Love Is Crazy (Love Is… #1) (24 page)

T
hat night
, Ian sat down with a glass of wine in hand and typed
Juliet Lane, New York City
into a Google search. He didn't know what he expected to find, maybe a Facebook page, maybe a Twitter feed, maybe a listing in the yellow pages. He definitely didn't expect to find pages and pages of images of her standing with Michael Phillips, CEO of fucking Tech Lord.

Fucking. Tech Lord.

Everyone knew who Michael Phillips was. You couldn't go through one evening of television without seeing him and his narcissistic smile leaning back in his pretentious office, spewing nonsense about the remarkable new product he’d willed (apparently single-handedly, if you listened to him) into existence this week. It blew his mind that Juliet had dated Michael Phillips. Was this the guy she was running from? Holy fuck.

It had to be. There they were, in picture after picture, arm in arm, leaning into one another, smiling for the camera. What did that say about Juliet? Ian considered Michael Phillips to be a type-A douchebag. Always had. There was just something so condescending and uptight about those commercials, his smile so practiced, his hair so perfect it probably took four showers to get all the gel out at the end of the day. Juliet didn't seem like the kind of girl who would be drawn to a guy like that.

So, what was it about the guy that
had
drawn her in? Was it his money? Ian took a long drink of his beer. That idea did not sit well with him at all. Considering his family, Ian had dealt with his fair share of gold-digging bitches and was in no mood to deal with any more. Is that would Juliet was? It sure didn't seem like it. But Ian couldn’t think of another reason for Juliet to be wrapped up with a guy like Michael Phillips. At least not a reason that made a whole lot of sense.

Ian sat back in his chair and stared off into the corners of his home office as if he could find the answer hidden in them somewhere. Night had fallen a long time ago and morning was going to come way earlier than Ian wanted it to. There was just no way he could fall asleep with all these questions going through his mind. He trusted Juliet. It didn't make sense for him to trust her, but he did. Hell, he’d even set her up in one of his rental properties—free of charge—and given her a bunch of furniture to use while she was there. The thought that she was some kind of scam artist churned in his stomach.

He turned his attention back to the computer screen and studied the pictures. At first, the pictures just made him madder. Michael smirking into the camera while Juliet beamed up at him. Michael wrapping his arm around her small shoulders, pulling her close as if she belong to him. But as Ian paid closer and closer attention to the images of Juliet on his screen, he started to see a different story altogether.

The look on Juliet's face wasn't love. In fact, he'd seen that same look on her face yesterday. It was fear. Sure, she beamed up at Michael as if the sun rose and set on his shoulders, but the look in her eyes didn’t match the look she’d painted on her face. She wasn't in love with this guy. The more he looked at the pictures, Ian was more and more sure that Juliet didn’t even like this guy.

In fact, in one particular picture, Michael's fingers were digging cruelly into Juliet’s skin. In another picture, Ian was sure he could see bruises on Juliet's forearm. Bruises that looked almost like fingertips. And in this last picture, there was no mistaking the predatory look on Michael’s face, the feral fear of the hunted etched into the dark circles under Juliet's eyes, in the hollows of her cheeks. This was not the face of a happy woman. Not the face of a woman in love. This was the face of a woman scared out of her mind.

Ian sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. Morning would be here before he knew it, but there was no way he could fall asleep now. Not after seeing this. What could have happened that sent Juliet running from New York City, running from Michael Phillips, one of the richest men in the world? Was he reading those pictures right? How bad had it been?

One look at the fear on Juliet's face, replicated over and over and over in picture after picture after picture told him it was pretty bad indeed. It didn't take a genius to read between the lines. To understand the fear in Juliet’s eyes. To hear the story the bruises on her arm, her wrists, and possibly her throat were telling. Ian choked on his rage. The thought of any woman being hurt by any man was physically repellent to him, but the thought of any man hurting Juliet Lane was more than he could handle.

And that response right there—the visceral need to protect her, to keep her safe, to put her needs above his— what that meant was that he was going to have to be ever vigilant around her until he understood what was going on. While his instincts told him that Michael was a bad man and Juliet was nothing more than a woman on the run, life had taught him that things weren’t always what they seemed and that people could hide a whole lot of ugly truth behind an easy smile.

J
uliet wasn't
sure what Ian had meant when he’d said early. In New York, early meant anything before four in the morning. Who knew what early meant here in Bliss? Last night, Juliet had set her alarm for precisely four o’clock and gotten a pot of coffee all ready and turned on the auto brew so it’d be ready when she rolled out of bed. Now, here she was at 4:15, out on the back porch, wrapped in a blanket while waiting for the sun to rise and Ian to call. She’d never experienced such peace in all of her life. Sitting there, listening to the rush of the waves, their rhythmic whisper lapping against the beach, it felt as if her whole world fit in between each heartbeat. As the sun blazed into existence where the water met the sky, Juliet knew that she belonged here.

She’d chosen a town called Bliss for a reason. Every moment of her life up to this point had been tinged with sadness. And that sadness brought guilt with it because how dare she feel anything but ecstatic? She had more than some people could ever dream of having. She'd grown up with a roof over head, three meals a day, and, while her family had been distant, they weren't cruel. She'd never been hit. Never been degraded or screamed at. She had more than she needed when it came to clothes and toys and friends for her entire childhood.

