“Shoot,” I said, trying to decide what to do. Go straight back home? Or try to lose him? There were plenty of people around, plenty of doormen in the buildings nearby. We weren’t in danger, exactly. This was Park Avenue.
“Okay,” I said finally, “let’s just walk back to the house. Act normal.” I slipped my hand into my pocket and fingered my phone.
We crossed Park and walked down the two blocks to Julian’s street. I didn’t look back, but I could sense him there—unless it was just my neurotic imagination—ten, fifteen yards back, matching our pace, dodging in front of taxis to keep up.
We turned onto Seventy-fourth Street. Julian’s house was only a few doors away, and as we started down I saw a black sedan pull up outside it. The rear door opened almost before the car had stopped, and Julian’s familiar figure sprang out. “Thank God,” I said, hurrying my steps, pulling Michelle along.
“Welcome back,” I called out, as he crossed the sidewalk to the steps.
He looked over and saw us. His face, in the pale yellow glow of a nearby streetlamp, broke into a wide exhausted smile. He set down his laptop bag and opened his arms just in time to receive my hurtling body. “Hello, beloved,” he said, in a husky whisper delivered directly to my left ear.
Then his arms loosened and he looked up.
“Ah,” he said, and I could sense the smile in his voice, “you must be the famous Michelle.” I stepped back, and he reached out his hand to her. “Julian Laurence. Delighted to meet you at last.”
She rose to the occasion. You could always count on Michelle for that. She shifted her latte to her left side and shook his hand firmly and said, without the smallest bit of self-consciousness, “Hi, Julian. Great to meet you. And thanks so much for having us all out. It’s been great seeing Kate look so happy.”
His eyes moved back to my face, and the corner of his lip lifted intimately. “I certainly hope so,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”
“Very happy,” I said. I hadn’t seen him since he’d driven away from the cottage three days ago, except for the half-remembered sensation of his body curling around mine for a few hours’ sleep. “How did everything go? Did you save the world?”
The smile disappeared. “Not exactly, but we’ve at least hammered something out. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.” He looked back at Michelle and twinkled. “I trust you’re not going to ring up your broker with that information, hmm?”
“Don’t have one. Kate’s the finance guru. I majored in anthropology.” She nodded at me. “So is your stalker still around?”
I glanced to the corner and saw a male figure hovering there. “Michelle, don’t,” I warned, but it was too late.
“Stalker? What’s this?” Julian’s body coiled in readiness, like a snake’s.
“Yeah, some weirdo at Starbucks was following us back.” She swiveled. “Look, he’s still there. Ducking back around the corner.”
“Wait! Julian, I…”
He’d already taken off, a sprinter out of the blocks, exploding down the sidewalk.
“Oh my God,” Michelle said. “Do we follow him?”
“No,” I said sharply, “wait here,” though my every nerve strained to go after him.
“Shit, he’s fast. I’ve never seen a guy move like that in a suit. Like freaking Superman.”
“He’s pretty active.” I stared intently at the corner around which he’d just disappeared, remembering all our hours spent running and swimming, rowing and hiking and sailing.
“He’s not going to get hurt, is he?”
“Actually, I’m more concerned for the other guy.” I looked down at his laptop bag on the steps next to us and picked it up.
We waited a big longer. Nothing: no sound, no sight of them.
“Okay, if he’s not back in another thirty seconds, I think we should go check it out,” Michelle said.
But Julian appeared back around the corner almost as she spoke, walking quickly, straightening his suit jacket. Alone.
“What happened?” I called out.
“He ran off. Disappeared.”
“Seriously?” I asked. “He dodged you?”
Julian shrugged. “He had a good head start, and then he went ’round the corner of Sixty-sixth and vanished, more or less.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t worry, though. He didn’t seem that threatening. I doubt he’ll be bothering you again.”
I frowned. This was not like Julian at all. “Okay,” I said slowly, “if you say so.”
“Come along.” He took my hand. “Let’s get inside. Michelle? Everything all right?”
She shook her head clear. “Yeah. Just way more drama than I’m used to, that’s all.”
Me too, Michelle. Me too. The words rose up uninvited into my thoughts, followed closely by: And I guess I’d better get used to it.
