Mena rested her head against his chest. “There are no guarantees, Julian. That’s one thing that life has taught me.”
Her sober words hung in the air between them. Was that what happened with her ex-husband? Had the bastard stopped loving her? Maybe even left her for another woman? Anger welled within him, but Julian couldn’t be upset. If the asshole hadn’t hurt Mena, then Julian never would have had this chance with her.
“You trust me?” Julian asked.
“With my life.”
“How about with your heart?” For the first time, he got a glimpse at how deep the scars of Mena’s failed marriage were. She thought she’d had a forever love before, and it turned out to be a disaster. Now, she was wary of trusting in that kind of love again.
Mena propped her head on her hands and stared at him.
He was willing to wait all night for her answer, but thankfully she didn’t make him wait that long.
“I trust you with my heart the most.”
Chapter Seven
“What are you thinking about?” Julian asked, taking a finger to smooth out the wrinkle from the frown creasing her forehead.
“Like maybe we should have thought twice about walking to the courthouse,” Mena said, laughing under her breath. The ten-block trek along palm-tree-lined sidewalks from Harmony Towers to the Governmental Promenade under normal conditions would have been a breeze for both of them. But this morning, the heat was uncharacteristically sweltering. Humidity clung to her skin, suffocating her pores as sweat beaded along her hairline.
“Come on,” Julian teased. “This from the woman who spent days in the Kenyan desert?”
“Don’t remind me,” Mena said, glumly. The last thing she needed was another reminder of how her former mentor and boss, Priscilla Dumay, had been the mastermind behind another attack on Mena’s life. Between the stress of being a witness at the trial and knowing that Michael was on the island, her nerves were fried. Even the sexual distractions, of which there were more than enough glorious moments to count, hadn’t been able to push her worries far from her mind.
A quick check of the North American Neurology Conference website showed Dr. Michael Marsh as a prominent lecturer and panelist in many of today’s sessions. With the conference being held an hour away at the five-star Blue Moon Resort, the likelihood that Michael would show up at the trial and make a scene with Julian was unlikely. Still, him being on the island was a huge risk. She didn’t want Julian to learn the truth before she was ready.
You need to be the one to tell it. All of it. Leaving nothing out. Then let the chips fall.
She couldn’t bring herself to follow Beaujean Ali’s advice. Not yet. Last night when Julian explained that marriage wasn’t a deal breaker as long as they were together, that would have been a perfect time to reveal the truth. Julian insisted that nothing would make him stop loving her. He would forgive her for keeping the secret and help her get the divorce from Michael, wouldn’t he?
When Julian learns the truth about you, that you are still married and you didn’t tell him, his feelings will change too. He won’t forgive you either.
Trepidation clawed at Mena’s chest as she stood on wobbly legs. Lying to Julian about being married wasn’t just bad. It was probably the worst thing she could have ever done, and Michael was right. Julian wouldn’t understand why she didn’t tell him immediately when she found out she was still married. With each passing day, coming clean got harder and harder. Mena didn’t want to blow up her relationship because of a stupid, legal loophole that made her still the wife of Michael Marsh. She had to find a way out of this. With Michael on the island, she could get the divorce without Julian ever finding out. She had to keep Michael away from Julian and convince him to drop this ridiculous notion that he could ever get her back.
Julian slipped an arm around her and lifted her in the air, spinning her around.
Startled, Mena squealed, infected with a fit of laughter from his impromptu display of affection. Passersby stopped to gawk, and a few clapped their hands at the sight.
“Alright, put me down. You pulled me out of my funk,” Mena said, pushing all thoughts of Michael Marsh and the marriage she was trapped in from her mind.
“That was easy,” Julian said with a sexy grin. Slowly placing her feet back on the ground. Mena leaned into his embrace and rested her head on the tailored suit covering his muscular chest. “Forget what Norman Gale told you about the surrogates and the importance of our testimonies. All we need to do is tell the truth on the stand. It’s up to the D.A. to prove that Dumay is guilty.”
“And if he isn’t able to?” Mena asked. The thought of Priscilla going free was enough to make her skin crawl.
“There are other ways to make sure—” Julian paused.
Mena turned to look at what had caught Julian’s attention. The historic Georgian architecture that housed the criminal courts stood between a canopy of massive mahogany trees. Circular box hedges surrounded a marble fountain near the entrance to the building. Sitting on a stone bench nearby, Detective Kendrick Caillouet was engaged in what looked like a flirtatious conversation with a woman.
“You didn’t tell me Kendrick was dating anyone,” Mena said, turning back toward Julian.
“He’s not,” Julian said, slipping his hand in hers as he pulled her toward Kendrick and the mystery woman. “Let’s go find out who she is.”
“We shouldn’t interrupt,” Mena warned, not wanting to ruin any chance the detective might have of jump starting his perpetually dead love life.
“Trust me. There’s no way Kendrick is going to seal the deal if we don’t get over there and help him out. He’s bound to nice his way out of a love connection,” Julian joked.
“That’s mean,” Mena whispered, falling into step next to Julian as they stopped a few feet away from Kendrick and the woman.
