Chapter 17
Seventeen
They pulled up to the Hyatt, and Officer Tanner turned to them. “One room or two?”
Michael glanced down at Juliana.
“One,” she said.
“Coming right up. I’ll be back for you in a few minutes.”
“I’ve always wanted to stay here,” Juliana said.
The sleek black-glass hotel overlooked Baltimore’s famous Inner Harbor where the bombs bursting over Fort McHenry during the War of 1812 inspired Francis Scott Key to write the poem that later became the Star Spangled Banner.
“But it’s hard to justify a night in the Hyatt when you live in the city. ”
“Too bad you had to be nearly killed to get here.”
“Michael, stop.” She ran a finger along his jaw, which was tight with tension. “I’m fine.”
Tanner returned and escorted them to a room on the hotel’s seventh floor.
“We’ll be right outside, Mr. Maguire. Just holler if you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
“John?” Juliana walked over to the young policeman.
“Yes?”
“I appreciate all you did back at the house.”
“It shouldn’t have happened.” He looked like he could cry. “I’m sorry.”
She put her hand on his arm. “When people are determined to do something like this, they find a way.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said on his way out the door. “Try to get some sleep.”
Juliana attempted to pull the Georgetown sweatshirt over her head and gasped when it rubbed against the cut on her forehead.
Michael came to her side. “Let me help you.” He eased the sweatshirt over her forehead and gently removed it. Tossing it aside, he put his arms around her. “It’s good of you to be so forgiving.”
“It’s not his fault, Michael. He didn’t throw the rock.” She snuggled into his embrace. “I need to take a shower.”
He tightened his hold on her. “Wait. Stay here for a minute. Stay with me.”
She closed her arms around him and felt a tremble ripple through him.
“When they said you were hurt,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion, “I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified in my life. And when I saw all that blood…”
“Shh, Michael. Don’t.”
He looked down at her, his eyes bright with tears. “I love you,” he whispered. “Those words seem so insignificant in light of all I feel for you. There just isn’t a big enough word, Juliana.”
“I love you, too.”
He seemed to stop breathing. “You do?”
She reached up to caress his face. “I’ve known it since the last time we saw Rachelle. The way you were with her… You were amazing, and I just knew.”
Releasing a rattling deep breath, Michael closed his eyes and kissed her slowly and deeply, as if he was trying to put all his love for her into that one kiss.
After a long while, she pulled back from him. “I’m going to go wash off the blood. You got some on your shirt.”
“I don’t care.”
She reached up to unbutton the light blue dress shirt he wore to court that morning. “Take it off. I’ll soak it.”
“Don’t worry about it. Are you hungry?”
“I don’t think I could eat.”
“Me either.”
“I’ll be right back.”
He stole one more kiss from her before he let her go. “I’ll be right here.”
She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and took it with her into the bathroom.
In the shower, she winced at the water sliding over the cut on her forehead.
She watched the water in the tub turn red when she rinsed her hair and washed it.
The pulsating shower helped to ease some of the tension from her shoulders and back.
Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped her hair in a towel and pulled on the thick white robe the hotel provided.
Wiping the steam off the mirror, she took a close look at the wound on her forehead.
The small cut certainly didn’t measure up to the amount of blood it produced.
A tinge of black and blue already surrounded it.
As she brushed her hair and then dried it, she shuddered each time she thought about how much worse it could have been. Her legs still felt like they were made of Jell-O.
She had told Michael she loved him, which made her stomach also feel like Jell-O—not only because it was true, but because she still loved Jeremy.
However, she wasn’t thinking of him just then.
No, her thoughts were all about Michael and the way his face had faded to a ghostly pale when he came rushing into the house to find her covered in blood.
In that heartbreaking moment, she had seen his love for her.
And when he said there wasn’t a big enough word to describe how he felt about her…
That had been, quite simply, the most romantic moment of her life.
Michael ignored his ringing cell phone for a tenth time, turned it off, and went to look out at the full moon hanging over the Inner Harbor. To his right, he could make out the brick walls of Camden Yards, home to the Baltimore Orioles.
After he’d finally managed to stop shaking, he was hit by a wave of rage so deep and so intense it took his breath away. That those fucking monsters, those fucking arrogant bastards thought they would get away with this…
The hair dryer turned off, and he took a deep breath to calm himself down. He didn’t want Juliana to see the rage. That wasn’t what she needed from him right now. She loved him. Nothing else mattered. Not tonight.
