and flew across the country. Why he took the chance once again with Julia. He could pretend he was doing this for a client, simply responding properly to an invitation for a social occasion. He knew better than to lie to himself. He was doing this because he’d made the choice to trust her. The alternative—being without her—was too much to bear.

But he was also choosing to let go of the past. He wasn’t going to blame Julia for Sabrina’s problems, nor punish himself either by reassigning them to her. The month apart from her—all talk and no contact—had reset his head in some unexpected way, reassuring him that he could try again.

By God, how he wanted to try again as she melted into him, her body so tantalizingly close as they kissed under the sun, surrounded by wedding guests who surely didn’t care what two random people were doing because they weren’t the bride and the groom. They were the maid-of-honor and the man who had to have her, no matter the cost. He kissed her tenderly at first, light and soft as the moment called for, here on the bluff, San Francisco Bay waves rolling on by. But as she inched closer to him, pressing the full length of her gorgeous frame against his, the gentleness fell away. A groan worked its way up his chest. He pulled her harder, needing her as close as could be, needing her mouth. She whimpered and parted her lips, inviting him to taste more. He explored her with his tongue, kissing her the kind of way two lovers kiss when they haven’t seen each other in a month.

What a long, hard month it had been. She wriggled her hips subtly against his cock, which was straining now against the zipper of his pants. The barest of contact with his erection sent his body spinning. “Julia,” he whispered harshly, her name a warning.

Her mouth fell away from his, and she brushed her lips along his jaw, up to his ear. “I want you,” she said, in a hot murmur. “I want you now.”

Nothing else mattered but grabbing her hand, and finding the nearest coat closet so he could slam the door and take her.

But the second he laced his fingers through hers, someone tapped on her shoulder.

“Picture time!”

The bride was beaming, and her smile could light up a midnight skyline, he reckoned. But then, that’s how it should be on your wedding day.

Julia brushed her hand once over the front of her dress, as if she were smoothing it out, then McKenna caught Clay’s eye.

“You made it,” she shrieked, then threw her arms around his neck. He angled himself so she couldn’t feel his hard-on. The last thing he needed was the bride thinking he was a pervert, or telling the groom that his new lawyer had been sporting wood.

“Congratulations, McKenna. I’m so happy for you and Chris,” he said, and when she pulled away he continued. “And I donated to the New York City ASPCA in your honor.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” she said, then patted the outside of her leg, and a blond Lab-Hound-Husky arrived at her side, parking herself perfectly in a sit. “But Ms. Pac-Man thanks you.”

“She’s even cuter in person,” Clay said, gesturing to the dog, before he extended a hand to the groom, congratulating him as well on the nuptials.

Soon, McKenna scurried her sister, her husband and her dog away for photos. Julia leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek before they headed to the bluff for a round of pictures.

Clay took a deep breath, and hoped the photographer made quick work behind the lens.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Clay turned to see his buddy Davis. “Hey man,” he said, clapping his friend on the back, though Davis was joking—Clay had told him the other night that he’d be at the wedding. Davis was here with Jill, the groom’s sister.

“Guess we’re the odd men out,” Davis said, tipping his forehead to the wedding party that included the women both of them were involved with.

Wait. Was he involved with Julia again? Or was it crazy to think that, given the track record they both had of running? He didn’t know what they were, or what they would be.

“Yep. Looks like we are,” Clay said. “Think this’ll be you anytime soon?”

Davis nodded, a sneaky glint in his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I believe I will be popping the question at the Tony Awards next month.”

Clay smiled widely, then hugged his friend. “Congrats, man. That’s fantastic. You two are great together.”

“I think so too.”

As he chatted with Davis, neither of them did a very good job of looking anywhere but at the wedding party, Davis’s eyes on Jill, Clay’s on Julia. There was something both peaceful and right about this moment, this wedding, these people he barely knew who’d invited him into their most important day. It felt fitting to be here, and soon the gorgeous redhead would be back by his side where she belonged.

* * *

There was no time for a quickie. The moment the photographer had finished shooting the wedding party, the cocktail hour started, as waiters passed out flutes of bubbly champagne. The festivities had moved inside to a gorgeous reception room with a baby grand piano and floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the water. The decor reflected the bride’s and groom’s passion for games and animals with the name cards at place settings stamped with Mr. Monopoly, and the centerpiece flowers boasting a wooden cutout of a hound dog.

