Page 19 of Angel Eyes

It was strange how comfortable I was with Juliet, preparing to share a meal and getting to know her. A week ago, we’d been complete strangers. And what were we now?

The word friends rattled around in my brain.

Yeah, that sounded right. Friends I could do. Friendship would satisfy this strange desire I had to spend time with her without compromising the promise I’d made to myself. I’d already been on the wrong end of love once, and I had no intention of letting it happen again.

Although it didn’t seem like I would need to worry much on that score.

I carried the plates to the table, my mind turning over the conversation we’d been having before her sister blew in like a tornado and brought it to an end. What did she mean by saying that’s good? Maybe she didn’t believe in relationships either?

Or maybe, I thought, absently pushing aside a stack of papers to make room on the table, she’s one of those women who likes to have multiple relationships at once.

Something sour churned in my gut at the thought.

No, Juliet wasn’t like that. Her sister? Possibly. It took one thirty-second interaction for me to conclude Ember was a force to be reckoned with and you’d be taking your life in your hands if you tried to tame her. But not Juliet.

There was something softer about her, gentler. Not that she wasn’t strong because, clearly, she was that too. Coming to Paris to pursue a dream was no small feat. But she also had this air of innocence about her. I’d tried not to put too fine a point on it, but she really had put herself at risk by writing all of her personal details in her planner without a thought to the danger of it falling into the wrong hands. A girl like that needed looking after, protecting.

And, God, did I want to be the one to do it.

A door opened at the end of the hall, pulling me from my musings. “Sorry about that. My sister is, um, a bit … spirited.”

“Twins?”

“Almost.” She placed her phone on the sideboard and queued up the music again, then proceeded into the kitchen. “Irish twins, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow. “As in, you were born in the same year?”

“Yes,” she said, giving me a pointed look, “and I’d rather not get into the particulars of how that came about. Needless to say, our parents were very happy together.”

“That’s a good thing, I would think.” I stepped around the table to pull out a chair for her as she returned with the food in serving dishes. She halted mid-step. “Something wrong?”

She shook her head. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just not used to people being so considerate.”

I forced a smile even as something sharp clawed at my chest. “You invited me into your home and cooked a meal for me. I merely pulled out a chair. I still have a way to go before I’ve given you the consideration you deserve.”

Once the food was served and Juliet was seated, I hesitated before taking the seat opposite her, eyeing the empty chair to her right with the stack of papers in front of it.

“You can move those,” she said, reading my thoughts, and I wasted no time in collecting the pile and placing them on the side table. As I set them down, my eyes fell across the top page.

Escrow Agreement for T&P Asset Acquisition.

“What’s this?” It was none of my business, but I couldn’t help wondering what Juliet was doing with what looked like legal documents.

“Oh, um, just a bit of work,” she said, pushing the food around on her plate.

“Work?” I joined her at the table, uncorking a bottle of wine and filling two glasses. “I thought you said you were a writer?”

“I am,” she said quickly. “Well, that is, I want to be. That’s why I’m in the writing program at AUP. But I’m a practicing lawyer too.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Are you really?”

Well, color me impressed.

She gave me a pained smile, closing her hand around the wineglass I’d just filled before taking a few healthy swallows. “Yeah. I hate it.” Her jaw tightened as she set the glass down and took up her utensils, attacking the chicken on her plate.

I watched her for a long moment before setting my fork down. Clearly, I would need to tread carefully here. “If you don’t like it, why do you do it?”

She stuffed a forkful of potato in her mouth without answering, pressing her fingers to her forehead and massaging the space between her eyebrows.

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