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“Well,” Cassandra mused, “it doesn’t have to be about commitment, now, does it?”
Nikki popped upright on the cushions and hooted, tears all dry. “No way! Ms. Takes-No-Man-to-Bed is suggesting Juliet shag Noah for…for…just for the fun of it?”
For the fun of it? Juliet remembered his hot mouth, his hard hands, the breadth of his chest and the solid weight of his muscles. Would getting close to all that be fun? With a shiver, she gathered her knitting against her chest.
“He’s going away soon,” she said. “In three, four weeks tops, he’s going to leave the house and move on to his own life.”
“Maybe that’s all the better,” Cassandra responded. “Because there is that way you two look at each other. If he’s leaving soon, nobody gets hurt, but you still get—”
“Laid.” Nikki interjected, an unholy grin taking over her face. “Perfect. I think you should let that gorgeous guy strip you right out of those beige clothes you’re wearing tonight and bring you back to life.”
“Nikki!” Cassandra laughed. “I said it before, I’ll say it again. You are bad.”
“And I like it,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Bet Juliet will, too. We’re sisters, after all.”
God, the women were crazy. Juliet Weston—rule-following, instruction-adhering widow Juliet Weston—couldn’t just hop into a brief affair with the guy across the pool…could she?
Wouldn’t it be a betrayal? She’d loved Wayne with all her heart.
But…this wasn’t about her heart.
It was about her body, her tingly, womanly, okay, aroused body that was put in that state just thinking about…about…
Shagging Noah.
But she’d come here tonight to figure out something to give him. How could she walk out thinking about possibly giving herself such a present?
And now that Nikki and Cassandra had put it into her head…how could she not think about it?
Noah jolted awake, just in time to catch the glass in his hand from tipping over and dumping the two inches of whisky it held onto the flagstone deck.
Behind him, he could hear the rhythm of one of their old Iraq anthems, Metallica’s “Seek and Destroy,” beating like a headache from inside the guesthouse. After some Mexican takeout, he and Dean had cranked up the volume coming through the speakers and toasted old times with a full bottle of booze. They’d siphoned off more than half when Noah’s old Army buddy had leaned back in the recliner and z’d off for a little rack time.
Considering that half-bottle gone, Dean had just as likely passed out. Hooah.
Noah was slightly better off, because he’d left the guesthouse to head outside, and because he’d semi-controlled his intake so he’d be coherent when Juliet came home.
Juliet.
His head snapped around and then he figured what must have woken him. When last he’d looked, the place across the pool had been dark except for the security lights. Now the kitchen was lit and he could see her moving about. Apparently she’d returned from Malibu & Ewe. Standing, he shook his head and took a minute to let the liquor settle in the lower half of his brain. Then it took only seconds for him to reach the French door leading into the kitchen.
She jumped at his rattling knock on the glass. Then she crossed to the door and through the double panes he could see she was wearing boxy, man-cut pajamas in some satiny fabric. They hid everything from below her throat all the way to her ankles, but he’d already conceded the singular sexiness of her elegant, gold-tipped toes.
“Noah?” she said, as she opened the door to let him inside. “What’s up?”
Yeah, there was a dangerous question. With that classy scent of hers in the air and now in his head, he was forced to shove his hands in his front pockets, working on the good ol’ denim stretch. It took so little of her to get to him. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay with Dean bunking with me across the way.”
“I told you so when you asked after he called the other night. That’s your place, your decision.” Despite the speech, there was a new pink flush across her cheekbones and her gaze kept sliding away from his.
Frowning, he withdrew a hand to tuck his forefinger under her chin. “Juliet? What’s wrong?”
She gave a wry smile and then began plucking at the lapels of her pajama top. “I realize I’m in beige again.”
His glance flicked down. Beige? On her, to him, everything looked golden. Out of reach. He let his finger drop and he stepped back. “Uh, I guess I should go then.”
She was grasping those silky-looking lapels with white knuckles. “So soon?”
