Friendship On Fire

“Then I’ll contact our lawyer to enforce the terms of the settlement. But, No, even if we do get the opportunity to buy the trust—”

“We will get the opportunity,” Noah corrected.

“—the asking price is enormous, even with the discount. It’s a historic, exceptional house on a massive tract of land. Not to mention the club, the buildings, the facilities. The golf course. We’re talking massive money. More than Ben and I can swing.”

Noah considered this for a moment. “We’d have to mortgage it.”

“The price to us should be around a hundred million,” Eli said, his tone skeptical.

“We’d need to raise twenty percent.” Under normal circumstances he would never be making a financial decision without a hell of a lot more due diligence. At the very least, he’d know whether the trust generated enough funds to cover the mortgage. He didn’t care. This was Lockwood Estate and it was his responsibility to keep it in the family.

“Ben and I recently purchased a fifty-foot catamaran which we are restoring and that’s sucked up our savings. We’ll be finishing it up in a month or two and then we’ll have to wait a few weeks to sell it. Even if it does sell quickly, the profit won’t cover our share of the twenty-million deposit. Do you have twenty mil?”

“Not lying around. I invested in that new marina at the Boston waterfront with Levi. I’ll sell my apartment in London, it’s in a sought-after area and it should move quickly. I’ll also sell my share in a business I own in Italy. My partner will buy me out. That would raise eight million.”

“Okay. Twelve to go. Ben and I have about a million each sitting in investments we can liquefy.”

Thank God his brothers were on board with this plan, that saving Lockwood Estate meant as much to them as it did to him. He couldn’t do it without them. Noah ran through his assets. “I have three mil invested. That leaves seven. Crap.”

Noah was silent for a long minute before speaking. “So, basically we’re screwed.”

Damn, his head was currently being invaded by little men with very loud jackhammers.

Eli cleared his throat. “Not necessarily. I heard that Paris Barrow wants to commission a luxury yacht and is upset because she has to wait six to ten months to get it designed. If you can put aside your distaste for designing those inelegant floating McMansions as you call them, I could set up a meeting.”

“What’s the budget?”

“From what I heard, about sixty million. What are your design fees? Ten percent of the price? That’s six mil and I’m sure we can scrounge up another million between us. Somehow.”

Noah thought for a moment. He had various projects in the works but none that would provide a big enough paycheck to secure the house. Designing a superyacht would. At the very least he had to try. Noah gripped the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb and stepped off the cliff. “Set up a meeting with your client’s friend. Let’s see where it goes.”

“She’s a megawealthy Boston grande dame, and designing for her would mean coming back home,” Eli said softly.

Yeah, he got that. “I know.”

Noah disconnected the call and stared down at his bare feet. He was both excited and terrified to be returning to the city he’d been avoiding for the past ten years. Boston meant facing his past, but it also meant reconnecting and spending time with Levi, Eli and Ben, DJ, and Darby.

And Callie. God, he’d missed her so much.

But Boston was synonymous with Jules, the only person whom he’d ever let under his protective shell. His best friend until he’d mucked it all up by kissing her, ignoring her, remaining engaged to a woman she intensely disliked and then dropping out of her life.

She still hadn’t forgiven him and he doubted that she ever would.

Jules...

Jules frowned at the for-sale sign that had appeared on the lawn of Lockwood House and swung into the driveway of her childhood home—and her new digs—and slammed on the brakes when she noticed a matte black Ducati parked in her usual space next to the detached garage. Swearing, she guided her car into the tiny space next to it and cursed her brother for parking what had to be his latest toy in her space.

Jules looked at the for-sale sign again. She was surprised that the Lockwood boys would let the house go out of their family but, as she well knew, maintaining a residence the size of the houses on this estate cost an arm and a leg and a few internal organs. Jules shoved her fist into the space beneath her rib cage to ease the burn. She’d spent as much time in that house as she had her own, sneaking in and out of Noah’s bedroom. But that was back in the days when they were still friends, before he’d met Morgan and before he’d spoiled everything by kissing her senseless.

