THE CHAMBER
ERIC DIDN’T NORMALLY attend Chamber of Commerce events. He didn’t have time for them. Networking was something he typically left to Walt. Except now that Walt’s networking style was currently under scrutiny, Eric decided to mill around and see what he could overhear through the grapevine.
It took one look around the Chamber’s event room of the Waldorf Astoria for Eric to remember why he didn’t bother with these things. He knew just about everyone there was to know who that could benefit his business, so there was never any real reason to share a mediocre breakfast with bankers or journalists, nor was there a need to hear motivational speeches from hotel conglomerates.
However…this morning he spied a notorious real estate developer talking amongst a small group of people and Eric decided that if he was going to indulge in the grapevine, that would be a good place to start.
But would anyone say anything about anything in his presence?
Sucking in a breath and securing the button on his suit jacket, he made his way across the room. Almost immediately, Aaron Parker, of Parker Development, noticed his presence as he approached.
“I’ll be damned,” he marveled as he turned and extended his hand to Eric. “Eric-fucking-Reynolds. Since when do you attend shit like this?”
Eric had always liked Aaron. He was slightly taller than Eric, with dark blonde hair and a tan that made him look like he belonged in Los Angeles rather than New York. He was a fit forty-something that never managed to look a day over thirty-five, and he was known as one of Manhattan’s most eligible bachelors—happily.
Eric and Aaron had a pretty good working relationship, he liked to think. One thing he knew they had in common was the way they both despised T&K Contracting—and that was why Reynolds always got first dibs on Parker’s properties.
Other than that, Aaron was a pretty cool guy to have a beer with.
“So, how’s the business?”
Eric arched an amused eyebrow. “Oh. So, networking really does happen at these things. Noted.”
Aaron threw his head back in laughter. “You must be one of the ninety percent who’s only here for the free food—like me.”
“Is it any good?”
“Eh, I’ve had better.” Pausing, Aaron’s eyes darted around. “You’re, uh, missing someone, aren’t you?”
Oh, yes. This was getting good sooner than he’d expected. “Walt was unavailable, so I thought I’d show my face to prove that I do, in fact, exist.”
Aaron smirked. “I wasn’t referring to Walt. I was referring to the brunette powerhouse you’ve been hanging around with lately. Trust me, all of New York knows you exist.”
Instantly, the hair stood on the back of Eric’s neck. Goddamn it, Aaron, don’t do this. Don’t be one of them.
Obviously, Eric’s expression was more animated than he thought, because Aaron chuckled lightly and lowered his voice. “Don’t worry, man. It’s not like that. She’s good at what she does, we’ve never spoken on a personal level. Closest I’ve ever gotten to her is holding the door for her after a business lunch. It’s not, you know…like that. I respect her professionally. Period.”
Eric let out a silent breath through his nose. He had to get a grip. He shouldn’t have let his jealousy get the better of him like that. He shouldn’t have been jealous in the first place. Of anything. Juliet had a past. She had a life before him. He could respect that. But coming in contact with former lovers stung a little.
It was a good thing Eric trusted Aaron.
“So,” a second voice distracted him.
Eric looked up to see another man in their small group, slightly balding, with his hands shoved into his gray suit pockets. “You’re the one.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re the one who tamed the shrew,” the man smirked.
Eric’s eyes darted a glance over at Aaron, whose green eyes were wide with shock. He cleared his throat and turned up his water glass. It was clear that Aaron wasn’t touching this with a ten-foot pole. Eric was on his own.
Suppressing the rage that Eric knew was quickly building, he shoved his hands in his own pockets. “The shrew,” he clarified.
“Yeah,” Baldy confirmed. “You know, Shakespeare. The Taming of the Shrew, Kiss Me Kate, ‘I Hate Men…’”
Eric nodded in thought. “Right…hey, what did you say your name was?”
“Richard,” he nodded.
“Oh, Dick! Can I call you Dick?”
Aaron snorted.
“I prefer Richard—“
“I’ll call you Dick. Listen, Dick, what do you do?”
Richard was red-faced, but he kept his composure. “Investment banking.”
“Investment banking, huh? Is that right?”
“That’s right…”
Eric nodded in thought. “So, what’s your net worth, Dick?”
Richard looked appalled by the question. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“No? You don’t think so?”
“Absolutely not.”
Eric rubbed his chin. “Right, right. Kind of like my personal life is none of your business?”
Richard huffed and adjusted his tie.
With a knowing smile, Aaron contributed his share. “Say, Eric, what’s your net worth?”
“I’m glad you asked that, Aaron,” he replied dramatically. Then he lifted his chin and announced, “Four point seven million.”
He thought Richard might choke. “Bullshit! You act like you run the biggest construction outfit in the region, but I know for a fact that that little mom-and-pop operation doesn’t line your pockets like that.”
“Yet,” Eric corrected him. “But I didn’t say I earned it through my company. Wanna know how I earned it, Dick? Because my investment banker is fantastic. And you know what makes him fantastic, Dick? Just guess.”
Richard’s eyes slid around menacingly. “What?”
“He respects my girlfriend and he doesn’t refer to her as a shrew or pry into my personal life. Maybe, Dick, if you weren’t so much like your namesake, you’d be raking in multi-million dollar clients like my banker, instead of refusing to share the net worth you’re ashamed to admit to. But that’s okay, though, because I get it. I wouldn’t want to admit out loud that my net worth barely scraped six figures, either. Especially while standing amongst my peers in the middle of the Waldorf Astoria.” Nodding his head in Aaron’s direction, he closed with, “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll blow this proverbial popsicle stand. Have a nice afternoon, Aaron. Dick.”
And then he turned on his heel and walked away.
But not before he heard Aaron tracking him down. “Hey! Hey, Reynolds! Hold on a minute.”
Because it was Aaron, and only because it was Aaron, Eric slowed to a stop and turned around.
“Come on,” Aaron said when he caught up to him. “That guy’s a lowlife. Stick around.”
“There’s nothing for me, here.”
Aaron scoffed. “There’s nothing for anybody here. You think people actually come here to network? Hell no. They come here to get out of the office for awhile and toss back Bloody Marys. You can’t take these people seriously.”
Eric’s expression clouded over. “The only thing I want bloody is that fucker’s nose. I didn’t come here to have my fucking personal life scrutinized and my girlfriend insulted. I came here to see what I could find out about Gary Sterling!”
Suddenly realizing he’d said too much, he clamped his mouth shut.
Aaron narrowed his eyes curiously. “The T&K guy? What about him?”
Letting out a breath, Eric looked around. “I don’t know. But I feel like something’s going on and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“You know, while we’re on the subject…your uncle contacted me a couple of times recently and Gary’s name came up. I’ve been meaning to contact you and ask you how business is. The way he’s been hounding me, I thought you were tanking or something.”
Eric furrowed his brow. “Business is booming. We’re not losing anything. In fact, we’re growing.”
Aaron lowered his voice. “We should talk. Wanna blow this proverbial popsicle stand and go find a real breakfast?”
“Lead the way.”
* * *
Half an hour later, the two men sat across from each other at a small diner that wouldn’t have been touched by anyone in their professional circle.
“It looks shady,” Aaron said. “But it’s the best damn breakfast you’ll ever find in this city.”
“No complaints here,” Eric assured him. “If the food’s good, I don’t discriminate.”
Eric’s Uncle Walt wouldn’t be caught dead in an establishment like this one, but his eyes darted around anyway. You could never be too careful when you were quietly fishing for information.
About your family.
Whom you trusted.
Eric winced inwardly.
“So. Gary Sterling,” Aaron began.
Eric let out a sigh and turned up his coffee. “Showed up in my office the other morning—even before me, and I was early. Demanded to know where Walt was.”
“And…?”
“And that’s it.”
The look on Aaron’s face read confusion.
“T&K is my direct competition. Why is their sales guy looking for mine?”
“I get it, I get it,” Aaron mused.
