CHAPTER SEVEN

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Carlton slung the extortioner into the back of the squad car and slammed the door. "Take him in, McNab."

Juliet, sunglasses on and hands on her hips, looked rightfully smug as she watched McNab drive away from the office building. They'd tag-teamed the suspect with verbal jabs until he finally confessed just to get them to leave him alone.

"We deserve a tall coffee for that job," she declared.

Carlton gestured across the street. "Coffee Cabana?"

She nodded smartly and in a few minutes they were seated outside the colorful joint under a blue and white umbrella, sipping their mutual drug of choice.

It was Thursday, late morning. Juliet was doing well, he thought. There'd been no more Spencer sightings, serenades, or stalker-esque behavior, or at least none she'd mentioned, and she seemed more relaxed than she'd been all week.

The sunshine and a satisfying arrest helped, he was sure.

Amazingly, there was still no talk about her marriage at the station. Although he was well aware people didn't tend to want to confide in him, it was hard not to hear things, and even when people were being discreet, he could usually tell something was up simply because they acted like something was up. But nothing seemed to be up. And he'd heard nothing.

Maybe the Santa Clarita folks were slow about publishing marriage license notices. Fine by him.

As for the other thing… he sipped coffee, wishing his sunglasses were still on.

The other thing. The Kiss.

It had not been repeated, and there hadn't been any undue awkwardness between them.

He was aware of her. Oh yes, he was aware of Juliet. Her beautiful blue eyes, her smooth skin, her soft hair, the fragrance of her—all of her—and even the heat she gave off when she stood close: he was very aware of her.

But then again, he'd been aware of Juliet for years. It was merely that this awareness hadn't been enhanced by the knowledge of how her warm lips felt brushing his.

Dammit.

"Hey, cops," said Henry Spencer, slinging himself into a chair at their table. "Thought I recognized that Crown Vic out there."

Oh, this should be interesting.

Juliet took off her sunglasses, and Carlton could read her mild uneasiness. "Hey Henry. How are you doing?"

He had a coffee even larger than theirs, and he grinned over the top of the cup. "I'm supposed to be cutting back on caffeine, so this is half decaf. Otherwise, I'm good. You guys killing time on taxpayer money?"

"We just arrested an extortioner, thanks for asking, and we are allowed breaks," Carlton pointed out.

"I heard that. You didn't get doughnuts?" He winked at Juliet. Hale and hearty, having made a full recovery from his shooting, he appeared to have nothing on his mind but his coffee.

Spencer didn't tell him.

He glanced at Juliet, who was frowning at Henry. She'd obviously figured it out for herself.

"No," he said slowly. "We didn't get doughnuts. Henry, have you talked to your son lately?"

Juliet looked at him in mild alarm; he held her gaze until she relaxed and nodded.

Henry, who'd been sipping coffee when the question was asked, had not missed this silent exchange. "Nope, haven't seen him since last week. I was going to ask you about him, Juliet. What's up?"

"Is that normal? In your dysfunctional relationship? To go so long without talking to him?"

Henry turned his attention to Carlton. "Not really, but we had a knock-down drag-out and I expect he's still sulking about it."

"You had a fight?" Juliet was puzzled. "When was that?"

"Last Wednesday. Why? Look, getting shot didn't improve my patience any. What's going on? Is he okay?"

"He's fine," she assured him, albeit absently. "I saw him two days ago. You haven't talked to him in over a week? Because you argued?"

He smiled wryly. "Hey, it used to be years. And argued is too civil a word. It's been a long time since we had a fight that bad."

"What was it about?" Carlton asked abruptly, and Juliet shot him a warning look. But what the hell? It was going to come out anyway, and Henry Spencer was no threat to Juliet's peace of mind.

Henry eyed him shrewdly. "I don't believe that's any of your business, detective."

Juliet tapped on his arm. "Did you… have a heart-to-heart before that? You know, a…"

"I know what a heart-to-heart is, kid."

She persisted, "Did you give him advice about his future based on… you know, what you'd learned since you'd been shot?"

He nearly smirked. "Yeah, sure. But if you mean did we have a Hallmark movie kind of father-son chat, you're on the wrong street."

"What street are you on?" Carlton asked, impatient and wanting a simple answer from a Spencer for once.

