Wrong Man, Right Kiss (17 page)

She would have time to explain all of this in a couple of minutes, just a few minutes more….

“Please tell me you’re having someone check your goddamned head because you’re not making any sense,” Garrett thundered, then he turned to her. “Thanks for your visit yesterday, Molly,” he said. “And for keeping us in the loop of this development.”

Molly froze. She could not even believe he would say that to her in front of Julian. Seriously, she’d never expected things to go south so fast. Suddenly, she trembled with the fantastical urge to fling the coffee mugs at Garrett’s face for ruining what should’ve been a perfect morning, for now there was no doubt whatsoever that Julian would believe she had been a little snitch who had betrayed his confidence and trust.

God. It sounded so bad now that she reflected on it, and yet she wouldn’t have even said it at all if they hadn’t infuriated her so on Julian’s behalf!

Instead of giving Garrett any sort of answer, she pursed her lips and pretended to be super busy sucking the spilled coffee from her left wrist. Garrett had spoken the words in true gratitude, maybe even with a bit of tenderness, but she still loathed the fact that Julian had found out that her mouth had apparently gotten ahead of her brain yesterday.

Garrett sighed and turned to Julian, his timbre hardening. “Think about it, before you do something even stupider,” he said, and walked toward the reception area and out to the elevators.

Molly finished sucking up the coffee and suddenly felt too energetic, as if she needed to do something. Parachute, river raft, hike Mount Everest? Artists were solitary people by nature, too emotional, too vulnerable, too incapable of handling awfulness like this. Fighting to stand still, she frantically counted the seconds after Garrett left that Julian remained silent. Just watching her. So very, very silent.

Fifty.

Fifty hellish seconds.

While Molly wanted to hide under the chair, blend with her mural or just scream.

Because she was just coming to realize how big a mistake she’d made. She’d done something very wrong to him. Very, very wrong.

Jules didn’t trust anyone. Anyone but
her.
Oh, God, now his family would be riding him hard about coming back. Maybe they couldn’t send him away like they used to when they were displeased with him, but did she dare wonder how they could pressure him to bend to their united wills?

What had she just
done
to him?

With a pounding heart, she waited for him to speak, every second eternal, miserable. The top two buttons of his polo shirt were unbuttoned. He wore the masquerade ring on his hand. His fingers were curling and uncurling into fists at his sides.

She wanted to die.

“You ratted me out to my brother.”

He spoke softly. Too softly. Way too softly.

She sucked in a breath, surprised by the pain cutting through her rib cage. If he’d said,
You suck. You’re a liar. Last night was a mistake,
it might have hurt less. Shame spread through her like wildfire. Because how had she not seen this coming? “It’s not how it looks, Jules,” she told him, but his expression was so harsh and scary her gaze dipped once more to the floor.

His shoes were so polished and shiny. Were they advancing toward her?

He turned her face up to his with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look into his piercing eyes. “You ratted me out to my brother, Molly. How the hell could you do this to me?”

Just to stand there under the searing heat of his reproachful green stare made her empty stomach churn. “I didn’t mean to! It slipped.
It slipped.
What? Are you going to hate me now, is that it?”

“Hate? Molly, I freaking
love
you! I can’t believe you’d line up with them against me.” He raked his hands through his hair and then backed away, as though she had a rash he needed to distance himself from. “You want to know why I would leave a thriving, billion-dollar business, Molly? Fine, let me tell you why. Because as long as I’m under my family’s thumb, I’ll never be able to be with you.”

His expression was grim as he watched her, his eyebrows drawn sharp and sullen over his eyes; eyes that killed her with emotion as he looked at her.

“That day you came to me begging me to help you get another man…I thought to
hell
with my family. I wasn’t going to let them ruin my life anymore and let them keep me away from you, Moo.”

Molly incongruously wondered why
Julian could say
Moo
and make it sound revered and womanly, sexy and beautiful, but she was so distraught over the rest of what he said that she didn’t wonder for long. Julian’s face had hardened with pain and his voice felt like icicles on her skin. Molly’s eyes had blurred with tears because each and every one of the words he’d said was eating her up inside.

“They’ve sent me away dozens of times, they’ve threatened to disown me, they’ve tried every twisted plot to keep me in line. And I’m sick and tired of dancing to their tune. I just want to be with
you.
” His green eyes clawed her like talons as he spread his arms out, his jaw clenched so tight she feared it would crack like her heart was cracking. “So this was the plan. This was my plan. With my full financial independence, I’ll need no one—no one—to tell me what to do, or tell me if I can or can’t love you, Molly. Dammit, I can’t freaking believe you’d crucify me for them—
for him.
”

He pulled at the collar of his polo shirt as if he wanted to rip it off him and then stalked to the floor-to-ceiling window. Molly mourned his affection already. No more sparkling green eyes. There were only tornadoes and storms now.

And she’d put them there.

A tear slipped down her cheek as her brain replayed his words over and over in her head, then a second tear followed, and a third, and they wouldn’t stop. Julian
loved
her. Oh, God. To know that he’d cared for her all this time, had wanted her like she’d secretly wanted him and had been actually doing something so he could be with her…

To know the truest kind of love could have been hers all along…

This should have been the happiest day of her life. But instead it had morphed into the worst.

Because to learn that you had something on the same day you lost it
sucked.

Molly wanted to tear her skin off with her nails, her heart out with her hands so she could show him all she wanted was to give it to him. “I’m sorry, Jules,” she said, clutching her stomach. “I didn’t know it was so important. I swear I would have watched my mouth better—”

“I trusted you, Molly,” he interrupted, shaking his head over and over again. “You know me better than my family, better than anyone. I’ve trusted you with everything. Everything I think and want, and… Jesus, I just can’t do this right now.”

