Fooling Around (23 page)

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kristin slipping away, back up the trail. She must have been here lighting all these candles.

Julie stared around at the whole scene, hardly able to take it all in. It was like a vision from one of her daydreams. Exactly like it. Only so much better because the man at her side was Eric.

Her vision was blurring when she turned to look up at him.

“I know it’s not exactly a picnic,” he said, “because we’re not sitting on the grass. But I’m not sure how well I could manage eating on the ground right n—”

Before he could finish his dry comment, she’d hurled herself at him, hugging and kissing him with all the passion she had inside her.

It was so much passion they both almost tumbled to the ground.

Eric managed to balance them again, hugging her back and chuckling softly. But when they pulled apart and she looked up into his face, his expression had sobered. “I want all of your daydreams to come true.”

She almost lost it. It was touch and go for a minute. She took several shaky breaths as so many feelings coalesced inside her, threatening to turn into tears.

Then Eric asked, “You’re not going to cry, are you?”

“No.” She cleared her throat and composed her expression. “Of course not. I don’t cry when I’m happy.”

“You’re happy?”

“Of course I am. No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”

Eric met her eyes. “I love you, Julie. And you’re not going to live any more of your life without someone to do things like this for you.”

“I love you too.”

“Good. I thought so, but it’s about time you admitted it.”

“You hadn’t admitted it yet eith—”

“But I said it first. That’s what counts.”

She gave him a light punch on the arm. “If you’re going to be obnoxious, I’m going to have my romantic picnic by myself.”

He chuckled and led her over to her place at the table.

More than an hour later, the sun had set and they’d finished their dinner and champagne. They’d spread a thick blanket on the grass and were stretched out on it together, after a little grumbling from Eric as he lowered himself to the ground.

They were occasionally kissing softly, tenderly, nothing becoming too urgent yet.

“I talked to Maddy today,” Eric said. He was on his back, staring up at the stars, stroking Julie’s hair as she nestled against his side.

“How is she doing?”

“Great. Unshakable. Same as always. I talked to Trish too.”

“Any more results on the treatments?”

It was an up-and-down road with the treatments the doctor at Johns Hopkins was trying on Maddy’s still-unknown illness. The first report had been bad. The second report had been promising. She’d gone back for her third treatment early this week, and they hadn’t heard anything else.

“No improvement since last time,” he said after letting out a breath. “But it’s not gotten any worse.”

“Well, that’s good, then. Right? It’s something to be hopeful about. It got better once, and now it’s not getting worse. Maybe it will get better again.”

“Yeah.” He turned his head to look at her. “The doctor seemed encouraged, so they’re going to keep up the new treatments.”

“Good.” She rubbed his chest and then slid her hand up to his face. “There’s hope.”

He met her eyes. “Always.”

She kissed him then, unable to stand the distance between them, and soon the kiss became deep, hungry.

“You know what?” Eric said after several minutes of kissing and caressing. His voice was thick, but it also held a familiar ironic note.

“What?”

He rolled over, moving above her, pushing up her dress enough to settle himself between her legs. “This time, I get to be on top.”

Six months later, Julie, Eric, and Maddy all walked down to the beach together from the house in the Outer Banks.

It was December, so none of them were in shorts or bathing suits. Maddy wore a light coat, and Julie had on a thick hoodie. But it wasn’t a very cold day, and the sun was shining, so they were going to take advantage of the good weather.

They threw a football around for a long time, both Maddy and Eric working hard to improve Julie’s throw and her catch. Then they spread out a blanket and sat down for a little picnic, eating sandwiches, grapes, and cookies while they watched the waves crash.

And Julie was happy. So incredibly happy.

She had a family again, when not so long ago it had felt like she’d lost one.

“Julie?” Maddy asked soberly, after taking a long sip of water. “How many pages do you have written of your dissertation?”

The girl asked Julie this every time she saw her. It was like having a living, breathing hourglass. “The day before yesterday, I finished page one hundred.”

“Wow.” Maddy’s brown eyes were wide. “That’s a lot. How many more do you have?”

“A lot.” Julie smiled from Maddy to Eric. “But I’m making good progress.”

“That’s good.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Julie glanced over to Eric, and their eyes met. She nodded at him, silently encouraging him to do what they’d come out here to do.

