Project: Runaway Bride Page 6

  Reid’s meal, however, was hearty and appetizing, with no components that aggravated her delicate stomach. She felt like she should thank him, but since she was still fostering a good mad at him, she kept her mouth shut on that count.

  Desperate to change the subject and get as far away from “other things” as possible, she wiped her mouth with her napkin, then sat back in her chair and asked, “So how exactly did you find me? I mean, I know that’s what you do, but specifically how did you find me?”

  Reid, too, had cleaned his plate. He scraped up what little was left and took a final bite before leaning away from the table and meeting her gaze.

  “GPS in your cell phone.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “There’s no reception up here. I turned my phone off before I even arrived.”

  One side of his mouth twitched, and she could have sworn he was smirking at her.

  “Yes, but you had it on when you left the city and for a while after. I tracked your last few locations, then did a search and discovered that your family owned property not too far from those pings.”

  Fine. Maybe he’d earned the right to smirk.

  “But what if I hadn’t been here? What if I’d changed my mind and gone on to Las Vegas or Canada or Mexico?”

  He raised a brow as if to say “O ye of little faith.”

  “Then it might have taken me a couple more days, but I still would have found you.”

  That same shiver of awareness stole over her. The one that made her feel like a damsel in distress finally rescued by her strong, conquering knight in shining armor.

  No doubt Reid was the strong and conquering type. As well as possessive. But none of those traits had ever been overwhelming. He’d never made her feel small or weak, controlled or manipulated. He’d only made her feel safe. Safe from harm, safe inside her own skin, safe to be herself around him.

  With everybody else lately, she seemed to be playing a role. Pretending to be happy. Pretending to be excited about her upcoming nuptials and content in her relationship with Paul.

  And she didn’t have to pretend only around Paul or her parents, but around her sisters, too, which was probably the hardest part of all. She knew they would be completely supportive if she told them the truth, confided in them about what had been going on with Paul—the growing animosity and on-again, off-again engagement—and how close she’d become to Reid.

  But for some reason, she just couldn’t. It was still all a jumbled-up mess in her head. If she couldn’t make sense of it, how in heaven’s name would they?

  “Well, I hope it’s clear to everyone—once you tell them where I am, of course—that I wasn’t really running away. I just needed some time to myself. Otherwise I really would have gone to one of those other places. Far, far away, maybe even overseas.”

  For some reason, it was important to her that people understood that. It made her somehow less of a coward. She hoped. Less of a horrible, despicable bridezilla/runaway bride for humiliating Paul the way she had.

  Reid reached for his wine. His eyes darted to her still-full glass, and she held her breath, waiting for the inevitable inquisition that was to come. But he merely took a sip of his own Bordeaux before returning the glass to the table.

  “I already talked to them. And I told them as much.”

  Juliet sat forward as though her chair were an ejector seat. “You talked to them? Who? Lily and Zoe or my parents? Or Paul? What did you tell them? What did they say? How did you talk to them? There’s no reception up here.”

  She said the last with suspicious, narrowed eyes, and Reid had the gall to grin at her. It was enough to make her want to pick up the flower centerpiece and launch it at his head.

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell them exactly where you were. I spoke with Lily and reminded her that she hadn’t wanted anyone to know where she was when she ran off to Los Angeles, so she understood. I simply assured them that I’d located you, made sure you were all right and that I was also going to stick around awhile to make sure you stayed that way.”

  “They were okay with that?” Juliet wanted to know, still doubtful.

  “I’m extremely reliable,” he responded with only a hint of offense in his tone. “Besides, I promised to call again if anything changed and keep them updated on the situation.”

  She supposed she should be grateful but only managed to purse her lips.

  He reached for his wine again. “Oh, and I’ve got a satellite phone. That’s how I reached them when your phone wouldn’t.”

  Behind her tight lips, she clenched her teeth. The man was so incredibly infuriating.

  “Are you ever not three steps ahead and prepared for every eventuality?” she ground out.

  She was supposed to be the squared-away one. The Girl Scout who was always prepared, always did the right thing, always adhered to proper rules and regulations and never had a hair or a button out of place. And in her family, she was. Her sisters didn’t tease her about being a Miss Goody Two-Shoes for nothing.

  But compared to Reid, she felt like some slovenly, disorganized mental patient. Maybe because he was the one driving her eight shades of crazy half the time.

  Lifting the wine to his mouth, he took a long, leisurely drink, then lowered the glass and flashed her a too-confident-for-his-own-good grin. “Nope.”

  Six

  Juliet closed the door to her room behind her, making sure it was locked. She wasn’t afraid of Reid, not physically, at any rate. But she certainly didn’t want him walking in on her without warning. It was all she could do to be in the same house with him without jumping out of her skin.

  As soon as dinner was over and she didn’t think it would be completely rude, she’d pled exhaustion and escaped his company as quickly as possible. Not that it was a lie; it had been a long, stressful day, and the pregnancy only added to her need for frequent rest. But it was late enough that she could stay in her room until morning without letting Reid know she was trying to avoid him.

