Chasing Julia (Rhode Island Romance #2) (18 page)

She drew back to
look him in the eye. “I’ve been thinking about when to tell my parents about
us.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t think we should tell anyone we’re married
yet.”

His features
clouded. “Why not?”

“I want to wait
until after Joe and Willa are married,” she said reasonably. “I don’t want to
rain on their parade.”

He smiled. “That’s
very thoughtful of you. It’s a good thing, then, that I haven’t told Joe about
us.”

Her relief was
tangible. “Oh, good. So only Hannah knows.”

“Wait. This doesn’t
mean you aren’t moving in with me until after their wedding, does it? Because
I’ll be damned if I allow that to happen.” His arms tightened around her. “You
aren’t spending one more night in that apartment.”

She snaked her hand
between them and gave his chest a soothing pat. “You can come help me pack
tomorrow.”

He dropped a hand
to her bottom and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll make it quick. I can’t go more than
an hour without wanting to touch you. And I’m not going to make love with you
in that apartment.”

He didn’t have to
explain the reason why.

She smiled as she
felt his questing hand slip beneath the hem of her shirt and wander towards the
heat between her legs. “How about we take that bubble bath now?” she suggested,
giving a soft gasp as his knuckles rubbed along her damp cleft.

“Are you done
eating?”

“I’m not hungry
anymore.”

“Me neither. Not
for food anyway.” He wagged his eyebrows and gave her a lecherous smile.

“You are
such
a charmer.”

He stood up, taking
her with him. “I’ll go get your bag out of the car. Why don’t you get the water
running?”

She hurried
upstairs, looking forward to doing naughty things with him in the tub. She was
perched on the ledge adjusting the temperature when Tony stepped into the room,
her bag in hand. “Here you go. I’m going to get the fire going again.”

“Okay.”

She poured the
vanilla-scented bath soap into the water and stirred it around. While the
bubbles formed, she lit the pillar candle she’d tossed in her bag at the last
minute. It had a vanilla scent, too.

She’d just turned
off the water and was wondering what was taking her husband so long when she
heard him call to her from the bedroom.

“Julia, come out
here for a minute.”

When she walked
into the bedroom, the lights were dimmed. Tony stood in front of the fire, the
warm glow limning the angles and planes of his chest and face. The intensity of
his gaze made her heart flutter wildly. God, he was so handsome. He held out his
hand to her.

Curious, excited,
she moved towards him, her feet seeming to float. She placed her hand in his
palm. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. He swallowed. “Julia,” he said
again, his voice husky.

“Tony.”

And suddenly he was
dropping to one knee and gazing up at her, both her hands tightly clasped in
his.

She felt tears
building behind her eyes. Her mouth trembled.

“Julia,” he said
softly. “I love you. I have always loved you. I
will
always love you.
Will you marry me?”

She laughed through
her tears. “But we’re
already
married.”

His kissed her
right hand and then her left, his gleaming eyes fastened on hers. “But I didn’t
ask you formally. And you didn’t ask me. It just happened. It was fast. It was
beautiful. It was meant to be. But I wanted to do things right. Will you play
along with me?”

She had a sudden
vision of him as a little boy, throwing pebbles at her window.
Julia. Julia!
Will you come outside and play with me?

She nodded her
head. She fell to her knees. “Yes.
Yes
, I will marry you, Tony
Rossetti.”

He kissed her.

After a while, he
whispered against her ear, “I have an idea.”

“Hmm?”

“I want you to have
your wedding day, Julia. The one you’ve always dreamed of.”

She drew back to
stare at him. “It wasn’t my dream.”

His smile was
tender. “Yes, it was. It was your mother’s dream, but you wanted it, too.” He
brushed her face with the back of his hand. “I want us to renew our vows in a
church. I want to see you walk down a long aisle on your father’s arm. I want
our family and friends around us. I want to have a party to celebrate, and I
want to dance with you under twinkling lights.”

“That
does
sound nice.” She knitted her brow. “But I don’t want a grand affair, Tony.
Seriously. We can have all that but still keep it simple. Can’t we?”