She didn’t know why he was nervous. Maddy was going to be happy about it. But this was new, and Maddy was his daughter, and he wanted to be careful about anything that disrupted her life.

They still had no idea how long she would live. She was still going through treatments, and the results were still up and down. It was hard. It was so hard. For Maddy. For her mother. And for Eric. But they were all doing as well as could be expected.

There was still hope.

“Daddy?” Maddy said into the silence.

“Yes, Peanut.”

“Did you have something bad to say to me?”

“What? No. Why would I have something bad to say?”

“I don’t know. Something seems weird.”

Eric chuckled and reached out to brush back his daughter’s hair from her face. “It’s nothing bad, but it is
something
.” He reached over to take Julie’s hand. “Julie and I are going to get married.”

Maddy’s eyes were wide, moving between Julie and her father. “Really?”

“Yes. I asked her last weekend and she said yes.”

“Oh.” Maddy appeared to think hard for a minute. “So she’d be my stepmom.”

“That’s right.” Eric’s eyes rested on his daughter, watching her closely.

“Why aren’t you wearing a ring?” Maddy asked Julie, peering down at her finger.

Julie reached into the pocket of her jeans. “Because I didn’t want to wear it until we got a chance to tell you.” She slipped the gorgeous, ludicrously expensive engagement ring on her left hand. A princess-cut diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds in the most beautiful platinum setting she’d ever seen.

She showed the ring to Maddy, who stared at it for a long time. “It’s pretty.”

“So what do you think?” Eric asked. “Are you happy for us?”

Maddy nodded. “I’m happy.” She still had on her characteristically serious expression. “I’ve been waiting for it for a long time.”

“You have?” Eric asked, smiling warmly, his shoulders relaxing.

“Of course.” Maddy looked at Julie. “So now you can make Daddy’s eyes happy forever.”

Julie nodded, feeling for a moment like she was so happy she could cry.

Eric’s eyes
were
happy as he gazed at her. Filled with joy and warmth and possession and knowledge and tenderness and hope. All of it was for her.

He
was for her.

Julie managed to turn away from him and everything she saw in his face in order to answer Maddy. “That’s right,” she said. “That will be my job now. Forever.”

N
OELLE
A
DAMS
handwrote her first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances. She has lived in eight different states and currently resides in Virginia, where she reads any book she can get her hands on and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel. You can find her online at:

noelle-adams.com

@NoelleAdams3

Swing into spring this May with Loveswept! We’ve got something for everyone, so take your pick from these fabulous romance books.

Tracy March brings you another enchanting novel set in Colorado, with book two in her Thistle Bend series,
Just Say Maybe.
Brenda Rothert releases her first Loveswept book,
Blown Away,
a sensual, emotionally charged novel of love and loss in which a tender affair gives two daring storm chasers the strength to overcome shattered dreams and the courage to build a future together. Then we go from extreme weather to the world of extreme sports with Zoe Dawson’s pulse-pounding Mavrick Allstars series debut, the steamy
Ramping Up.
Bestselling author HelenKay Dimon makes her Loveswept debut with
Mr. and Mr. Smith.
Moving on from the suspenseful to the sensual is a novel of pleasure and persuasion revolving around a high-stakes business deal in which the rules of negotiation are defined by desire in Shawntelle Madison’s
Bound to You
.
New York Times
bestselling author Noelle Adams introduces a notorious tech mogul who makes a mild-mannered woman an offer she can’t refuse and gets in return a battle for control—and a million-dollar affair—in
Fooling Around
. The Hunt Club continues with Pamela Labud’s
A Most Delicate Pursuit
.
New York Times
bestselling author Erin McCarthy follows Nashville’s hottest country music duo as they fight for love in a city where dreams often cost a broken heart in
Heart Breaker
. And
New York Times
bestselling author Sawyer Bennett proves that vengeance is sweet—but seduction is to die for—in
Sugar Daddy
.

Wait—there’s more! Gina Gordon’s White Lace series continues in book two with lots of sizzle and heat in
Reason to Believe
. A. M. Madden continues the True Heroes series—
hot hero alert!—
with
Glass Ceilings
. Two tortured souls share an unbreakable bond even as they break taboos, as Laura Marie Altom does it again with a fabulous stepbrother romance in
Stepping Over the Line
. Back in the sporting world,
Stacked Up
continues the Worth the Fight series from
USA Today
bestselling author Sidney Halston. And
Interference
continues the Pilot Hockey series from Sophia Henry, where a young single mom falls for a damaged coach pulling double-duty as a cop.

