“I’ll replace them.” He kisses my forehead and I smirk.
“No need. I don’t mind.”
“Did you bring a dress?” he asks.
“Yes, why?”
“I’d like to take you out tonight.” He runs his hand up and down my back and I feel like purring.
“Okay.”
“Good, let’s go shower.”
Chapter Seven
I study myself in the mirror and grin. I’ve pulled my blonde hair into a loose bun behind my left ear. My eye makeup is smoky and sexy, setting off my blue eyes, and pink lip gloss is smoothed over my lips.
It will probably be kissed off before we leave the apartment.
My dress is light gray and strapless, with a sweetheart neckline. It’s gathered between my breasts and has soft ruffles that fall down the length, just above my knees. I have pink diamonds in my ears, a birthday gift last year from Natalie, a pink bracelet on my right wrist and pink Louboutin heels.
Grabbing my gray clutch bag, I toss in my phone, lip gloss, money, debit card and driver’s license.
Time to knock Nate’s socks off.
Coldplay’s The Scientist is playing. Nate is not in the great room or the kitchen, and I know he’s not in his bedroom or master bathroom because that’s where I just came from.
Huh. Where is he?
I wander back down the hall and see the light on in his office. Leaning against the door frame, I watch him work. I love his work face. His eyes are narrowed, watching the computer screen, and he’s quickly tapping on the keys, most likely sending an email.
He looks absolutely mouth-watering in black jeans and a snug-fitting royal-blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. I love seeing the tattoo on his right arm. His hair is loose, because I asked him to leave it down while we were scrubbing each other in the shower. A shower that took about four times longer than it should have because we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
It’s like my birthday and Christmas all rolled into one when he’s naked, and he seems to feel the same way about me.
“Am I keeping you from work this weekend?” I ask, smiling at him. His head jerks up and those gray eyes go wide as he looks me over from head to toe.
“No, nothing important.” He pushes back from his desk and saunters over to me, his warm gray eyes holding mine. “You are stunning.”
“Thank you. You look incredible yourself.” I run my fingers through his hair and I don’t care that I have a goofy grin on my face. “I like your hair down.”
“Do you?” He bends down and softly kisses my neck, just below my ear. “You take my breath away, Julianne.”
“I’m glad.” I kiss his chin and adjust one of the buttons on his shirt. “Where are we going tonight?”
“There’s a great seafood place down on the waterfront.”
“Sounds good.” He kisses me, sweeping his lips across mine, and then lays his forehead on mine.
“Let’s go.”
***
Dinner has been enlightening and delicious. We have talked like old friends, and I’ve learned even more about Nate’s childhood, growing up as an only child with just his father. We’ve avoided talking about work, so I decide to broach the subject.
“So, what’s going to happen Monday?” I ask and take a sip of wine as we wait for dessert.
“I’m assuming we’ll be at work,” he comments, and eyes me apprehensively.
“You know what I mean.”
“Well, let me ask you this,” he takes my hand and examines my French-tipped fingers. “Is this a one-weekend thing for you? Do you want to go back to having a purely professional relationship at the stroke of midnight tomorrow?”
No! Is that what he wants? The thought makes me sick. I’ve learned so much about him in the short twenty-four hours we’ve been together; seen such an amazing new side to him. I enjoy his no-nonsense conservative side at work, and I can’t get enough of the bad-boy I’ve met today.
“No,” I whisper. “That’s not what I want.”
He exhales deeply and kisses my fingers, relief evident on his gorgeous face. “Me neither.”
“So, what do we do?”
“We continue having an amicable, professional relationship at work, and whatever happens outside of the office is our business.” He shrugs like it makes perfect sense. Like it’s so easy.
“I’m not a good actress.”
“Oh, I don’t know, you’ve done well enough for the past eight months.” He sits back and takes a sip of wine, not letting go of my hand, his eyes hooded.
There is no choice. If we give any clue at work that we’re intimate we’ll both be fired. If we decide to never see each other again, I’ll be devastated and broken-hearted. Neither option is appetizing.
“Okay. Business as usual.”
“Excuse me,” our waiter approaches the table and I smile up at him. “Aren’t you Jules M from Playboy?”
I feel the blood drain from my face. I’m never recognized, ever. It’s been five years since I last posed in that magazine, and it has to be now, when I’m with Nate, that some kid remembers seeing me in a magazine his dad probably had hidden under his bed.