“Whatever you
want.” His cheek dimpled. “Besides, I want to be in your mother’s good graces.
It’s never a good idea to upset the mother-in-law.”

She laughed. “She
already loves you like a son.”

He kissed her
again.

“You know what I
think?” he said a while later, bemusement in his voice.

“What?”

“I think she and my
mom got their signals crossed all those years ago when they both were expecting
their firstborn and planning weddings. I think I was already chasing you when I
was just a twinkle in my father’s eye.”

She felt a fresh
round of tears forming. “Oh, Tony. What a beautiful thought. I like it. I think
you may be right.”

“I’m never going to
stop chasing you, Julia Rossetti. Around the kitchen. Through the living room.
Up the stairs. Around our bed…”

“And I’ll let you
catch me every time.”

“Promise?

“Always.”

He
watched her walk down the aisle towards him on her father’s arm.

His bride. His
wife.

A ray of light
beamed from the open door behind her, casting an almost ethereal glow around
her. She was an angel, a beautiful vision in white.

He thought of a
long ago August day. He’d been searching for sticks at the water’s edge while
she’d stood on the pier, her back to him, and gazed at the water. She’d been
dressed all in white then, too. He remembered being struck by the beauty of her
in a deeper way than he ever had been before. He’d paused in his task, tugged
his cellphone from his pocket and snapped a picture. He’d had a print made of
the picture and tucked it in his wallet. He still had it. He would show it to
her tonight when they were snuggled in their bed in front of their cozy fire.

It was New Year’s
Day. A day of renewal, of fresh beginnings.

His brother stood
beside him. Joe and Willa had been married for over two months now. Willa’s
pregnancy was already beginning to show.

It wouldn’t be long
now before Julia would look the same. She’d been right; their child had very
likely been conceived the first night they’d made love.

Julia’s mother sat
beside Sylvie in the front pew. Both of them were already crying happy tears.

Across the aisle,
Audrey King sent him a big wink.

He winked back.

Julia reached the
bottom of the altar. He stepped down to take her hand from her father’s.

“Hello, wife.”

“Hello, husband.”

They shared a
secret smile.

“Will you come
outside and play with me?” he whispered.

“Yes, I will.”

As the congregation
of family and friends laughed and clapped, he placed a tender kiss on her
lovely mouth.

“Thank you, Julia.”
he whispered, his eyes reflecting the love beaming from hers. “Thank you for
waiting for me.”

Sophia Renny loves Romance, Chocolate, and Pinot Noir. When she's not
writing about strong yet vulnerable men and the women who love them, she can
most often be found ignoring housework for the pleasure of engaging in fierce Scrabble
competitions with her sweetheart. Yes, she did fall in love with him at first
sight.

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Also by Sophia Renny

Room
1208

Rhode Island Romance Series:

If
Ever I Fall

**Continue reading for previews**

If Ever I Fall
–
Preview

Room 1208
-
Preview

If Ever I Fall (Rhode
Island Romance, Book One)

Copyright ©
2015 Sophia Renny

For the first
time in her life, Willa is free to do as she pleases. No longer under the
control of her domineering father, she seeks solitude in the Rhode Island house
bequeathed to her by her aunt. But her newfound peace is disrupted when her
well-meaning friends enter her name in a raffle for a total home makeover, and
Willa wins.

Socially
awkward by nature, Willa balks when she learns that the remodel will be
featured as an episode for a new television reality series starring two
brothers—local general contractors, Joe and Tony Rossetti. Determined to honor
her aunt’s memory, she eventually agrees to move forward with the project.

When she opens
her front door to the brothers on the first day of shooting, she will soon
discover that she has opened the door to a man who could fulfill all the
yearnings of her secret heart.

[Recommended
for a mature audience]

Excerpt:

“No one can hurt
you like that anymore, Willa,” he promised, his chest rumbling against her
cheek. “I won’t allow it.”

Something in his
voice made her stiffen and pull back. His grip tightened, and she was only able
to draw back far enough to look up at him. She frowned. “I’m not Sylvie or
Tony. I’m not another orphan you need to take under your wing.”