It’s a great month for relationships, so follow us on Facebook and Twitter and let the romance begin!

Facebook.com/readloveswept

@readloveswept

Until next month ~Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

by Erin McCarthy

Coming soon from Loveswept

When Jolene Hart broke off her affair with Chance Rivers, he left willingly enough, but he threw his guitar in her pool and stole their Song of the Year Grammy off the wall on his way out the door.

She retaliated by putting sugar in the gas tank of his favorite truck and turning his dog against him.

He took up with a blonde named Dixie and Jolene fell into bed with her bus driver. She heard Chance drank too much, and she ate cheesy grits like there was no tomorrow where she had to wear skintight jeans on stage. Together they had been country’s hottest new duo. Separate they were capable of selling almost no records.

Which was why their manager now had them locked in an office together to sort out their upcoming album. Jolene wasn’t having any of it. To say that Chance felt the same was a serious understatement.

“Unlock the damn door,” he told Ginny, his voice deceptively calm.

But having spent six months dating him, Jolene recognized the signs of impending explosion. His strong jaw was set. His nostrils were flaring. His dark brown hair was falling in his gorgeous eyes and he hadn’t bothered to toss it out of the way. The only part of his body that moved was his thumb, tapping up and down rapidly on the denim covering his knee. He was refusing to look at her, and that served to make her temper flare right along with his. The least the bastard could do was look at her. She hadn’t expected flowers or even a smile, but a damn hello would be appreciated considering the man’s penis was no stranger to her mouth.

“No,” Ginny said firmly. In her sixties, she’d been in Nashville since before it was trendy. She turned nobodies into stars and stars into nobodies and took no bullshit from any man. “We’re sorting this out today Chance Rivers, because I’ve about had it with you two. The label wants the album in two months and if y’all don’t produce something you’ll be yesterday’s news.”

Jolene shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair in front of Ginny’s desk. Ginny was her manager and mentor, and she was right. Things changed in the business as frequently as Jolene changed her underwear. You either kept up or got left behind—and this was only their second album. Their first had been an unexpected runaway success and she’d shot from modestly famous local solo artist to duet superstardom. Since she had no desire to go home to Starkey, Kentucky, home of nothing, or wind up singing in bars around town for a few sets a night, she was going to have to swallow her rancor for Chance and get the job done. Though the idea of writing and recording with him made her want to throw up in her mouth. Or better yet, on Chance.

The man was insufferable.

He scowled.

And yet, he was so very, very sexy.

She suddenly felt the urge to sigh, marveling at how they’d gone from introduction to songwriting team to stars to lovers to enemies all in the course of eighteen months. It had been a whirlwind and given she’d spent damn near every day in his presence, her personal and professional relationship with him had literally taken over her life. There was a hole there now that he was gone, though she wouldn’t go so far as to call it missing him. He was arrogant, a know-it-all, a lying son of a bitch. But he was also tender, romantic, loyal. With fingers that strummed her with as much confident skill as he did his guitar. Not that there had been any strumming at the end of their relationship. More like picking.

It felt weird to be so close to him yet have no right to touch him. This was the first time she had been in the same room with him since the fight to end all fights in her back yard last April. Now it was sweaty, hot July and she would swear to God she could smell Chance, that earthy, musky cologne he always wore, that never failed to turn her on.

“Ginny, in case you haven’t noticed Jolene and I can’t stand each other. How do you expect us to cut a record together?” His voice was more than a little irritated.

Okay, that hurt. Right in that sack of stupid she called her heart. He didn’t have to be so blunt about it. Sure, they’d been slinging arrows at each other for months. But she was the one who ended it, if you wanted to get technical. So he shouldn’t be acting like he’d never wanted her in the first place. They’d loved each other once. Right? Even if they’d never said it. There had been strong feelings there. But whatever it had been it had gone into the pool along with his guitar and sunk straight on down to the bottom. And drowned.

