Foolish Games(6)

“The one that makes your birth control ineffective. I think we covered this when you first told me you were pregnant. For the record, you were six months pregnant when you finally confessed, but we’ll let that pass for now. Go on.”

Guilt once again clamped onto Julianne’s belly. “Well, the pills make me kind of woozy, too. I was careful not to drink, but for some reason the medicine seemed more potent than usual. I found out later I’d been prescribed a higher dosage than I normally took, but the pill looked just like my regular one. Anyway, after the wedding there was a bad storm.”

Carly’s hand stilled on Julianne’s head. “Oh! And you were on Sea Island, right on the beach.”

“Yeah. With an excellent view of the churning ocean.”

“Oh, wow. That must have brought back some bad memories for you. I’m so sorry.” Carly hugged her a bit closer.

Julianne shivered as memories of a tragic night on the ocean flashed through her mind. “I ran into Will in the hallway. I recognized him as one of the groomsmen, but I didn’t know who he was at the time. The storm was raging and I couldn’t get my key to work in the door. And then the lights went out. He took me to his room. He was going to get me a new key. I was a little . . . out of it with fear and everything. Will was trying to make me feel better, to reassure me. He held me. And then, one thing led to another . . .”

Carly stiffened beside her. “Look at me. He didn’t force you, did he? Because if he did, I’ll kill him. I don’t care if he is built like a truck. I know people who are bigger than him.”

Julianne smiled at her friend, relieved at finally having someone to share her story with. “No, from what I can remember, the kissing—and everything else—was mutual.”

“You don’t remember?”

“Well . . . I mean . . . not everything really. But I know I was a willing partner.”

Only part of Julianne’s statement was true. Despite the fog of her medication, she remembered every hot moment she’d spent in Will Connelly’s arms. She’d relived them often enough alone in her bed at night. That evening on Sea Island, he’d been compassionate and kind, so unexpected from a man who made his living tackling and crushing other men. His hands, huge and strong, had been tender and gentle on her frenzied body. He’d tasted like bourbon and smelled like a day at the beach, if that were even possible. Julianne succumbed to the touch of his mouth and hands without any resistance.

Right up until the most embarrassing portion of the evening: when she’d called out Nicky DiMarco’s name as she climaxed. Her stomach roiled and her face burned as that moment replayed in her mind yet again. Burying her face in her hands, she tried to rationalize it for the millionth time.

She and Nicky had spent the better part of their young lives in each other’s company while their fathers had served in the diplomatic corps together. In many ways, Nicky was the only link she had left to her mother—the only one who shared her profound loss. After all, he’d been in the car accident with Julianne and her mother that tragic night. Since that time, Nicky had been one of the few constants in her life. Always there for her if she needed him.

For years, Julianne had considered Nicky to be her soul mate, the man she fantasized about spending her life with. But as she entered adulthood, she realized that type of relationship with him was impossible. That didn’t stop her from measuring all other men against the ideal fantasy she’d created in her mind, however.

One night spent with Will Connelly surpassed all the fantasies she’d ever had about Nicky and more, though. So much more. It was the only reason Julianne could come up with for calling out Nicky’s name. That—and even more shameful—she hadn’t known her lover’s name.

The fact remained, Will Connelly had been the perfect lover. But she didn’t want her friend to know just how vulnerable she was to him. To his body.

“A word of advice here,” Carly said. “When you two talk about this, and you two need to talk about everything, don’t mention that you don’t remember having sex with him. He’s a professional athlete and if his ego’s anything like my husband’s, he won’t take it very well.”

They were quiet for a few minutes before Julianne forced herself to ask the question she most wanted the answer to. “What’s he like?”

“Will? Oh gosh, I don’t know if anyone really knows the real Will Connelly. He keeps to himself. Definitely the strong, silent type. Very cerebral. He went to an Ivy League school, Yale, I think. I know that management and the guys on the team really respect him both as a player and a person.”