His eyes flared.
His cheeks turned ruddy. “Is that what you think this is?” he asked fiercely.
“Is that
really
what you think?”

Her heart lurched
at the strange mix of emotions storming across his face: anger, guilt,
confusion and an unmistakable desire—the same feelings that were tumbling
around inside of her. “No,” she whispered. “But what I’m thinking. It’s not
right.”

He took a step
backwards, but his hands still gripped her forearms as if he didn’t have the
power to let her go. “I have been in hell since you opened the door that first
day,” he said. “Absolute hell. And there’s no way out.”

With this starkly
spoken confession, he abruptly released her. He took another step back. He
rubbed his face with shaking hands, and then slid them into his hair, fingers
clenching his skull. He stood like that for a few breathless seconds before
pivoting away from her, hands braced on his hips, his harsh features in profile
as he glared into the distance.

Available on
Amazon

Room 1208

Copyright © 2013 by Sophia Renny

Maggie’s life
hasn’t been an easy one. But in the last two years she’s made giant strides
towards overcoming the repercussions of a devastating childhood. Now thirty
years old, she’s ready to jump the final hurdle that stands between her past
and a new life free from low self-esteem and old hurts.

Taking that
leap requires the cooperation of a handsome gentleman she spies across a busy
airport hotel lounge. Neither one of them foresees the depth of passion shared
on that magical night, a passion that is astonishing and profound.

One night is
all that Maggie expects, all that she’s planned on. But you know what they say
about the best-laid plans…

[This book is
intended for mature audiences]

If it hadn’t been for his laughter she wouldn’t have chosen him.

He was the first
man she’d noticed when her eyes made an initial subtle sweep through the lounge
area. She’d intentionally chosen a small table next to the piano, pretending
fascination with the fedora-wearing hipster slouched over the keys. As she took
cautious sips of her skinny margarita, her upper body swayed in a slight,
graceful tempo with the slow, bluesy tune.
I’m just here enjoying the music,
relaxing after a busy day. Don’t bother me.
  That was the body language she
hoped she was portraying.

She’d dismissed him
almost immediately because he was good looking in a way that only made her feel
more nervous and anxious than she already was. Seriously, he was devastatingly
handsome—the kind of handsome that had practically every other woman in the
lounge giving him increasingly more brazen come-hither smiles and glances; the
kind of handsome that had the cocktail waitresses commiserating with one
another in a corner as, one by one, they failed to capture his attention with
their rolling hips and cherry-red lipstick.

He was sitting with
three other men in a booth at the front of the lounge near the entrance to the
hotel lobby. They were all wearing business suits. He was the only one who
faced her directly. Two of the men had their backs to her, the third was in
profile. They seemed to be having a business meeting of some sort. As she
watched them it became clear that the three other men were giving a
presentation, one of them sliding his finger across a tablet screen while the
other two took turns speaking.

If she hadn’t been
a woman on a mission she might have enjoyed watching the scene before her and anticipating
how it played out. Would any of the women eventually entice him? Would he buy
what the other men were evidently selling? Only fifteen or twenty minutes had
gone by since she’d walked into the lounge, but she’d wasted too much time
already. She had to act quickly before her self-confidence, already dangling on
a very fine thread, completely slipped away.

There were a couple
of average Joes sitting at the bar watching the basketball game that was
playing on mute in the background. Neither one of them were wearing a wedding
band. Not that that meant anything, especially at this busy airport hotel that
catered to business travelers. This was the one flaw in her plan: making sure
that the man she chose was actually single and available. She would have to
trust a complete stranger. She loathed cheaters.

One of the Joes
must have felt her stare. He swiveled his bar stool towards her and gave her a
smile. It was a nice, genuine smile, nothing sleazy or cagey about it. Her gut
instinct told her that he didn’t have a wife and kids at home. Though she
didn’t have any experience in bar hookups to back up that instinct, she felt
almost certain that he was single.

