need to make more paper flowers.” Deciding that it would be good to have something to do with her hands, she moved to the dresser and started gathering the items she’d need.
She heard the door swing shut, followed by his approaching footsteps. His fingers encircled her arm. “Those can wait. This can’t.”
She glanced at his hand on her bare arm and then lifted her chin. “You make it sound like life or death.”
“It could be.” He sighed and shook his head. “I need to apologize.”
“Wait. Why might this be life or death?” What was she missing? Obviously it was something big.
“Because...oh, it doesn’t matter. I want to apologize for kissing you—”
“Why? It isn’t your fault that this—” she pointed to the half-moon scar next to her eye “—is so ugly that it repulses you.” She started to turn away.
He gripped her shoulders in his strong hands and pulled her around so that they were face-to-face. “It doesn’t repulse me. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re beautiful before you believe me?”
She shook her head, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall. “But the scars are ugly. I’m ugly. That’s why I wear the makeup. It hides things.”
“You don’t have to hide.” His voice was deep and soothing.
“Yes, I do.” She pulled away from his hold. “Look at me. I tried to play this your way. I tried to look like everyone else around here. I bought different clothes. I didn’t put on my makeup. I even brushed out my hair and wore it loose. And still it doesn’t work. I’m still different.”
He smiled at her. “You’re right—you are different.”
If this was his way of making her feel better, he was doing a lousy job. “Just go.”
“Not until I tell you this.” When she didn’t look at him, his thumb moved to her chin and lifted it. “Being different isn’t bad. Being different is something to be proud of. Just make sure you’re doing it because it’s what makes you happy and you aren’t doing it just to make a statement or to hide.”
“I wanted to dress like the other women in your life. I wanted to be like everyone else.”
“You’ll never be like everyone else. You are special. To me.”
And then his head dipped and his lips pressed to hers. Her heart tumbled in her chest. He did care about her, scars and all. She knew that life wasn’t that easy and that she shouldn’t fall for him, but the reasons to hold back and keep him at a safe distance were eluding her at the moment.
His kiss was filled with heat, leaving no doubt in her mind that he desired her. And she wanted him, too. She wanted him more than she could say. But when he lifted his head and looked her in the eyes, the doubts started to crowd in.
“They’ll be looking for us at lunch.” Her feet refused to cooperate. She stayed right there in his very capable arms.
“They won’t wonder about us for long.”
Heat rose to her cheeks. “They know you’re up here with me?”
He nodded. “Maria pointed out your whereabouts. Don’t worry—no one will disturb us.”
Suddenly she felt like a kid making out in her boyfriend’s house with his parents in the next room. She knew she was being ridiculous. This was a massive villa. The dining room and kitchen were at the other end. And they were consenting adults. Still...
“I want you.” Stefano’s voice was husky with desire, leaving no doubt in her mind about his intention.
“I want you, too.”
“WHAT’S GOING ON between you and Stefano?”
“Nothing.” Jules avoided meeting Lizzie’s inquisitive gaze as they sat on the living room floor of the villa. “Whatever you’re thinking, just let it go.”
Why did Lizzie have to pick today of all days to drive to the vineyard to help with the wedding details? Jules held back a yawn as she reached for the glue.
She didn’t want to lie to Lizzie about Stefano. But she didn’t know what to tell her sister because quite honestly she didn’t know what was going on herself. She’d been awake most of the night replaying everything between them. How could she explain something when she didn’t understand it herself?
After she and Stefano had made love, he’d kissed her goodbye and spent the rest of the day and evening at the winery. He said they were preparing for a wine-tasting event that weekend. She told herself that his absence meant nothing. That he was just taking care of his responsibilities.
But a nagging voice kept telling her that he was intentionally avoiding her. Instead of their lovemaking bringing them together, it had driven them apart. But why?
“There’s something going on between you.” It was on the tip of Jules’s tongue to deny it when Lizzie continued, “You aren’t falling for him, are you?”
Jules shook her head vehemently. “You don’t have to worry. Just because you found your Prince Charming doesn’t mean that I want the same thing.”
Lizzie straightened and eyed her from across the coffee table. “I know that it’s easy to get caught up in all of this wedding stuff and start to daydream about falling in love.”
Jules stopped gluing together another fan with the wedding program printed on it. “You don’t have to worry. Stefano has been nice and all, but my future isn’t here—”
“You’re right. I don’t know what got into me. You’re too smart to throw away your exciting future for anything or anyone.” Lizzie’s stiff posture eased. I’m just so proud of you for getting into grad school. You’ll see—the time will fly by.”
This was Jules’s opening—a chance to tell Lizzie that she’d had a change of heart. But she’d have to do it gently. She could tell Lizzie was already nervous about the wedding. “What if I didn’t go back to school?”
Lizzie’s head lifted. Her focus narrowed in on Jules. A long moment of silence passed, and then Lizzie smiled. “You know, you scared me. Don’t do that. For a moment, I thought that you were serious.”
Jules’s palms grew moist. “You make it sound like grad school is the only worthwhile option.”
“It is.” Lizzie leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “I don’t understand. I thought this is what you wanted—what we’ve been working toward.”
“But what if I changed my mind?” She prayed Lizzie would understand. “What if I don’t have what it takes to get through the program?”
“So that’s what this is all about.” Lizzie leaned back and sighed.