Chris tapped a fork against a glass, cleared his throat and stood next to his new wife by the head table. “First of all, thank you so much for coming. I’m pretty sure I’m the luckiest guy in the world simply because I have this woman as my wife. To also see so many friends and family here makes the occasion all the better, even though I’d have married her anywhere—in a box, on a boat, in the rain, on a train,” he said, then paused to look at McKenna. She rolled her eyes playfully. “What? It’s true,” he said to her, but loud enough for everyone to hear. He faced the guests again. “Anyway, I’m going to keep this short and sweet, and turn the microphone over to the best man and the maid-of-honor. And since I’m a ladies first kind of a guy, we’ll start with Julia. Take it away.”

Julia crossed the few feet to Chris and took the microphone, then turned to the crowd. “It’s truly an honor to be here and to be able to say a few words about my favorite person in the world and her favorite person in the world,” she said, stopping to gesture at Chris.

“Hey! You’re still a favorite,” McKenna called out.

Julia waved her off playfully. “I’m still a little surprised though as to why Chaucer isn’t here to give a toast. Do you all know Chaucer?” she asked the crowd. Most of them shook their heads. “Let me tell you a story. Chaucer is our friend’s Siamese cat, and he was something of a matchmaker for Chris and McKenna. He’s one of those dastardly Siamese cats who likes to make his mark in the world. But, lest everyone think cat pee is a bad thing all the time, there are the rare cases where cat pee brings two people together. Because when Chaucer peed on McKenna’s camera many months ago, she brought it to the electronics store to find a replacement. And who would she happen to meet there but this man,” Julia said patting Chris on the shoulder. “And Chris, being an industrious and resourceful fellow, and naturally, being completely smitten with McKenna from the second he saw her, gamely offered to repair her camera,” she said, a smile breaking across her face as she told the story. From across the crowd of glittering lights and gorgeously arrayed tables, she spotted Clay, his eyes fixed on her. Suddenly she felt as if the whole room had disappeared and she was talking only to him. Sharing a love story with her man. “Of course, it wasn’t always easy, and McKenna had a bit of a stubborn side about some things.”

“I’ll say,” Chris chimed in, as he draped an arm around his wife and planted a sweet kiss on her cheek, earning a collective aww from the guests.

“But here we are, despite the stubbornness from my big sis, because she realized what a good thing she had in front of her, and that giving up her stubborn ways was worth it.” She locked eyes with Clay once more, and the lightness of the speech drained away, replaced instead by the deeper possibility of whether she could give up the things she held too tightly. She’d never truly considered it until that moment, but was there a chance she was being stubborn, too, by clutching her secrets and her shame in her hands? She’d always considered her troubles to be completely solo problems, but they were growing far less solitary given Charlie’s encroachment on her personal territory lately, from his heated asides about McKenna to sending his heavy with the runny nose to her salon that morning.

But she didn’t want to think about Skunk or any of them right now. She wouldn’t let them mar this day.

With a quick swallow, she soldiered on. “And, as anyone can see, they are perfect for each other, from their shared love of karaoke, to their steadfast belief that California is the only suitable place to live, to their affection for games, from Candyland all the way to Halo and Qbert. Because ultimately, isn’t that part and parcel of what makes a love last through the years? Common interests and passion, whether it’s for adventure,” she said, and now she was talking only to the man across the room, “or a good crime flick. Or even just the same, how shall we say, preferences,” she said, taking a beat to enjoy the way he fought back a naughty grin. “I like to think those little things are also big things. And Chris and McKenna have all of that. So, here’s to the bride and groom.” She held up her champagne glass.

As Chris’s brother began his toast seconds later, she threaded her way through the guests and clinked glasses with Clay. “Cheers.”

“That was a beautiful speech,” he said, his deep brown eyes searching hers.

“I meant every word.”

“Every word?” He raised an eyebrow as he took a drink.

“Every single one.”