He raised one
eyebrow and nodded at the empty seat at her table. She was on the verge of
giving him a smile of agreement when she heard the laughter. It drifted across
the lounge towards her, its deep, husky timbre brushing over her skin like a
sultry summer breeze, instantly luring her gaze back to the booth near the
entrance.

His head was flung
back as he continued to laugh, the arch of his throat an inviting stretch of
warm tan skin above his crisp white shirt collar. All of the men were laughing
now, rocking their heads back and forth, shoulders shaking.

She was entranced.
His face, now radiant with laughter, was too gorgeous for words. She wanted to
bask in his light. She wanted to slide her fingers in his black, close-cropped
hair. She wanted to touch the crinkles on either side of his blue—oh, she hoped
they were the blue they appeared to be from this distance—eyes. She wanted to
press her mouth to the groove next to his mouth, discover the taste of his
healthy, glowing skin, take his firm, lower lip between her teeth before
sliding her tongue…

He was staring at
her.

He was still
smiling as the other men’s laughter gradually diminished and they began making
motions to leave. But his smile had transmuted from that given in the spirit of
male camaraderie to one that came with the awareness that she was blatantly
watching him. His gaze sharpened, one eyebrow arched in question, as if he were
trying to figure out whether or not he knew her.

She felt a hot
clench of desire between her legs. She wiggled slightly in her chair, unable to
quell her immediate reaction to his scrutiny. Her breath caught in her throat
as his eyes slowly swept over her, down and up, an assessment that led to
approval and then, to her utter shock, a reciprocal desire.

Only in her wildest
imaginings had this kind of man fulfilled her oldest and deepest longing. She’d
convinced herself that this kind of man could never be attracted to a woman
like her—or, rather, the woman she used to be and still was sometimes inside
her head. This kind of man belonged solely to that exclusive sphere where only
the beautiful people mingled.

Joe at the bar
would have been easy, not entirely comfortable, true, since she couldn’t
possibly feel completely comfortable with any man in this situation, but…safer.

Dr. Moira’s voice
filtered through her agitated thoughts:
You are beautiful. You are a woman
worthy of happiness and love. It’s time to let go of the things that are
holding you down, holding you back from becoming the person you were meant to
be. Let go…break free…

The men were
leaving. He stood with them to shake hands and clasp arms. The others motioned
towards the street exit, but he glanced at his watch, shook his head, and said
something in a low voice as he pointed to his drink. He sat back down in the
booth as they left.

He wasn’t looking
at her now. He seemed pensive, almost sullen, as he studied the cocktail glass
in his hand, slowly twirling it on the glossy black tabletop. One of the
waitresses sashayed over with an eager smile to ask him if he’d like another
drink. He shook his head without glancing up.

If she didn’t do
this now, she knew she would never find the courage to try again. She dug into
her purse for the blank notecard and envelope she’d put there earlier. It was
her backup plan. She just knew that, if she were to walk over right now and sit
down across from him, any words that managed to escape from her mouth would
only be so much gobbledygook. All her efforts to appear sexy, sophisticated and
worldly-wise would be exposed as a total sham.

She wrote quickly,
having practiced the lines over a hundred times in her head:
Please understand
that I’ve never done this kind of thing before and never will again. I’m not a
prostitute. I’m safe. I don’t do drugs. I’m not drunk. I find you very
attractive and I want to spend the night with you. If you are married or
otherwise attached, rip this up and throw away the key. If you aren’t married
or otherwise, and you’re interested, please come to room 1208. If you don’t
show up within a half hour, I will leave. Thank you for considering this offer.
It’s not given lightly, but with the full appreciation that life is too short
and every moment is meant to be savored.

She slipped the
notecard and a plastic room key in the envelope and sealed it. Taking a
fortifying breath, she stood, making sure her legs were steady before slowly
walking towards the hotel lobby entrance. She felt him watching her as she
approached his booth. She didn’t have to pretend to stumble slightly just as
she came adjacent to his table. The envelope tumbled from her nerveless
fingers. Bending over quickly, praying that not every single eye in the lounge
was on her, she picked up the envelope and set it on the table next to his
glass. “I believe this is yours?” Then, without waiting for a response, she
continued through the lobby towards the elevators.

