New Year's Wife. Linda Varner
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could accept the hug that Kit Porter, her older sister by four years, offered to her.
“So tell me, how does it feel to be twenty-five?” Kit might as well have been asking how it felt to be a leper. She looked that horrified.
Julie shrugged. “So far it’s not a bit different than twenty-four…or twenty-three…for that matter.”
“Oh, but it is,” Kit teased, brown eyes twinkling. “And I’ll tell you why.” She glanced around as if to make sure no one eavesdropped, then leaned close, whispering, “The big three-oh is just five years away now.”
“Only one for you,” Julie retorted.
The redhead groaned and sagged against her sister. “Oh God, don’t remind me.”
Laughing, they shared a sympathetic hug.
“Donnie boy is finally here.” Kit ran a hand through her short, copper-colored hair, a genetic throwback from an Irish great-great. “And he’s brought someone with him.”
“So what else is new?” Julie questioned. One of her older brothers worked public relations for New-Ware, their father’s cookware business, and had more friends than an Idaho winter had snowflakes. He was forever bringing one or another of them to Clear Falls, where the six-bedroom, three-story home owned by Julie’s dad, widower John Newman, was located. Luckily she had planned her birthday party refreshments with that in mind. “I have plenty to eat tonight.”
“Yeah, well they both have suitcases,” Kit advised. “Not to mention skis. So you may have more than tonight to worry about.”
Julie sighed at that news, though she didn’t really mind it. Of all the household tasks she’d taken on in exchange for rent-free accommodations, cooking was the one she liked most and did best. She got plenty of practice, too. In the five months since her dad had suggested the trade-off and she’d agreed to it, they’d been alone together in the house for maybe a week.
Julie’s dad blamed that on their proximity to the ski slopes. Julie blamed it on his big heart. After all, who had talked her oldest brother, Sid, into leaving his two stepchildren and his baby in Idaho while he and his wife explored European markets for New-Ware? Who had demanded Kit move back home, when her sailor husband was stationed on an aircraft carrier? And who always insisted that Don stay at the house whenever he was in town, whether or not he had girlfriends, co-workers or buddies in tow?
John Newman, that’s who.
“Well, I hope they have an appetite for cold cuts, dips and leftover birthday cake,” Julie murmured, picking up the pitcher again and slipping out the door of the kitchen so she could hug that rascal of a brother she hadn’t seen for a month. “Because that’s what we’re going to have for days to come.”
A second later she deposited the pitcher on the buffet table. Ever the perfect hostess—at home and at the New-Ware cooking demonstrations that were her source of income—Julie assessed the table to see if it lacked anything else.
It didn’t, and gratefully she wound her way through the crush of friends and relatives to where her brother and his companion stood talking.
Don, a handsome young man by even a stranger’s standards, looked especially wonderful to his little sister tonight. Though six years separated their ages, Julie bad always been particularly close to him.
“Don!” she exclaimed when still several feet away. He turned, all smiles, and engulfed her in a bear hug that threatened her rib cage. “You just missed the countdown.”
“Sorry about that,” he said with a shrug of apology, adding, “Happy New Year.”
“Same to you,” she replied.
“And happy birthday.” Don set her back on her feet. “How does it feel to be twenty-five?”
Julie smiled at his unwitting echo of Kit’s earlier question. “You should know. You were there six years ago.”
“Low blow,” Don scolded, but he laughed. “I brought someone with me,” he said. “I ran into him at the gas station on the corner, and since he didn’t have motel reservations anywhere, I talked him into staying here a night or two. Dad seemed pleased. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Hey, I’m just a guest, myself,” Julie replied with a laugh, for the first time shifting her full attention to Don’s companion.
“Hi, I’m Julie McCrae,” she said, automatically extending her hand to him as she raised her gaze to meet his—dark, intense and too, too familiar. At once Julie was hurled back in time eight years to a birthday party just like this one.
She forgot her name. She forgot her manners. She forgot how to breathe—astonishing reactions that floored her.
“Actually, I think you two have already met,” Don commented, apparently oblivious to her life-threatening discomfiture. “This is—”
“Tyrone, right?” she blurted, desperate that this man now holding her hand so tightly would never guess what he’d done to her fragile, teenaged ego at that party so long ago.
“Tyler,” he solemnly corrected. “Tyler Jordan.”
“Oops,” Julie said, adding a who-cares-anyway laugh. She tugged her fingers free of his and swiped them down her black wool pants. “Sorry. I’m terrible with names, but I never forget a face. How long has it been since we last, um, spoke? Six years, seven?”
“Eight years, eleven minutes and—” he glanced at his watch “—thirty seconds. At a party just like this one.”
Julie nearly choked and glanced quickly at Don. She’d never told anyone about the intimacies shared with Tyler just before midnight so long ago out on the porch.
Did this mean Tyler had?
But Don just laughed and slapped his old friend on the back—an act of affection that meant he didn’t know the truth. Julie, of course, should’ve guessed that. Don had bored her with more than one tale of Tyler’s dangerous—no, foolhardy—exploits through the years, things Don would never have told her if he’d been aware of what had happened between them. “No wonder you didn’t argue when I invited you to come home with me. You remember what great parties my little sis throws.”
“Yeah,” Tyler agreed with a half smile. “What great parties she throws.” His gaze dropped to Julie’s mouth and lingered there. Immediately she wondered if it were her parties he remembered or her kisses. But no, it couldn’t be her kisses. He’d long since proved that they—and everything else about her—were totally forgettable.
Unfortunately such wasn’t the case for Julie, who suddenly remembered not only the kisses they’d shared but the caresses that had accompanied them. And then there had been that awful moment later when she’d been forced to face the fact that Tyler had only been playing with her out on the porch…
A little surprised by the vividness of her memories, Julie gave herself a get-it-together shake. Surely she wasn’t still mourning a relationship that had never existed anywhere except in her fanciful, teenage head.
“And speaking of birthdays,” Don continued, bringing her back to the here and now, “I’ve brought you a present from Uncle Sy.” He looked at Tyler and winked. “It’s special. Really special.”
Julie looked at her brother’s empty hands, then all around. “Where is it?”
“In the garage.” Don grinned.
“The garage?” She turned toward the back of the house, fully intending to step out the kitchen door and see whatever her eccentric uncle, Silas Newman, had sent. Don stopped her with an outflung arm.
“Not yet. I want Dad to get the camera, and I want all your guests to come watch.”
Though avidly curious now, Julie obeyed. She eyed Don rather suspiciously as he ushered their dad, Kit and the