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“Okay,” Nikki said, nodding. “Laziness over a supremacy wish. And it explains why Jay is here telling everyone he’s Don Ho when he’s really just dressed in his own pair of cargo shorts, flip-flops, and one of his collection of vintage Hawaiian shirts.”
Juliet smiled as she spotted the man in question threading through the crowd and carrying drinks for the three of them. The deck was lit by the lights on the small patio tables and the tiki torches ringing it. “The ukulele is a cute touch. And the costume does kind of go with your most outstanding mermaid getup.”
Nikki reached for the lemon drop martini Jay handed to her and ran her gaze over Juliet. “You’re looking good, too. I like the Shakespearean slant.”
“Credit Cassandra’s creativity once again,” she said, running her hand down the long blue velvet robe the other woman had pulled out of her own closet. Underneath the half-open garment they’d paired a white peasant-style blouse and a long cotton petticoat. “It took her fifteen minutes and a glue gun to make the ‘Juliet’ cap.” In a darker shade of velvet, it hugged the crown of her head and was edged with colored “gems” as big as her thumbnail.
And it had taken less than fifteen for Cassandra to convince Juliet to attend the Halloween event. After a few days of stewing over Noah, she’d realized she needed the distraction. A little fun.
Nikki sipped at her drink and leaned closer so she didn’t have to yell over the music. “The only thing missing is Romeo.”
Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou, Romeo?
Juliet sighed. Recently, she’d only caught glimpses of her across-the-pool-neighbor—always accompanied by Dean. He’d nodded. She’d fluttered her fingers.
They’d both looked away.
After that last interlude in her kitchen—she was beginning to wonder if the location was bewitched—she’d gone to bed flustered. Okay, frustrated. Not to mention hurt. How could he touch her so intimately and then retreat with such speed and without so much as a word?
But after a few hours of flopping back and forth on her mattress, she’d started to look at it from his point of view. Why would a man—handsome, intelligent, and used to a variety of women—want to get involved with a widow who carried enough baggage to weigh down both of them?
Not to mention that she hadn’t spoken a word to him either. Before that kiss, after those touches, neither time had she assured him she was only contemplating a brief affair. Maybe if she’d been up-front: I just want your skin, your heat, your manness, no more—
But thinking about that wasn’t distracting or fun, so she turned away from it all by turning to her sister’s fiancé. His gaze was trained on Nikki.
“So,” she said. “How are things with you, Jay?”
He started. “Huh?”
“How are you?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, I was just congratulating myself on my choice of future wife.”
Nikki rolled her eyes. “Right. You were congratulating yourself on my cleavage, Hef.”
He grinned. “If you say you didn’t wear those starfish with just that in mind, then you lie, cookie.”
Without bothering to hide her own shameless grin, Nikki shot a look at Juliet. “Can’t get much by him, I tell ya.”
“Which reminds me,” Jay said. “I’ve been meaning to follow up on that conversation I started about your husband’s book.”
“Jay…” Nikki groaned. “We’re at a party.”
“Exactly. So if you try to murder me again, this time there’ll be plenty of witnesses.”
Wayne’s book, Juliet thought. She’d yet to come up with any concrete plan to promote its success. “What do you want to know about it?”
“I’m thinking of featuring the autobiography in NYFM’s online edition.”
“NYFM?” Juliet’s interest sparked. Now she recalled that Jay was a magazine editor, but she hadn’t known it was that magazine. For men, mostly about men, the publication could bring to the book the kind of attention it deserved. “You work for NYFM?”
“Yep,” he said. “So what do you think about your husband’s book? Does it capture the essence of the man?”
She closed her eyes and breathed in, for a moment almost conjuring up the essence she remembered so well. She almost, almost, had it, the smell of starch on Wayne’s shirt mixed with the slightly caustic scent of his dry-cleaned dress uniform. Then it was gone, and she looked at Jay again, with a pang realizing how alone she still could feel, even at a party attended by more than a hundred people.
