Tracy Solheim - Foolish Games

“Your home is lovely.” Except for the fact that the ocean churned right outside the front door, but Julianne figured her mother-in-law considered that her home’s best advantage and not a curse, so she didn’t mention it.

“Thank you, but I can’t take the credit for decorating it. Will arranged for it.”

“That kitchen is to die for. You must love cooking.”

Annabeth laughed softly. “I rarely cook. And when I do, not in that kitchen. I have a small guest house on the other side of the garage. It has the best view.”

“So you don’t actually live in the house?” Julianne was starting to feel queasy again.

“No, the main house is Will’s. He uses it to entertain when he’s in town.”

More like he uses it to thumb his nose at the locals who’d dissed him as kid, she thought. Julianne was starting to put together a more detailed picture of Owen’s father. Sure, his mother wanted to remain in town, but Will wasn’t going to let her live in anything short of a spectacular show home.

“There are plenty of take-out menus by the phone in the kitchen. Everyone is happy to deliver,” Annabeth said quietly so not as to disturb Owen, whose eyes were slowly drifting shut. Of course they delivered. Will probably counted on everyone in town wanting a look at his fabulous bachelor pad.

“Actually, I love to cook. It relaxes me.” Julianne strolled back into the kitchen. “I’m pretty sure I could happily whip up a few meals here.” She pulled open a few cabinets to check for supplies.

“I thought you said you weren’t doing any cooking while we were here?” Will asked, as he trailed her around the kitchen as if to ensure she didn’t pilfer anything.

Julianne whirled on him, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “I said I wasn’t going to cook for you.”

Will opened his mouth to speak just as Annabeth walked into the kitchen, a sleeping Owen in her arms.

“He’s asleep.” Annabeth smiled wistfully as she gazed down on her grandson. “I forgot how beautiful they are when they sleep.”

“Remember that when he’s screaming at two A.M.” Gently, Julianne took the baby from her. “Did you have a chance to get a crib, Will?”

Annabeth nearly snorted. “Oh, I’d say. Owen probably has the most well-furnished nursery in North Carolina.”

If it was anything like the rest of the house, Julianne could well imagine. She followed Will up a flight of stairs.

“There’s a second set of stairs leading up from the foyer,” Will explained as they came to a large landing. A leather chair and ottoman sat in front of a picture window, comprising a cozy reading nook, complete with baskets of magazines and a cashmere throw blanket. The entire house looked like it had swallowed a Pottery Barn catalog. “The back of the house is the master suite. You and Owen will be up front. The two guest rooms share a bath.”

Julianne did some quick reconnaissance; if her bearings were correct, the master suite would face the ocean. With luck, her and Owen’s rooms would overlook green terra firma. Will opened the door to the nursery, and Julianne had to bite back a gasp. Not only had Will gotten the crib, but he’d bought every piece of furniture and accessory on the two-page spread she’d given him as a guide. The room looked like it had taken five weeks to put together as opposed to five days.

“How . . . how did you do this?” Julianne whispered as she laid Owen in the crib, covering him with a flannel blanket one of the nurses in the hospital had made for him.

Will shrugged his shoulders as if to say, I’m rich, famous, and a good-looking athlete, need I say more? She understood the situation quite well because, up until a few months ago, she was one of those people who kowtowed to that clientele.

She walked over to the window to draw the shade, relief gripping her as she peered out to see grass and two live oak trees below. Will picked up the monitor and headed through a spacious bathroom into another bedroom. Julianne followed. The room featured a dormer window with another comfortable chair and ottoman. Julianne felt herself relaxing further as she envisioned feeding Owen in the cozy spot each afternoon. If she had to marry a stranger and spend three months living with him, she could do a lot worse. This home was perfect, providing she could avoid the front yard.

Antiques in complementing warm woods were situated throughout the room. A queen-sized iron bed took up the rest of the space, an eclectic mix of throw pillows making it look comfortable and inviting. Julianne suddenly realized how tired she was. Nap when the baby naps, the nurses had advised her. A perfect idea. Unfortunately, there was two hundred pounds of NFL badass standing between her and forty winks.

“These are the toys I ordered.” Will pointed to a box near the closet. “They are all rated as the top toys for enhancing an infant’s learning ability.”