The thought made her squirm again on her chair. She crossed and recrossed her legs, the button on her jeans cutting into her gut. Yeah. The grits and BBQ and vast quantities of nachos needed to stop or she was going to be popping sequins and ripping fringe. She felt both frumpy and put out, and it made her want to defend herself. “I can cut a record with anyone. Hell, I can cut a record with a potbelly pig if that’s what it takes.”

“Which is where you and I have differing opinions,” Chance said flatly. “You want to slap your smile on a shitty song if it will sell. I want to make real music.”

Oh, the bastard. Pretentious as hell with his nose so far in the air it was a wonder he didn’t fall over backwards. “I am not ashamed of the fact that I want to make a dime,” she said. “Not everyone gets the luxury of a lifetime of success. I want to ride the gravy train while I can. So sue me.”

“You signed the contract,” Ginny reminded him. “So don’t go all
artiste
on me. Look, you either cut the record or you’re going to lose your career. Given what I’ve been hearing about you and your drinking, if you screw the label over you might as well book your spot on
Celebrity Rehab
right now. It’s the only work you’re gonna get, no matter who your daddy is.”

Ouch. Ginny didn’t mince words.

Though after his dig about her being a sellout she had to admit she didn’t mind seeing him insulted, and for once she didn’t have to lift a finger to do it. She sat back and waited for Chance’s ears to start emitting steam. He had a problem processing his anger and she would accept no blame for it this go round. His outbursts were never frightening, just annoying. He got in rant mode and it was impossible to pull him back out.

“I do not have a drinking problem. Not since Jolene and I broke up anyway.” There was a tic in his jaw.

He was damn near to the point of exploding. Jolene knew that one more strategically placed push could send him over the edge. In the eighteen months of her Chance Rivers immersion program, she’d learned every single one of his hot buttons, and all of them had to do with his songwriting. If she were an evil son of a bitch with no heart she’d flick him good right now and watch the fireworks. But she wasn’t cruel and she wasn’t stupid. She had to play this right because Ginny was talking truth.

There wasn’t any choice but to write some songs and record an album. She’d already done a single two years earlier on her own and it had been a flop of epic proportions. No one wanted Jolene Hart solo then and she doubted they would want her solo now. They wanted Hart-Rivers and the chemistry they’d brought to songwriting and the stage.

So despite wanting to smack him upside the head for being a stubborn and pretentious idiot who didn’t know what was best for him, she knew how to play the game. You didn’t get out of Starkey and succeed on Music Row without some savvy. She might have more of that than talent frankly, and she wasn’t above admitting it. It was her personal policy to always be honest with herself.

It was savvy and charm that had brought her this far and she knew when to swallow her pride and use it.

“Ginny, take it down a notch,” she said. “Chance doesn’t have a drinking problem.” He just liked to drink. Or at least he had. She had no idea if he genuinely had a problem or not, because she was no longer privy to his private life. But mostly she wanted to show him she was on his side, even if the truth was that she was on Jolene Hart’s side.

If the way to hurt him was to criticize his songs, the way to woo him was to compliment them. Jolene busted out every acting skill she’d acquired on stage and reached over and touched his knee. Chance shot her a look that was damn near panicked.

Interesting. So he wasn’t as immune to her as he claimed to be. That shouldn’t matter, yet it did. She felt a flutter of something that wasn’t her stomach digesting that morning’s thoroughly unnecessary chocolate chip pancakes.

“Chance, you know I’ll sing any song you write. You’re a brilliant songwriter.” He was. But it still made her want to gag to stroke his already enormous ego. It was part of why their relationship had been so contentious. She wasn’t into threesomes and his ego was a needy ass bitch who took center stage repeatedly. “And we have musical chemistry. Let’s just bang it out, no fuss, no muss.”

A sliver of amusement crossed Chance’s face. “
Bang
it out?”

Jolene gave him a smile, the smile that had male fans breaking out into a spontaneous sweat. “Yes. Bang it out. We were always good at that.”

Chance cleared his throat and shifted a little on his chair.

Oh, yeah. That one had gotten him.

“Jolene, you know as well as I do this is not a good idea.”

“We had all sorts of ideas together, good and bad. What’s a few more?” She squeezed his knee and finally let go.

She almost choked on the words.