  With a sigh, she pushed away from where she’d been leaning with her back against the door and crossed the spacious master bedroom. When they visited the lake as a family, her parents took this room, of course. And she and her sisters took turns with the others, or would sometimes pile all together in the loft like they had when they were young.

  Now, though, she was glad she’d opted for the large room with the connected bath; otherwise she would have had to risk running into Reid every time she wanted to use the bathroom down the hall.

  Kicking off her shoes, she padded across the carpeted floor, stripping as she went and leaving her clothes in a pile near the closet. She would pick them up later, folding them or tossing them into the hamper, but it would probably surprise a lot of people to see that she wasn’t always neat and almost pathologically organized. Sometimes when she was alone, she was downright messy. For short spans of time. Then her need for order would kick in and she’d run around tidying up again.

  For now, however, her things were fine where they were. All she wanted was a hot shower and a comfortable pair of pajamas. Her mouth watered for that big glass of wine she’d left untouched during dinner, but she supposed she would have to learn to unwind and relax without that sort of thing for the next several months.

  Feeling much better after her shower, she wrapped her wet hair in a towel and climbed into a pair of soft flannel pajamas. Thank goodness that when she’d stopped at the loft to grab a few things, she’d opted for nightclothes that were both warm and all encompassing.

  The flannels were a cute, girly, pink-and-green plaid with satin accents and a feminine cut, but they covered her from neck to ankle. Just about anything else from her dresser at home fell into the nightie category and would have bared her shoulders, legs and possibly a hint of bottom curve. All body parts she wasn’t keen on sharing with Reid this visit.

  Back in the bedroom, she moved to the closet and picked up the clothes she’d discarded earlier, folding them and setting them aside. Inside the closet,
she knew what she would find. She’d avoided looking at it since she’d stuffed it in there, but decided now that she could. She was strong enough and she was ready.

  As she peeled open the louvered doors, yards and yards of taffeta and lace filled her vision. Snow-white and so beautiful, it continued to take her breath away no matter how many times she saw it.

  There were a few smudges on it now that Lily would kill her for if they didn’t come out. Her sister had put so much time and love into the gown. Time she could have been spending on designs for her line. But she’d been so excited about Juliet’s wedding, she’d wanted her to have a truly spectacular, one-of-a-kind dress to wear down the aisle.

  It wouldn’t do, Lily had said more than once, for one of the Zaccaro sisters to wear off-the-rack or another designer label to her own wedding. Not when she could look beyond fabulous and maybe get them a little more exposure for Zaccaro Fashions at the same time.

  Instead, Juliet had run off before anyone could see what amazing work Lily was capable of, and worn the fairy-tale gown halfway to Vermont before stopping to change into street clothes in a convenience-store bathroom.

  Yeah, she might have to keep that part to herself, or Lily really would kill her.

  Leaving the closet doors open, Juliet backed up to the bed and sat carefully on the edge, simply staring at the gown for several long minutes.

  She’d already decided she wouldn’t be marrying Paul. Ever. At some point, she would have to face him again, to apologize and explain why she’d abandoned him at the altar after assuring him she really did want to go through with the wedding, even though she’d called it off only weeks earlier. With luck, it would be in a nice, crowded public place with lots of witnesses so he would be less likely to create a scene.

  So wearing the gown for a second shot with him was out of the question. And if she ever, ever decided to give the whole engagement/wedding/till-death-do-us-part thing a try with another man—the image of Reid in a tuxedo, waiting for her at the end of the aisle burst across her brain, but she quickly snuffed it out—she didn’t know if she would recycle this dress or choose another that had no old memories and emotions attached to it.

  But she hated to think about it going to waste. Just hanging there in her closet forever like a forgotten prom gown, or shipped off to Goodwill where someone would pay twenty dollars for it and never know what a true treasure they’d been lucky enough to find.

  Hopping up, she hurried over to the overnight bag she’d stuffed full of items she thought she might need while she was hiding out for her little breakdown-slash-journey to self-discovery and grabbed the sketch pad and pack of pencils she’d brought along. She almost never left home without them, even in the middle of a crisis.

  Smiling to herself, she carried them back to the bed where she sat cross-legged, still facing the Wedding Dress of Doom. Even at the worst of times, she was a designer at heart. She’d grabbed these supplies first and packed other things like underwear and her toothbrush second. A girl had to have her priorities.

  It had been ages since she’d really had the time to work the way she liked to. The way she should have been. Lily and Zoe had definitely been carrying the weight of the company these past few months while she focused on wedding preparations and letting herself be distracted by Paul’s bad behavior and her completely inappropriate yet irresistible attraction to Reid.

  There was still plenty going on to distract her, but she felt oddly rejuvenated creatively. Eager to get back to work because maybe, just maybe, sketching would help to keep her mind off the problems hanging over her head. She might even manage that most coveted form of problem solving—the brilliant revelation that came out of the blue while one was focused on something entirely unrelated.

  So what if she took this wedding-gown dilemma and turned it into a solution? A jumping-off point for some gorgeous new handbags that Lily and Zoe would both proclaim were well worth her minor emotional meltdown and sudden disappearing act.