She had an unparalleled work ethic and because of that, was offered the best job in the biggest tower in the newest company in the most sought after city in the world right out of college. She knew exactly how to dress and exactly what to say to fit in. And still, despite all of this, sadness sung her to sleep at night. She had tried to focus on what she had, had yelled at herself for being greedy, for wanting more when she already had so much. Would nothing ever be good enough for her?

Yet, sitting here wrapped in a blanket, the hard wood of the back porch digging into her tailbone, scanning the horizon while the ocean birthed the sun, Juliet finally felt happy. Like maybe she hadn’t been greedy after all, like maybe she’d just misunderstood what she needed.

After finishing her first cup of coffee, she stopped in the kitchen for a refill before heading upstairs to shower and get ready. When Ian finally drug his lazy butt out of bed and got in touch with her, Julz was going to be completely ready. He'd given her such a hard time yesterday about being sure to be awake early enough, she wanted to be waiting for him on front porch, tapping her foot impatiently when he finally showed up today. She'd show him she wasn’t afraid of a little hard work!

Hot water hissed to life behind the new shower curtain Ian had brought her. She stepped in and smiled, letting the water run down her body while she lost herself to thoughts of him. Soap ran down her torso and she slid her hands over herself, stopping to tweak her erect nipples, imagining Ian’s mouth there, while she slowly circled her clit with a finger on her other hand. When she realized what she was doing, she jerked her hand away and leaned her head against the tile.

Come on, Julz. Stay focused. Ian Moore is a friend. Only a friend. Because you’re not in the market for anything else. Remember?

After her shower, she spent some time drying her hair and applying a quick dash of eyeliner and mascara, a bit of red on her lips, and then found herself in front of her closet wishing she had more choices in front of her. It looked like she was going to have to make do with the same little shorts and tank top she had on yesterday. That wasn't ideal, but given her limited choices, it was just going to have to do.

She finished getting ready and went back outside to sit on the front porch, Lulu trotting out after her. She took a deep breath, enjoying the unusual heaviness in the ocean air. It was already warm, warmer than it would be in New York at this hour, that's for sure, but Juliet wasn’t going to complain. She’d always hated the cold, her fingers aching at the first sign of winter, her feet in constant need of socks or slippers as soon as the sun went down. It’d be nice to deal with a little heat and humidity for a change.

Finally, a little after seven, her phone buzzed in her hand. Juliet actually laughed out loud at the text.  

Tower, this is Ghost Rider requesting a flyby...

First Wizard of Oz, now Top Gun? Could he be any more the man of my dreams?
She picked up the phone, still laughing, and tapped out her response.

Negative Ghost Rider, the pattern is full...

Pleased with herself, she snapped the phone shut and waited for his response. It only took a few seconds for a new text to come in and when it did, Juliet didn't know how to take it.

Well, at least we can say we tried. Sorry it didn't work out.

Wait, what? What does that mean? Juliet waited for another response, some clue as to whether or not Ian was joking. He had to be joking, right? Here she was, in
his
house. Waiting for him to come by so they could begin renovations. There's no way he was going to ditch her, kick her out. Right? She waited longer than she wanted for a follow up text that never came. Irritated at the uncertainty fluttering around her belly, she picked up her phone and sent him a text.

What do you mean?

She knew, or at least most of her knew, that she was being silly and irrational. But the longer she waited for his response, the more nervous she became. She had the phone open in her hand when Ian’s response came in.

You just told me I wasn't welcome. I wanted to come help, but you said no.

Still a little unsure as to whether or not he was joking, Juliet tapped out a quick response.

I said no such thing, silly.

And then, while she waited for his response, staring at the phone as if she could physically will his answer to come in faster, tires crunched on her driveway and the throaty rumble of a four wheel drive engine startled Lulu, who’d fallen asleep on Juliet’s lap. She looked up, laughing nervously at herself as Ian parked his truck and hopped out.

“You most certainly did say no,” he said, arching an eyebrow and shutting the door with a heavy thunk. Lulu ran up to him, yipping and yapping her greeting. “Mornin’ Chopper.” Ian reached down and scratched her between the ears.

Juliet stood, inwardly chastising herself for the surge of anxiety his texts had brought her.
Ian is not Michael
, she reminded herself. “I said no such thing silly boy.” Juliet joined him near the truck in case he needed help carrying anything. “You hit me with a Top Gun quote, so I hit you with a Top Gun quote back.”

“Yeah, and my quote was me asking for permission to come by. Your quote? You told me no. I don't like being told no, you realize that, don’t you?”

“It's all very tough and strong to make comments like that, you know,” said Juliet. “But let’s be honest. No one likes to be told no. So you can put your little macho, tough man act aside.”

He flipped open the tailgate and unveiled a mess of tools and wood and who knows what other kinds of renovating materials that Juliet didn’t have names for. “You think this is an act? You saying you don’t think I’m a man?” He drew a huge saw out of the truck. “This is a man’s tool, Juliet.”

