“And I really don’t want you and Nigel investing everything you have in this. I can borrow against my grandmother’s trust fund again. I just need to get Stephen’s approval since he’s the trustee.”

“Jules,” Sebastian drawled. “Nigel and I want to be partners with you. You’re the bomb. Mums all over the world will be clamoring for your baby knickers. And you needn’t worry about our finances. Nigel and I have money tucked away for our retirement. Now if you’re really worried about us, you’d reconsider setting up shop in rustic North Carolina.”

Julianne spread her notes out on the kitchen table. “No way. It’s perfect here. There are four closed textile mills within a fifty-mile radius and scores of people looking for work. The company would give the local economy a big boost. Annabeth and her friend Patricia are virtual goddesses at all the ins and outs of owning a small business. We’re going to look at potential sites tomorrow.”

“Good God! Women on a mission! Heaven help the men of that little hamlet. What does your muscle man say about all of this?”

She checked outside again. Still no sign of Will. “I haven’t told him yet. He seems to have the impression that I fly by the seat of my pants.”

Sebastian snorted.

“I want to prove to him that I don’t.” She ignored him. “I’ve successfully run a business in the past, and I can do it again. This past year has just been a cosmic glitch, a pregnant pause, pun intended. But I’m back now.”

“That’s our girl. You can bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan.”

They agreed to talk again after she’d toured the mill sites. Sebastian and Nigel planned to arrive in the States the following week so they could meet with potential suppliers. Julianne danced across the kitchen, exuberant about how everything was coming together. In a few weeks, she’d have her career back. Owen was healthy and thriving. And there was Will. Her body heated at the thought of him.

She picked up her phone to call Stephen when the red jog stroller appeared on the horizon, a shirtless Will running behind it: muscles rippling, his nylon gym shorts blowing with each stride he took. The wind whipped his hair. The sight was magnificent.

Best of all, he was jogging toward the house. Toward her. Julianne ended the call mid-dial and tossed her phone on the desk. Ignoring the tremors, she stepped out onto the verandah and took a few tentative steps across the lawn toward the dunes that separated the house from the shore.

Will pushed the stroller along the pier leading over the dunes. He stopped in the middle and turned the stroller around so Owen faced her. The baby chortled when he saw Julianne, his chubby legs pumping up and down. Will knelt beside him.

“That’s right, Owen. Tell Mommy she can do it. Tell her we’ll protect her.” He was speaking to the baby, but his eyes never left her face.

Will pushed his sunglasses up on his head, and she could see the encouragement beaming within those eyes.

Julianne pondered the quiet ocean at Will’s back as she chewed her bottom lip. The shore was still twenty yards or more beyond the dunes. If she joined them on the deck, the ocean couldn’t exactly reach out and grab her. She was being ridiculous just standing there on the grass. Before she could think about it further, she sprinted across the lawn and up onto the pier. Will greeted her with open arms, twirling her around by the waist, before pulling her in for a lusty kiss. Owen squealed in delight, his fisted hands punching the air.

“Soon, Cheerio, we’ll take Mommy swimming with us,” Will promised.

Julianne bit her lip as she buried her face in Will’s bare neck to avoid looking at the ocean behind them. In Will’s arms she felt invincible, but for now, this was as brave as she wanted to be. She’d think about swimming later. Much later.

* * *

Julianne was seated at the small desk in the kitchen sketching when Will sneaked up behind her, bending down to kiss her neck. She shoved the drawings into her folder. “You’d better be careful, Brody, my husband is upstairs and he might hear us. Oww!” She yelped as he bit the tender skin.

“What are you drawing?” he asked as he made his way over to the fridge and pulled out a bottled water.

She hesitated a moment, unsure whether to reveal her plans now or wait until everything was finalized. Deciding to stick to her original plan, she turned to face him. Will leaned against the counter, his hair still damp from his shower. He was dressed in shorts and a Yale T-shirt, ready to help Gavin coach a Little League game.

“Just some ideas I have for Owen’s clothes,” she hedged. “What time is the game?”

Will looked at her quizzically for a moment, as if he knew there was more she wasn’t telling him. She held his gaze.

