“No. Just some trouble at work.” I grit out a smile. I’ve tried to keep my troubles to myself, considering Julian has his own problems with getting his project up and running. “Nothing to concern yourself with. Don’t worry. I’ll be my usual charming self this weekend. I need to figure out my next step. That’s all.”
He abruptly pulls the car to the side of the road, putting on his hazards. In typical New York fashion, horns blare and drivers shout expletives as they pass, flipping him off. It doesn’t deter him.
“What are you doing?”
Once he shifts into neutral and engages the parking brake, he faces me, his eyes hardened. “I never intended this arrangement to cause you problems at work. You don’t have to come with me this weekend.”
“It’s not,” I insist. “This is a me issue. It has nothing to do with our arrangement. I guess I didn’t realize how difficult…” I trail off.
“How difficult what?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He brings his hand to my cheek and I melt into him. He tenderly grazes his thumb over my bottom lip. It’s a subtle, gentle touch, one most may not react to. But that’s all it takes to ignite the spark, the unquenchable thirst building inside me. Now that I know exactly how it feels to have Julian’s hands on the most intimate parts of my body, that thirst has only increased. There have been so many instances I’ve been on the brink of initiating something more.
Like when he took me to a pottery class. I thought it would be fun to recreate the scene from Ghost, complete with appropriate background music, which I sang myself. The way he stared at me, his eyes dancing with amusement as he tried not to laugh at the spectacle I made, only increased the connection I felt to him. Trevor would have tried to hide out of embarrassment. Not Julian.
Like when he surprised me with a trip to one of the most beautiful bookstores I’d ever seen. He barely took his eyes off me as I roamed the aisles in wonder of all the stories filling the gorgeous space. I’d asked Trevor to take me there dozens of times. I never even had to ask Julian. He did it because he knew I’d enjoy it.
Like when he realized I started waking up early to watch the sunrise over the ocean. He began getting up, too. Now, whenever I open the French doors and step onto the balcony of his exquisite home, he’s waiting for me, holding a cup of coffee prepared the way I like it. Trevor never made coffee for me.
Regardless of how close we’ve become, the ball’s remained firmly in my court. There have been countless opportunities for me to toss it back to him. But I haven’t, scared it will ruin what we’ve built.
“I told you. I’ll always worry about you. If you’d rather stay in the city to focus on work, I understand.”
“Thank you.” I sigh, finding comfort in his words. There are so many sides to Julian, I can’t decide which I like best. One minute, he can be mysterious and aloof. The next, sweet and compassionate. And still the next, tortured and defeated. All parts that make up this man who’s unwittingly found his way under my skin where he’s burrowed so deeply I’m unsure whether I’ll be able to let go. But, in less than a month, I have to do just that.
Swallowing hard, I pull back, forcing him to drop his hold on me. “Maybe a weekend away to clear my head is what I need. Sometimes the best medicine is a little sun and sand.” I turn my lips into a small smile.
“Are you sure? I really don’t mind—”
“It’s fine,” I interrupt, crossing my arms in front of my chest as I tap my foot, feigning annoyance. “And if you don’t take me, I’ll hop on a train and show up at your house, so you may as well enjoy my company for another two hours.” I pass him a playful look, winking. “Plus, as if the hair weren’t a dead giveaway, I’m Irish, and I have the stubbornness to prove it. You’re not going to win this battle with me, Mr. Gage.”
Pinching his lips together, he studies me for a moment, then pushes out a breath. “Fine. We’ll compromise.”
“Compromise?”
“Precisely.” Disengaging the parking brake, he presses his foot on the clutch before shifting into first and pulling back into traffic without signaling. Horns honk all around us, but Julian ignores them.
New York drivers.
“And what would that be?” I lean against the seat, tilting my head to admire him. God, I love the confidence he exudes when he drives, the way he handles the car stirring too many fantasies to the surface of my subconscious.
“You can spend the weekend with me in the Hamptons, but just me.” He lifts his brows.
“Just…you?” I swallow hard, my pulse increasing.
“Exactly. No parties. No dinners. No distractions. Just us and whatever we want to do. We’ll be on our own schedule. No one else’s.”
“Just us?”
Approaching a traffic light, Julian presses on the brake, coming to a stop. As he licks his lips and curves toward me, I almost combust right there, the proximity of his mouth to mine making me want to erase the last bit of space between us and finally have a taste of what I’ve fantasized about since my first weekend in the Hamptons. Since he picked me up for our first dinner together. Since I first saw him from across the bar on what I thought was the worst night of my life.
“Just us,” he confirms.
On a hard swallow, I slowly nod. “Okay. Just us.”
“Perfect.” He grins, pulling away from me. “Oh, and by the way...”
“Yes?”
“You have no idea what hearing you call me Mr. Gage does to me, Guinevere,” he growls, the husky rumble hitting me deep in my core. I open my mouth, stunned, unsure how to respond to his brazen flirting. Thankfully, the light turns green and he puts the car back into gear, following the flow of traffic.
I blow out a long breath, smoothing a ringlet behind my ear as I squeeze my legs together, praying he doesn’t pick up on how on edge I am. If he does, he doesn’t say anything.
When we walk into Julian’s house after an uneventful drive, it’s unusually quiet. Normally the foyer is bathed with light, heavenly aromas of whatever Camille has prepared for me to eat upon my arrival meeting me. Now it appears like a ghost town.
“Where is everyone?”
“I gave them the weekend off,” he explains as he heads toward the stairs.
“You did?”
“Yes.”
“When did you do that?”
“When you dozed off on the drive.”
“I’m sorry. I’m a horrible fake girlfriend. I’ve just been really tired lately, and—”
“Has anyone told you how adorable you are when you snore?” He continues up the stairs and down the corridor leading to the wing where our bedrooms are located.
“I do not snore.”
“You do. Don’t worry,” he adds quickly. “It’s not this big, gravelly snore that makes me worry you’re about to keel over and die. It’s this little snore, almost like a whistle.”
“A whistle?”
“Yes. A whistle. Music to my ears, baby doll.”
When we reach the door to what’s become my room, he doesn’t stop, continuing toward his, leaving me confused. Every other weekend, there’s been an itinerary full of events for us to attend. Without that, I’m uncertain what to do, how to act, who to be.
“Julian?” I call out. He spins around, arching a brow. “What are we doing?”
“You wanted a bit of sun and sand. Go put on a swimsuit. I’m taking you out on my boat.”
I chew on my lower lip. “I’m not sure I have one for this weekend. This wasn’t on the itinerary, so I doubt Dana set one aside. There are a few outfits in case of emergency, but I didn’t see an extra bathing suit.”
“Just put on one you’ve already worn. If I can make a suggestion…” He grins a devious smile. “That two-piece you wore your first day here was…” His eyes harden as his pupils dilate, the vein in his neck throbbing.
“Yes?” I bat my lashes.
“Hot, Guinevere. It was fucking hot.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Holy crap,” I moan as I revel in the flavors dancing on my tongue. Garlic. Butter. The spiciness from the bold cabernet Julian opened to complement our meal.