“You said Walt’s been beating down your doors. Why? I didn’t send him to you.”
“He reports directly to you?”
Eric shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, uh, yeah…”
The truth was, Eric just kind of let Walt to his thing. Because he trusted him. Because Walt had been around for awhile, he knew the ropes, he knew the industry. Walt brought the business and Eric signed off on the paperwork. Reynolds Construction was a well-oiled machine.
Or so Eric had thought.
“Got a new set of condos going up around Murray Hill. Not like it’s a secret, but I’m already in with another construction company—“
“You didn’t approach me.”
“Not like I didn’t try. You’re a busy man lately.”
“Well, yeah, but—“
“It’s said and done, you’ll get my next one. Anyway, like I said, the condos are a done deal, set to break ground next month. Next thing I know, Walter Reynolds is practically demanding a meeting with me about the condos.”
“When?”
“I dunno, couple weeks ago, maybe. So I’m like, okay. I grant him a meeting. The way he’s talking, it’s like your company’s tanking and you’re in over your heads.”
“Excuse me?” Eric nearly spat out his coffee. “I personally oversee the accounts and the labor myself. Travis and I look over the budget together. If we were tanking, I would know it. Besides, Reynolds doesn’t do desperate. You know that. It’s bad business, even if we were.”
“I know. I know. But in his presentation, something rubbed me the wrong way. He said something to the effect of, ‘If we can’t provide the manpower, we do partner with other companies for a percentage of the cost.’”
“We don’t do that,” Eric disagreed matter-of-factly. “We don’t do that, we don’t ‘partner,’ why would we need to do that? We’re fucking fantastic.”
“Hey, you don’t have to tell me. But his anxiousness kinda made me wonder, you know?”
Eric’s mind raced and his eyes darted around the tabletop in thought. “Are those condos contracted through T&K?”
Aaron scoffed loudly. “Absolutely not! What do you take me for?”
“Then I don’t get it,” he shook his head. “What’s his angle?”
“Gary Sterling’s name did come up when he was talking about partnering.”
“Why would we partner? We’ve never partnered.” Then Eric’s blood ran cold and his eyes widened at Aaron. “Have we? Have we partnered?”
“Not with any of my structures.”
“Is there something I’m not seeing?”
“I wish I knew. I don’t like that you had no idea that I met with him.”
“None at all.”
“I wouldn’t let shit like that slide in my company.”
“I need evidence. I need something concrete.”
“Evidence of what, exactly?”
Eric slumped back against the booth and let out a breath. “I have no idea.”
When their food showed up, Eric took one look at his plate and knew he would be regretting it later. Aaron wasn’t kidding when he’d said it was good, though, and he’d made a mental note to bring Juliet here, until he heard her voice in his head shrieking about the amount of grease on his plate. Maybe he’d bring Travis instead.
“For what it’s worth,” Aaron murmured through bites, “I once caught a guy skimming off the top of his employer. Contractor, you know. Some of the guys wanted to talk to me, asking me why they were only making fourteen an hour. I called bullshit and told him to get out of my office because I knew they were making eighteen—I’d seen the books. Then I saw one of their pay stubs and…holy shit. They weren’t kidding. I fixed that shit myself, in person. Turns out, the sales guy was cooking the books and pocketing the leftover.”
“Walt wouldn’t do that…”
“Not saying he would. Just my own experience. From then on, I kept a very watchful eye on each new account that rolled through the door. I know how it is, having a lot on your plate, running a company. But if you suspect something isn’t quite right, you better act on it, and fast. Who knows how much money you’ve lost already?”
“Who says I’m losing money?”
“Why else are we sitting in this skeezy diner over these greasy plates?”
“I’m not…I’m not losing money…”
“If you are, you probably can’t see it, yet. Which means that whatever Walt’s doing, he hasn’t been doing it for long. Maybe you can bust him before he gets any smarter.”
Eric sighed and balled his napkin up in his fist. “So, basically, I have to go back and go over every single account with a fine-toothed comb.”
“Every last one.” Aaron arched an eyebrow. “Including that Carson account.”
“Oh, no,” Eric assured him. “That one is iron-clad. I handled every bit of it myself.”
Aaron smirked as he turned up his coffee. “You sure did, didn’t you?”
Eric glared across the table.
Aaron laughed as his mug clanked against the wooden table. “Come on, Reynolds! Every red-blooded male in Manhattan wants to know how you did what they couldn’t do. You’re practically a fucking god right now!”
“I thought you weren’t interested?” Eric accused.
“Well, I’m not. But you can’t help the hype. The talk is everywhere. So, come on. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”
Eric rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t do anything. She’s a human being. She’s a woman. I sent a ginger ale to her table one night and six months later I asked her her name at a party. There isn’t some…secret method. I just talked to her. We talked all night. We get along, we have a lot in common. That’s literally it.”
“Lame.”
“What did you expect?”
“I dunno,” Aaron murmured with a shrug. “Thought maybe there was a trick to landing a woman like her…”
“A woman like her?”
“You know. Strong, independent, sure of herself…”
Eric studied Aaron. “We’re not talking about me and Juliet anymore, are we?”
Aaron returned Eric’s examination. The men were silent for a moment. Then, finally, Aaron let out a breath and confessed, “I’m so fucking bored.”
Eric smirked and shoveled a forkful of ketchup-covered home fries into his mouth. “Bullshit.”
“I’m serious. I mean, yeah, I’m attracted to what I’m attracted to, but they’re all getting so damn predictable these days. Where’s the challenge? Where’s the mystery? Where’s the thrill of the chase?”
“The chase isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, believe me,” Eric muttered into his plate.
“Does Juliet have any single friends?”
“Sorry, man. Travis already snagged her best friend and she’s practically a carbon copy.”
“Jesus. You Reynolds boys don’t fuck around with anything, do you?”
Eric shot Aaron a shit-eating grin. “We live life to the fullest, what can I say?”
“Sorry,” Aaron murmured as he sunk his fork into a short stack. “I didn’t mean to get weird right there. We’re here to talk about your uncle.”
“We talked about him. I don’t like any of it, but…I mean, I have a job to do, right? A company to run.”
“That you do, my friend. It sucks, I know. But the hard truth is, your family are the first ones that’ll screw you without a second thought.”
“I just never saw it coming in my family.”
“Every family’s got one.”
The men spent the rest of their breakfast making small talk, discussing stocks, boxing, and making plans to attend a party in a couple of weeks. Unfortunately, the distraction was short-lived. Because once breakfast was over and the two men parted ways, Eric still had an office to go back to. And his feet had never felt heavier.
OH, ERIC. THAT poor, sweet man. He was having the week from hell. Besides his blatant—yet, unnecessary—efforts to make the previous weekend’s dinner incident up to Juliet (two bouquets of roses and three surprise lunches), he was dealing with an investigation at work—his own investigation. On his uncle. And it was taking its toll.
Every evening that week, Juliet was at Eric’s place. She made him dinner, massaged his tense shoulders, and sat up with him when he was heavily distracted with paperwork. And while the way he sat up in bed, topless in glasses, made her absolutely weak, the clear stress he was under was heartbreaking.
Finally, by Friday night, she had to intervene.
She had just finished cleaning the dishes, which, at her own home, would have still been sitting in the sink. The fact that she was even able to touch Eric’s kitchen spoke volumes. On a normal night, he would have been loading the dishwasher before he swallowed his last bite. But tonight, like most of the week, he barely noticed she was there.
He never used his dining room table and, yet, there he sat amongst a sea of paperwork and binders, two laptops, and a scientific calculator that she was sure was at least ten years old. He had an office—quite an impressive one, actually—but she didn’t question his choice to use the dining room. In fact, she didn’t question much that week at all.
Attempting to get some rise out of him, she pulled a chair up beside him and rested her chin in the palm of her hand with a playful smile. “Hello, handsome. Do they actually make batteries for that calculator anymore?”
“Mmhmm,” he murmured, unfazed by her presence.