Chance had insisted it was no big deal when he had been photographed getting his hug on with a strange blonde. The headlines had read
RIVERS NO LONGER HAS HIS HART?
It had been a big deal. A very big-ass big deal that the whole world thought he’d cheated on her about a hot minute into their relationship. It was embarrassing as hell and it destroyed the whole persona of them being a romantic team.

She’d called him an insensitive rat bastard.

He’d accused her of using him to boost her image.

And it had only gone south from there.

It was hard to imagine they could produce anything other than bad feelings right now, but she was determined to try.

If it killed her, well, at least she’d die on top instead of in the Hall of Has Beens.

She gave him another smile for good measure.

Chance didn’t trust that smile on Jolene’s face or that steely-eyed glare Ginny was giving him. He had never truly liked Ginny because Ginny was always right and after proving it, she took her cut of his earnings smugly to the bank.

The problem with Jolene was altogether different. He had liked her too much, from the first minute he had met her. Against his better judgment. In ways he shouldn’t. Ways that started with the sweetness of her singing voice, continued on through her sassy attitude, and ended with the smoking hot sexy way she had torn him up in bed.

She couldn’t be looking at him like that. He had no power against that look.

That was the look that had landed him in all sorts of trouble, starting with thinking he was cut out to handle the spotlight of being a performer and ending with a stolen Grammy and his ill-conceived relationship with Dixie, the gold-digger.

“Maybe we’re just out of ideas,” he told her now, drawling out his voice long and slow so she wouldn’t see how rattled he was. A locked door. Pressure from their label. The first time he’d laid eyes on Jolene in person since that last big blowout by her pool in April. Yep. He was a little unnerved.

She looked good. Juicy. Like she’d stopped starving herself for a change and had been letting herself have a little bit of fun. Without him. That was annoying. All those times he’d cooked and she’d refused to eat anything but a nibble. But he had to admit he couldn’t stop sliding his eyes over to check her out. Those jeans were snug in all the right places and damn if the woman wasn’t treating him to a little side boob. He wanted to lick that sliver of flesh peeking out at him.

He shifted again in his chair. Damn hard wooden thing that he swore Ginny had purchased just to make her clients uncomfortable. Though it wasn’t the chair’s fault he had an erection, which was the real reason for his discomfort.

“I think we could probably come up with one or two,” Jolene said. She kept her blue eyes locked with his. “Ginny, what do you suggest we do here?”

“What do I suggest?” Ginny pushed her reading glasses up onto the mop of silver hair that reminded Chance of a spray-painted mushroom. “I suggest that you both take your butts somewhere private and you write the hell out of some songs.”

“My house?” Jolene asked.

Chance balked. Going to Jolene’s would be like returning to the scene of the crime. He was ashamed of the way he had behaved that night. Throwing the guitar had been money out of his own pocket but stealing the award, well, hell, that had been childish. But he wasn’t about to admit that out loud. He was never good at admitting much. The only confession Jolene had ever wrenched from him was that he had cared about her. Had. Past tense. After she had prioritized her media image over her relationship with him, he was pretty sure all concern he’d had for her had evaporated like morning dew. But there had been a time when she had coaxed it out of him and he’d gone downright gushy on her.

Allowing himself to be that vulnerable? Exposing his feelings? He’d made her pay for it during that fight, in spades. Which meant he was an asshole.

“No,” he said. “Not your house.”

For a second, he caught the flicker of annoyance on Jolene’s face. “Then where?” she asked.

“I’m not doing this.” It was false bravado, of course. The stubborn last protest of the drowning man. He knew he had to do it or face financial ruin and they knew it too.

“You don’t have a choice,” Ginny reminded him.

Like he needed reminding.

He hated not having a choice. But he knew he didn’t because if he tried to bail, to buy himself out of the contract, he’d go bankrupt. So if he was going to do this, he was going to lay down a few ground rules. “A cabin, that’s what I want. Plus you bring my dog, Jolene. There wasn’t anything decent about you keeping her.”

Her eyebrow rose but she just nodded. “Cabin. Dolly. Fine, I can do that.”

When they’d first met, Jolene had laughed that his dog was named after Dolly Parton since her name had come from one of the country legend’s songs. She’d said it meant they were destined to make music together. He thought it was a coincidence, but she was right. Together, they had written amazing stuff, and part of him wanted that back desperately.