It had been a hell of a kiss and that was part of the problem. If it had been a run-of-the-mill, meh kiss, she could brush it aside, but it was still—aargh!—the kiss she measured all other kisses against. Passionate, sweet, tender, hot.

Pity it came courtesy of her onetime best friend and an all-around jerk.

Jules used her key to let herself into the empty house. It was still early, just past eight in the morning, but her siblings would’ve left for work hours ago. Thanks to efficient workmen and an easy client, her Napa Valley project had gone off without a hitch and as a result, she’d finished two weeks early, which was unexpectedly wonderful. Since winning Boston’s Most Exciting Interior Designer award five months ago, she’d been running from one project to another, constantly in demand. For the next few days, maybe a week, she could take it a little easier: sleep later, go home earlier, catch her breath. Chill.

God, she so needed to chill, to de-stress and to rest her overworked mind and body. Despite her business-class seat, she was stiff from her late-night cross-country flight. Jules pulled herself up the wooden stairs, instinctively missing the squeaky floorboards that used to tell a wide-awake parent, or curious sibling, she was taking an unauthorized leave from the house.

Parking her rolling suitcase outside her closed bedroom door, and knowing the house was empty, Jules headed for the family bathroom at the end of the hall, pulling her grubby silk T-shirt from her pants and up and over her head. Opening the door to the bathroom, she tossed the shirt toward the laundry hamper in the corner and stepped into the bathroom.

Hot steam slapped her in the face. A second later she registered the heavy and familiar beat of the powerful shower in the corner of the room. Whipping around and expecting to see Darby or DJ, her mouth fell open at the—God, let’s call it what it was—vision standing in the glass enclosure.

Six feet four inches of tanned skin gliding over defined muscles, hair slicked off an angles-and-planes face, brown eyes flecked with gold. A wide chest, lightly dusted with blond hair and a hard, ridged stomach. Sexy hip muscles that drew the eye down to a thatch of darker hair and a, frankly, impressive package. A package that was growing with every breath he took.

Noah...

God, Noah was back and he was standing in her shower looking like Michelangelo’s David on a very, very good day.

Jules lifted her eyes to his face and the desire in his gaze caused her breath to hitch and all the moisture in her mouth to disappear. Jules swallowed, willed her feet to move but they remained glued to the tiled floor. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. All she wanted to do was touch. Since that was out of the question—God, she hadn’t seen him in ten years, she couldn’t just jump him!—she just looked, allowing her eyes to feast.

Noah. God. In her bathroom. Naked.

Without dropping his eyes from hers, Noah switched off the water and pushed his hair off his face. Opening the door to the shower cubicle, he stepped out onto the mat and placed his hands on his narrow hips. Jules dropped her gaze and, yep, much bigger than before. Strong, hard...

Were either of them ever going to speak, to turn away, to break this crazy, passion-saturated atmosphere? What was wrong with them?

Jules was trying to talk her feet into moving when Noah stepped up to her and placed a wet hand on her cheek, his thumb sliding across her lower lip. He smelled of soap and shampoo and hot, aroused male. Lust, as hot and thick as warm molasses, slid into her veins and pooled between her legs. Keeping her hands at her sides, she looked up at Noah, conscious of his erection brushing the bare skin above the waistband of her pants, her nipples stretching the fabric of her lace bra.

Noah just stared at her, the gold flecks in his eyes bright with desire, and then his mouth, that sexy, sexy mouth, dropped onto hers. His hands slid over her bare waist and down her butt, pulling her into his wet, hard body. Jules gasped as his tongue flicked between the seam of her lips and she opened up with no thought of resistance.

It was an exaggerated version of the kiss they’d shared so long ago. This was a kiss on steroids, bold, hotter and wetter than before. Noah’s arms were stronger, his mouth more demanding, his intent clear. His hand moved across her skin with confidence and control, settling on her right breast. He pulled down the cup of her bra, and then her breast was pressed into his palm, skin on skin. She whimpered and Noah growled, his thumb teasing her nipple with rough, sexy strokes.

Jules lifted her hands to touch him, wanting to feel those ridges of his stomach on her fingertips, wrap her hand around his—

Holy crap! What the hell? Jules jerked away from him, lifting her hands up when he stepped toward her, intent on picking up where they left off.

