Secret Fantasy(37)
Author: Carly Phillips

Juliette wasn’t surprised Stuart had fed Merrilee a story. He had probably used an assumed name, too. Merrilee’s ethics were too strong for Stuart to gain access to Secret Fantasy any other way. Glancing at him now, Juliette recalled her sister’s words about how his sudden silence had unnerved her and Juliette inhaled deep. Now she was the one shook up—by his unexpected presence and the lengths to which he’d obviously gone to join her on the island resort.

She swallowed hard. “I already said I wouldn’t expose you. Any reason you couldn’t take me at my word?”

“Your sudden disappearance concerned me. It’s not like you to run.”

His dual implication wasn’t lost on her. “It wasn’t like you gave me a choice. You lied to me and a marriage has to be based on trust.” And on love, Juliette thought.

She supposed in a way she ought to be grateful for the revelation at the church. If not for her last-minute discovery before she said I do, she would have realized eventually that what she felt for her own husband was not real love. Because now she knew what honest and true love felt like. It was what she felt for Doug.

“So without the marriage vows, how do I know I can trust you?” he asked wryly.

“Because you know me. You have known me for years.” She didn’t miss the irony. She’d known him for an equally long time yet she’d been blindsided by his lies and illegal associations. Would Stuart realize the incongruity as well? At the very least she prayed that he wouldn’t suspect she was misleading him, that she’d already revealed the details of Stuart’s shady dealings to Doug, and that she planned to tell her father as soon as she returned. The senator, Juliette assumed, would take the story to either the police or the press. Either way, Stuart wouldn’t be seeing the election ballot, never mind her father’s Senate seat.

But she had known him for years. Which led her to a lingering question. “Why, Stuart? Why get involved in dirty deals and money laundering?”

He shook his head. “You really don’t get it, do you? Maybe we grew up next door to each other but you grew up with the money and the spotlight. I had to work for it.”

“And you did. You worked hard and you made it. You’re almost there.”

He sighed. “I figured Bob’s connections would give me the money to back me up as well. But what they say is true. Before you know it, you’re in too deep.”

“So get out. It isn’t too late.”

“It is unless I want to lose everything. I won’t let that happen. And your silence will make sure my dreams come true.” Stuart picked up a leafy hibiscus she’d laid on the table, twirling it in the air, examining the petals. “So what’s your fantasy? What are you looking for that I didn’t give you? That I knew nothing about?”

She forced a laugh. They’d known so little about each other it was pathetic, Juliette thought. In less than a week, Doug understood her better than Stuart had after a lifetime.

She shrugged. “Gillian surprised me with the trip. She created a fantasy. I’m just living it out,” she said, hoping he’d leave it at that.

“It involves a man.”

Juliette raised her eyebrows, wondering how he’d known, then silently berated herself. Between her skimpy robe and the intimate setting she’d staged, she’d given herself away. “I can’t imagine you’re jealous. Not when all you saw in me was a stepping stone to easier election.”

Since he’d reluctantly admitted as much at the church when he realized there would be no ceremony, Juliette saw no reason to couch her words now.

He shook his head. “Jealous is the wrong word.” He reached out for her hand, but she stepped back, away from his touch. “I’m serious, Juliette. I am concerned. You need to watch the company you keep and what you say. Otherwise no matter how much I may believe you’ll keep quiet, I won’t be able to protect you.”

“I have kept quiet, and your concern is touching but unwarranted.” She leaned on the white chair, gripping the cool wrought iron for support. She wasn’t comfortable lying anymore than she was complacent with his trip down here and his so-called concern. “I’m not involved with anyone that’s a threat to you or your partners.” She said the last word with disdain.

“If that’s true, then how about sharing the name of the man you’re…involved with?” Stuart said.

She stopped herself from glancing back toward the inside of the house and giving Doug’s presence away. He could walk out at any moment or she could yell and he’d be by her side in an instant. But she refused to make a scene when she could possibly avoid one.

She didn’t believe Stuart wanted to hurt her. He just needed to pacify his well-founded fears. “Whoever I see is no longer your concern.”

“I told you I’m worried about you.”

Juliette laughed. “More like you’re worried about what I might reveal.”

“That goes without saying, considering who you’re involved with.” He stepped closer, watching her closely.

“First you ask me who I’m involved with and now you sound as if you know. Well, which is it?” she asked, running out of patience for Stuart and his games.

“I asked if you cared to share the name. I wondered if you even knew.”

“Of course I know. It’s Doug…” she said, her voice trailing off. “I don’t know his last name.” She admitted that truth reluctantly, hating to give Stuart any more power over her.

“Houston,” Stuart said. “Douglas Houston, the Chicago Tribune reporter that broke the initial story.”

Impossible, she thought, shaking her head. Her stomach cramped but she ignored the pain. “You’re confusing him with someone else. His name is Doug, yes. But he’s from Michigan, not Chicago.”

Yet he hadn’t revealed his last name, Juliette thought. Not even after she’d bared her soul and admitted her deepest secrets. Not even after they’d made love had he shared something as basic as his last name. Her heart shouted it was a coincidence but her head reminded her she’d been hurt and used before—by the man standing in front of her.

“He’s a reporter,” Stuart said firmly. “And if he’s been spending time with you down here under false pretenses, he’s a liar as well.”

“You’re one to talk,” she muttered. “Doug’s a…writer,” she said, her stomach plummeting once more. He’d followed in his adopted father’s footsteps, he’d said. “And his family?” Juliette asked in a soft voice. “Are they reporters, too?”