* * *

After the first dance, McKenna tugged her friends to the floor when Jill belted out a karaoke version of Matchbox Twenty’s “Overjoyed.” Julia felt the soprano’s voice literally vibrate through the reception hall, her Broadway belt glittering with energy and strength as she wowed the crowd. “She’s totally going to win a Tony for Best Actress in a Musical, isn’t she?” Julia said to Clay, with chills on her arms as a result of Jill’s talent.

“Honestly, I don’t see how she can’t. She brings down the house every single night in Crash the Moon.”

Once Jill stepped off the stage, the music shifted back to the sound system and Billie Holiday’s jazzy voice warbled through the speakers. “My sister loves the old standards. Sinatra, Holiday, the King,” she said by way of explanation.

“As do I,” he said, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor as “All or Nothing At All” piped overhead.

Clay’s hands found their way to her hips, settling in comfortably as she roped her arms around his neck, her fingertips brushing against his soft, thick hair. The song played as other couples danced, and they swayed past Jill and Davis, and Chris and McKenna. Julia kept her gaze on Clay, loving the intensity in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, because it felt so much better to be patently honest with him than to deny what she felt. She’d flopped back and forth between shooing her feelings out the door and acting upon them. She didn’t want the back and forth anymore.

“So am I.”

They twirled in lazy circles, as the words and music filled the room.

“All or nothing at all. Half a love never appealed to me. If your heart never could yield to me then I’d rather have nothing at all.”

The words pulsed around Julia like living, breathing creatures, then slipped into all the crevices of her hardened heart. They reminded her that halfway was the worst way. She’d tried so desperately to pack herself in ice, to feel nothing at all those nights at Charlie’s games, but instead she’d felt everything. She felt the shame of Dillon’s betrayal, the anger at being Charlie’s pawn, and the cruel distance she had kept with the man she was falling for. She’d always thought she was protecting her family and friends by keeping her own secrets, but the events of this morning outside the salon were a cold reminder that blindfolding them to her problems might not work forever. Whether she liked it or not, she might very well need help. Clay had offered to listen, to sort through things. She knew he couldn’t snap a finger and make her debt magically disappear, but maybe he could at least be there for her as she raced to meet Charlie’s moving target of a deadline.

“Clay,” she began nervously, and already she could hear the potholes in her own voice. She’d have an easier time speaking with marbles in her mouth than saying this.

“Yes?” he asked, tugging her closer, warming her skin with his body.

All or nothing at all. If it’s love there is no in-between.

Billie Holiday whispered in her ear, urging her on, reminding her to be strong. “You know when you asked me that night at my apartment what was going on?”

“Yes,” he said, like a gentle invitation for her to keep speaking. She could do this. She could tell him. After all, he’d flown all the way across the country. He’d opened his heart to her, taking chances left and right that she’d barely earned. He wanted her honesty more than anything else, and though she might scare him all the way back to New York when she told him, she also knew he wasn’t a man who trafficked in fear. This man could take on anyone.

“I’m ready to tell you,” she said, the words tumbling on top of each other, jostling to break free.

“Tell me,” he said, gripping her hips harder as his eyes widened. He stopped dancing, grasped her hand, and guided her outside of the reception hall.

Once outside, she shivered. The evening had settled in, bringing with it the California chill from the bay. He took off his suit jacket, and slipped it over her shoulders. The gesture emboldened her.

“You remember that guy who came up to me outside my apartment?” Her stomach nosedived as she began. “When I lied about who you were?”

“Yes. Of course.”

She inhaled sharply, letting the cool air fill her chest, hoping it would settle her flip-flopping insides. “I lied because I was scared. Because I was trying to protect you. Which I know sounds silly, because you’re this big, strong man,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm lightly. “But I don’t want him or anyone going after you because I care about you.”

“Why would he or anyone go after me?”

This was the hardest part. When she told him why. The words threatened to lodge in her chest, refusing to come out, but she shucked off the red-hot shame. “My ex? The one who’s gone—I told you about him that night in your bath?”

His features tightened, and his brow furrowed. “Yeah. Where is he?”

“I still don’t know. The IRS is looking for him, and I haven’t a clue. He left the country, and he left with $100,000 stolen from the mob. He claimed the money was a loan for me to expand my bar, so when he took off, the mob boss came to collect. With me.”