“I need to be at the field in a few minutes,” he finally answered.

Julianne ambled over to where he stood and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Well, as much as I hate to let you wander around town alone looking so fine, I have to wait until your mom gets off work to babysit Owen before I can join you. Don’t forget, you promised me a beer at Pier Pressure after the game. I’m a lightweight, so you’ll definitely get lucky later.” She stretched up on her toes and kissed the side of his mouth, running her tongue along his lower lip.

He pulled back slightly to better study her. “Julianne, you sure everything’s okay?”

With both hands, she cupped his chin. “Better than okay. I’m drawing again, but things are still evolving. Please don’t take it personally. Please?”

Their eyes held for a moment before he nodded. He kissed her on the forehead.

“Owen’s asleep, so you should have some quiet time to work before my mother gets here. I’ll see you at the ball field later.” He grabbed his gym bag and headed out the door.

Julianne wrapped her arms around herself. It wasn’t like she was hiding anything from Will. She just didn’t feel comfortable involving him in this part of the process because it meant raising money. Their relationship was still tenuous and they were still establishing trust with each other. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea and think she was only with him for his money. With a sigh, she looked at the clock: four forty. If she hurried, she could still catch Stephen before he left his office.

After nearly ten minutes on hold, her brother picked up the phone. “Julianne, how are you? Is the baby okay?”

She sighed. “Owen’s fine, Stephen. I didn’t mean to panic you by calling. I just thought I’d save you the trouble of calling me today.”

“I thought we’d gotten past this.”

“We have. Look, Stephen, I called because I’m putting together a business plan for a new line I’m designing. You were concerned when I sold JV Designs, so I just wanted to give you a heads-up that I am thinking about my future.”

Stephen was silent on the other end of the phone.

“I’m launching a line of baby clothes,” she blurted out. “We’ll start out as an online or catalog company first, but Sebastian has a lead on potential retailers who might be interested.”

“Well, Julianne, that sounds great. I hadn’t realized you were ready to get back into the business so soon. Just a month ago you sounded as though you didn’t know what you would do. This is certainly a vast improvement. How are you going to pay for it?”

It was just like her brother to cut directly to the chase.

“I have money left from the sale, and Sebastian and Nigel are investing. But I need to borrow from Grandmother Marchione’s trust again.”

Their paternal grandmother had left money for each of her grandchildren to do with what they chose. With the exception of Julianne. It seemed her grandmother had not approved of her son’s second wife, Julianne’s artist mother. So she’d insisted that Julianne not receive her funds until she was thirty—still two years away—in hopes that by that time she would be less inclined to waste the money on the bohemian artist’s lifestyle her mother had pursued. Ironically, Julianne’s career in fashion would not have been possible had her brother not suggested she borrow against the trust in the first place. She’d paid the fund back, with interest. Her grandmother had likely somersaulted in her grave.

“The fund wouldn’t be as big today were it not for the interest I contributed, Stephen.”

“I realize that. And of course you can borrow the money. I’ll never understand why Grandmother chose to punish you for how your hippie mother lived her life. She shouldn’t have put such severe stipulations on your trust fund. I certainly don’t need to be the gatekeeper to your inheritance.”

Julianne sank down in the chair at her little desk in the kitchen, relief and agitation rolling through her at the same time. It was no use arguing with her brother about her mother. Like their grandmother, Stephen had never been fond of his stepmother. Fortunately, he never took it out on Julianne. He had made her jump through hoops to borrow the money originally, but she’d proved herself a competent businesswoman, so she hoped he’d be more lenient this time.

She began doodling Stephen’s name with devil horns on her folder. “So can we just use the same terms we did eight years ago? I’d like to get the cash as soon as possible.”

“How much do you need?”

“The whole seventy-five thousand if possible.” She drew a star with $75,000 written inside it.

Stephen blew out a breath. “I’ll see what I can do. But it may be next week before I can get it to you. And the terms will be adjusted to reflect today’s rates. You’ll need to sign your agreement to that.”

Julianne finally relaxed in the chair. She knew he could make it more difficult for her, but it still irked her to have to ask her brother for the money. It was hers, after all. “Next week will be fine. Thank you, Stephen.”