Devotion (10 page)

He clicked send, but then he stood there, in the quiet of the hallway, thinking about what he had almost done—what he was dangerously close to doing. Hitting backspace didn’t change the fact that the statement was true. A simple electronic communication from Chloe had left him aroused at every level and completely engulfed in his feelings for her.

And Juliet.

Where was God in this situation? Why didn’t He ease this discomfort and help his confusion go away?

“Uncle Kellen, come here!” Eight-year-old Max Taylor, the son of Juliet’s sister, Marlene, and her husband, Peter, bounded into the hallway, on a collision course with Kellen’s legs. In fact, young Max wrapped them in a hug. The youngster started to jump up and down, grabbing Kellen’s hand. “We’re playing Wii Tennis in the family room! Be on my team, OK? You
rock
at Wii Tennis! Let’s play!”

Max’s gleeful bout of recruiting worked magic. Kellen cast a fast look over his shoulder, toward the kitchen where he knew Juliet worked on food preparations with her sisters.

Emptiness and sorrow rode toward him with thundering hoof-beats.

10

So, when are we going to hear the pitter-patter, guys?

Juliet stood at the sink, rinsing vegetables for her sisters to cut into pieces for cooking. Deliberately she kept her back to them. Marlene’s husband was the tease in the family, and Peter meant well, but sometimes, teasing hit upon raw nerves.

After drying her hands, Juliet took a pained breath and settled a palm against her abdomen. There were times when it physically hurt to feel hope bloom and grow. There were times when it physically hurt to want something so desperately, to sense it within your grasp, only to know that in a single moment of time, with a fateful, irrefutable signal from her body, all the dreams and wishes of her heart could shatter into oblivion.

Today, though, she continued to hope. Today, she kept a building recognition to herself. After all, recent physical symptoms might turn out to be nothing.

Or then again…

She’d been so keyed up lately that delays in her monthly cycle might be expected. Her dreams of having Kellen’s child, and finally realizing that culminating, solidifying act of their relationship held so much power she might actually be psyching herself into a place where she experienced literal queasiness at odd times during the day, or those occasional prickles of soreness in her breasts.

For now, Juliet was too afraid to make an appointment with her doctor and find out for sure. While dashing around town during the past week running errands, she’d strode past the pregnancy test kits at a local drug store and her entire body went jittery. She paused there when a flood of anticipation—visions of everything that might come to be—washed through her spirit. That’s when she walked away.

There was hope in not knowing.

In the meantime, she wanted to make a point with her sisters. Just in case this month ended like all the others. She carried a strainer full of cleaned vegetables to the kitchen counter so they could continue cooking preparations. “Y’know? I really do wish y’all would lay off Kellen and me with regard to the whole having kids thing. It’s not fun for us, OK? And we don’t need the added pressure.”

Marlene and Bonnie paused from seasoning the pork loin to give her a startled look, then an apology. When everyone returned to work, Juliet noticed the way the two women shared a brief, expressive look of concern. Juliet waffled on the inside. She had snapped at them, and they didn’t deserve it. She knew she was being defensive, but she couldn’t help herself. The topic was too much of a hot-button.

Everything was so frustrating between her and Kellen right now. Nothing seemed appropriately centered in their lives, and that left Juliet empty and afraid on a number of levels. His continuing distance was disturbing, so was his reaction to being at services today. A family would break the pattern of Kellen burying himself in work. Family would return him to the Kellen she had fallen in love with and the Christ-centered relationship they had forged from the beginning.

Until recently, they could do no wrong. His career had hit a crescendo of success some five years ago, and so had their marriage. They were driven toward God, and Kellen used his power in the entertainment industry to focus on Christian artists and their genre of music because he believed in it passionately. The venture had been a resounding success for Associated Talent, and Juliet had loved the ride. Kellen’s focus on like-minded people kept him solidly grounded, and freed enough of his time to dedicate to children and the family for which they both longed.

The plan seemed so perfect. Why was God saying
No
? Why, recently, did Kellen seem so removed from their relationship? Why did work claim increasing portions of his time? Why did he continue to drive himself harder, branching out to promote artists in other genres? Why wasn’t enough, enough?