Jules slapped her open hand against his still-wet chest and pushed him back. Furious now, she glared up at him. “What the hell, Lockwood? You do not walk back into my life and start kissing me without a damn word! Did you really think that we would end up naked on the bathroom floor?”

“I’m already naked.” Noah looked down at her flushed chest, her pointed nipples and her wet-from-his-kiss mouth. “And, yeah, it definitely looked and felt like we were heading in that direction.”

Jules opened her mouth to blast him and, flummoxed, couldn’t find the words. “I—You—Crap!”

Noah reached behind her for a towel and slowly, oh, so slowly, wrapped it around his hips. He had the balls to smile and Jules wanted to slap him silly. “So, how much does it suck to know that the attraction hasn’t faded?”

Jules glared at him, muttered a low curse and turned on her heel and walked toward the open door.

“Jules?”

Jules took her time turning around. “What?”

Noah grinned, his big arms folded across his chest. “Hi. Good to see you.”

Jules did her goldfish impression again and, shaking her head, headed to her bedroom. Had that really happened? Was she hallucinating? Jules looked down and saw that the fabric of her bra was wet, water droplets covered her shoulders and ran down her stomach.

Nope, she wasn’t dreaming the sexiest dream ever. Noah was back and this was her life.

* * *

So this was her punishment for finishing a project early?

Unfair, Universe. Because all she wanted to do was catch a plane back to Napa Valley and Jules hunted for a reason to return to the project she’d just wrapped up. Jules ran through her mental checklist and, dammit, she’d definitely covered all her bases. The workmanship was exemplary, the client was ecstatic and his check was in the bank. There wasn’t the smallest reason to haul her butt out of this house and fly back to California.

Balls!

After three months in California she’d desperately wanted to come home, to unpack the boxes stacked against the wall and to catch up with Darby and DJ, her best friends but also her business partners. Darby, her twin, was Winston and Brogan’s architect. Jules was the interior designer, and DJ managed the business end of their design and decor company. She spoke to both of them numerous times a day but she wanted to hug them, to be a part of their early-morning meetings instead of Skyping in, to share an icy bottle of wine at the end of the day.

Jules scowled. It was very damn interesting to note that during any one of those many daily conversations one of them could’ve told her that Noah was back in Boston.

Five words, not difficult. “Noah is back in Boston.”

Or even better: “Noah is back in Boston, living in our house.”

He was tall and built and it wasn’t like they could’ve missed him!

Jules sat down on the edge of her bed, her feet bouncing off something unfamiliar. Looking down, she saw a pair of men’s flat-heeled, size thirteen boots. Lifting her head, she looked around her bedroom. A man’s shirt lay over the back of her red-and-white-checked chair, a leather wallet and a phone were on her dressing table. No doubt Noah’s clothes were in her closet, too. Noah was not only back in her life, he’d moved into her bedroom and, literally, into her bed.

Jules frantically pushed the buttons on her phone, cursing when neither Darby nor DJ answered her call. She left less-than-happy messages on their voice mails and she was about to call Levi—who hadn’t shared the news either—when her phone vibrated with an incoming call.

“Mom, guess what I found in the house when I got home a little while ago?” Jules asked, super sarcastic. “Guess you didn’t know that Noah was home either, huh?”

“Damn, you found him.”

In the shower, gloriously, wonderfully naked. Spectacularly naked and I must’ve looked at him like I wanted to eat him up like ice cream because, before saying a damn word, he kissed the hell out of me. “Yeah, I found Noah.”

“I told your siblings to tell you,” Callie said.

Hearing a noise coming from her mom’s phone, Jules frowned. “Where are you?”

“At a delightful coffee shop that’s just opened up next to the gym at LCC,” Callie replied. “Amazing ambience and delicious coffee—”

“And the owner is really good-looking!” A deep voice floated over the phone and was quickly followed by Callie’s flirty laugh. Wait...what? Her mom was flirting?

“Is he?” Jules asked, intrigued enough to briefly change the subject.

“Is he what?” Callie replied, playing dumb.

Really, they were going to play this game? “Good-looking, Mom.”

