Careful not to wake her, he eased himself out of bed. She shifted and resettled, snuggling against the pillow. And he pulled a resort pad out of the desk and began jotting down notes. Ways to protect Juliette, the eyewitness, from harm and ideas for his current story.
He wrapped things up, tucked his notes into his suitcase and crawled back into bed. To his delight, Juliette immediately rolled back into his arms. Minutes later, her breathing evened out. Slow and easy, he knew she was asleep.
“I love you,” he whispered, knowing he had the freedom and wanting to test the words out loud for the first time. They felt right and certainty filled him once more. He shut his eyes and let himself relax, his body slowly matching her rhythm.
Morning would come soon enough and with the break of dawn, his truths. And Juliette’s reaction.
But he woke up alone with a note propped against the clock, covering the digital numbers. At least she’d attempted to make sure he wouldn’t miss her message. He stretched, reaching for the white paper.
It’s my understanding most men don’t like a woman to spend the night.
Wanted to avoid an awkward morning after, so I went back to my room to shower and change.
Breakfast at my place? Door’s open.
Juliette.
P.S. Last night was incredible.
Incredible didn’t begin to describe it. Doug crumpled the paper in his hand.
He wasn’t most men. Not when it came to one specific woman, anyway. He’d not only wanted to wake up next to Juliette, he’d wanted to be the one to do the waking. In a sexy, sensual, arousing way meant to show her exactly how he felt—before he lay his truths and life in her hands.
But breakfast had its advantages, too and, being a writer, Doug was an inventive man. He could come up with all sorts of erotic ways to enjoy a meal that would leave Juliette with no doubt about his feelings. After a quick shower, he headed out the terrace door and around the back, to the path leading to a congregation of secluded cottages.
Doug had been a reporter for longer than he could remember. Ever since meeting Ted Houston, digging for a story had become a part of him. Watching people. Listening carefully for hidden meaning and innuendo. He knew how to follow at a discreet distance and because there were often other reporters on the same trail, Doug knew when he had company.
And that same uneasy feeling pricked at him now. Here on Merrilee’s secluded island, Doug wasn’t alone and he wasn’t talking about other guests of the resort. They wouldn’t be in hiding. He glanced around but already knew he’d see nothing out of the ordinary. He also knew the rustle of bushes he’d just heard wasn’t a bird or animal.
Instead of going directly to Juliette’s, Doug decided to test his theory. He circled back toward the pool, choosing a rarely used path that was overgrown with vines and greenery. Not a trail someone following him could take without being heard and, sure enough, when he’d made it halfway, the rustling noise began, then stopped suddenly, repeated itself and then silence descended. Whoever was behind him had begun to follow and stopped when the person realized Doug was on to him. A rank amateur to be sure.
Doug darted back to see if he could catch the interloper, but whoever it was had obviously anticipated Doug’s move and was nowhere to be found, giving him cause to rethink the amateur label. Whoever had followed him might have made more noise than a bull in a china shop, but had been quick enough to avoid capture. Silence now surrounded him, unbroken but for the chirping of birds and an occasional laugh from someone walking by.
But Doug never discounted gut instinct and if he needed proof, hadn’t Merrilee said she’d fit some people in at the end of the week who’d seemed more desperate than most? He hadn’t a clue who’d come down here, but he knew one thing for sure. All candidates led to Juliette. And none would appreciate finding her with the reporter who’d broken the original story and who had the potential to destroy them now. He needed to narrow down the list and fast.
Another journalist was his first thought. Not likely. If the person had managed to get the story, he was talented enough to remain out of sight and hearing. And besides he’d be watching Juliette more than Doug.
It could be Congressman Haywood if Stuart had blabbed to his business partner about what Juliette had seen and heard in the church. Not a likely candidate either. He’d send Barnes, Juliette’s ex, to exert influence if she was wavering.
Which led him to Stuart Barnes checking up on his errant ex-fiancée. More likely. And as a squeaky clean senator-to-be, one dumb enough to get involved with the Mob, he wouldn’t be smart enough to let other peop
le do his dirty work. And once he put the pieces together he’d be more interested in Juliette than Doug.
The Mob. Damn. Doug hadn’t any idea if they knew about Juliette or not but he wasn’t taking chances and took off at a run. He had to get to Juliette and make sure she was safe. Then he had to reveal his own truths—not just because he loved her but because she needed the knowledge to protect herself from all converging outside forces.
Including Doug. But with the word Mob echoing in his brain, at this moment he’d settle for just seeing she was safe.
CHAPTER NINE
JULIETTE LET the room service waiter out of the room and set the table on the terrace for two. He’d delivered the setting and promised he’d return with her breakfast order, fresh mimosas included, as soon as she called. As soon as Doug arrived.
She inhaled deeply. Orange bird-of-paradise surrounded the patio and she’d accented the table with fresh hibiscus. Their fragrant, aromatic scent lingered in the air. She was filled with more hope and optimism than ever before and she had Doug to thank. In her sleep last night, she dreamed she’d heard him say those three magic words.
And if she was lucky she’d hear the phrase again, but this time she’d be awake and Doug would be looking into her eyes and meaning every word.
In the meantime, her feelings floated out there, changing her perspective. Juliette saw things more clearly now—she had from the minute she’d told her story to Doug. Clarity came from talking out loud to a neutral third party, far away from Chicago and her problems. And she’d realized she didn’t need to hide the story, she needed to inform her father. The man had an uncanny knack of understanding and sorting out problems. He’d be disappointed in Stuart and his choices, but he would never put a criminal in the Senate.
She shook her head, amazed she hadn’t seen the solution sooner. Confide in the man who’d instilled her with values and let things sort themselves out from there. She wondered if she was deluding herself about the simplicity of it all. Wondered if love was just making her view of the world rosy, or if she’d truly found some sort of realistic resolution.