“Oh.” She frowned, and I saw a shadow of something I didn’t recognize pass over her eyes. “No, it wasn’t the doorbell. It must’ve been on TV.”
“Really?” I glanced at the huge blank screen that hung on the wall.
Juliet’s face flushed even redder. “I turned it off, okay? I was checking something on ESPN, and when I saw what I wanted to see, I clicked it off. Why are you giving me the third degree about this?”
“Whoa.” Holding my towel around my waist with one hand, I lifted the other in a placating gesture. “Settle down. I’m not interrogating you. I just thought I heard someone at the door. No big deal.”
She didn’t answer me right away. She was twisting the belt of her robe in her fingers, frowning as she stared down at her lap.
“Hey.” I moved close to her, nudging her chin up with my two fingers. “What’s up? Are you okay?”
“Of course, I am.” She started to move away from me then seemed to change her mind and leaned into my touch. “Look at you. No crutches or anything.”
“Yeah.” I flexed my knee and glanced down at it. “Doc says I should still use them if I’m leaving the house, but I can walk around here on my own. I just can’t overdo it.”
“I’ll make sure you don’t.” Juliet wriggled onto her knees and lifted her face to mine, kissing me with almost desperate passion. It made me a little uncomfortable, like she was trying to deflect my attention.
I kissed her back, but at the same time, I pondered her odd behavior in the back of my mind.
“I need to go dry my hair, and then I’ll get us some cocktails and start dinner.” She brushed one last kiss over my lips and patted my ass. “Okay?”
“Sure,” I answered, watching her slide off the bed and make her way into my bathroom. I knew she’d changed the course of our conversation just now, and I was certain that she’d done it on purpose.
It wasn’t the first time that I’d had a sneaking suspicion that she was manipulating me. And it wasn’t surprising; I’d known who Juliet was and how she operated almost from the first moment we’d met. I didn’t have any delusions that she’d changed.
Was the ready sex a good reason to ignore those stabs of concern? Maybe not, but it sure as hell didn’t hurt. I hadn’t sought out a physical relationship. I’d lived long enough without regular sex since Angela had gotten sick that I knew I could soldier on without it. But with everything else in my world going to shit, if a beautiful woman was going to offer me imaginative and inventive fucking on the regular, I wasn’t going to turn it down. Maybe it was my consolation prize for surviving this far.
That was my story, anyway.
But I knew deep down in my soul that Juliet was always going to be looking out after her own best interest first. After I’d heard some buzz from Coach and my teammates, I’d checked around and realized that Juliet and I were the new It couple in local Tampa media. They wrote about how ‘football princess Juliet Connors’was selflessly nursing her new love back to health. I wouldn’t have put it past her to have fed reporters that information, and it made me sick. I knew that she’d be willing to spin the truth in whatever way best suited her. I figured that being aware of this fact made it less likely that I’d be surprised by anything she did.
Something was going on now, for instance. I was positive I’d heard the doorbell while I was in the shower. Ang and I had had an amplified bell installed because the size of the house made it more difficult to hear someone at the front door. We’d had extra speakers installed upstairs and even here in the downstairs guest suite.
The sound I’d heard hadn’t come from any television, but as much as I wracked my brain, I couldn’t figure out why Juliet would lie about that—unless the person at the door was someone she didn’t want me to see.
Could it have been my mother? Doubtful. Juliet was still advocating for me to call my mom and patch up our relationship. It was only my emphatic refusal to do so that kept her from taking matters into her own hands. I’d been blunt about my feelings there, and I didn’t think even Juliet had thecajonesto test me in that area.
She didn’t have a problem with my teammates, or Coach . . . a couple of the guys had stopped by a few days ago, and Juliet had been on cloud nine.
Emma. It might have been her. I remembered my last conversation with Em. I’d still been in the hospital, but it was before I’d gotten the news about my football career. Emma had been talkative, bringing me up to date on married life and what was going on at St. Agnes. She’d mentioned having met Juliet while I was still out of it, and it had been clear that my best friend didn’t have time for the team nutritionist.
She’s not your type, bud.
At the time, I’d agreed with her. And oh, hell, let’s be honest. I agreed with her still. Juliet wasn’t the kind of woman who inspired thoughts of wedding bells and settling down. She was younger than me by nearly ten years. More than that, she was immature in ways that made me tired. We didn’t have anything in common . . . except sex, and if I was honest with myself, even there I had this odd sense of just treading water. Sure, I enjoyed myself. Oh, yeah, I got off when she rode my dick or sucked me off or played any of her games. She was constantly trying new positions that would accommodate my knee and yet still keep things interesting—her words, not mine.
But even though I was having regular orgasms, I still felt something was missing. After we fucked, I never had any desire to lay around and talk with her. I wouldn’t have minded if she just left and went home after, but I’d become aware that Juliet never really did go home anymore, not unless I pushed her to go. She slept in my bed, she cooked my meals, she drove me to PT appointments—and hell, now she was even showering with me. Damn, when had I let this happen?
“Noah.” The bathroom door open, and Juliet stood there, dressed in faded denim shorts and one of my huge T-shirts which she had knotted at her waist. She was backlit by the bright lights in the bathroom, and her blonde hair shone like a halo. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh, yeah?” I was immediately on guard, wondering where this was going.
“I was talking to your doctor while you were in PT,” she began.
“My doctor?” I interrupted. “Why the hell were you talking to my doctor?”
She frowned and blinked at me. “Well, because I’ve been worried, and I wanted his medical advice.”
“About what?” I demanded.