"Look, pal, you two obviously have some inside info and I'm the odd man out. Tell me what's going on or I take my Mega Java Half-Caf outta here."

Carlton looked at Juliet, raising his eyebrows.

She was half-sick, half-resigned. "Go ahead."

"Henry," he began, keeping it brisk. "I would like to introduce you to Juliet O'Hara, your new daughter-in-law."

Henry stared at him a moment, and then slowly turned to look at Juliet. "Come again?"

She was mute.

"Now, what the hell did you say to your son which made him talk Juliet into eloping with him?"

Henry was still staring at Juliet. "You… you married him?" He rubbed his face hard, as if he might be dreaming. "When the hell did this happen?"

"Friday afternoon." She sounded miserable.

"And… now you… hang on, did you say you hadn't seen him in two days?"

"I'm filing for divorce." Still miserable.

"Oh, God."

And yet he wasn't saying 'wait stop don't leave my boy.'

"Henry," Carlton interjected, trying to keep them on track. "Was there or was there not some defining moment in your discussion with Junior which would lead him to think marrying Juliet was what he needed to do?"

Elbows on the table, Henry put his head in his hands. "God, no. Well… hell, maybe. Knowing how his mind works, yeah. I started out trying to have a quiet talk, to give some fatherly advice, because nearly dying when you're not ready to go tends to remind you of a lot of important things, among which is that you raised up a son who lives like he's a teenager and honestly believes nothing ever has to change."

As if he really needed reminding of that.

"But you know us. Between his bullheadedness and my… okay, my bullheadedness, we don't really have quiet conversations. We have shouting matches. It's been awhile, though. Things calmed down over the last few years. But I must have hit a nerve because Shawn went ballistic. So…" He looked wry. "So I kept on. Maybe he was just still scared because he almost lost me. Maybe I just got him on a bad day. We both said some ugly things to each other—or hard truths neither one of us wanted to hear, anyway."

"What did you say about Juliet?" Carlton asked. Across the table, Juliet was drawing in on herself, focused on what Henry was saying but holding herself tight against what exactly she might hear. He wished—as he so often wished—that he could simply touch her. Soothe her.

"Well." Henry was uncomfortable. "I said… sorry, honey, but I said he was going to lose you if he didn't make any effort to be a man instead of a boy. I said no way would a woman like you stick with someone she couldn't count on to do simple things like pay bills and show up on time. I said you were a great girl and more tolerant of his antics than most women but eventually you'd wise up and move on." He peered at her. "And you proved me wrong by marrying him? How the hell did he talk you into it?"

"Sangria," she said, her voice very small.

"And lies," Carlton added. "Namely, that he'd had an 'epiphany' about his future after a sweet little talk with you on Friday morning."

Henry frowned. "Why would he say Friday morning… hell, who knows why he says anything?"

"You should."

This earned him a brief glare, but then Henry sat back, clearly at a loss again. "So… how much sangria?"

"Why do people keep asking me that?" she snapped. "The point is, I agreed to marry him and within a few hours knew I'd screwed up. I asked him to keep it quiet so… please… if you could… I mean, I know it'll come out eventually but I'd really appreciate it if you…"

"No worries, kid," he said gently. "You already talk to a lawyer?"

"Next appointment on Tuesday. Shawn's not taking it well."

"I imagine." He rubbed his face as before. "Wow. Sorry."

"It's not your fault, and you know it."

Henry gave her a smile. "I don't know. Unlike Shawn, I am willing to own up to my mistakes most of the time, and I am certainly the reason he does a lot of rebellious, dunderheaded, stubborn-ass things."

(Later, Carlton was quite proud of himself for yet again not saying 'duh' when it was so clearly appropriate.)

With a pat to her arm, Henry added, "Under other circumstances, you know, you'd make a great daughter-in-law."

"Thanks," she said with a return smile. "I'm sorry my stupidity caused—"

"Stop saying that," Carlton cut in, annoyed. "You were not stupid. You were mad at me, Spencer was mad at Henry, alcohol and manipulation were added to the mix and you're lucky you only got married. You could also have gotten matching neck tattoos with your names spelled wrong."

Juliet was startled at first and then began to smile; meanwhile, Henry looked at Carlton and said speculatively, "So this means… we're responsible for this."

