his touch. “I’m serious, Juliette. I
“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
“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
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?”
“Journalists through and through. Are you satisfied now?”
She believed him but she was by no means satisfied. Betrayal twisted her insides and self-disgust took hold. When would she learn? She was not a good judge of character when it came to men. She never had been, never would be.
Juliette lowered herself into the nearest chair. “Go away, Stuart. You came and made your point. Doug is a
Pure relief washed over his face. If the situation didn’t make her feel so pathetic on her part, she’d have laughed out loud.
He stepped toward her and knelt down. “You have to know I never meant to hurt you. We were friends and I thought we could have a good life.”
She shook her head. “I have nothing more to say. That ought to make you ecstatic, right?” She waved a hand, dismissing him.
“You’re smart, Juliette. You always were. And you love your father. In this case, that combination will serve you well.” His implicit threat made, and apparently having gotten what he came for, Stuart was happy to be gone, leaving Juliette alone with the painful truth.
She’d fallen in love with another man who’d used her for his own selfish ends. Ever since his original article was printed, then retracted, Douglas Houston’s name wasn’t worth squat. Another lovely word courtesy of her sister’s students. But one that fit. And Juliette had just foolishly given Doug back his entry into Chicago’s political circles.
She’d given him the information he needed to back up his original story and clear his muddied name. Information that would crucify Stuart and his partners, and set herself up as a walking target should any of them discover that, not only could she connect them, but she’d blabbed their secrets as well.
DOUG WATCHED Barnes’s retreat. His heart in his throat, he decided to give Juliette a few minutes to digest the information and pull herself together before facing him. It was the least he could do.
Hell, he needed to do the same. He’d been too damn complacent, Doug thought. Too sated by their incredible lovemaking and then caught up in his mother’s concerns over his father’s health.
He’d been distracted, which had dulled his reporter’s instincts, and he’d never expected to come upon Stuart Barnes and Juliette. Having locked the doors when he ran inside earlier, he’d never thought she’d head out to the patio alone. He hadn’t been thinking, period.
And when the sound of conversation drifted toward him from outside, Doug prayed he’d find the waiter serving breakfast. He wasn’t so lucky. He’d stepped closer to discover Stuart Barnes had paid Juliette a visit.
Though Doug hated ceding control, he’d quickly realized he had no choice. Should he make himself known, he’d risk Barnes jumping to the correct conclusion-that Juliette had already spilled her news. So he opted to wait and take his case to Juliette later when they were alone. Opted to allow her to make clearheaded decisions without his presence distracting her. So he’d remained out of sight, knowing he could protect her if the need arose. But nothing could alleviate the feeling of helplessness he’d suffered as truths that should have come from him were revealed in a way that gave Doug no chance for damage control. He’d listened as his future had been slowly but surely destroyed.
He had to admit Juliette had given her faith in him her best shot. His gut had clenched as she’d attempted to deny Barnes’s claims-an admirable defense of a not-so-admirable man, Doug thought in disgust.
He’d wanted to put her first. He’d wanted to be able to look himself in the mirror. He shook his head. He’d never be able to face himself again.
Hell, facing Juliette now would be the beginning of his life-long punishment-a life that didn’t include her. He stepped out of the shadows and into the direct sunlight on the terrace. “Juliette.”
She swung toward him, her normally bright eyes dull, her expression blank. “It seems we haven’t been formally introduced,” she said, rising from her seat. “We both already know who I am.” She extended her hand but remained stiff and formal.
His stomach twisted, but not knowing what else to do, he placed his palm inside hers.
Like she was facing a stranger, she pumped his hand firmly in a cold grip, then released him. “I’d say it was nice to meet you, Mr. Houston, but that would be a lie.” Hurt, betrayal and disbelief were all evident in her gaze.
But one thing was more painful than the rest. After all they’d shared and as intimate as they’d been, not only did Juliette look at him as if she’d never seen him before, but she looked as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
“I’d like to explain.”
She glanced away. “The obvious needs no explanation. At least that’s what my dad always says. Then he lets us explain anyway, so you might as well go ahead.” She waved a hand dismissively, as if he were a child wanting to justify bad behavior.
Which, he supposed, he was. He reached for her hand and she stepped back from his grasp. Frustrated, he shook his head. “Why do I get the feeling nothing I say will make a damn bit of difference?”
“Should it?” Juliette paced the ground of the small patio. “Why don’t I make it easy for you? You had a story to tell and your name to clear. I had the information. Simple.”