Juliet widened her eyes and made a surprised face. “It’s so big and long!”

“You better believe it is.”

She took the toolbox he handed her and held out the other hand to indicate she could take something else. “So, Mr. Manly Man, I don't know what you call early out here in Bliss, South Carolina, but seven a.m.? It's not that. I've been up since four, ready to go, just waiting on your lazy ass.”

Ian hoisted several long pieces of wood onto a shoulder and grunted under their weight. “Four a.m., huh?”

“Yep. That's how we get up early in the city. Not this silly, after the sun’s already up stuff.”

“And how do you think you’ll feel come lunchtime?” Ian led the way around to the back of the house and Juliet followed. “You think you’ll still be rip-roaring, ready to go? Ready to work like a man, with a man?” He dropped the wood near the deck and it clattered onto the ground while Ian flexed and contorted his body like a bodybuilder, even going so far as to growl.

Juliet placed the toolbox down on the ground and shook her head, trying to look disapproving while her heart jumped up and down gleefully, inviting the butterflies in her stomach to join in. This man, this wonderful man. Everything felt okay when she was with him. Better than okay. Easy. Right. Natural. She swallowed and squashed those thoughts.
You’re just his latest project, remember? Another puppy who needed saving. Enjoy him, but don’t get too attached.
“Is everything a competition with you?” she asked, pushing all those thoughts away because they made her feel sad. And she was so tired of feeling sad.

“Why do you ask? You afraid of losing?”

Juliet laughed. “I don't think I even know how to lose. Not sure that's happened to me very frequently.”

“New town, new home, new guy, new rules.” Ian turned and faced the water, watched the morning sun glisten and gleam like diamonds scattered across the surface. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose.

Juliet wasn't sure what to make of that last comment. New guy? Did that mean he considered himself a replacement for her old guy? That was a little presumptuous of him, considering she wasn't even in the market for a new guy.

Oh, come on now
, she told herself,
you spent the whole night fantasizing about his body, going on and on and on about his kindness, even gossiped with Ellie Charles about his past and then touched yourself in the shower, thinking about him. I think you can cut the guy a little slack if he's busy doing something similar with you.
Besides, thinking about him thinking about her the way she’d been thinking of him felt damn good.

Turned out Ian intended to tear apart the old porch and replace a lot of the rotting wood with new wood. Juliet had anticipated hard work, but this was grueling. And while Ian did the majority of the hardest work himself, Juliet was definitely sweaty and tired by the time afternoon rolled around. They only took a short break for lunch, and there wasn’t much conversation at that point. They were both too busy just trying to get food into their mouths so they could get back to work, that talking was pointless.

After lunch, Ian took off his shirt and it proved to be just as magnificent as Juliet had hoped. She’d had her hands on him twice now, once the first night they’d met when she’d tried to brush sand from his chest. And then again yesterday when she’d reached up to hug him after he told her about the house. She had known he was going to be impressive without his shirt on, but that still didn't prepare her for the truth of Ian Moore in the flesh. It took every ounce of her considerable willpower not to just stand and gawk for minutes on end. He was so. damn. beautiful. His abs rippled as he bent and shifted, that delicious little v near his waistband making her wonder what he had hiding in his pants. His biceps flexed as he lifted and hoisted, as he wielded his hammer and saw.

By the time Ian called it quits, Juliet hurt in places she didn't know she could hurt. Even her eyes stung from the sweat that kept dripping past her eyebrows. She had slammed her fingers with hammers. She had chipped and pulled her fingernails, grabbing at nails in the wood. Her hair plastered itself to her face with sweat and what little makeup she had put on that morning had to be smeared all across her face.

Juliet was a little disappointed with herself. She’d wanted to impress him with her ability to adjust and learn quickly. She’d wanted to be invaluable help. Right there. Ready to take on any task Ian gave her. That hadn't been the case. She’d had to ask what the names of tools meant, she hadn't been able to lift some of the larger pieces of wood by herself, and she had no ability to use a power tool in the least. All in all, she was feeling pretty worthless right about now.

Ian leaned on the deck railing and stared out towards the sea. “I'll be honest with you,” he said, handing Juliet a bottle of water he’d brought out earlier. “I didn't expect you to be much help at all. I'd say you just taught me a lot about what to expect out of a New Yorker.” Ian swiped a hand across his brow and then rubbed that hand over the back of his pants.

I bet that butt feels as magnificent as it looks
.

“You’re sweet to try and make me feel good,” she said, trying to ignore the indecent thoughts parading through her head. “But go right ahead and call it like it was. That was hard and I wasn't any good at it. I was in the way more than anything.”

“You're something else, you know that? When I got here today, did you know anything about what we were doing? Did you know the names of any of those tools? Did you even know how to properly swing a hammer?”

Juliet hung her head and swiped a bit of damp hair out of her eyes. “No. Not really.”

“But you do now don't you?”

“Kind of. I mean I could show you which screwdriver goes to which screw, and I could tell you what that circular saw over there does, and I now know that just because you make all that wood look light and easy to carry, it doesn't mean it
is
light and easy to carry.”