“I suppose so. But too young and too fit for me.”

“I’ll admit to the fit but not to the too young. What’s ten years?” the cheerful voice boomed. “Tell your mom to accept a date from me!”

Well, go, Mom! Despite her annoyance at her family in general, Jules laughed, listening as her mom shushed the man. “Maybe you should take the guy up on his offer. Might be fun.”

“I’m not discussing him with you, Jules,” Callie said, and Jules was sure she could hear her blushing.

Since Callie normally shared everything with her daughters, Jules knew this man had her unflappable mom more flustered than she cared to admit. Now, that was interesting. Before Jules could interrogate her further, Callie spoke. “So, how do you feel about Noah being back in Boston?”

Sidewinded. Horny. Crazy. Flabbergasted.

Not wanting her mom to know how deeply she was affected by this news—hell, the world was Jell-O beneath her feet—Jules let out an exasperated laugh. “It’s not a big deal, Mom. Noah is entitled to come home.”

“Oh, please, you’ve been dreading this day for years.”

Jules stared down at the glossy wooden floors beneath her feet. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mother.”

“Jules, you’ve been terrified of this day because you’ll no longer be able to leave your relationship with Noah in limbo. Seeing him again either means cutting him out of your life for good or forgiving him.”

“There’s nothing to forgive him for.” Okay, she had a couple of minor issues with that gorgeous, six-foot-plus slab of defined muscles. Things like him getting engaged to a woman he didn’t love and kissing her on New Year’s Eve while he was engaged. And then for remaining engaged to Morgan, disappearing from her life without an explanation—she was still furious that he dropped out of college without finishing his degree—and not trying to reconnect with her when he and Morgan had finally called it quits.

In the space of seven years, the two men she loved the most, her best friend and her dad, had dropped out of her life without rhyme, reason or explanation. Her dad had been healthy, too healthy to be taken by a massive heart attack but that was exactly what happened.

Jules doubted there was a reasonable explanation for Noah abandoning her and their lifelong friendship, for not being there at her dad’s funeral to hold her hand through the grief.

Okay, maybe that last one wasn’t fair; Noah had been in the middle of his last race as a professional sailor at the time.

“No more coffee for me, Mason,” Callie said, snapping Jules out of her wayward thoughts.

She grabbed her mom’s words like a lifeline. “Mason is a nice name. Is he hot? If he’s too young for you, can I meet him?”

“He’s far too old for you and not your type.” Well, that was a quick reply...and a tad snappy. Did her mom have the hots for Coffee Guy? And why not? It was time she started living for herself again.

“I don’t have a type, Mom,” Jules replied, and she didn’t. She dated men of all types and ethnicities but none of them stuck. She didn’t need a psych degree to know that losing the two men she loved and trusted the most turned her into a card-carrying, picket-sign-holding commitment-phobe.

“Of course you do—your type is blond and brown-eyed and has a body that would make Michelangelo weep.”

She hadn’t said anything about Michelangelo, had she? How did her mom know that? “Why do you say that?”

“I’m old, not dead, Jules. The boy is gorgeous.”

Noah, wet and naked, flashed behind her eyes. Goddammit. Like she needed reminding.

“You need to deal with him, Jules. This situation needs to be resolved.”

Why? Noah had made his feelings about her perfectly clear when he dropped out of her life. She’d received nothing from him but the occasional group email he sent to the whole clan, telling them about his racing and, after he retired from sailing, his yacht design business. He didn’t mention anything personal, instead sharing his witty and perceptive observations about the places he visited and the people he met.

His news was interesting but told Jules nothing about his thoughts and feelings and, once having had access to both, she wasn’t willing to settle for so little, so she never bothered to reply. For someone who’d had as much of his soul as he could give, she’d needed more, dammit...

“Mom. God, just butt out, okay?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone but Jules ignored it, knowing that it was her mom’s way of showing her disapproval. “Mom, the silent treatment won’t work. This is between Noah and me. Stay out of it.”

Jules rubbed the back of her neck, feeling guilty at snapping. Her mother had mastered the art of nagging by remaining utterly silent. How did she do that? How?

