She didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll smack her over the head with her broom.”
“What if demons of the night attack?”
“I’ll scream my head off, and you can come running.”
He clicked his tongue. “If I were with you, little dragon, you would scream—again and again. Since you will be alone, you will do nothing but imagine.” Tristan left her with those words, firmly shutting the door behind him.
* * *
CURSE THAT MAN, Julia thought.
You will do nothing but imagine, he’d said. Sadly, he’d been right.
All through the night she tossed and turned, imagining his naked body pressed against hers, his tongue and hands doing wicked things to her. In her fantasies, she’d been a wild woman. Totally insatiable. She’d clawed at his back, shouted his name with abandon and sucked his entire length into her mouth.
In her dream, she’d whispered, “More. Give me more.”
“For you and no other,” he’d replied silkily.
“Harder. Harder,” she’d begged.
He’d softly laughed. “Oh, but I do love to please you.”
“No talk. Only pleasure.”
Several times she’d almost cried out for him to beg him to turn her dreams into reality. In the end, though, she’d suffered in silence. She would be a job to him, nothing less, nothing more. No, not a job. A chore. A chore he could not refuse if he so desired. Or didn’t desire. No thanks.
Her body might crave the man, but her pride demanded she be with someone who truly wanted her. Anything less would be pathetic.
In a secret part of her heart, she’d always longed for a fairy-tale existence. A man who considered her the most beautiful woman in the world, who laughed at her jokes and found her intellect sparkling. A bit much? Probably. But her dream of happily-ever-after had never faded and would never fade.
There had to be someone out there for her. Please let there be someone out there for me. If she found him, maybe then she could finally, blessedly find her sense of contentment.
Closing her eyes, she pictured the type of man who might find her desirable, yet wouldn’t intimidate her—argh! Why was she seeing Tristan? He would never qualify. After wiping her mind, she—argh! Tristan. Trying again. There. Better. His features were plain, but he had an easy, gentle smile. Height-wise, he was below average, not much taller than she. He was kind and tender and maybe a little shyer than Julia. Most importantly, he never once made her feel stupid or unattractive or unworthy. He was as grateful for her as she was for him.
Was that asking for too much?
“No, it’s not,” she muttered. In fact, the more she considered this paragon of virtue, the more he took the shape of her new next-door neighbor, Peter. Peter had brown hair, kind hazel eyes, and constantly flashed a good-natured grin. She’d liked him from the moment they’d met. He hadn’t triggered her shyness. Instead, she’d always felt comfortable in his presence. Maybe because he was shy, too. The only problem was, the few times they’d spoken, Peter hadn’t really shown any romantic interest in her.
Maybe he was too shy, and she needed to make the first move?
A sigh parted her lips. How would Peter react if she called and asked him out on a date? Fall to his knees and thank her? Or demand she never call him again?
In a spurt of determination, she decided she didn’t care how he reacted. She would simply pick up the phone and invite him to dinner. Now. Today. This very second.
Well, maybe in the morning.
Confidence swiftly draining, she burrowed deeper into the covers and recalled the first and only date she’d ever been on. She’d been sixteen, much shyer than she was now, but also kind of mischievous. Brian Davidson, the most popular boy in school, had invited her to dinner. Since she’d had a crush on him for years, she foolishly agreed.
The night of their date, they’d shared a pizza at the local hangout and talked about their lives. He’d treated her with such care, had been so complimentary, she’d floated on a rainbow of dreams, imagining the flowers, candy and romance in her future. She’d placed no significance on his glances to the door, or on his laugh, which had been a little too forced.
Later in the evening, Brian had driven her to his home. They’d been alone, his parents out of town. They’d talked some more, and Julia had admitted how much she liked him, how she wanted her first time to be with him. He’d smiled, his eyes cold, and leaned down to kiss her. A heartbeat before his lips had met hers, making all her dreams come true, she’d heard a deep voice say, “Gross, Bri. You’re not actually going to kiss Julie Ghoulie, are you? We dared you to be seen with her in public, not to make out with her.”
Hunter Stevens, Brian’s best friend, had come running into the room, three other boys behind him. All of them doubled over, laughing and pointing at her.
“Brian, you’re so wonderful,” one of the boys had mimicked. “Man, if I heard her say that one more time, I was going to puke.”
Brian had jerked back, his gaze darting guiltily. “I had to shut her up, didn’t I? What took you guys so damn long? Another second and I would’ve had to do something desperate.”
While the boys continued to taunt her, Julia had gathered what little remained of her pride and sprinted out of the house. Each step home, the dam holding her emotions together had cracked. Finally, humiliation and despair had consumed her, and she’d sunk to the ground, sobbing until her tear ducts threatened to burst from the strain.
That one night had destroyed every ounce of self-confidence she’d possessed—and there hadn’t been much to begin with. She’d been shy before, but she’d soon become the tongue-tied idiot she was today.
How could a man fall in
