Tracy Solheim - Foolish Games

The smile he gave her wasn’t his forced cover-boy mug but a genuine grin. “Everything is going to work out, Julianne. You’ll see.”

Before she got the chance to ask him what he meant, his car door was yanked open and Will was dragging him out by his shirt collar.

“Will, stop it!” she yelled as she scrambled out of the car and raced to the other side. “What are you doing?” She grabbed onto the back of his shirt and pulled, but it was useless; both men were grappling to get a better hold of one another.

“Damn it, Connelly! Get your hands off me! I’m getting sick and tired of you going all caveman every time I’m around.” Brody kneed Will in the thigh and slipped out of his grip, causing Julianne to get tangled up in Will’s legs.

“And I’m getting sick and tired of you constantly having your hands on my wife!” Will charged after him again, but Julianne stepped in between them.

“I said stop it!” she yelled. Both men ignored her.

“Dude! If you were a little more sensitive to your wife’s needs, I wouldn’t have to step in so much!”

Julianne froze at Brody’s words. Did the man have a death wish? And what was he talking about?

Will’s voice was like a whip cutting through the air. “What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

“It means she doesn’t know how to drive a car, you idiot!” Brody shrugged at Julianne’s gasp. “My mistake, she does know how to drive. She just doesn’t like to. Sorry, Julianne, but he was bound to find out anyway, and I’m getting a little sick of fighting off his ugly mug in my face when I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m out of here.” He stalked off down the drive.

They stood in silence a moment and Julianne worked to regain her equilibrium. Will finally turned toward her, his face stony. “Storms, the ocean, and driving. Are there any more phobias you have that you want to share with me, Princess?”

She swore in Italian before storming around the car, pulling out the bags of groceries, and heading into the kitchen. Tears stung her eyes as she tossed the fresh vegetables on the counter. It was bad enough to live life as a quivering mass of phobias and insecurities, but somehow having Will know all her secrets made her feel totally exposed, raw. It was more than she could handle.

Will carried the remaining groceries in and began unpacking the bags. “It’s a fair question. You’ll be taking care of my son and I need to know what is going to . . . provoke you.”

Julianne turned from the fridge, tears falling freely down her face now. “Provoke me? Besides you, you mean? Should I just give you a list so you can declare me an unfit mother right now?”

His silence told her all she needed to know. As far as he was concerned, she was a flake. Too fragile to take a chance on. Every other man in her life felt the same way: old boyfriends, her brother, her father, even Nicky. Why should her fake husband be any different? Worse, this man could use her insecurities against her to take away her son.

“Well,” she choked out, “I believe that’s a complete catalog of my phobias, Will. I don’t think any of them are hereditary, if that’s what you’re worried about. He’d have to survive a car accident in a raging thunderstorm that tossed the car into the ocean in order to become as emotionally wrecked as I am. Since all of those things terrify me, Owen should be quite safe when he’s in my care.”

A sob racked her body as she tried to escape the kitchen, but Will was too fast for her.

“Jesus!” he whispered as he pulled her into his arms.

Julianne tried to pull away, but he was stronger.

“Julianne,” he breathed into her hair. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

His big hand rubbed her back, and her body involuntarily relaxed. There was something about being in Will’s arms that called to her. All these years after the accident and she still craved the gentle hugs only her mother had ever bothered to give her. Julianne’s father blamed her for the death of her mother, sending her off to boarding school weeks after the accident. Stephen, twelve years older, was a stranger and provided little comfort. Nicky had been the only constant in her life. But his was an emotional comfort, not physical. Until Will, she hadn’t known how big that hole was in her life.

“Your mother. Was she driving the car?”

Nodding, she gulped back another sob as she nestled in further against Will’s chest.

“I’m sorry, Princess. I’m an ass.” He brushed his lips against her forehead. “I didn’t mean it.”

He leaned down to peer into her eyes. “None of this is your fault,” he whispered.

“Except it is,” she sobbed. “All of it.”

Will lifted her in his arms and carried her to the family room, sitting down in the bulky armchair, tucking Julianne in his lap.

“No, Julianne, it’s not. Whatever happened, happened when you were a child. You’re not to blame.”

He stroked her hair and she snuggled into the haven of his arms. They sat quietly for a few moments with only the sound of the ocean butting up against the seawall and Owen’s steady breathing over the baby monitor.