“Mom, I know you love me but I need you to trust me to do what’s best with regard to Noah.” Not that she had any bright ideas except to avoid him.

“The problem, my darling, is that you and Noah are so damn pigheaded! Sort it out, Jules. I am done with this cold war.”

Jules heard the click that told her Callie had disconnected the call and stared at her phone, bemused. Her mom rarely sounded rattled and considered hanging up to be the height of rudeness. But as much as she loved her mother, she was an adult and had to run her life as she saw fit. That meant leaving her relationship with Noah in the past, where it belonged.

Jules looked up, waited for the lightning strike—her mom, she was convinced, had a direct line to God—and when she remained unfried, she sighed. What to do?

Her first instinct was to run...

Jules heard the bathroom door open and, hearing Noah’s footsteps, headed down the hallway in her direction, flew to her feet. Grabbing her bag off the bed, she pulled it over her shoulder and hurried to the door. She pulled it open and nearly plowed into Noah, still bare-chested, still with only a towel around his waist. Do not look down, do not get distracted. Just push past him and leave...

“I’m going out, but by the time I return, I want you and your stuff out of my room,” Jules stated in the firmest voice she could find.

“Levi said that you were away for another two weeks. He insisted I stay here when he picked me up from the airport yesterday. I’ll find a hotel room or bunk on the Resilience.”

His forty-foot turn-of-the-century monohull that he kept berthed at the marina. The yacht, commissioned by his great-great-grandfather was his favorite possession. It was small but luxurious, and Noah would always choose sleeping on the Resilience over a hotel.

“How long are you staying?” She needed to know when her life was going to go back to normal. With a date and a time, the Jell-O would, hopefully, solidify into hard earth.

“I’m not sure. A month? Maybe two?”

Great. She was in for four to eight weeks of crazy. Like her life wasn’t busy and stressful enough. Jules rubbed her forehead with her fingers. God, she did not need to deal with this now. Today. Ever. Seeing him created a soup of emotion, sour and sticky. Lust, grief, hurt, disappointment, passion...

All she wanted to do was step into his arms and tell him that she’d missed him so damn much, missed the boy who’d known her so well. That she wanted to know, in a carnal way, the man he was now.

Jules shook her head and pushed past him, almost running to the stairs. Sort it out, Mom?

Much, much easier said than done.

Two

Callie...

After a brief and tense conversation with Levi, Callie dropped her forehead to the table and banged her head on the smooth surface. Levi reluctantly admitted to her that none of them told Jules that Noah was back. Nor had they informed her that Noah was sleeping in Jules’s bedroom at her old house.

Really, and these people called themselves adults?

Aargh!

The whisper of a broad hand skated over her hair and she lifted her head a half inch off the table to glare at Mason. With his dark brown hair showing little gray, barely any lines around his denim-blue eyes and his still-hard body, the owner of the new coffee shop looked closer to forty than to the forty-five he claimed to be. Yes, he was sexy. Yes, he was charming, but why, oh, why—in a room filled with so many good-looking women, most of them younger, slimmer and prettier than her—was he paying her any attention?

Mason slid a latte under her nose and took the empty seat across from her. Callie glared at him, annoyed that he made her feel so flustered. And, holy cupcakes, was that lust curling low in her now-useless womb? “Did I invite you to sit down?”

“Don’t be snippy,” Mason said, resting his ropy, muscled forearms on the table. “What’s the matter?”

Callie thought about blowing his question off but suddenly she wanted to speak to someone with no connection to her annoying clan. “I’m arguing with my daughter.” Callie sipped her coffee and eyed Mason over her mug. Because his expression, encouraging her to confide in him, scared her, she backtracked.

“She asked if you were good-looking, whether she could meet you. She’s gorgeous, tall, dark-haired with the most amazing light silver-blue eyes.”

“She sounds lovely but I have my heart set on dating a short, curvy blonde.”

Callie looked around, wondering who he was talking about. His low, growly laugh pulled her eyes back to his amused face. “You, you twit. I want to take you on a date.”

“I thought you were joking.”

“Nope. Deadly serious.”

Okay, this was weird. He seemed nice and genuine, but what was his game? “You don’t want to date me, Mason.”