Clay’s mouth hung open.

She never thought this polished, confident man would be speechless, but that’s what she’d done to him because he’d gone mute from the shock. Seconds ticked by, then a full minute, it seemed. He scrubbed a hand across his jaw as if he were thinking, trying to process what she’d said.

“I know it’s probably not something you hear too often. Hi, sweetie. I’m wanted by the mob.”

“No,” he said, managing a brief, dry laugh. “Don’t hear that very often at all.”

“So when Stevie came by he needed me to go to a game.”

“Game?”

“I play poker for this guy, Charlie. Stevie is his enforcer. I’m Charlie’s ringer. He makes me play in rigged poker games to win back the money Dillon stole.”

Clay stepped away, looking unsteady on his feet and ashen. “Are you serious?”

She nodded. “Completely. I’m really amazingly good at poker. Always have been. And I win most of the time. And now I hate playing because I’m forced to play for him to pay off a debt that isn’t even mine.”

“That’s a fucking mess, Julia,” he said, his voice a raw scrape. And it scared her.

He was going to run now, wasn’t he? Nobody wanted this kind of mess in their lives. He probably didn’t believe her, either. Probably thought she was lying to him like Sabrina had done, and figured she was going to ask him for money too. Crap. She had to fix this.

She moved closer. “Did I scare you off?”

“No. I’m just . . . I just . . . I didn’t think that was the issue.”

“What did you think it was?”

“I honestly don’t know. But that’s some crazy stuff, Julia,” he said, and she detected a note of skepticism.

She cycled through things to do or say to prove herself. “I want you to trust me and I know you have every reason not to trust me. You also have to know I’m not asking you for money. I’ve never asked anyone for money. If I were going to I would ask my sister, but I have kept her and everyone I love out of this because it’s my problem. I want you to believe me. Do you believe me?”

His lips parted and he paused briefly then said yes. But she needed him to believe it with every ounce of his being.

“No. I want you to believe me with the same certainty that you want to fuck me,” she said, pushing hard on his chest now. Flames of anger licked her chest. She’d opened her deepest, darkest secret and she didn’t want a shred of doubt.

He held up his hands as if he were backing off from her. “Fine. I believe you.”

“The expression in your eyes tells me otherwise. You asked me to open up to you. I’m baring my fucking heart to you. Charlie gave me a deadline, and he’s threatening my bar and my co-worker, and he showed up this morning at my hair salon, and he’s circling me,” she said, holding her hands out wide. She flashed onto something he’d told her once about a friend of his. “I am mad and I am terrified. I’m not asking you for money. I’m asking you to believe me, and you need to believe me completely. So call your friend.”

He crinkled his nose as if her words didn’t compute. “My friend?”

“The lawyer who runs people down for you? You said he tracked down intel on people you weren’t sure about.”

“Yeah, my friend Cam. He can get the goods on anyone.”

Julia dug into her small satin clutch purse and grabbed her phone. She thrust it at him. “Call him. The guy is Charlie Stravinski, he owns Mr. Pong’s restaurant in China Town,” she said, rattling off the address. “He also owns Charlie’s Limos. I’m sure your friend can verify who he is. That’s the guy who owns me.”

“Julia,” he said softly, his voice strained, and that sound was terribly familiar. It felt lethal. It was the sound of his voice when he ran. It was the way he’d spoken to her on the street. She tensed all over, and she wished she could unwind the last fifteen minutes of honesty, zip them up and toss them in a body bag into the ocean. She should have continued leaving him in the blissfully ignorant state that made him jet out to San Francisco to see her. He’d been falling for her; she could see it, feel it, sense it. Now she’d shattered what they could have had. Whoever said honesty was the best policy didn’t have the mob on her tail.

He breathed out hard, pressed his lips together, and seemed to be debating. “Julia,” he said again, his expression softer. “You don’t have to prove it. I came out here because I trust you, and if we’re going to be together the way we want, the way I want, the way you want, I’m not going to ask you to prove who some guy is.”

But she needed him to know she wasn’t making up Charlie. “It’s important to me that you know this for certain and not just because I said so. I need to have proven myself to you. Call your friend, give him the info, and you’ll know I’m not lying. I have a price tag on my head.”