Foolish Games by Tracy Solheim

his best William the Conqueror stare on his face. It worked to intimidate rookies all the time.
    A flush spread over her cheeks. “Only with regard to Owen.”
    “Since Owen is the only one I care about, we shouldn’t have a problem.” Something flashed in her eyes before she reined it in. It was killing her that he had the upper hand, but she didn’t dare challenge him.
    Suddenly her face lit up as she sprang from her chair. “Nicky!” she cried. Will felt his jewels shrivel up at the sound. The last time she’d cried out that name, he’d been buried deep inside her on a hotel room bed.

Six
    Julianne breathed in the familiar scent of Nicholas DiMarco as she hugged him tightly. “I knew you’d come,” she whispered against his neck. His hands gently patted her back.
Nice hands. Normal hands.
Nothing like the oversized mitts Will was always holding up in front of her face.
    Nicky gently gripped her shoulders and took a step back. “Of course I came, Jules. I had to make sure my best girl and her baby were okay. Carly shared the wonderful news that Owen is getting better by the hour. All of our prayers have been answered.”
    She looked over Nicky’s shoulder at Carly, who was giving Will another of those empathetic shrugs. The gesture annoyed her. Carly never understood Julianne’s relationship with Nicky. Her best friend couldn’t seem to grasp that Nicky was more than a childhood crush—in spite of any lasting sexual fantasies. Sure, Julianne had spent much of her life dreaming about Nicky as her soul mate, but she was well aware that his devotion lay elsewhere. That’s what made him so safe.
    Brushing her hands over his shoulders, Julianne adjusted the clerical collar on his starched black shirt. “Oh, Nicky, it’s so wonderful! My baby is going to be okay!”
    Will cleared his throat loudly behind her. Wincing, she grabbed Nicky’s hand and turned to face him. The inscrutable behemoth linebacker from yesterday was back, looking none too happy that she’d referred to Owen as
her
baby. “Nicky, this is Will Connelly . . . Owen’s father.” The humiliation of the situation seemed to be choking her, and she struggled with the introduction she’d never envisioned making. “Will, this is Nicky. Father Nicholas DiMarco, Vatican Emissary to the Holy See.”
    Nicky dropped her hand to reach for Will’s. She held her breath as Will’s hand seemed to swallow the priest’s more gentle one, nearly crushing it in his grip. “We’re all so glad you’re finally in the picture, Will.”
    Julianne tried not to cringe. Years of diplomatic training and that was what came out of Nicky’s mouth? She could feel Will’s stare piercing through her, but she didn’t dare look at him. Fear and shame that Will might say something about that night kept her eyes focused on the fountain in the center of the courtyard. Anywhere but on either man’s face. “I would’ve liked to have been part of
the picture
much sooner, Father, but your
best girl
seemed to have other ideas.” The tone of his voice indicated that whatever accord they’d reached a few minutes ago might be slipping away, and Julianne felt helpless to stop it. He had every right to be angry and, once again, guilt churned through her stomach.
    Nicky laughed. “Ah, yes, our Julianne is passionate in her stubbornness, isn’t she?” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he proceeded to regale Will with a story from their childhood, a time when she refused to reveal where she’d hidden something or other, but Julianne wasn’t listening. Apparently Will wasn’t, either, because she still felt his eyes boring into her.
    Hitching a quick breath, Julianne scrambled to figure a way out of this awkward encounter. Her world was completely tilted on its axis. Owen was recovering. Carly hadn’t deserted her and now Nicky was here to lend his support. She should be ecstatic that everything had fallen into place. Instead, she felt light-headed and