Juliet nipped at her lower lip, stemming her negativity with the fact that he enjoyed his nieces and nephews so much, and despite the pressure of hearing
pitter-patters
Kellen remained a total sport about these monthly Sunday dinners and family visits. He claimed to enjoy being with her family and backed it with his actions—like now, with Max. Through an opening in the wide corridor of the hallway, she could see and hear the mounting ruckus of a Wii game taking place in the den. Kellen’s laughter and encouraging shouts could be heard just as clearly as the kids’.

That made Juliet smile. Kellen’s parents were based on the West coast. Juliet liked to hope her family here in Nashville filled a bit of the hole in his heart that was created by logistical distance.

If their inability to conceive continued, how else could that hole in their hearts be filled? They hadn’t talked much about the issue and its alternatives—like adoption or foster care. There simply hadn’t been time. These days they were both too busy for that kind of in-depth discussion. More and more often it seemed as though she and Kellen were married yet running in opposite directions.

That needed to change.

Against the linen fabric of her slacks, she slid gentle fingertips against her stomach. Once again, Juliet pondered the miracle that might…just
might
…be taking place inside her body right now. Wistful joy filled her as she pondered the idea of receiving a perfect answer to her most heartfelt prayers.

For now, though, she kept everything to herself—private and guarded against the unsettling pattern of her marriage, and the hopes that would be crushed if the new life she hoped for wasn’t meant to be.

A short time later Juliet and her sisters were starting to mash potatoes when she happened to glance out the kitchen window. Kellen walked slowly along the far edge of the backyard, taking a phone call. His shoulders were hunched against a bit of a breeze, and his free hand was stuffed into the pocket of his slacks. He smiled frequently and nodded from time to time as he carried on his end of the conversation.

For some mysterious reason, nostalgia perhaps, the image of him sent her tumbling backwards in time, recalling the moment they had met.

Almost nine years to the day
, she thought. It amazed Juliet how much time had passed, and how quickly. She still recalled the details of that night so vividly.

Her roommate at the time, Tami Oaks, had passed along an opportunity to make some extra money by helping out a catering company with an understaffed party event. A member of the wait staff had come down with the flu, so Juliet accepted the assignment. She had just graduated from the University of Tennessee, and although she had landed a job that made decent use of her business/marketing degree, she had college loans to pay off. Plus, she was freshly indoctrinated into the world of rent, utility, and car payments. The idea of working with her friend, plus the prospect of earning some extra cash, spurred her to don black slacks, a white blouse and black bowtie.

“OK, so, the record label is Infinity. Tonight is all about their upper echelon hosting a meet-and-greet session for prospective talent.” Tami furnished the information as they went to work in the kitchen area of a private home owned by Jamison Arellio, president of Infinity.

Tami and Juliet stacked their appetizer trays with salmon canapés, fresh shrimp, and spinach and brie in artichoke hearts. Tami looked up, adjusting the waistband of her white apron. “There’s going to be lots of sexy singers, talent scouts, and label execs, so look lively. You never know what might happen!”

Juliet made sure her tray was artfully arranged and visually appealing. The food smelled great as a variety of aromas wafted through the kitchen. “Tami, only you could turn a catering assignment into a love connection.”

“JJ, I swear. It’d take an act of God to get you to even
stumble
across Mr. Right, let alone latch on to him for good! You need to get out more and mix and mingle!” JJ was Tami’s favorite nickname for her, a combination of the initials of Juliet’s first and last name.

The massive, formal living room was packed with people. Music played at a moderate level. Groups shifted and changed like rays of light splitting across cut crystal. Luxury abounded—in the clothing, jewelry, and style of the attendees. Conversations and laughter filled the atmosphere with appealing warmth.

Juliet didn’t mind keeping to the background. For efficiency’s sake, she had fashioned her long hair into a sleek ponytail, and the standard-style uniform kept her from drawing any overt attention. That was fine. Getting a chance to people-watch at an event like this kept her happily occupied, and the rest of her focus stayed firm on making sure she didn’t wobble her tray or drop anything.