“We were at my mother’s studio in San Vincenzo. I wanted to go back to Rome to see my dad. I don’t know why, but I was angry at my mom. I’ve tried for years to remember what provoked me, but I can’t. It’s weird because I loved my mom. She was my best friend. We never fought, but that day I desperately wanted my dad.”

Will said nothing, simply stroking her hair.

“There was a terrible storm. I was in the backseat of the car sleeping, but the thunder woke me. My mom was in the front seat with Nicky.”

She felt Will’s body stiffen. Julianne sat up and looked into his eyes. “Nicky and I have been friends since we were kids. Our fathers were in the diplomatic corps together. He’s like family.”

Will slowly nodded. She wasn’t sure if he was accepting her defense of Nicky or he just wanted her to go on.

“It’s weird, though; my mother and Nicky were arguing, too. I can’t remember what about, though. And when I’ve asked him, he always says it was nothing.” She sighed. “Anyway, my mother went to take a sharp turn and the wheels slipped off the road. The next thing I remember, we were in the water, the car submerging. My mom wouldn’t move. There was a lot of blood on her forehead.” She paused to catch her breath. “Nicky pulled me out of the backseat and pushed me out of the car before it sank all the way. We couldn’t get Mama. The car was gone before we could reach her.”

“Shh.” Will pulled her back against him as tears streamed down her face, his hand once again rubbing her back. “It’s okay, Princess. You’re safe now. You’re with me.”

And for the first time in many years, Julianne did feel safe. Safe in the arms of the man who was, but wasn’t, her husband.

“No wonder you were such a wreck that night of Chase’s wedding.” His lips found her forehead again. “I’m sorry. I took advantage of you.”

She turned to face him, her finger tracing his jaw. “No. I needed someone to take care of me that night. And for the first time, someone was there for me . . . you.”

He toyed with a strand of her hair. “None of this is your fault. The accident. Your mother’s death. Owen. None of it, Julianne.”

His face begged her to believe him. Staring into his sparkling green eyes, she felt lighter than she had in many years. More hopeful. She moved her finger to trace his lips, and his eyes clouded with hunger. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him. To start fresh. The corners of his mouth turned up as if he could read her mind.

“Ahem.”

Annabeth stood in the doorway, the baby monitor in her hand. Owen was whining softly.

Julianne jumped from Will’s lap. “Annabeth! Hi.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting.” Julianne nudged Will, but he didn’t get up, a pained expression crossed his face.

“I thought I’d spend a little time with my grandson.” Annabeth waved the monitor. “It sounds like he’s awake.”

Julianne kicked Will in the shin until he stood.

“I was just going to give him a bath, Mom. Why don’t you give me a hand?”

His mother eyed them both. “Sure.”

“Annabeth.” Julianne rushed over to her. “Please, would you join us for dinner?”

Will groaned softly behind her.

“Oh, no. I don’t want to impose on your time together.”

Julianne shot Will a withering glance. “No, you wouldn’t be imposing. We’re having a dinner party tonight. You should come. Please. We hardly ever see you. You’re always at the shop. It would mean a lot to me.”

Will rolled his eyes, and Julianne was tempted to spear him in the side.

Annabeth looked at her son, who just shrugged.

“I’m making chicken marsala.” Julianne pasted on a sunny smile.

“In that case, how can I resist?” Annabeth turned to the stairs as Owen’s pleas became more insistent. “I’ll just go up and rescue the little prince while you get his bath ready, Will.”

Will groaned as he followed his mother out of the room. Julianne practically skipped to the kitchen, where she immersed herself in preparing a gourmet meal.

Hank’s daughter had pink hair. Will wasn’t sure why he found that fact so disconcerting, but he did. The Blaze GM was a taciturn, studious man who managed the team like the former military officer he was. It was hard to reconcile that personality with a father who’d tolerate his teenager dyeing her hair . . . pink.

Yet there Hank stood in Will’s great room, a bemused expression on his face as he watched his daughter coo at Owen. The baby was fascinated with her, studying the scene intently from his grandmother’s lap. Even more confusing, Sophie with the pink hair seemed very familiar with Will’s mother, as if they were long-lost friends. For her part, his mother chatted warmly with the girl but avoided making eye contact with Hank.