could she work with him so closely when he still had such a strong effect on her? “That’s a tall order. Hire a nanny.”
“I plan to hire a nanny. Help me pick a good one. Help me pick schools, toys. Grant entrusted his son to me and I have to do everything right.” The green tide pool of Shay’s eyes sucked at her, mesmerizing her, as he pleaded his case.
He meant it.
Never would she have suspected such a sense of responsibility lurked in the heart of the roller coaster ride sprawled on her couch.
Eight years ago, she’d ended their relationship because she’d wanted to have children with a man who would raise them by her side, not one who was likely to wind up in a broken heap at the bottom of a cliff after his rappelling rope failed. Not one who willingly sought to upset the status quo every five seconds.
How ironic that he was the one who had ended up with the baby.
“Please, Juliana.”
Shay fought the urge to clear his throat again.
He hadn’t said her name aloud in a long time. Hadn’t allowed himself to think about her. For the past eight years, he’d successfully avoided recalling what a mess she’d left behind when she’d walked out on him.
“Will you consider it? If the answer is no, I’ll be on my way.”
In the past twenty-four hours after making that phone call, he’d done nothing but think about Juliana Cane. The way her lips curled up in a half smile as she drew a bow across her violin. How she threw her head back while in the throes of pleasure. The exact shade of blue of her eyes.
Her still-gorgeous mouth pursed in thought, shifting the lines of her heartbreaker of a face. “What exactly are you proposing? I have clients. A practice. A life.”
A life. Well, so did he. Or he used to. These days, life had an aggravating tendency to be one way when he woke up and a whole other way by the time his head hit the pillow that night. If he slept at all.
He hadn’t closed his eyes once the night after Grant and Donna died. Too busy counting the if-onlys. Too busy shouldering blame and cursing himself for not double-checking that fuel line personally. Too busy figuring out that yeah, men weren’t supposed to cry, but after losing everything that mattered, rules didn’t apply.
Shay crossed his arms over the perpetual ache and scooted back against the fluffy, senior-citizen-approved couch cushions. “Sounds like the answer is yes.”
She straightened the perfectly symmetrical hem to her grown-up suit and crossed her mile-long legs. “Yes to considering it. Iced tea? It’s organic, and I only use stevia as a sweetener.”
“Sure.”
He hated iced tea and always had. What did it say that she didn’t remember? Likely that she’d moved on and rightly so. They’d had no contact for eight years, and without the accident and his resulting parenthood, they would have continued to have no contact. Yeah, he’d followed her career. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d found the boring life she seemed to want.
Shay trailed Juliana into the neat kitchen, eyes on her heels. Nice. Did a lot for her already spectacular legs. Those legs dredged up crystal-clear memories of her smooth limbs wrapped around his waist, her hot torso heaving against his.
Their relationship had bordered on mythical. The sex had been awesome, too. Nearly a decade later, the heat between them was banked. But still there. He could feel it.
The kitchen told him a bunch about this new professional version of Juliana Cane. Canisters lined the immaculate counter, all labeled in precise script. No dishes in the sink, not even on a Saturday. Crayon drawings lined the refrigerator—the only visual difference between this kitchen and one set up in a pristine home décor showroom.
Seemed like she’d hit the boring jackpot. He’d hoped it would make her happy, but no one as passionate about music as Juliana had been would ever be happy with such a vanilla life. The sad lines around her mouth proved it.
“I’m proposing a job,” he said as she retrieved a glass from an overhead cabinet. “In case that wasn’t clear. A consulting gig. Name your price.”
“Still not much of a negotiator, are you?”
She tucked a lock of pale blond hair behind her ear. A simple gesture, but a familiar one. Back in the day, Juliana’s hair had always hung loose and sexy, curling along her shoulders, begging for a man’s fingers to sweep it back.
His fingertips strained to reach for those pale locks but that wasn’t the purpose of his visit. Mikey needed him. Juliana didn’t.
“Negotiation is for people who can afford to walk away if the terms aren’t agreeable. I’m not trying to bargain. If I had another choice, I’d take it. You’re the last person I expected to be asking for help.”
The iced tea she’d been pouring splattered on the counter, missing the glass by six inches.
Rattled. Good. He barely recognized the woman she’d grown into. She looked the same, made some of the same gestures, but her reserve bothered him. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this polite stranger.
With the baby’s welfare sitting like bricks on his shoulders, the last thing he should be thinking about was how to rattle Juliana some more. But he was.
“I see.” She wiped up the spilled tea without looking at him. “It seems we have some latent issues to address before we can enter a consulting arrangement.”
No. There was no way he was discussing what had happened in college. He grinned, the best form of deflection he had on him. “The past is the past. Let’s leave it there. Now it’s addressed. Name your price.”
She handed him the glass, blank-faced. “I’d hardly call that addressing it. But I’m willing to let it lie, at least until I decide if I’ll accept. There’s a lot to consider.”
Calling her had dug up difficult memories, but he owed Grant and Donna. Mikey deserved the best. Shay wasn’t leaving without Juliana’s agreement. “Allow me to play the sympathy card, then. Be right back.”
He left Juliana and the glass of revolting tea in the kitchen and let himself out the front door. He waved at the car and Linda stepped out with Mikey fast asleep in her arms. His admin carried the baby to Juliana’s porch. Gingerly, Shay took him. Such a little guy to have so much expectation attached to him, and no matter what anyone said, holding him was nothing like carrying a football.
Linda held the door open and retreated to the car. He’d really stretched her job description lately and the raise he’d already given her wasn’t nearly enough. If he could get Juliana’s help, his admin was due for a two-week, all-expenses-paid cruise.
As soon as he cleared the foyer, Juliana came out of the kitchen.
“Oh.” Juliana’s hand flew to her mouth. “I didn’t know you brought him.”
“Figured you could say no to me, but not to that face.” He grinned at the quiet baby. First time in God knew how long Mikey wasn’t screaming his head off. “This guy here is Michael Grant Greene. We call him Mikey.”
Juliana’s