She scowled. “Do they even make that calculator anymore?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Did you know that there was a scientific study recently that proved that pigs actually can fly?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Turns out, they have these tiny little wings that tuck just under their bellies. But in flight they have, like, the wingspan of a dragon. It’s amazing!”
“We’ll have to go see that sometime.”
Juliet dropped her forearm onto the table in defeat. “I think I’m going to call it a night. At my own apartment—“
“No,” he said suddenly, now alert, his hand clasping her slender wrist. “Please don’t go. I concentrate so much better when you’re here.”
“You just suggested that we go see pigs fly,” she deadpanned.
“What?”
“Exactly.” Reaching up, she removed his glasses from his face. “Baby, you need a break,” she whispered. “You’re so stressed and the pressure is really taking its toll on you.”
His eyes darted behind her. “Dinner. The kitchen—“
“All done,” she smiled.
“All done?”
“Yep. Dishwasher’s running—“
“Pots on the bottom? Glasses on top--?”
“Glass in the front, plastic in the back. Forks, knives, and spoons all separate, everything rinsed before loading. It’s okay, Eric. I can handle it.”
“I don’t know what I would do without you,” he breathed.
“I know what you want to do. And I won’t even be offended because it’ll get you away from this table.”
His eyes darted into hers, studying her for a moment. Then he breathed a brisk, “Thank you,” before he flew past her and into the kitchen, flinging open the dishwasher door and interrupting the wash cycle.
She smiled after him, letting him do his thing. She cheered a silent victory at how he didn’t have to rearrange anything this time. But he did go over the counters one more time with a fresh rag, despite the fact that the queen of England would have eaten off that marble.
Juliet was tempted to pack up Eric’s workspace, but she knew she wasn’t quite that daring.
Upon his return to the abyss, however, she stood to meet him. Taking him by the hand, she reached up and ran her fingers through his gorgeous blonde hair. “How about you wrap it up for the night? It’s late—“
“Juliet—“
“I mean it. What happened to no work after five?”
“Come on. That was me, trying to win you over. We both know that’s a myth.”
“You need a rest. Your brain needs a refresher.”
“I have to—I mean, what if--?”
“What if you uncover something tonight? What are you going to do with it at eleven o’clock?”
He looked around, rubbing his hand over his face. “Shit, is it that late?”
“About a quarter after.”
Eric’s face read reluctance, she could see it. He turned and looked at the mess on the table, then he turned back to Juliet with conflict in his eyes.
“I’ll go and draw a bath.”
He nodded. “Yeah, okay. By the time you get finished in there, I’ll be finished here.”
“I’ll go and draw us a bath,” she clarified. “Where we can both relax. In hot water. Naked. Together.”
His jaw slackened.
“Okay,” she replied to his silence. “I’ll go and start the water. That will give you enough time to put away this mess.”
With that, she turned around and walked away, not giving him another opportunity to object.
A short while later, Juliet sat in the extra-large garden tub that took up Eric’s master bathroom. She never understood his need for such a large living space, with the multiple bathrooms and bedrooms. They only used four rooms when she was over, and she assumed he used the same four when he was alone. Though she understood his attachment to his living room ceiling, she never understood his need to buy out the entire floor.
Then she remembered his plans for it.
“So how much of the remodel for this place do you actually have mapped out?”
Eric shared the tub with her. As Juliet luxuriously reclined against the slanted wall of the tub, her thick hair in a careless ball atop her head, Eric rested between her legs, his back nestled against her flesh, her legs wrapped around his waist.
Mindlessly, he pressed each of her pink-painted toes between his thumb and forefinger continuously. She didn’t make an effort to stop him. She’d never had anyone do that before and she decided she loved it.
As she sponged hot water across his chest, he let his head fall back against her shoulder, abandoning her question. “This was an excellent idea,” he breathed. “Travis said Beth makes him take bubble baths. Now I see why.”
Juliet smiled and shook her head. No conversation, personal or otherwise, would ever be had without mention of his twin. She was growing used to it.
“Should I have added bubbles?”
“No. This is perfect.” Not so mindlessly now, he used his hand to swish water over her feet. Then he resumed his toe-pressing. “You’ve been unbelievably wonderful this week. Any other woman would have—“
“Except that I’m not any other woman,” she reminded him warmly. “You would have done the same for me.”
“It’s just that—“
“Nope. No, no. No more of that tonight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. We’re relaxing, clearing our heads. I put some eucalyptus mint in the water. Is it helping?”
“Everything is helping.”
“Take a deep breath.”
Without a word, he followed her instruction.
“Good,” she replied. Then she smiled as she sponged more water over his torso. “Nobody’s ever done that to my toes before. I like it.”
“Huh?” He lifted his head and glanced downward. Then his forearms came out of the water and he wrapped both of his strong hands around her right foot.
“Oh, god, that’s better,” she breathed.
“Your calluses are rough,” he murmured.
“That’s the price you pay for cute shoes.”
“I have a callus remover. I’ll do it for you later.”
“Eric, you don’t have to—“
“I want to.”
She smiled as she peered around his neck. “I’ll do yours if you do mine?”
“I don’t wear cute shoes.”
Juliet giggled as she abandoned the sponge onto the side of the tub. Now she gathered some water into her hand and let it trickle off of her fingertips and onto his hair. From there, she raked her fingers over his scalp.
He groaned his approval and so she continued until his hair was soaked through.
“I enjoy taking care of you,” she whispered. “I, um, I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed taking care of someone before.”
“That’s what I want,” he replied quietly. “To take care of each other. I want nights like this; raw, quiet. Alone. Just to be with each other.”
“I want that, too.”
He squeezed her foot and then lifted it out of the water. “Then I want it to turn into wild, raw, loud monkey sex.”
Juliet burst into laughter. “Monkey sex?”
“Yes. Monkey sex. The kind where we’re twisted up into positions we wouldn’t dare discuss out loud, our voices echoing off the walls—where you let me wear my socks—“
“No.”
“Socks on a woman during sex is hot.”
“You’re not a woman.”
“Lucky you.”
“Monkey sex? That’s what you want?”
“I mean…you want me to be distracted this weekend, right? Stress-free?”
“Eric…” she warned.
“Monkey sex.”
Juliet rolled her eyes. “Have you ever even seen monkeys have sex?”
“Back in the day, there was a lot to discover late night on the Discovery Channel.”
“I’m already regretting the question,” she muttered.
“Pretty sure it was one of those late night deals that turned me into a man.”
“Oh my god!”
Eric laughed, clearly amused with himself. “Sometimes grossing you out is better than making you laugh.”
“Oh. So you’re one of those.”
“Get used to it.” With that, he grabbed hold of both of her ankles and tightened her legs around his waist. “Monkey sex.”
* * *
As it turned out, there was no monkey sex to be had. By the time they had pulled themselves from the bath, they were overcome with exhaustion. Pulling on the white tee shirt that Eric had previously removed from himself, Juliet crawled into bed with him, and the couple murmured nonsense to each other before drifting off to sleep, not more than ten minutes later.
Hours later, however, Juliet lay awake in bed, staring wide-eyed into the darkness. Beside her, Eric slept soundly, his deep, even breathing the only sound in the room. She was surprised he wasn’t woken up by the sound of reality crashing down around her.
It hit her like a ton of bricks, completely out of nowhere. She was with Eric. She was with Eric. As in, they were a pair. An item. In a situation where it wasn’t just one or the other anymore. They were together. With each other. Committed.
In a relationship.
All of a sudden, she couldn’t breathe.
The last time she was in a relationship was with an alcoholic construction worker. She lived in pure terror nearly every night. Since then, in Juliet’s mind, relationships equated to a loss of control. They were a world where men ruled and women were helpless. Her marriage was the worst time of her life, even compared to the hell that her childhood was. She wouldn’t have wished that marriage on anyone. And she swore that she would never put herself in such a position again.