Carlton sighed and raised his hand. "Booyah, baby," and they high-fived each other.

To his relief, Juliet actually laughed. Henry got up and hugged her, and Carlton thought he'd make a pretty good father-in-law, but it would take a lot more than a great cup of coffee to get him to admit it to the man.

Two cups, maybe, and one of those crullers from the other day.

. . . .

. . .

Juliet put on her seatbelt and adjusted the sun visor.

Carlton put the keys in the ignition but didn't start the car. "Tell me again why you don't want an annulment?"

The question was direct, if more subdued than he might normally have asked, and Juliet once again knew she had to be honest with him above all others. She pocketed her sunglasses and considered how to answer.

Carlton said, "It might not be any cheaper, but it'll most likely be faster. You might get it in half the time."

Juliet frowned at him.

He fidgeted. "I told a contact in a family law firm I was doing background for an investigation. Every case is different but I think since your lawyer was optimistic, there's a good chance it could go your way."

She fidgeted too, still searching for the right words to keep from looking like an idiot.

"Juliet." His voice was low, insistent. Earnest. "I… what Henry said makes it clear that for whatever reason, Spencer told more than one lie about… everything. And I was thinking that the gas station where he stole your card might have security cam footage of him using it at the pump, so there'd be no question of…" He stopped, and when Juliet looked at him, he was shaking his head slightly at himself, as if he were annoyed he'd spoken at all. "Sorry. Backing off."

He started the engine, but Juliet reached over and covered his hand with hers before he could put the car in gear. "Carlton, it's okay."

After a breathless moment, he turned his hand to clasp hers, not looking at her. Hiding those wide blue eyes.

"A divorce is simple. Unless he fights it, we probably wouldn't have to go to court. It's just forms and signatures and it's done. But if I pursue an annulment, I have to stand before someone or at the very least put in writing that I was an idiot—stop," she warned when he turned to protest. "I feel like one. Logic won't work on me over this. I feel like an idiot. I was a total bitch to my best friend, I immaturely ran home to get drunk, I let a man I know has trouble with the truth spin me a story I wanted to believe so badly that it didn't matter how dumb an idea it was. I knew better. I knew better, Carlton. And at the moment I really don't want to have to explain that to a judge or even find a way to put it in writing."

His long fingers were so warm, interlinked with hers. "You're not assigning enough blame to Spencer. He deliberately took advantage of you."

"Yes, he did. I know he did. But that's another thing I'm still not ready to sign my name to. I'm not sure I can do that to him."

His grip tightened and the blue of his eyes got darker. "O'Hara, the man needs to be held accountable for his actions just like the rest of us. You're sitting over there beating yourself up for being victimized, and you still want to protect the guy who did it to you? How is that any different from a wife staying with her abusive husband because she's positive he didn't mean to hurt her?"

Juliet was stung… but the feeling faded. He was right.

He changed tack. "When did you last see him before he showed up at your place on Friday?"

She had to think about it a moment; events prior to The Marriage were fuzzy lately. "The night before. He and Gus and I had a quick dinner out. They were going to go see an Ed Wood movie."

"How was he?"

Juliet noted that they were still holding hands, and he was rubbing his thumb gently across the back of hers. So nice. So soothing. So warm.

So distracting.

Clearing her head, she said, "Fine. I don't remember anything unusual except he and Gus argued about soup."

"What's unusual about that with those two?" he asked dryly.

She smiled. "Just the viciousness of it. It was Campbell's vs. Progresso, if I recall. Shawn kept on about Gus preferring Progresso until I threatened to leave."

"So he was in a bad mood, but not aiming at you."

"Well… I guess. Where are you going with this?"

"Just trying to work out why he first told you Friday, then changed it to Thursday, but it was really on Wednesday. If the fight with Henry was that bad, why wasn't he at your door Wednesday night?"

"Maybe the big epiphany happened later. Friday morning, even. He was agitated when he showed up, remember."

"When he showed up? Or after he realized you'd been drinking?"

Juliet frowned again. "I don't…"

"Not that you opened the door with the bottle in your hand and hiccupped in his face or anything."

She hesitated. "Um. The bottle was in my hand, yes."

Carlton said quite slowly, "You're not going to argue with me if I say Spencer's opportunistic, are you?"

