“Yes.” The perfect gentleman, he helps me into a wood slat chair. “We’ve been exchanging emails the past few days.”
“Getting good material for your story?”
I bring the chilled martini glass to my lips, savoring that first sip of my drink. “He’s a bit…aloof. He doesn’t like to share much. But I’m working on it. I just need to establish a rapport with him. Then he’ll open up.”
“Good.”
“Good.” I watch as he shifts his attention away from me, searching the partygoers.
An unnerving silence settles between us as he rests his hand on my thigh like he did in the car. And just like in the car, I know it’s not real. There’s no emotion behind his fingers as they delicately brush my skin. No yearning building deep inside as he steals a glance at me. No unyielding desire as he leans toward me and nuzzles the crook of my neck. It’s all for show. That’s become my mantra these past few minutes. I have a feeling that will become my mantra these next few months, too, a constant reminder there’s absolutely no meaning behind anything he does or says, despite what my heart wants to believe.
“Julian!” a voice shouts, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I follow his line of sight to see a man approach. He has short, shaggy, copper hair, fair skin, and a slight five o’clock shadow, although it’s not too noticeable due to the light hue. His nearly six-foot frame is dressed in a pair of swim trunks and an open, white button-down. That appears to be the unspoken uniform amongst the men, while the trend with women seems to be who can wear the smallest piece of fabric and still be able to call it a bathing suit. Despite all the females being dressed as if ready to go for a swim, not a single one of them is in the pool. In fact, no one is in the pool. I wonder if that’s customary at these things. Have a pool party, wear a bathing suit, but don’t think about getting into the water.
“Christopher! Good to see you.” Julian stands from the table, appearing genuinely happy to see him. Then again, it could be an act, too. I never know what to think with him.
“So this is her? The girl you haven’t been able to stop talking about?” He looks from Julian to me, then back again.
“Sure is. Christopher, this is Guinevere Fitzgerald. Guinevere, this is Christopher Albright.”
“Nice to meet you.” I stand up, holding out my hand.
He grasps it. “You, as well. I’ve heard a great deal about you, Guinevere. Please. Sit. Sit.” He gestures to my chair as he occupies the free one across from me.
“You can call me Evie,” I instruct as I return to my seat. “Everyone else does. Except this guy.” I jab Julian playfully in the stomach once he lowers himself back to his chair.
“He’s always been pretty formal, at least as long as I’ve known him, which is since freshman year of college.”
“Is that right?”
“Sure is. I can tell you some incredibly embarrassing stories about the guy. Trust me. He used to be awkward. And scrawny.”
“Please tell me you have pictures.”
He smiles. “Of course.”
“If you want to keep my company’s 401k account,” Julian interrupts, gritting a smile, “you’ll keep those photos to yourself. And you were just as awkward.”
At that moment, a stunning brunette wearing a yellow two-piece sidles up to the table, placing a kiss on Christopher’s temple before turning her attention to me. Her eyes are the color of honey, her hair full with perfect beach waves falling to mid-back. Her smile is warm, which makes it difficult for me to hate the fact she has the physique most women would kill for — tall, slender, but still with a classic hourglass shape.
“Is this her?” she asks excitedly.
“Now I know why my ears have been ringing the past few days,” I answer, holding my hand toward her. “Hi. I’m Evie.”
“Sadie. And try weeks.” She plops down on the last free chair, taking a sip of what appears to be a cosmo.
“Weeks?” I furrow my brow. “What do you mean weeks?”
“That’s how long Julian’s been talking about you. It’s about time he found a good girl, instead of playing the perennial matchmaker.”
“Matchmaker?” I look back at Julian. I never would have pegged him for a guy who’d go around setting people up on dates, considering he seems rather averse to being in a relationship himself.
“He introduced me to Christopher several years ago. Now we’re about to celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary.”
“Sadie is one of the first friends I made out here in the Hamptons,” Julian explains.
“Is that right?” I smile nervously, looking between them. I can picture them as a couple. Both gorgeous with incredible bodies. They look more like a couple than Julian and I do. And Sadie and Christopher.
“Not like that,” she interjects quickly, her eyes wide. “No, no, no. We never… Ya know. Our relationship’s always been strictly platonic.”
“Even if it hadn’t, it’s okay.” I place my hand on Julian’s thigh. It’s the first time I’ve initiated contact between us. But it’s what feels natural, what I would do if Trevor were here with me and we were having this conversation with one of his friends. I meet his eyes. “He’s here with me now. That’s all that matters. Not the past. Not the future. Just right now.”
I keep my gaze locked with his, the outside world seeming to melt away. It’s not until I hear Sadie that I look back at her.
“Aww…” She covers her heart, her eyes bright and smile wide. “That is the sweetest thing. Isn’t it, babe?” She glances at Christopher.
“It’s about time,” he jokes in response. “Maybe now I won’t have to field this asshole’s phone calls about reinvesting portions of his portfolio at all hours of night or on weekends.” He brings his beer to his lips, looking at me from over the bottle. “Promise me you’ll keep him occupied outside regular office hours, okay?”
I lean into Julian, giving him a demure look. “I’m sure I can keep him very busy.”
Christopher whistles as Sadie claps, but I don’t look their way. I can’t, the raw need covering Julian’s expression catching me off-guard. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he were about to throw me over his shoulder and haul me into the house so we could find somewhere private. My thighs squeeze involuntarily at the notion.
Remembering where I am, I clear my throat, looking back at Sadie and Christopher. “So, how did Julian play matchmaker?” With a trembling hand, I bring my drink to my mouth, needing the alcohol to cool the flames building inside.
“At one of his parties,” she answers.
“Sadie is what you’d call old money,” Christopher adds.
“Well, used to be,” she corrects.
I pull my brows together. “Used to be? How’s that?”
She shrugs. “Marriage.”
“What—”
“I’m old money, but married no money.”
“Thanks for emasculating me, sweetie,” Christopher quips as he drapes an arm across her shoulders, but the smile never leaves his face.
“Anytime.” She lowers her voice. “You’ll eventually figure it out, but there’s a bit of a hierarchy out here.”
“Julian’s already given me the Cliff Notes.” I glance at him, about to rest my hand on his thigh once more, but stop myself, his heated stare still trained on me. We’re definitely playing with fire. I think he’s finally realized that. “About old money and found money,” I finish, facing Sadie once more.
“Well, I grew up in old money. Granddaddy was big in steel in the early 1900s. Made his fortune and was smart, so he didn’t lose much during the Great Depression. Anyway, some of the more conservative families prefer their offspring to marry within their ‘station’,” she explains, using air quotes. “Like my parents.”