And then she met Eric. And he was nothing like that—and he never would be. He was unlike anyone she had ever met. He was everything that her dreams and her fantasies were made of. He was kind and gentle and handsome and compassionate. He treated her like she was a human being…and as if she were the only woman in the world. Juliet had never known men to be that way.
But, then…Steve was similar in the beginning. He’d told her everything she wanted to hear: that she was beautiful and that she didn’t deserve the hell she lived in. He took her on dates and he doted on her. She never left his side and all he did was smile and tell all “the boys” about how his woman was the best little woman a man could ever have. He loved her and he was happy. She was happy.
And then one day…he wasn’t. It was as if he had changed overnight and she had never seen it coming. He’d violated her trust with the back of his hand. With one unexpected blow to the cheek he used to caress and call beautiful, leaving it now bruised and bloodied, the man she’d fallen for had disappeared—and he never returned.
That was how these relationships started. They were always happy in the beginning. There were stars in the eyes, sweet nothings whispered every night, hours and hours of wishes and dreams…until he doesn’t want it anymore. Until you make one false move or say one wrong word—and it’s over that quickly.
That was how they all began—with someone as pure and good as Eric, losing himself somewhere along the way.
A lump formed in her throat as she turned her head in his direction. She couldn’t see him in the dark, but it didn’t matter. Eric was different. She didn’t want to be afraid—especially when she knew she had nothing to fear. Eric didn’t deserve the thoughts she was having and she knew this. But she couldn’t help it. The voice inside her head was urging her to, “Run. Save yourself. Stop it before it starts.”
And before she knew it, both feet were on the floor.
She sat on the edge of the bed, unmoving. She’d made promises this time. She’d made a commitment. She’d made a choice to let Eric into her heart. She couldn’t run. Not this time. Not anymore.
But what happened when he didn’t feel the same anymore? What happened when he had a shitty day at work and he came home and got drunk and hated the mere sight of her? How long did she have to wait for that to kick in? How far would she let herself fall before she couldn’t get out anymore?
She hadn’t realized the tears that fell from her eyes until she involuntarily sniffed them back. Quickly, she wiped her nose and tried to swallow the sudden sobs, but she was too late and she found herself running from the bedroom so that her weeping wouldn’t wake Eric.
She made it to the kitchen before she collapsed over the island and let the tears pour out of her soul. She had to get out of there. She had to do it. She couldn’t stay, she couldn’t…she couldn’t risk it.
In an attempt to dry her eyes, she stood up to get her bearings, turning around to find the light switch, when it turned on automatically, flooding the kitchen with blinding white light. In the doorway, Eric stood, heavy-eyed, in nothing but a pair of black sweats and bed hair. His sleepy pout screamed of his innocence and Juliet tried to choke back a new batch of tears as she was now filled with guilt.
“Babe,” he murmured curiously. “You okay? I woke up and you weren’t there…”
For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. Then her voice cracked and the words spilled out. “I’m sorry.” He was crossing the room as her tears fell. The closer he came, the worse her sobbing grew. “I’m scared. And I don’t know what to do!”
“Oh, baby,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her.
She collapsed into his chest and hid her face in her hands. “I’m sorry!”
“Tell me what’s going on,” he said gently. “Was it a nightmare?”
“I—I can’t.”
“You can’t what? Tell me? You can tell me anything, you know that.”
“I don’t want you to hate me.”
He let out a breath and stroked her hair as he held her. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I already know.”
“You do?” She squeaked as she looked up at him.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “And I don’t hate you. And I wish so much that I could fix this for you—that I could make it all go away—because I would. In a heartbeat. Unfortunately, you’re gonna have to allow yourself to trust me. And believe in me. You know I won’t hurt you.”
“I know.”
“But I can’t fault you for being afraid. Because I understand why you are. And I’m right here by your side, holding your hand along the way, no matter what. Okay? We’re in this together, you and me. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
“I feel like such a horrible person,” she whispered as her tears weakened.
“You’re not a horrible person. I know you’re not. Hey…” He pulled away and tilted her chin upward. Wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumb, he smirked softly. “You know what’ll cheer you up? Tomorrow’s Saturday. And we have absolutely nowhere in the world to be tomorrow. Right?”
“Are you sure?” She asked with a sniffle, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Don’t you have something to do with--?”
“Nowhere to be,” he repeated with a smile. “So why don’t you let me make you one of my famous ice cream sundaes and you can bask in your sugar high and sleep it off in the morning? Ice cream is the cure for everything, right?”
Finally getting her bearings, she pushed herself off of his chest and scowled at him. “Why do you have ice cream? You can’t have ice cream.”
“For you.” Then he rolled his eyes and deadpanned, “There’s sugar-free frozen yogurt, too.” Reaching out, he swept away the hair that stuck to her cheek. “Go hop in bed and I’ll bring it to you.”
Narrowing her eyes warily, she replied, “No.”
He blinked at her. “No?”
“No. I want to watch you make it.”
“Come on,” he scoffed. “At this point, I could prepare your food with my eyes closed. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”
“No,” she repeated more defiantly. “I want to watch. Because when that lid comes off of that carton, I want to make sure that it’s a flat, pristine, undisturbed canvas of frozen chocolate. It’s okay. I’ll wait.”
Eric let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine,” he relented, throwing his arms wide in defeat. “I taste-tested the ice cream. Okay? You got me.”
“Eric!”
“But, baby, I just wanted to make sure it was good before I gave it to you! You can’t fault a guy for that.”
“You don’t taste test ice cream, Eric,” Juliet spat. “It’s completely unnecessary.”
“Says who? You never know.”
“Because it’s ice cream! Ice cream isn’t gross!”
“Look. I only had a spoonful. Come on. I’m still kicking, aren’t I?”
“Not the point.”
Stepping close to her again, he reached out and ran his hands softly over her arms. “Babe. Are we really standing here, having an argument about ice cream at three in the morning? Aren’t there better things we could be doing at three in the morning? Like having sex?”
“Ice cream first,” she pouted.
Eric’s eyes widened in amusement. “Oh, so now you want the ice cream.”
“Well, I never not wanted it. I just didn’t want you to have it.”
He chuckled lightly. “Trust me. Go to bed. And be naked when I get in there.”
“Make sure that bowl is dripping with so much syrup that you have to lick it off of me,” she demanded.
He grinned wickedly. “Oh, that’s a guarantee.”
Minutes later, as Juliet sat up, nude, in bed with the comforter tucked under her arms, Eric walked into the room with two bowls of ice cream and his laptop tucked under his arm.
Handing her a chocolate mountain, he walked around the bed and flopped his computer down onto it with his free hand. He sunk one knee into the softness of the sheets when Juliet waved her spoon at him.
“Mm-mm,” she murmured with a mouthful of chocolate. “No clothes allowed, remember? If I have to, you have to.”
With a smirk, he sat his frozen yogurt bowl on his end table and was much too happy to oblige. Juliet’s chewing slowed as she watched him, a new craving forming at the pit of her belly. Would she ever get enough of him? Was her addiction to him normal?
The moment was sadly short-lived. He slid under the covers next to her, the warmth of his hardened thigh pressed against hers. Then, simultaneously, he reached for his dessert bowl and dragged his laptop into his lap.
“Eric…” she warned.
He smiled. “It’s not what you think. When I want to get rid of the heavy shit that’s weighing on my mind, this is what I do.”
She watched as he powered it on and clicked around the screen. The next thing she knew, the Merrie Melodies theme song filled the screen.
Juliet almost choked. “Cartoons?”
He turned the lights out and pulled her tighter against him. “Come on, my lady. I got this. It works every time. You can’t argue that I’m delightful.”
“You always know how to make me smile.”
A pair of cold, sticky yogurt lips pressed into her forehead. “Quiet now. Be vewwy vewwy quiet…”
Juliet burst into laughter. So much so, that her snorting put Porky Pig to shame. And when Eric pointed that out, she laughed even harder.
He was right. It had worked. Dessert, careless laughter, and the warmth of her favorite man. In the moment, that combination was the cure-all to life.