The bathroom door opened, and he turned to her, deciding instantly that he had never seen anything more beautiful than Juliana in the white bathrobe with her shiny dark hair flowing down around her shoulders.
Her usually vibrant olive skin had a pallor to it that made her brown eyes seem even bigger than usual.
His gut clenched when he remembered how the bandage on her forehead had gotten there and what might have happened…
Pushing those thoughts aside, he held out his hand to her. “I found some medicine.” He pointed to the two small bottles of Sutter Home from the mini-bar.
“Bring it on, but I warn you, it’ll go straight to my head.”
“Does the cut hurt?”
“No.”
“I asked the cops to get you some Tylenol. It’s over there if you need it.”
“Thanks.” She moved to the window to check out the view of the harbor. “I figured your phone would be ringing nonstop.”
“I shut it off.”
She turned to him. “Can you do that?”
He handed her a glass of wine. “Tom can deal with the media tonight. That’s why he’s the boss. Feel better after the shower?”
“Much better. Do you think it’ll be on the news?”
“It probably already is, but your name won’t be mentioned. Tom will see to that.”
“What does it mean for the trial?”
“I don’t know, and right now I don’t care. I don’t want to think about that.”
She ran a hand over his bare chest and toyed with the St. Christopher medal he wore on a thin gold chain.
He trembled under her caress.
“I’m frightened for you, Michael. What if they hurt you? Or worse? You’re trying to put them in prison—”
“Don’t.” He tipped her chin so he could see her eyes.
“Don’t bring them into this room with us.
I don’t want them anywhere near us. Not ever, but especially not tonight.
” He kissed her. “Not tonight,” he whispered.
He took the wine glass from her and put it on a table.
Running his thumbs along her jaw, he slid his fingers into her hair.
His lips glided over hers in a soft, easy caress that quickly became passionate.
She loved him. He didn’t have to wonder or hope anymore.
And when her arms encircled his neck and her tongue met his in ardent response, he was lost. He picked her up, carried her across the room, and laid her down on the big bed.
With his eyes trained on hers, he kicked off his pants, reached for the belt to her robe, and tugged it open.
He ran his hands over her reverently. “Oh, Juliana,” he sighed, his lips pressed to her belly. “You’re every fantasy I’ve ever had come to life.”
He cupped her breasts and had to remind himself that they had all night.
She was so beautiful, so perfect in every way that he resisted the urge to devour and took the time to savor.
That she loved him, too, was nothing short of a dream come true.
She was a dream come true. He rolled his tongue over her pebbled nipple, and she gasped with pleasure.
“You smell so good,” he said. “I don’t know what it is, but it turns me on like nothing ever has.”
She chuckled. “It’s Aveda.”
“Mmm, I love Aveda.” Reluctantly leaving her breasts for the time being, he kissed his way down, nudged her legs apart, and nuzzled her with his lips and then his tongue.
He teased her with short caresses that had her panting for more and then deeper strokes that made her moan.
He kept it up until she was wild beneath him.
Finally, he focused his tongue on the spot that pulsed with desire and slipped a finger into her.
Releasing another choppy moan, she lifted her hips in encouragement and grabbed a fistful of his hair to keep him there. It took only a few strokes of his tongue and finger to send her flying.
He looked up, startled to find her cheeks wet with tears. “Juliana? Are you all right?”
She nodded and reached out to him.
“What is it?” he whispered against her neck. He felt her fingers tunnel through his hair and was reminded of the first time she had done that, the moment he knew for sure that he loved her. Lifting his head, he found her eyes. “Tell me.”
Biting her lip, she studied him. “You know I want this—I want you—right?”
“I think so.”
“And that I love you? I really love you?”
“I’m still getting used to that one,” he said with a smile, the wonder of it hitting him all over again. How had he ever gotten so lucky?
She rested her hands on his face. “It’s just that I’ve never, you know, done… this—”
“With anyone else.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re feeling guilty.”
“Kind of.”
Afraid she was retreating from him, he leaned down to kiss her softly, gently. Ignoring his own urgent need, he said, “We don’t have to, Juliana. Not if it doesn’t feel right to you.”
“But it does. It feels right. You feel right.”