“You know what I think, Juliet?”
She knew that line, especially when he referred to her by her full name. Her father was about to point something out to her that she would rather not hear. But she wouldn’t dare tell him that. She would do as she’d always done, just grin and bear it. “No, Dad, what do you think?”
“That there’s a thin line between love and hate.”
She hoped her father wasn’t intimating the possibility of something happening between her and Dalton. He was totally wrong if he thought there was a chance that she and Dalton Granger could ever be anything other than enemies. Just in case he was thinking that way, she knew she had to squash that assumption. He was so far from the truth it wasn’t funny. “You have it all wrong, Dad, trust me. I wouldn’t fall for Dalton Granger if he were the last man on Earth. Even if I were threatened with jail time, I would gladly take a life sentence. I would choose hell over heaven if I thought for one minute that he had already passed through the pearly gates.”
Her father didn’t say anything; he merely stood and stared at her for a long moment. She could handle his stare as long as it meant he accepted what she said as gospel. She knew he was thinking, giving what she’d said much consideration...a little too much to suit her. When he finally nodded, she released the breath she’d been holding. Had it been anyone other than her father who’d suggested such a thing, she would have given him the tongue-lashing he deserved.
“I can understand why you might assume that,” she said, breaking the silence after taking another sip of her drink.
Ben lifted a curious brow. “You do?”
“Yes. You’re in love with Mona, and Shana got married today. So, in your mind, love and happiness are ruling the day.”
“Possibly,” he said, still giving her that in-depth Ben Bradford stare. “Nevertheless, you and Granger need to resolve this issue and make permanent peace.”
Permanent peace? She doubted that was possible. In fact, she knew it was highly unlikely. “Why?”
“For your sister’s sake.”
Jules shook her head. She couldn’t see herself doing it, not even for that reason. “Dad, Shana’s fine. Besides, she married Jace, not Dalton.”
“He’s Jace’s brother.”
“And I’m her sister.”
Her father paused a moment then asked, “Do you want to force Shana to take sides?”
“Of course not.”
“You are twenty-six, not six. You and Granger need to stop behaving like children and start acting like adults.”
She had news for him. Acting like an adult is what had landed her in this mess with Dalton. As a fully grown woman, she’d never been aware of a man the way she was aware of him...and that wasn’t good.
“There’s Mona. I’ll talk to you later,” her father said, moving away. “Come to breakfast in the morning,” he threw over his shoulder.
Jules watched as he walked swiftly across the room to where Mona Underwood stood. Jules glanced down at her watch, and although she didn’t want to, she glanced over to where Dalton was standing and saw him glancing down at his watch, as well. Like her, he was probably counting the minutes before the newlyweds left for their honeymoon so he could split.
Dalton glanced up and snagged her gaze. Jules tilted her head, lifted her chin and regarded him with all the loathing she could muster. The bastard had the nerve to smile. She shook her head in disgust as she turned, deciding to check out the live entertainment. If he wanted to stare, let him stare at her back.
The jazz band sounded great, and everyone appeared lively and festive. She was glad Shana had ditched the idea of a small wedding and had gone all out. She deserved it. Like Jules had told her sister, she wouldn’t be the first pregnant bride or the last. Besides, few people knew about her sister’s condition, and frankly, it wasn’t any of their business.
“Nice band, isn’t it?”
Jules froze. She cut her gaze away from the musicians to the man who’d come to stand beside her. The rough, manly texture of his voice grazed her insides, suddenly making her feel so hot that she was tempted to fan herself. His eyes were penetrating, and it felt as if he were looking at her naked. She’d never felt self-conscious about anything she wore; she liked dressing up and showing off her body. Knowing she looked desirable to a man was no big deal to her. But not with this man. She didn’t need or want his attention.
“The day is almost over,” he added after getting no response from her. His voice had shifted to a smooth yet husky tone, sending shivers up her arm. “We pulled it off, being on our best behavior and all, so I thought I’d come over and say hello.”
She was tempted to tell him what he could do with his hello. Instead, she took a sip of her wine to help fight off the sensuous dominance radiating off him. It took every ounce of fortitude she had to hold his gaze, pretending nonchalance when she was so aware of him. Her body’s reaction to him made her livid with him as well as with herself. “I can’t believe your audacity,” she said in a low, cutting tone.
His smile was slow and seductive. “Yeah, I do have balls, don’t I?”
Now why did he go there? Her gaze lowered to the area below his well-proportioned waist. He had an incredible masculine build that not only made her speculate about his balls but also about every single inch of him. She snatched her focus back to his face and watched his eyes darken at the same time his mouth spread into one of those gotcha smiles. He’d realized what she’d been thinking when her gaze had dropped.
“Look, Dalton,” she said in a stern voice, while trying not to make a scene. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t like you.”
He chuckled, and instead of irking her, the sound sent a small quiver humming up her spine. “Then that makes us even, Jules, because I don’t like you, either.”
* * *
Although he might not like her, he did want her, Dalton admitted, staring at her with an intensity he hoped she found unnerving. He could envision all the things he would do to her if he ever got the chance. She was the cause of many sleepless nights and the loss of his peace of mind. Even worse, she was stopping him from desiring other women. Whenever he saw Jules, her level of femininity struck a blow to his libido, mainly because what he saw in her was something he would never get.
Bullshit.
He refused to acknowledge she was different from any other woman he saw, wanted and got. He knew women, could read them like a book. Although he would be the first to admit there were a few of Jules’s chapters he’d rather skip. The bottom line was that she wanted him, probably just as much as he wanted her. She could pretend otherwise. She could fight it. She could even deny it. But a woman’s scent didn’t lie. She wore Amarige like no other woman, and the way it mingled with her body’s chemistry was so damned mind-blowingly hot, like some aphrodisiac that was drugging him senseless, making him act like a boor when he should be a gentleman. It was revving up his sexual awareness of her, and he was convinced the feeling was mutual.
“Since our total dislike for each other has been established, why are you here, in my face?” she asked, cutting into his thoughts like a sharp knife.
She hadn’t seen anything yet, he thought, leaning in closer to that same face, breathing against her ear as if he were about to let her in on a little secret. In a way, he was. “I like riling you, like seeing you flustered and all hot and bothered. I can tell, although you might deny it. I could remedy things easily, to both our liking. I could put smiles on our faces that could last a lifetime. The animosity between us ends here if you come home with me tonight.”