ERIC DIDN’T NORMALLY attend Chamber of Commerce events. He didn’t have time for them. Networking was something he typically left to Walt. Except now that Walt’s networking style was currently under scrutiny, Eric decided to mill around and see what he could overhear through the grapevine.
It took one look around the Chamber’s event room of the Waldorf Astoria for Eric to remember why he didn’t bother with these things. He knew just about everyone there was to know who that could benefit his business, so there was never any real reason to share a mediocre breakfast with bankers or journalists, nor was there a need to hear motivational speeches from hotel conglomerates.
However…this morning he spied a notorious real estate developer talking amongst a small group of people and Eric decided that if he was going to indulge in the grapevine, that would be a good place to start.
But would anyone say anything about anything in his presence?
Sucking in a breath and securing the button on his suit jacket, he made his way across the room. Almost immediately, Aaron Parker, of Parker Development, noticed his presence as he approached.
“I’ll be damned,” he marveled as he turned and extended his hand to Eric. “Eric-fucking-Reynolds. Since when do you attend shit like this?”
Eric had always liked Aaron. He was slightly taller than Eric, with dark blonde hair and a tan that made him look like he belonged in Los Angeles rather than New York. He was a fit forty-something that never managed to look a day over thirty-five, and he was known as one of Manhattan’s most eligible bachelors—happily.
Eric and Aaron had a pretty good working relationship, he liked to think. One thing he knew they had in common was the way they both despised T&K Contracting—and that was why Reynolds always got first dibs on Parker’s properties.
Other than that, Aaron was a pretty cool guy to have a beer with.
“So, how’s the business?”
Eric arched an amused eyebrow. “Oh. So, networking really does happen at these things. Noted.”
Aaron threw his head back in laughter. “You must be one of the ninety percent who’s only here for the free food—like me.”
“Is it any good?”
“Eh, I’ve had better.” Pausing, Aaron’s eyes darted around. “You’re, uh, missing someone, aren’t you?”
Oh, yes. This was getting good sooner than he’d expected. “Walt was unavailable, so I thought I’d show my face to prove that I do, in fact, exist.”
Aaron smirked. “I wasn’t referring to Walt. I was referring to the brunette powerhouse you’ve been hanging around with lately. Trust me, all of New York knows you exist.”
Instantly, the hair stood on the back of Eric’s neck. Goddamn it, Aaron, don’t do this. Don’t be one of them.
Obviously, Eric’s expression was more animated than he thought, because Aaron chuckled lightly and lowered his voice. “Don’t worry, man. It’s not like that. She’s good at what she does, we’ve never spoken on a personal level. Closest I’ve ever gotten to her is holding the door for her after a business lunch. It’s not, you know…like that. I respect her professionally. Period.”
Eric let out a silent breath through his nose. He had to get a grip. He shouldn’t have let his jealousy get the better of him like that. He shouldn’t have been jealous in the first place. Of anything. Juliet had a past. She had a life before him. He could respect that. But coming in contact with former lovers stung a little.
It was a good thing Eric trusted Aaron.
“So,” a second voice distracted him.
Eric looked up to see another man in their small group, slightly balding, with his hands shoved into his gray suit pockets. “You’re the one.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re the one who tamed the shrew,” the man smirked.
Eric’s eyes darted a glance over at Aaron, whose green eyes were wide with shock. He cleared his throat and turned up his water glass. It was clear that Aaron wasn’t touching this with a ten-foot pole. Eric was on his own.
Suppressing the rage that Eric knew was quickly building, he shoved his hands in his own pockets. “The shrew,” he clarified.
“Yeah,” Baldy confirmed. “You know, Shakespeare. The Taming of the Shrew, Kiss Me Kate, ‘I Hate Men…’”
Eric nodded in thought. “Right…hey, what did you say your name was?”
“Richard,” he nodded.
“Oh, Dick! Can I call you Dick?”
Aaron snorted.
“I prefer Richard—“
“I’ll call you Dick. Listen, Dick, what do you do?”
Richard was red-faced, but he kept his composure. “Investment banking.”
“Investment banking, huh? Is that right?”
“That’s right…”
Eric nodded in thought. “So, what’s your net worth, Dick?”
Richard looked appalled by the question. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“No? You don’t think so?”
“Absolutely not.”
Eric rubbed his chin. “Right, right. Kind of like my personal life is none of your business?”
Richard huffed and adjusted his tie.
With a knowing smile, Aaron contributed his share. “Say, Eric, what’s your net worth?”
“I’m glad you asked that, Aaron,” he replied dramatically. Then he lifted his chin and announced, “Four point seven million.”
He thought Richard might choke. “Bullshit! You act like you run the biggest construction outfit in the region, but I know for a fact that that little mom-and-pop operation doesn’t line your pockets like that.”
“Yet,” Eric corrected him. “But I didn’t say I earned it through my company. Wanna know how I earned it, Dick? Because my investment banker is fantastic. And you know what makes him fantastic, Dick? Just guess.”
Richard’s eyes slid around menacingly. “What?”
“He respects my girlfriend and he doesn’t refer to her as a shrew or pry into my personal life. Maybe, Dick, if you weren’t so much like your namesake, you’d be raking in multi-million dollar clients like my banker, instead of refusing to share the net worth you’re ashamed to admit to. But that’s okay, though, because I get it. I wouldn’t want to admit out loud that my net worth barely scraped six figures, either. Especially while standing amongst my peers in the middle of the Waldorf Astoria.” Nodding his head in Aaron’s direction, he closed with, “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll blow this proverbial popsicle stand. Have a nice afternoon, Aaron. Dick.”
And then he turned on his heel and walked away.
But not before he heard Aaron tracking him down. “Hey! Hey, Reynolds! Hold on a minute.”
Because it was Aaron, and only because it was Aaron, Eric slowed to a stop and turned around.
“Come on,” Aaron said when he caught up to him. “That guy’s a lowlife. Stick around.”
“There’s nothing for me, here.”
Aaron scoffed. “There’s nothing for anybody here. You think people actually come here to network? Hell no. They come here to get out of the office for awhile and toss back Bloody Marys. You can’t take these people seriously.”
Eric’s expression clouded over. “The only thing I want bloody is that fucker’s nose. I didn’t come here to have my fucking personal life scrutinized and my girlfriend insulted. I came here to see what I could find out about Gary Sterling!”
Suddenly realizing he’d said too much, he clamped his mouth shut.
Aaron narrowed his eyes curiously. “The T&K guy? What about him?”
Letting out a breath, Eric looked around. “I don’t know. But I feel like something’s going on and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“You know, while we’re on the subject…your uncle contacted me a couple of times recently and Gary’s name came up. I’ve been meaning to contact you and ask you how business is. The way he’s been hounding me, I thought you were tanking or something.”
Eric furrowed his brow. “Business is booming. We’re not losing anything. In fact, we’re growing.”
Aaron lowered his voice. “We should talk. Wanna blow this proverbial popsicle stand and go find a real breakfast?”
“Lead the way.”
* * *
Half an hour later, the two men sat across from each other at a small diner that wouldn’t have been touched by anyone in their professional circle.
“It looks shady,” Aaron said. “But it’s the best damn breakfast you’ll ever find in this city.”
“No complaints here,” Eric assured him. “If the food’s good, I don’t discriminate.”
Eric’s Uncle Walt wouldn’t be caught dead in an establishment like this one, but his eyes darted around anyway. You could never be too careful when you were quietly fishing for information.
About your family.
Whom you trusted.
Eric winced inwardly.
“So. Gary Sterling,” Aaron began.
Eric let out a sigh and turned up his coffee. “Showed up in my office the other morning—even before me, and I was early. Demanded to know where Walt was.”
“And…?”
“And that’s it.”
The look on Aaron’s face read confusion.
“T&K is my direct competition. Why is their sales guy looking for mine?”
“I get it, I get it,” Aaron mused.
“You said Walt’s been beating down your doors. Why? I didn’t send him to you.”