She started to feel chilled.

"You opened the door, he saw you'd been drinking, and he used your condition to his advantage. He lied about the fight, claiming it was only a conversation—because if you thought he was proposing out of anger toward Henry, you'd never have said yes." He was gazing at her intently. "How am I doing, detective?"

Juliet—unwilling to go where he had gone—tried to pull back her hand, but Carlton held on tightly.

"Juliet, listen. Divorce or annulment, it doesn't matter. I'll back you up either way and my offer to help financially is still open. But at some point you need to quit pretending Spencer's not the sole engineer of this disaster. You need to lay the blame at his feet, not yours. You got conned, sweetheart, and I know the daughter of a con artist must hate the thought of having been fooled again, but this is not your fault."

Damn him. Damn the truth.

Sweetheart? Yes… yes. I want that.

He softened his grip on her hand, as well as the quality of his voice. "Come to that, it really doesn't matter whether any of this gets committed to paper, as long as it gets committed to your heart and mind."

The words were relentless enough, but what struck her most deeply was the reminder of how much he cared. She did not cry, and she did not pull free of his hand; she took a few shaky breaths and leaned over swiftly to kiss him on the cheek.

Carlton blushed. "Stop that."

"No. You deserve more than a kiss on the cheek for what you've done for me lately."

He turned to meet her gaze, and God almighty, his eyes were the most compelling, dizzying blue she'd ever seen. "I wouldn't do any of it if I didn't want to."

They were very close. Eye to eye.

Breath to breath.

Juliet whispered, "I wouldn't do this if I didn't want to," and closed the distance to kiss him.

. . . .

. . .

A tiny but very wise voice in Carlton's head said you really should not be kissing Juliet.

No other voices were talking at all. He just kissed her back, and in a matter of seconds this was the game-changing real-deal mother of all kisses. This was lips and tongue and tasting and seeking and sudden heat which rose up out of nowhere: from simple emotion moments ago to an almost desperate need to be connected fully to this woman, this beautiful woman, this kind and sweet and smart and funny and completely unavailable woman.

Coffee and cinnamon and the lilac fragrance of her hair: these were the scents he would forever associate with this kiss… these kisses… along with the wonder of tasting her mouth, her tongue, feeling her nip at his lips and move in impossibly close despite the seatbelt.

There was fast breathing and his pounding heart and the tiny wise voice kept saying excuuuuuse meeeee but Carlton could barely hear it anymore.

Juliet pulled away long enough to unhook her seatbelt, and pressed herself back into his arms, anxious for more. Carlton slid his fingers into her silky hair and kissed her hard—harder than a civilized man should kiss a woman first time out, maybe, but she returned the fire and he felt as if she was climbing into him, into his heart and soul and psyche.

She tugged at his tie, loosening it, slipping her fingertips underneath his shirt and touching his chest sensuously, curiously, almost longingly.

The moment he realized he was about to unbutton her blouse, the tiny wise voice said, yeah, uh, about that? I've been trying to get your attention, dumbass.

Dammit.

He slowed down, returned his hands to her hair, kissed her more gently, and although he had precious little breath to speak, managed to say her name.

Juliet let out a shuddering sigh and rested her forehead against his shoulder.

Together they calmed down, their breathing gradually returning to something like normal, and Juliet touched his face gently, meeting his gaze with one as wondering as his probably was.

What will you say? What should I say?

He didn't want to make jokes, or go silent, or offer lectures or advice. She surely already knew he cared for her, and he wouldn't deny it if she asked.

He only wanted to look at her, and touch her, and pray for a miracle.

Juliet leaned in one more time to kiss his face. "Please don't ask me to pretend this didn't happen."

"I wouldn't." Though he should.

She stroked his cheek softly. "Please don't tell me it won't happen again."

Carlton swallowed. "You know it shouldn't."

With a faint smile, she said, "I don't know much about common sense anymore. But I do know shouldn't and won't have different meanings. I'm okay with shouldn't." Another caress to his face. "For now."

He sighed and could not help but kiss her again—he was only a man and she was completely irresistible—and she kissed him back with as much passion as before.

But then he resolutely put her away from him.

"For now," he said.

Everything else would have to go unsaid... for now.

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