  Her parents might not agree, since they were the ones who were going to lose all the money they’d put into the wedding plans, but maybe the fact that she would soon be giving them their first grandchild would soften that blow.

  Charcoal and colored pencils spread out beside her, she began to doodle. Just shapes and squiggly lines at first, a few that looked a bit like flowers. Then, as more solid, structured designs came into her head, the rest of her mind drifted. A left brain/right brain thing allowed her to work with focused intent while also humming one of her favorite songs, lyrics and all.

  The only problem was, the song she started to sing—the one she couldn’t get out of her head no matter how many other tunes she tried to hum instead—made her think of Reid and the first time she’d spent the night with him.

  * * *

  This was the third time he’d brought Chinese. It was becoming a guilty pleasure. He’d call her or she’d call him. Her sisters would be away, leaving her alone in the loft, or he would tell her to come to his place; he’d leave the door unlocked for her. These secret rendezvous made her feel both naughty and vibrantly alive at the same time.

  She shouldn’t be doing it. Should have put a stop to this crazy infatuation after that first time, when she’d known things could so easily get carried away.

  But they meant too much to her. She could talk to Reid in a way she couldn’t with anyone else, because he knew things about her life that she hadn’t shared with anyone else, and she looked forward to their casual get-togethers far too much, feeling as though they were almost the only time she could breathe easily and be herself.

  Because of that, she couldn’t stop. Not yet.

  Besides, it was just dinner. And takeout, at that, not some romantic, candlelit meal at an upscale French restaurant. Just a carton of sweet-and-sour chicken, a couple glasses of wine and some comfortable, friendly conversation that was about something other than the wedding or Zaccaro Fashions.

  Reid arrived with a firm knock, and butterflies she definitely shouldn’t have been feeling unfurled in her belly, spreading to all of her other extremities.

  As soon as she opened the door, he looked her up and down, his gaze raking over her like a touch. Warmth enveloped her, turning her feverish in an instant.

  Maybe she was actually coming down with something. Because having this sort of reaction to Reid was wrong and not typical of her at all. She was normally so levelheaded, so steadfast. Yet being near Reid McCormack made her feel anything but.

  Smiling as he brushed past, he moved to the sofa in the middle of the room and sank down, unloading the paper sack one white-and-red container at a time. Juliet collected utensils and the wine before joining him.

  It was the most natural thing in the world, settling beside him. Except for the little shocks of electricity zinging through her bloodstream and raising every hair on her body. Which only intensified when their knees touched.

  The breath caught in her chest, making it hard to swallow. She only hoped he didn’t notice the tremor of her fingers as she poured their wine.

  In an effort to get herself under control, she closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, then let the air out again as her lashes fluttered open. Reid was mere inches away, staring at her intently, and the oxygen got trapped in her lungs all over again.

  “How about some music?” he asked suddenly, catching her off guard.

  Before she had a chance to reply, he got up from the sofa and moved unerringly to the table in front of the windows that overlooked the street below. Along with a number of other random items she and her sisters kept there was an iPod and a dock with speakers.

  The only problem was, it was Zoe’s iPod. That didn’t bode well for Reid finding a song that wouldn’t split their eardrums or send them into seizures, since Zoe’s current tastes tended toward psychedelic club beats.

  To Juliet’s surprise, though, he did some searching of her sister’s playlists and came up with a beautiful, classical instrumental piece that filled the loft with r
omantic calm.

  The calm part was good and much appreciated.

  The romantic, she was afraid would be her downfall.

  Reid returned to the sofa, and for the next thirty minutes they made small talk while they ate. Well, he made small talk. Juliet mostly nodded or offered short answers when appropriate.

  She felt like a plastic doll, stiff and only able to move when someone stood behind her and lifted her limbs one by one.

  Could he tell how uncomfortable she was? Or that she was only uncomfortable because she was too comfortable around him?

  She could barely swallow the bites of food she put in her mouth and forced herself to chew, because what she wanted to do after they finished eating was lean into him and curl up at his side with her arms wrapped tightly around him.

  “Finished?” Reid asked suddenly, jarring her from her wayward thoughts.

  She looked down at her plate, realizing it was mostly empty. Only a small amount of rice and vegetables remained, but she knew without a doubt that she wouldn’t be able to get the rest down, no matter how hard she tried.

  She put her fork down across the plate, which he took from her and set on the coffee table. Then he pushed to his feet and held a hand out to her.

  “Let’s dance.”

  Juliet’s heart sputtered in her chest as duty warred with desire. Oh, how she wanted to, even though she knew she shouldn’t.

  But he didn’t give her a choice. Reaching down, he grasped her fingers and hauled her up. She went into his arms like water flowing in a stream—smooth and easy, the most natural thing in the world.

  For the span of a single breath, he held her there, firm against the solid wall of his chest. The warmth of his skin permeated his pressed white dress shirt and her satin dress, and nestled deep inside her, where she hadn’t even realized she was cold. It was lovely.

  She nearly closed her eyes and sank even closer to him, wanting the moment to last forever. But then he stepped back, just a whisper, and she was dragged from the enchanting yet imaginary cocoon.