“He reports directly to you?”
Eric shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, uh, yeah…”
The truth was, Eric just kind of let Walt to his thing. Because he trusted him. Because Walt had been around for awhile, he knew the ropes, he knew the industry. Walt brought the business and Eric signed off on the paperwork. Reynolds Construction was a well-oiled machine.
Or so Eric had thought.
“Got a new set of condos going up around Murray Hill. Not like it’s a secret, but I’m already in with another construction company—“
“You didn’t approach me.”
“Not like I didn’t try. You’re a busy man lately.”
“Well, yeah, but—“
“It’s said and done, you’ll get my next one. Anyway, like I said, the condos are a done deal, set to break ground next month. Next thing I know, Walter Reynolds is practically demanding a meeting with me about the condos.”
“When?”
“I dunno, couple weeks ago, maybe. So I’m like, okay. I grant him a meeting. The way he’s talking, it’s like your company’s tanking and you’re in over your heads.”
“Excuse me?” Eric nearly spat out his coffee. “I personally oversee the accounts and the labor myself. Travis and I look over the budget together. If we were tanking, I would know it. Besides, Reynolds doesn’t do desperate. You know that. It’s bad business, even if we were.”
“I know. I know. But in his presentation, something rubbed me the wrong way. He said something to the effect of, ‘If we can’t provide the manpower, we do partner with other companies for a percentage of the cost.’”
“We don’t do that,” Eric disagreed matter-of-factly. “We don’t do that, we don’t ‘partner,’ why would we need to do that? We’re fucking fantastic.”
“Hey, you don’t have to tell me. But his anxiousness kinda made me wonder, you know?”
Eric’s mind raced and his eyes darted around the tabletop in thought. “Are those condos contracted through T&K?”
Aaron scoffed loudly. “Absolutely not! What do you take me for?”
“Then I don’t get it,” he shook his head. “What’s his angle?”
“Gary Sterling’s name did come up when he was talking about partnering.”
“Why would we partner? We’ve never partnered.” Then Eric’s blood ran cold and his eyes widened at Aaron. “Have we? Have we partnered?”
“Not with any of my structures.”
“Is there something I’m not seeing?”
“I wish I knew. I don’t like that you had no idea that I met with him.”
“None at all.”
“I wouldn’t let shit like that slide in my company.”
“I need evidence. I need something concrete.”
“Evidence of what, exactly?”
Eric slumped back against the booth and let out a breath. “I have no idea.”
When their food showed up, Eric took one look at his plate and knew he would be regretting it later. Aaron wasn’t kidding when he’d said it was good, though, and he’d made a mental note to bring Juliet here, until he heard her voice in his head shrieking about the amount of grease on his plate. Maybe he’d bring Travis instead.
“For what it’s worth,” Aaron murmured through bites, “I once caught a guy skimming off the top of his employer. Contractor, you know. Some of the guys wanted to talk to me, asking me why they were only making fourteen an hour. I called bullshit and told him to get out of my office because I knew they were making eighteen—I’d seen the books. Then I saw one of their pay stubs and…holy shit. They weren’t kidding. I fixed that shit myself, in person. Turns out, the sales guy was cooking the books and pocketing the leftover.”
“Walt wouldn’t do that…”
“Not saying he would. Just my own experience. From then on, I kept a very watchful eye on each new account that rolled through the door. I know how it is, having a lot on your plate, running a company. But if you suspect something isn’t quite right, you better act on it, and fast. Who knows how much money you’ve lost already?”
“Who says I’m losing money?”
“Why else are we sitting in this skeezy diner over these greasy plates?”
“I’m not…I’m not losing money…”
“If you are, you probably can’t see it, yet. Which means that whatever Walt’s doing, he hasn’t been doing it for long. Maybe you can bust him before he gets any smarter.”
Eric sighed and balled his napkin up in his fist. “So, basically, I have to go back and go over every single account with a fine-toothed comb.”
“Every last one.” Aaron arched an eyebrow. “Including that Carson account.”
“Oh, no,” Eric assured him. “That one is iron-clad. I handled every bit of it myself.”
Aaron smirked as he turned up his coffee. “You sure did, didn’t you?”
Eric glared across the table.
Aaron laughed as his mug clanked against the wooden table. “Come on, Reynolds! Every red-blooded male in Manhattan wants to know how you did what they couldn’t do. You’re practically a fucking god right now!”
“I thought you weren’t interested?” Eric accused.
“Well, I’m not. But you can’t help the hype. The talk is everywhere. So, come on. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”
Eric rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t do anything. She’s a human being. She’s a woman. I sent a ginger ale to her table one night and six months later I asked her her name at a party. There isn’t some…secret method. I just talked to her. We talked all night. We get along, we have a lot in common. That’s literally it.”
“Lame.”
“What did you expect?”
“I dunno,” Aaron murmured with a shrug. “Thought maybe there was a trick to landing a woman like her…”
“A woman like her?”
“You know. Strong, independent, sure of herself…”
Eric studied Aaron. “We’re not talking about me and Juliet anymore, are we?”
Aaron returned Eric’s examination. The men were silent for a moment. Then, finally, Aaron let out a breath and confessed, “I’m so fucking bored.”
Eric smirked and shoveled a forkful of ketchup-covered home fries into his mouth. “Bullshit.”
“I’m serious. I mean, yeah, I’m attracted to what I’m attracted to, but they’re all getting so damn predictable these days. Where’s the challenge? Where’s the mystery? Where’s the thrill of the chase?”
“The chase isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, believe me,” Eric muttered into his plate.
“Does Juliet have any single friends?”
“Sorry, man. Travis already snagged her best friend and she’s practically a carbon copy.”
“Jesus. You Reynolds boys don’t fuck around with anything, do you?”
Eric shot Aaron a shit-eating grin. “We live life to the fullest, what can I say?”
“Sorry,” Aaron murmured as he sunk his fork into a short stack. “I didn’t mean to get weird right there. We’re here to talk about your uncle.”
“We talked about him. I don’t like any of it, but…I mean, I have a job to do, right? A company to run.”
“That you do, my friend. It sucks, I know. But the hard truth is, your family are the first ones that’ll screw you without a second thought.”
“I just never saw it coming in my family.”
“Every family’s got one.”
The men spent the rest of their breakfast making small talk, discussing stocks, boxing, and making plans to attend a party in a couple of weeks. Unfortunately, the distraction was short-lived. Because once breakfast was over and the two men parted ways, Eric still had an office to go back to. And his feet had never felt heavier.
OH, ERIC. THAT poor, sweet man. He was having the week from hell. Besides his blatant—yet, unnecessary—efforts to make the previous weekend’s dinner incident up to Juliet (two bouquets of roses and three surprise lunches), he was dealing with an investigation at work—his own investigation. On his uncle. And it was taking its toll.
Every evening that week, Juliet was at Eric’s place. She made him dinner, massaged his tense shoulders, and sat up with him when he was heavily distracted with paperwork. And while the way he sat up in bed, topless in glasses, made her absolutely weak, the clear stress he was under was heartbreaking.
Finally, by Friday night, she had to intervene.
She had just finished cleaning the dishes, which, at her own home, would have still been sitting in the sink. The fact that she was even able to touch Eric’s kitchen spoke volumes. On a normal night, he would have been loading the dishwasher before he swallowed his last bite. But tonight, like most of the week, he barely noticed she was there.
He never used his dining room table and, yet, there he sat amongst a sea of paperwork and binders, two laptops, and a scientific calculator that she was sure was at least ten years old. He had an office—quite an impressive one, actually—but she didn’t question his choice to use the dining room. In fact, she didn’t question much that week at all.
Attempting to get some rise out of him, she pulled a chair up beside him and rested her chin in the palm of her hand with a playful smile. “Hello, handsome. Do they actually make batteries for that calculator anymore?”
“Mmhmm,” he murmured, unfazed by her presence.