The room was as she’d left it, the covers turned down on the king size
bed, a single lamp glowing softly in the corner. She’d been relieved to
discover that the lamp had a dimmer switch. She wanted the lights turned down
low, but not so low that she wouldn’t be able to see his body. There were
condoms in the nightstand drawer and one tucked under the pillows.

She removed her
earrings and necklace and placed them in the safe along with her purse. She
closed the closet door, concealing her suitcase and coat, then paused a moment
to study her reflection in the full length mirror. The dress was her most
recent find, ordered from an online boutique that specialized in vintage
clothing from the Fifties and early Sixties. It was a periwinkle blue and white
floral chiffon with a ruched waist and full skirt. It had a bateau neckline in
front, and a deep curved back neckline that came across the middle of her
shoulder bones. Matching suede periwinkle pumps completed the look.

It was a dress that
spoke romance. It was a dress, she hoped, that begged an easy touch and slow
hands, not one to be torn aside in a rush of passion. Oh, she wanted that mad
rush eventually, but not for her first time.

Her hands shook
slightly as she skimmed them down her waist and over the skirt. She loved
wearing dresses. For too many years, she hadn’t been able to wear them, not
without feeling like she was on a poster advertising a carnival sideshow. She’d
had to content herself with cutting out pictures of dresses she liked, taping
them to her bedroom mirror or tucking them in a scrapbook.
Someday
,
she’d promised herself.
Someday
.

Her hair, a medium
auburn, was now long enough to put up in a chignon. Her first grade teacher had
complimented her once on her “pretty brown eyes,” telling her that—in a certain
light—they were the exact color of her “lovely red hair.” She’d never forgotten
those words, a rare gift of praise that she’d held deep in her heart like a
buried treasure to be opened on those too many occasions when her world had
become almost too dark to bear.

Now those years
almost felt like they’d belonged to someone else. She and Dr. Moira had worked
through them, one by one, as they uncovered old wounds and gave them fresh air
and the healing balm of forgiveness. So much had changed in the last two years.
She could now truthfully say that she liked herself, that she liked her own
body, a body that had been kept hidden for too long in a prison of low
self-esteem and hurt. There had just been this one final stepping stone, this
last barrier to cross. She’d chosen to deal with it in this way; Dr. Moira knew
nothing about what would happen in this room tonight.

Or would it? How
much time had gone by? Would he take her up on her offer?

She looked at the
bedside clock. It’d been twenty minutes since she’d walked out of the lounge.

Twenty minutes.

He wasn’t coming.

Her eyes itched
with the threat of tears. No. She wasn’t going to cry. She rushed into the
bathroom and hit the cold water handle, running her wrists under the icy
stream. She pressed one wrist against the back of her neck as she took deep,
calming breaths. “I
am
beautiful,” she whispered.

She would
not
allow herself to think that he hadn’t come because of her appearance. He had a
girlfriend, he was married…

A knock sounded on
the door.

She froze.

A second knock came,
no louder than the first.

She shut off the
water, dried her hands, and then turned off the bathroom light before stepping
into the small hallway. She looked through the peephole.

It was him.

He had his profile
presented to her as he looked down the corridor towards the elevator bank. She
heard the ping of an arriving car. He gave a slight shake of his head before
taking a step towards it.

She opened the
door.

He turned to face
her directly, his eyes—a clear, vivid blue—made a burning sweep from head to
toe and up again. “Hello,” he said, his voice low, soft as kidskin leather.

“Hello,” she
breathed.

Up close, he was
taller than he’d appeared in the lounge. She was five feet seven inches in
heels. The top of her head was even with the bridge of his nose. This close,
she caught the fragrance of his cologne, a hint of citrus with cedar
undertones.

God, he was so
handsome.

She swayed slightly
and grabbed the doorjamb to keep upright. His eyes followed the motion before
returning their piercing directness to her face. He frowned in question,
dipping his head towards her. “Is your offer still on the table?”