Julianne flopped down backward on the bed. “Oh God! You can’t be serious? Owen is just over a month old and you’re already buying him toys? You have some serious daddy issues.”

Will nudged her foot with his sneaker as he stepped closer to the bed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means.” Julianne pushed herself up off the bed; she didn’t like the way her body reacted to him looming over her. “You grew up poor, without a father, in a town that supposedly treated you badly for it. Now you do whatever it takes to flaunt how you’ve made something of yourself, with new cars”—she spread her hands out wide—“this house, and, apparently, whatever Owen needs, whether he wants it or not.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting the best for my son.” Will stepped closer, his eyes hard.

“No, there isn’t.” Julianne trod carefully. “Owen will love you for who you are. You don’t have to prove anything to him with toys or a fancy nursery. He’s the one person in this world who doesn’t care about your crappy past.”

“You know what?” Will moved in closer so that only inches separated their bodies now. “You weren’t lying before; you aren’t on drugs. You’re just bat-shit crazy!”

“Shh!” Julianne pointed to the nursery.

“Oh no, Princess, you had your turn at psychoanalyzing me, now I get my shot. You gave yourself away when you looked at the window back there. You’ve got a bad case of thalassophobia.”

“Thala . . . lasso . . . what?”

“Fear of the ocean!”

Julianne tried to laugh, but it came out sounding brittle. “Wow, no wonder your head is so big; you’ve got a lot of useless knowledge up there if you can pull that word out. Really, when your football career dries up, you should seriously consider a stint on Jeopardy.”

“Oh, no. The more I consider this theory, the more it makes sense. You fainted when you looked out front—”

“I was hungry!”

“—and you were pretty out of it on Sea Island, where there’s an ocean right outside the hotel. It’s all starting to come together.”

“You really should consider wearing a helmet when you go out on the football field.”

Will snarled at her. “Oh yeah, that’s right. You don’t remember that evening on Sea Island.”

“That part really jacks up your ego, doesn’t it? There’s actually a woman who exists who can’t remember having sex with the great William the Conqueror.” Julianne knew she was taking a risk taunting him, but she’d rather he kiss her than delve into her fears.

He grabbed her arms and pulled her against his body. “Admit it, you’re afraid of the sea,” he demanded.

“Save your brute strength for another patient, Dr. Phil, because you’re way off base here.”

He seemed to be warring with something in his mind, and Julianne suddenly realized how vulnerable she was. “Will,” she breathed.

Will’s lips moved closer. “Say it, or I’ll make you say it.”

Julianne tried to pull back. She wasn’t frightened of Will, just scared of where they both might end up if this continued.

“Don’t.” She shook her head. “Please!”

“William!”

Annabeth’s voice cut through the heated air in the room. Will shook himself before quickly releasing Julianne. She took a step back, rubbing her arms as she did so.

Will’s face was once again unreadable. Annabeth’s, on the other hand, was horrified.

Julianne needed to get away from these people before she fainted again. Will wasn’t the type to let it go, though, so she decided to just come clean. It wasn’t a state secret, anyway.

“I’m not afraid of the ocean,” she hissed. “My mother drowned at sea. It makes me uncomfortable to be near one, that’s all. I’m not afraid of anything. Especially not you!”

She stepped through the bathroom into the nursery, closing and locking the door behind her.

Will woke to the sound of a baby crying. It took him a moment to get his bearings. He glanced at the clock:

2:46

Owen had eaten a little before midnight, not that Will had been allowed to feed him. His mother, who was supposed to be on his side, kicked him out of the house right after interrupting them in Julianne’s bedroom.

“You will not bully that woman,” she’d said, pinching his ear between her fingers, much as she’d done when he was five. He was ashamed to say it still hurt. “You don’t have to trust her. You don’t have to even like her, but you will be civil to her.”

She’d shoved him out the back door, telling him to go find Gavin and not to come back until he’d cooled off. What his mother didn’t realize was that with Julianne living under the same roof, it was impossible for him to cool off. He’d accused her of being crazy, but really, it was Will who was nuts. Julianne made him that way. He felt guilty about the way he’d treated her earlier, but it was either bully her or toss her over his shoulder and give her an instant replay of their night on Sea Island—one she wouldn’t forget. The fact that she didn’t seem remotely interested frustrated him even more.