She scowled. “Do they even make that calculator anymore?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Did you know that there was a scientific study recently that proved that pigs actually can fly?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Turns out, they have these tiny little wings that tuck just under their bellies. But in flight they have, like, the wingspan of a dragon. It’s amazing!”
“We’ll have to go see that sometime.”
Juliet dropped her forearm onto the table in defeat. “I think I’m going to call it a night. At my own apartment—“
“No,” he said suddenly, now alert, his hand clasping her slender wrist. “Please don’t go. I concentrate so much better when you’re here.”
“You just suggested that we go see pigs fly,” she deadpanned.
“What?”
“Exactly.” Reaching up, she removed his glasses from his face. “Baby, you need a break,” she whispered. “You’re so stressed and the pressure is really taking its toll on you.”
His eyes darted behind her. “Dinner. The kitchen—“
“All done,” she smiled.
“All done?”
“Yep. Dishwasher’s running—“
“Pots on the bottom? Glasses on top--?”
“Glass in the front, plastic in the back. Forks, knives, and spoons all separate, everything rinsed before loading. It’s okay, Eric. I can handle it.”
“I don’t know what I would do without you,” he breathed.
“I know what you want to do. And I won’t even be offended because it’ll get you away from this table.”
His eyes darted into hers, studying her for a moment. Then he breathed a brisk, “Thank you,” before he flew past her and into the kitchen, flinging open the dishwasher door and interrupting the wash cycle.
She smiled after him, letting him do his thing. She cheered a silent victory at how he didn’t have to rearrange anything this time. But he did go over the counters one more time with a fresh rag, despite the fact that the queen of England would have eaten off that marble.
Juliet was tempted to pack up Eric’s workspace, but she knew she wasn’t quite that daring.
Upon his return to the abyss, however, she stood to meet him. Taking him by the hand, she reached up and ran her fingers through his gorgeous blonde hair. “How about you wrap it up for the night? It’s late—“
“Juliet—“
“I mean it. What happened to no work after five?”
“Come on. That was me, trying to win you over. We both know that’s a myth.”
“You need a rest. Your brain needs a refresher.”
“I have to—I mean, what if--?”
“What if you uncover something tonight? What are you going to do with it at eleven o’clock?”
He looked around, rubbing his hand over his face. “Shit, is it that late?”
“About a quarter after.”
Eric’s face read reluctance, she could see it. He turned and looked at the mess on the table, then he turned back to Juliet with conflict in his eyes.
“I’ll go and draw a bath.”
He nodded. “Yeah, okay. By the time you get finished in there, I’ll be finished here.”
“I’ll go and draw us a bath,” she clarified. “Where we can both relax. In hot water. Naked. Together.”
His jaw slackened.
“Okay,” she replied to his silence. “I’ll go and start the water. That will give you enough time to put away this mess.”
With that, she turned around and walked away, not giving him another opportunity to object.
A short while later, Juliet sat in the extra-large garden tub that took up Eric’s master bathroom. She never understood his need for such a large living space, with the multiple bathrooms and bedrooms. They only used four rooms when she was over, and she assumed he used the same four when he was alone. Though she understood his attachment to his living room ceiling, she never understood his need to buy out the entire floor.
Then she remembered his plans for it.
“So how much of the remodel for this place do you actually have mapped out?”
Eric shared the tub with her. As Juliet luxuriously reclined against the slanted wall of the tub, her thick hair in a careless ball atop her head, Eric rested between her legs, his back nestled against her flesh, her legs wrapped around his waist.
Mindlessly, he pressed each of her pink-painted toes between his thumb and forefinger continuously. She didn’t make an effort to stop him. She’d never had anyone do that before and she decided she loved it.
As she sponged hot water across his chest, he let his head fall back against her shoulder, abandoning her question. “This was an excellent idea,” he breathed. “Travis said Beth makes him take bubble baths. Now I see why.”
Juliet smiled and shook her head. No conversation, personal or otherwise, would ever be had without mention of his twin. She was growing used to it.
“Should I have added bubbles?”
“No. This is perfect.” Not so mindlessly now, he used his hand to swish water over her feet. Then he resumed his toe-pressing. “You’ve been unbelievably wonderful this week. Any other woman would have—“
“Except that I’m not any other woman,” she reminded him warmly. “You would have done the same for me.”
“It’s just that—“
“Nope. No, no. No more of that tonight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. We’re relaxing, clearing our heads. I put some eucalyptus mint in the water. Is it helping?”
“Everything is helping.”
“Take a deep breath.”
Without a word, he followed her instruction.
“Good,” she replied. Then she smiled as she sponged more water over his torso. “Nobody’s ever done that to my toes before. I like it.”
“Huh?” He lifted his head and glanced downward. Then his forearms came out of the water and he wrapped both of his strong hands around her right foot.
“Oh, god, that’s better,” she breathed.
“Your calluses are rough,” he murmured.
“That’s the price you pay for cute shoes.”
“I have a callus remover. I’ll do it for you later.”
“Eric, you don’t have to—“
“I want to.”
She smiled as she peered around his neck. “I’ll do yours if you do mine?”
“I don’t wear cute shoes.”
Juliet giggled as she abandoned the sponge onto the side of the tub. Now she gathered some water into her hand and let it trickle off of her fingertips and onto his hair. From there, she raked her fingers over his scalp.
He groaned his approval and so she continued until his hair was soaked through.
“I enjoy taking care of you,” she whispered. “I, um, I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed taking care of someone before.”
“That’s what I want,” he replied quietly. “To take care of each other. I want nights like this; raw, quiet. Alone. Just to be with each other.”
“I want that, too.”
He squeezed her foot and then lifted it out of the water. “Then I want it to turn into wild, raw, loud monkey sex.”
Juliet burst into laughter. “Monkey sex?”
“Yes. Monkey sex. The kind where we’re twisted up into positions we wouldn’t dare discuss out loud, our voices echoing off the walls—where you let me wear my socks—“
“No.”
“Socks on a woman during sex is hot.”
“You’re not a woman.”
“Lucky you.”
“Monkey sex? That’s what you want?”
“I mean…you want me to be distracted this weekend, right? Stress-free?”
“Eric…” she warned.
“Monkey sex.”
Juliet rolled her eyes. “Have you ever even seen monkeys have sex?”
“Back in the day, there was a lot to discover late night on the Discovery Channel.”
“I’m already regretting the question,” she muttered.
“Pretty sure it was one of those late night deals that turned me into a man.”
“Oh my god!”
Eric laughed, clearly amused with himself. “Sometimes grossing you out is better than making you laugh.”
“Oh. So you’re one of those.”
“Get used to it.” With that, he grabbed hold of both of her ankles and tightened her legs around his waist. “Monkey sex.”
* * *
As it turned out, there was no monkey sex to be had. By the time they had pulled themselves from the bath, they were overcome with exhaustion. Pulling on the white tee shirt that Eric had previously removed from himself, Juliet crawled into bed with him, and the couple murmured nonsense to each other before drifting off to sleep, not more than ten minutes later.
Hours later, however, Juliet lay awake in bed, staring wide-eyed into the darkness. Beside her, Eric slept soundly, his deep, even breathing the only sound in the room. She was surprised he wasn’t woken up by the sound of reality crashing down around her.
It hit her like a ton of bricks, completely out of nowhere. She was with Eric. She was with Eric. As in, they were a pair. An item. In a situation where it wasn’t just one or the other anymore. They were together. With each other. Committed.
In a relationship.
All of a sudden, she couldn’t breathe.
The last time she was in a relationship was with an alcoholic construction worker. She lived in pure terror nearly every night. Since then, in Juliet’s mind, relationships equated to a loss of control. They were a world where men ruled and women were helpless. Her marriage was the worst time of her life, even compared to the hell that her childhood was. She wouldn’t have wished that marriage on anyone. And she swore that she would never put herself in such a position again.