He put even more distance between them and jammed his fingers into his hair as each step carried him farther away.

“You can still trust me, Jules! I was careless, that’s all. I mean…you’re not going to let Garrett push you into anything you don’t want to do. Are you?”

He halted. And she trembled at the expression on his face, so…vacant, as if not only would he never, ever trust her again, but neither would he care to try.

This steely detachment on his part was so new and alarming, when he turned to face the window and gave her a view of his broad, impenetrable back, she actually wanted to flee to her studio and lock herself up the rest of her life in a sanctuary of paint, brushes and blank canvases.

But her life would never be the same without him, would never be the same if she didn’t stay here and work things out. Julian was, quite simply, the most valuable and treasured thing in the world to her.

He
had
to forgive her.

So she remained. She remained glued to the floor, to this present, this horrible alternate reality where Julian looked at her as a…fraud.

“Jules?” she prodded when he remained staring silently out the window for too long.

He ran a hand all the way through his hair and gripped the back of his neck, then stared down at the floor. “Was I your consolation prize, Molly? Do you still have…an idea of you and Garrett in your head?”

She opened her mouth to deny it, but only heard a shocked gasp, the question so terribly painful to hear. Did he not realize she
adored
him? Did he think she would spend a night like last night just for the
fun
of it?

“If it had been Garrett kissing you that night at the masquerade, for real, would you even be here with me, Molly? Or would you have left here with him?” he asked, and when he dropped his arm and turned slightly, his empty stare slashed her to bits.

How could he think that?

She wanted to hit him for even thinking it, but she felt shattered inside.

The magic she’d felt in that kiss could never have been there with Garrett or anyone else. It was him, Julian, it always had been, no matter how much she’d tried to fight it. He was The One.

Him and only him.

But she couldn’t speak. To her frustration, she was crying now, and with her throat so tight, it was really hard to get a word out.

She’d never imagined she could ever hurt anyone. She loved to laugh, to enjoy life, to paint. She was young at heart and had never seen herself as a threat to anyone—not even to a bug, because she had a habit of escorting them out to the yard and never squashing a single one. She would cut out her eyes for Julian if he needed them, her hands so she could never paint again. She’d give him two kidneys, her liver, and her pancreas and lungs, too! She wouldn’t even mention her heart because she’d never really had it to herself in the first place.

She’d given it along with her lollipop to a six-year-old boy a long, long time ago.

“Julian, don’t be ridiculous, please. I love you,” she said as she wiped her tears, rushing after him when he’d got tired of waiting for her to reply. But he was already boarding the elevator, as proud and stubborn as all the Gage men she’d ever known.

“Get your stuff, Molly. I’m taking you back home. Consider the mural done.”

Nine

For exactly twelve days, eleven hours, forty-seven minutes and thirty-two seconds, Julian buried himself in work, sweat and sports. He hadn’t set foot at the
San Antonio Daily
in almost two weeks. Not even to present his damned brothers with his resignation letter.

No. Since then, JJG Enterprises had officially opened for business, so instead he’d buried himself in work from 6:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. each day, and after that he had been rowing, paddling, kayaking, running, climbing and skydiving his freaking heart out.

He would come home at midnight, soaked in sweat, to feed his body, bathe himself and drop down dead on the bed. But it was no use. His head continued swimming with memories of making love to Molly, kissing her sweet lips. Memories of her betrayal.

He’d never thought that a casual, collected guy like him, with everything under control, would ever get to feel that way.

And every day when he saw her mural upstairs, he wanted to tear that wall down. It was so bright and vivid, so sassy, so Molly. He could bulldoze it to the ground if he didn’t have millions invested up there. Millions. Hell, his whole damned heart, since he’d imagined sharing that future with Molly.

Now he didn’t even want to wake up.

Even his home, once his sanctuary, seemed to assault him with memories at every turn.

Her scent lingered in the pillows. He kept finding her stuff around the house. Fashion magazines. A random paintbrush. In the kitchen pantry he’d find the artificial sweetener she claimed was the best sitting right next to the honey he liked to gobble. And those damned Sleepytime Teas.

He hadn’t realized until the glaring emptiness of life without Molly stared him in the face every day how deeply she had infiltrated his life. She had been involved, in little and big ways, in every part of his day. From the cookies he’d snack on at the office or at home, provided by Molly from Kate’s delicious kitchen, to the text messages reminding him of a family gathering to her calls—
Forget to say hi yesterday, moron? Call me. Or else!

He wanted to forget he’d ever met this woman, forget he’d ever wanted her, forget he’d been prepared to change his whole life around for her….

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t forgive her. If only he could just forget her. Forget the way she laughed with him, at him, and poked and prodded him and made his body feel alive in a way nobody else did. He’d had strings of lovers but had never enjoyed sex so much, cherished the moment so fiercely as that night he’d spent with her.

He’d replayed it in his head dozens of times, groaning and suffering like a masochist, but the reality had been so sweet he didn’t want to forget that time with her. Ever. To have finally seen her, sprawled and wanting him in his bed, that red hair fanning across his sheets, could still give a grown man wet dreams.

She’d said she loved him a thousand times in her life. He knew she did. As a friend. As a “brother.” But did she
love
him? Julian had been inside her, knew every secret of her body, knew where to press her, how to make her moan, what she ate, what she feared, where to tickle her. Would she rather have spent that night with Garrett?

Garrett.