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She made a lunch date, she overheard a catty remark, she stole away to a quiet corner with a glass of champagne. A man she’d never met trapped her there before she could make an escape. There was a platinum-and-steel watch on his left wrist and a heavy gold ring on his right pinky.
He introduced himself like she should know his name.
At a loss, she tossed out a guess. “You played golf with Wayne?”
He shook his head, his Einsteinian mass of hair waving. “No golf. Never had the pleasure of meeting the man. I make movies. Writer-director-producer. Last year’s Voyeur? Pop Art three years before that?”
Juliet shrugged. “Sorry. I haven’t been to the movies in a while.”
“I have two Best Picture Oscars.”
“Congratulations.” What else could she say?
He nodded, as if coming to terms with his inability to impress her. “I came here tonight hoping to get a chance to talk with you. I was going to get Helen to introduce us, but I took it upon myself instead.”
Apparently he was more informed about movies than society gossip, which upped his ante in Juliet’s eyes.
“I wasn’t sure if your bodyguard would let me get close, though,” the writer-director-producer continued.
“What bodyguard?” She frowned.
“Intense young man in a dark jacket? He’s been shadowing you all night.”
Her heart made another leap for her throat and she found herself searching the crowd. Damn, she thought. Her feelings for him hadn’t disappeared, had they? She still loved him so much.
But he wasn’t anywhere in sight, she realized, as her heart settled back into her aching chest. If he’d had her under surveillance before, he was gone now, and she couldn’t decide if it made her mad that he’d been watchful or glad he hadn’t interfered.
She hadn’t needed him to deal with Helen. Though she definitely needed some additional expertise, she decided, as her new Hollywood friend launched into his pitch. There was a chapter in Wayne’s book about Gulf War I that screamed “movie” to the man. He wanted to option the autobiography.
Someone was noticing her husband had been a hero, after all.
An hour later, she made her good-byes and repeated her thanks to her hostess. “I saw who you were talking to in the corner…” the older woman started.
“Yes,” Juliet answered the unspoken question, and this time her smile was 100 percent genuine. “And I have a very good feeling, Helen, that after tonight they just might have to dub me the Dealmaker.” A deal that would put her late husband, America’s Hero, in a worldwide spotlight for all posterity.
It was all she’d ever thought she’d want.
Around the corner from Helen’s house, Noah leaned against the driver’s side of Juliet’s Mercedes and listened to her high heels tapping the asphalt as she approached. His gaze fixed on the ground at his feet and his fists dug in the pockets of his slacks, he tracked her unhesitating progress.
He’d watched her walk the gauntlet at the party and he wasn’t surprised that her stride wouldn’t hitch at the prospect of taking him on, either. Under her elegance, beauty, and poise, tonight he’d seen the toughness he hadn’t given her credit for before now.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Instead of looking at her, he stared at the pointed toes of her high heels, stopped so close to his loafers. He shook his head and even that small movement hurt. His body felt like he’d been in a brawl and yet all he wanted was to find a convenient wall to pummel with his fists. “I really don’t know why I’m here.”
“Did you end up with an invitation, too?”
“I crashed the party. Cassandra told me where I could find you.”
“What?” Juliet’s voice was hostile. “You found out I was going to attend tonight and thought I needed a security detail?”
“No. You handled the crowd back there without a tremor. I admire the hell out of you for it.” Maybe that was just another reason he was aching so damn bad. Juliet didn’t need him.
“Then why, Noah? Why are you here?”
She’d already asked him once, and he was such a mess he didn’t have a decent lie left in him. “To see you. I just had to see you tonight.”
“What for? Do you have something to tell me?”
“Yeah.” It came out then, things he should have said, things he shouldn’t say, and then those he couldn’t hold back. All of then tumbled out of his mouth, but none of them eased his pain. “I have to apologize. I have to say I should have given you the choice that day a year ago. I have to say that I love you, that I’m in love with you, and I have to tell—oh, hell, Juliet, I need to tell someone who would understand—Tim… My friend Tim died today.”