Just before the call to a sit-down dinner came a request for champagne service. Apparently, Jamison intended to make a toast. Activity in the kitchen went into overdrive as bottles of Cristal were popped open. Flutes appeared and were filled in a rapid-fire, assembly line motion.

Juliet followed Tami into the living room with a laden tray.

On the second round of champagne deliveries, she approached a group of about six people, offering a serving. Tami stepped up as well, and in the end they were both left with extra flutes.

Intending to return to the kitchen, Juliet spun too fast, and crashed directly into a tall, hard body that featured a broad chest, a crisp white shirt, and an expensive-looking silk suit of royal blue.

Now doused by Cristal.

Toppled glassware rolled and bounced on her tray. Juliet squeezed her eyes shut and winced, wishing to high heaven that the elegant parquet floor at her feet would simply come open and swallow her whole. Really. Anything but this.

The impact of the collision nearly sent her backwards, but the tragic recipient of her clumsiness reached out fast and took hold of her arms. He steadied her with grace and ease. “Are you OK?” he asked.

Only then did she dare open her eyes. She nearly spilled the tray all over again. Before her stood, without question, the most handsome man she had ever seen. What made him handsome wasn’t so much his looks as something that flowed from the depths of his eyes, something within his confident carriage—which he maintained despite being drenched in champagne.

“I am
so
incredibly sorry,” she whispered.

The man just smiled, continuing to look into her eyes, his brows pulled together slightly, as though he were intrigued.

Oh, Juliet, get a grip
, she chided herself.

She licked her lips and groaned. “I can’t believe this. Please let me do what I can to make amends…” Doing so would probably cost every cent of the money she had earned tonight, but she would gladly see to the cleaning and care of his shirt, tie and suit.

“Sir, I’m so sorry, and JJ, are you OK?” Tami handed the man a clean, white linen napkin, thank goodness.

He began to brush off excess moisture, but kept looking at Juliet, which caused Juliet to go flush and look away in horrified embarrassment. “JJ. What exactly does that stand for?” He continued to work at the stains on his suit.

“Juliet Jenkins…in case you want to file a suit in small claims court.”

The man laughed in an understanding way, seeming to take the entire situation well in hand. “I think we can avoid litigation. No real harm done. Now…if this had been red wine, we might have a problem.”

The guy was unbelievable. He still had the bulk of the evening ahead, full of networking and dining, and he was acting like a champ despite the fact that she had nearly demolished his attire. But even in his drink-spattered state, he looked fantastic.

Juliet shuffled her feet, wishing she didn’t blush so easily. “Thank you for being so gracious. I’m a catering rookie, obviously, and I couldn’t be more apologetic—or mortified.”

“Don’t be. It’s all good.” The man settled his napkin on the tray that Juliet now held with two hands, keeping it in her grip as though her life depended upon it. “I’m Kellen Rossiter.” His focus returned to her, and Juliet’s heart thundered at his intense perusal. His lips curved, and Juliet couldn’t help admiring their full, supple line. “I’d shake your hand, but…” He gave a teasing shrug, and then the grin flowed into a smile. The smile did her in—a beautiful thing to behold. Large and warm, it left no doubt that he teased her out of sincere humor and shared folly, not to demean or needle.

“I think I better keep hold of my tray instead.” She sounded breathless but didn’t berate herself much over the fact. Her poise was utterly destroyed anyhow.

Kellen’s suit began to dry into somewhat rumpled lines as the party progressed, but he kept tabs on her for the rest of the night. She felt the touch of his gaze every time she entered the dining room to serve. At the end of the party, Juliet noticed the way he lingered around the entrance to the kitchen.

Even Tami noticed his interest. “Would you please just
go
? Go talk to him! He’s waiting for you, JJ. Talk about the best meet-cue ever!”

“Right. Try most humiliating!” Juliet’s hissed retort belied her nervousness. At last, she ran out of reasons to evade. Unfastening her bowtie and apron, she pulled them both away then pushed through the swinging door of the kitchen.