Juliet, on the other hand, was a staple in those same magazines and tabloids. He hadn’t followed her life, but it had been hard to miss the headlines back when she’d been married to Reid Mescall. He’d spot her face or name on a front page while in the line at the supermarket, notice it because of their shared history.
He’d never, however, bought the magazines or tabloids.
Jake frowned.
Now that he was thinking on the subject, he didn’t remember seeing her on any new covers lately. But since her ex was a media hound, Juliet was of interest to the public by default. And this limo ride was taking an eternity, the erotic softness of Juliet’s body sinking deeper into him with every kilometer they traveled.
He swore he could smell her scent—lush and addictive—even though, logically, that had to be impossible. There were too many of them in this limo. But each breath he took was going straight to a part of his anatomy that had no business being excited on this day. Having a hard-on in his brother’s wedding photos was not on Jake’s to-do list.
He was never so glad as when the limo finally came to a stop inside Auckland Domain. The sprawling green space in the heart of the city was special to Gabriel and Charlotte, and they’d decided to have their wedding photos here and also back at their apartment.
The view from their penthouse was an unbeatable one.
Because of the way everyone had been seated, he and Juliet were the last to get out. Once out himself, he turned automatically and held out a hand. His father had drilled it into him, into all of them, that they were to treat women with respect, like the knights of old in the fairy tales his mother had read them.
Of course, Joseph Esera had never had to deal with the fiery virago that was Juliet. Crunching on heroic knights was probably her favorite post-dinnertime snack. Afterward, she no doubt used their bones as toothpicks.
Today she shot him a dark look but put her hand in his and let him help her out from the low-slung vehicle. The shock of the contact ran through him, his body suddenly that of an irrational teenager who hadn’t taken on board any of his rational objections to this inexplicable attraction.
Her hand was soft and warm with a slight unexpected roughness. She did something physical with her hands; he wondered if she’d kept up the metalwork she’d been so good at back in high school. She’d been one of the only girls in that particular class. Jake knew because he’d been in an adjacent class that dealt with car repair and engineering.
A snapshot came to mind of Juliet with her face half-hidden by safety glasses, expertly handling a welding torch. While his own teacher’s back was turned, he’d managed to snap a picture of her as sparks flew around her face. He’d sent it to her at lunch—and been shocked when she replied with: This is awesome. Thanks.
That had been their politest interaction. Ever.
As far as hands went, his own were all kinds of roughed up. The kind of work he did in the gym to stay on form didn’t allow for softness, and rugby wasn’t exactly a gentleman’s sport.
“Thanks.” Juliet released his hand the instant she was out on her feet.
“Gee, don’t hold on too long,” he muttered, though he should’ve been thanking her.
Another smile that came straight out of central casting for insincere. “Aw, little Jakey needs me to hold his hand. Come on now, baby.” She held out a hand.
Tugging his suit jacket closed, he did up the button. “Did you forget to take your vitamins this morning? You’re acting extra feral.” He couldn’t believe the words had come out of his mouth; only Juliet could make him regress to the point where he sounded like a seventeen-year-old dipshit.
Then Juliet laughed, that big husky sound washing over him like a caress. “You’ve gotten faster with the comebacks,” she said, her eyes dancing. “Back in school, you mostly just tried a macho-stud glare.”
That was because she’d been like an alien species with which he’d had no familiarity.
“Juliet! Jake!” His mother’s voice, her hand waving them over.
The two of them began to move.
The limo driver had parked in a spot between the rotunda and the Winter Gardens—two huge greenhouses from the 1900s that housed blooms of every variety as well as tropical plants. Jake sometimes brought Esme here on rainy weekend days when the two of them were getting restless being cooped up inside.
They usually went by his brother’s and picked up Emmaline too. His daughter’s favorite thing in the gardens was the cacao tree when it fruited, while her cousin was fascinated by the hanging pitcher plants. The three of them would wander leisurely through the Winter Gardens, then—if the girls had been good—he’d take them for afternoon tea at the nearby café.
Weirdly, the two were always impeccably behaved on those days.
Jake bit back a smile at the thought, his eyes on their two little forms as they walked hand in hand between Ísa and Alison. Molly and Mei were ahead of them, holding Charlotte’s train up off the asphalt of the parking area. The photographer and his assistant, meanwhile, had come ahead in their own vehicle; the photographer now waved Charlotte and Gabriel toward the rotunda while taking candid shots along the way.
His assistant lugged the gear for the more formal shots.
Unsurprisingly, the wedding party attracted attention from people out enjoying the sunny Saturday; smiles broke out over countless faces. A couple of kids were playing in the rotunda when they arrived but got quickly out of the way at first sight of Charlotte. A minute later, they sighted Gabe, then Jake and Danny, and their eyes rounded.
Rugby fans right there.
Since the kids had been so good about vacating their play area, Jake would make sure they got an autograph or a picture with him and Danny. He didn’t think they’d be taking off before the wedding shoot was over—even now, one had turned to call over a couple on a picnic blanket who had to be their parents.
The photographer didn’t bother giving Gabriel and Charlotte any instructions after the first few minutes—the two were so madly in love that everything they did was beautiful, their faces glowing. At one point, Gabriel scooped Charlotte up into his arms without warning, her veil trailing to the floor in a delicate waterfall. His tough-as-nails brother’s face was a picture of delight, Charlotte’s full of laughter.
Meanwhile, he and Juliet stood silent as sphinxes next to each other. It wasn’t comfortable. It was very uncomfortable. Prickly. As Juliet had always been. Full of sharp edges that kept the world at bay. Only Calypso had been invited in.
“So you transferred to another school,” he finally said, trying to make some kind of a connection, some kind of conversation in honor of the girl who’d touched both their lives. “Was it because you got expelled?” He hadn’t asked too many questions of Calypso back then, had just been glad that she was no longer stressing about her friend’s disappearance.
She’d been three months along by then.
“Was that the rumor?” Juliet made a face. “Tell me that at least I was suspected of having done something wildly scandalous.”
He leaned in close, the scent of her intoxicating. “Affair with the principal.”
“Ew!” A sudden poke at his upper arm. “You made that up.”
“Did I?”
A look that told him the virago would wait for her revenge—then scorch him dead. “I got sent to Samoa,” she said at last. “Phone confiscated, the whole strict discipline, straight-home-after-school thing. I only managed to message Callie after a teacher took pity on this lost transplant from New Zealand and gave me her old prepaid phone. I used to do homework for a couple of other kids to earn money to load it with data.”