WE WENT UP THE STEPS and into the house. Julian ducked into the library to put away his laptop bag, and I took the latte cups down to the kitchen to throw away. When I came back, Julian and Michelle were standing in front of the living room bookshelf, trying to find her something to take upstairs.
“Latin?” she was saying. “You have books in Latin?”
He laughed. “That’s more or less what Kate said, the first time she stood here.”
“Yeah. I’ll bet. And wow,” she added, fingering another title. “Fanny Hill, huh? Lucky Kate.” She pulled it out. “I think I’ll take this one, if you don’t mind. Haven’t read it since college.”
I lifted my eyebrow at Julian; he winked back.
“Look,” Michelle said, “I’m super tired, and you two probably have a lot to chat about, so I’ll just discreetly head upstairs. Good night, sweetie.” She gave me a hug and a kiss on my cheek. “Good night, Julian. Nice meeting you.”
“I like her,” he said, as her footsteps tripped up the stairway.
“Well, she thinks you’re going to break my heart.”
He looked down at me bemusedly, and I saw the weariness in his eyes.
“Oh, look at you.” I put my hands to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. You’re exhausted.”
“A little.” He eased his arms around my waist and turned his head to kiss my palm. “It’s been a rough few days, and not just this debacle downtown.”
“What can I do for you? Food? Bath? Bed?”
“I’ve eaten, more or less, but the other two sound ridiculously inviting.”
I smiled. “I’m at your service. Come along.” I slipped out of his arms and took him by the hand, up the stairs and down the hall to the bedroom.
“Take off your suit,” I ordered, over my shoulder. “I’ll run your bath.”
“You’re an angel.”
I turned on the faucets to the bathtub and poured in some vanilla bath oil. The steam began to rise, humid and fragrant, from the water; I turned to see him standing there, fiddling with his cufflinks, his suit jacket and trousers already put away.
“Let me do that,” I said.
He held out his arms, one by one, and I pried the cufflinks from their holes and set them down on the counter. His hands looked pale, as though the fluorescent office lights had somehow leached away the summer tan from his skin over the past few days. I began unbuttoning his shirt, trying to keep my fingers steady, to stay dispassionate; to remind myself that he was tired, that he was human; that it was my turn, now, to make the necessary sacrifice.
The last button came apart. I reached up and pulled the shirt from his shoulders, and then grasped the bottom of his white cotton undershirt with my fingertips. He lifted his arms obligingly, the better for me to ease it up over his chest and head. His skin shone like honeyed alabaster in the gentle glow, dusted with fine blond hair.
“Okay,” I said, “I think you’d better do the rest yourself, or this bath water is going to go to waste.”
“Kate,” he said, taking my hand, “join me.”
I looked at the bathtub. It was one of those old-fashioned roll-top models, perfect
for a single Edwardian male, not so much for an adventurous modern couple. “Is there room?”
“We’ll make room,” he said, pulling impatiently at my camisole. “I can’t bear to be away from you any longer.”
He settled into the bathtub and reached for me, his arms enclosing me, my back melting into the muscles of his abdomen: the sweet osmosis of reunion. I felt his breath brush against my ear, and I closed my eyes and tucked my head against his collarbone. “This is insane,” I sighed. “It’s only been a few days. What if you have to fly to Hong Kong or something?”
“I’d take you with me.” He bent his head to nuzzle my cheek.
I sat quietly, listening to the sound of his breathing, of the vanilla-scented water lapping around us. “Thanks again, by the way,” I said at last. “For bringing out my family to babysit me. You blew them away. And me.”
“You give me far too much credit. Allegra made all the arrangements; I only issued the invitations.”
“You did way more than that.”
He didn’t answer for a moment, and then: “I’m glad it made you happy.”
“You make me happy. I’m sitting here, right now, feeling you next to me at last, and I’m just… happy. Just happy. This is all I want in life.”
“All?” His fingers entwined with mine; I felt his thumb press my ring.
“You,” I said. “Just you.”
“You have me, Kate.”
“Yes, finally.” I pulled his gleaming arms closer. “I’ve been craving you. Your touch. