Wasn’t that how every romantic comedy ever made had ended?
Julia hated the jealousy she felt for her older, gorgeously put-together sister, a woman who’d helped raise her. Where Tristan was concerned, however, she had no control over her emotions.
Drained of confidence and strength, she collapsed against the cool tile at her feet. She clutched her knees to her stomach and blinked up at Faith. “I can’t do this. I can’t. I’m not even sure I like Puny Peter,” she admitted.
“Puny Peter?”
“That’s what Tristan calls him.”
Wry amusement gleamed in Faith’s eyes. “I wonder why.”
“Tristan’s just—he’s—I don’t know,” she ended lamely.
“Too jealous for your liking?”
“No.”
“Too protective?”
“Yes!” She stretched out, lying down. “But I like him so danged much.”
“Okay, then. Call Peter and tell him you can’t make it. Then, you and Tristan can spend the evening here. Alone. Together.”
Moaning, she covered her face with her hands. Did she really want to give up, to admit defeat before the date even began? She just didn’t know. If only she were remotely attracted to Peter—there, she’d admitted it—the date might seem easier to bear. But noooo, she had to lust after a man who would cause supermodels to drool over his beauty.
“No,” she finally told her sister. “I’m okay. I want to do this. I need to do this.”
“All right.” Faith handed her a cool, wet towel. “Pull yourself together, and we’ll get you ready.”
Julia used the cloth to wipe her mouth, then pushed to her feet. Her knees were wobbly at first, so she leaned against the sink for balance. Once steady, she brushed her teeth and splashed cold water on her face.
“Come on,” Faith said as Julia dried off. “You need to get dressed.”
“Not until I find my shoes.” Finding those damn black heels had become her biggest goal in life. Well, that, and surviving the night.
“They’re around here somewhere. Don’t panic. We’ll find them.”
They searched for ten minutes, and just when they were about to give up, Faith found them stuffed inside the dirty clothes hamper.
“Do I even want to know how did they got in there?” Faith asked, holding the shoes between pinched fingers.
“I must have been distracted,” Julia admitted, “because I can’t remember.” Now that her shoes were in her sights, she concentrated on clothing. Unfortunately, she’d never modeled her new outfits for Tristan, so she had no idea what would actually look good. She gave it a shot, anyway.
“I thought I’d wear this.” She waved her hand over a fuzzy pink sweater and long floral-print skirt.
Faith shook her head. “That’s pretty, but it’s not the right outfit for tonight. It says, I’m walking cotton candy and I want you to eat me.”
“I need a glass of wine,” Julia lamented. “The stress of this day is about to kill me.”
“Drink the whole bottle. I’ll find an outfit the boys will drool over.”
* * *
CLOTHED ONLY IN his white cotton briefs, Peter Gallow flexed what little biceps he had in front of the full-length mirror hanging on his bedroom wall. A perfect frame for his art deco and black-wire lamps.
“I am a man. A tiger,” he told his reflection.
His date with Julia was scheduled to begin soon. Since she’d first called and asked him to have dinner with her—and he’d accepted—his nervous system had kicked into high gear. Unfortunately, he now had hives. He’d never been very good with women and didn’t have much practice. For too long, he’d lived in fear of the opposite sex, afraid they would laugh at him or reject him.
He liked Julia, though. She was kind, and she made him feel comfortable.
On the other hand, her brother scared the hell out of him.
When the man had first moved into the house beside Julia’s, he’d hardly noticed her. But each morning as he prepared breakfast, he would see her leave for work, and each evening as he fertilized and weeded his garden, he would see her return, and each time he saw her, he became more attracted to her. He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but she’d become prettier and prettier until her image constantly filled his mind. The prettier he’d found her, the more he’d avoided her.
After his grandmother died and he’d decided to live, truly live, doing all the scary things he’d previously avoided, he’d seen Julia hiding in his bushes and realized she was as nervous as he was. He’d decided to go for it and ask her out. No more avoiding her.
The more he’d interacted with her, the more little things appealed to him. The vivacious sparkle in her eyes. The way her hair curled at the ends. The delicacy of her wrists. He’d wanted to go over and talk with her so many times and, in fact, had almost worked up the courage once or twice. Yet he almost always lost his bravado as soon he reached her house and raced home.
Then he’d almost gotten murdered by her brother. Peter didn’t consider himself a strong man—or at least, he didn’t consider himself a strong man yet. By reading self-help books, he was becoming a more assertive man.
When Julia had asked him out, he’d been stunned. And terrified. Very, very terrified. Not only because he’d been on so few dates in his lifetime, but because angering Tristan could result in Peter’s unsolvable death. Surely a guy like Tristan knew how to hide bodies.
Peter had never seen an expression quite so fierce, or a man quite so intimidating. Tristan obviously loved his sister, and like any devoted brother, the giant hulk would protect her, crushing anyone who hurt her. So, Peter wouldn’t hurt her. He would prove himself worthy of her. He would be a gentleman. Then he thought, So what