And then she met Eric. And he was nothing like that—and he never would be. He was unlike anyone she had ever met. He was everything that her dreams and her fantasies were made of. He was kind and gentle and handsome and compassionate. He treated her like she was a human being…and as if she were the only woman in the world. Juliet had never known men to be that way.
But, then…Steve was similar in the beginning. He’d told her everything she wanted to hear: that she was beautiful and that she didn’t deserve the hell she lived in. He took her on dates and he doted on her. She never left his side and all he did was smile and tell all “the boys” about how his woman was the best little woman a man could ever have. He loved her and he was happy. She was happy.
And then one day…he wasn’t. It was as if he had changed overnight and she had never seen it coming. He’d violated her trust with the back of his hand. With one unexpected blow to the cheek he used to caress and call beautiful, leaving it now bruised and bloodied, the man she’d fallen for had disappeared—and he never returned.
That was how these relationships started. They were always happy in the beginning. There were stars in the eyes, sweet nothings whispered every night, hours and hours of wishes and dreams…until he doesn’t want it anymore. Until you make one false move or say one wrong word—and it’s over that quickly.
That was how they all began—with someone as pure and good as Eric, losing himself somewhere along the way.
A lump formed in her throat as she turned her head in his direction. She couldn’t see him in the dark, but it didn’t matter. Eric was different. She didn’t want to be afraid—especially when she knew she had nothing to fear. Eric didn’t deserve the thoughts she was having and she knew this. But she couldn’t help it. The voice inside her head was urging her to, “Run. Save yourself. Stop it before it starts.”
And before she knew it, both feet were on the floor.
She sat on the edge of the bed, unmoving. She’d made promises this time. She’d made a commitment. She’d made a choice to let Eric into her heart. She couldn’t run. Not this time. Not anymore.
But what happened when he didn’t feel the same anymore? What happened when he had a shitty day at work and he came home and got drunk and hated the mere sight of her? How long did she have to wait for that to kick in? How far would she let herself fall before she couldn’t get out anymore?
She hadn’t realized the tears that fell from her eyes until she involuntarily sniffed them back. Quickly, she wiped her nose and tried to swallow the sudden sobs, but she was too late and she found herself running from the bedroom so that her weeping wouldn’t wake Eric.
She made it to the kitchen before she collapsed over the island and let the tears pour out of her soul. She had to get out of there. She had to do it. She couldn’t stay, she couldn’t…she couldn’t risk it.
In an attempt to dry her eyes, she stood up to get her bearings, turning around to find the light switch, when it turned on automatically, flooding the kitchen with blinding white light. In the doorway, Eric stood, heavy-eyed, in nothing but a pair of black sweats and bed hair. His sleepy pout screamed of his innocence and Juliet tried to choke back a new batch of tears as she was now filled with guilt.
“Babe,” he murmured curiously. “You okay? I woke up and you weren’t there…”
For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. Then her voice cracked and the words spilled out. “I’m sorry.” He was crossing the room as her tears fell. The closer he came, the worse her sobbing grew. “I’m scared. And I don’t know what to do!”
“Oh, baby,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her.
She collapsed into his chest and hid her face in her hands. “I’m sorry!”
“Tell me what’s going on,” he said gently. “Was it a nightmare?”
“I—I can’t.”
“You can’t what? Tell me? You can tell me anything, you know that.”
“I don’t want you to hate me.”
He let out a breath and stroked her hair as he held her. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I already know.”
“You do?” She squeaked as she looked up at him.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “And I don’t hate you. And I wish so much that I could fix this for you—that I could make it all go away—because I would. In a heartbeat. Unfortunately, you’re gonna have to allow yourself to trust me. And believe in me. You know I won’t hurt you.”
“I know.”
“But I can’t fault you for being afraid. Because I understand why you are. And I’m right here by your side, holding your hand along the way, no matter what. Okay? We’re in this together, you and me. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
“I feel like such a horrible person,” she whispered as her tears weakened.
“You’re not a horrible person. I know you’re not. Hey…” He pulled away and tilted her chin upward. Wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumb, he smirked softly. “You know what’ll cheer you up? Tomorrow’s Saturday. And we have absolutely nowhere in the world to be tomorrow. Right?”
“Are you sure?” She asked with a sniffle, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Don’t you have something to do with--?”
“Nowhere to be,” he repeated with a smile. “So why don’t you let me make you one of my famous ice cream sundaes and you can bask in your sugar high and sleep it off in the morning? Ice cream is the cure for everything, right?”
Finally getting her bearings, she pushed herself off of his chest and scowled at him. “Why do you have ice cream? You can’t have ice cream.”
“For you.” Then he rolled his eyes and deadpanned, “There’s sugar-free frozen yogurt, too.” Reaching out, he swept away the hair that stuck to her cheek. “Go hop in bed and I’ll bring it to you.”
Narrowing her eyes warily, she replied, “No.”
He blinked at her. “No?”
“No. I want to watch you make it.”
“Come on,” he scoffed. “At this point, I could prepare your food with my eyes closed. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”
“No,” she repeated more defiantly. “I want to watch. Because when that lid comes off of that carton, I want to make sure that it’s a flat, pristine, undisturbed canvas of frozen chocolate. It’s okay. I’ll wait.”
Eric let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine,” he relented, throwing his arms wide in defeat. “I taste-tested the ice cream. Okay? You got me.”
“Eric!”
“But, baby, I just wanted to make sure it was good before I gave it to you! You can’t fault a guy for that.”
“You don’t taste test ice cream, Eric,” Juliet spat. “It’s completely unnecessary.”
“Says who? You never know.”
“Because it’s ice cream! Ice cream isn’t gross!”
“Look. I only had a spoonful. Come on. I’m still kicking, aren’t I?”
“Not the point.”
Stepping close to her again, he reached out and ran his hands softly over her arms. “Babe. Are we really standing here, having an argument about ice cream at three in the morning? Aren’t there better things we could be doing at three in the morning? Like having sex?”
“Ice cream first,” she pouted.
Eric’s eyes widened in amusement. “Oh, so now you want the ice cream.”
“Well, I never not wanted it. I just didn’t want you to have it.”
He chuckled lightly. “Trust me. Go to bed. And be naked when I get in there.”
“Make sure that bowl is dripping with so much syrup that you have to lick it off of me,” she demanded.
He grinned wickedly. “Oh, that’s a guarantee.”
Minutes later, as Juliet sat up, nude, in bed with the comforter tucked under her arms, Eric walked into the room with two bowls of ice cream and his laptop tucked under his arm.
Handing her a chocolate mountain, he walked around the bed and flopped his computer down onto it with his free hand. He sunk one knee into the softness of the sheets when Juliet waved her spoon at him.
“Mm-mm,” she murmured with a mouthful of chocolate. “No clothes allowed, remember? If I have to, you have to.”
With a smirk, he sat his frozen yogurt bowl on his end table and was much too happy to oblige. Juliet’s chewing slowed as she watched him, a new craving forming at the pit of her belly. Would she ever get enough of him? Was her addiction to him normal?
The moment was sadly short-lived. He slid under the covers next to her, the warmth of his hardened thigh pressed against hers. Then, simultaneously, he reached for his dessert bowl and dragged his laptop into his lap.
“Eric…” she warned.
He smiled. “It’s not what you think. When I want to get rid of the heavy shit that’s weighing on my mind, this is what I do.”
She watched as he powered it on and clicked around the screen. The next thing she knew, the Merrie Melodies theme song filled the screen.
Juliet almost choked. “Cartoons?”
He turned the lights out and pulled her tighter against him. “Come on, my lady. I got this. It works every time. You can’t argue that I’m delightful.”
“You always know how to make me smile.”
A pair of cold, sticky yogurt lips pressed into her forehead. “Quiet now. Be vewwy vewwy quiet…”
Juliet burst into laughter. So much so, that her snorting put Porky Pig to shame. And when Eric pointed that out, she laughed even harder.
He was right. It had worked. Dessert, careless laughter, and the warmth of her favorite man. In the moment, that combination was the cure-all to life.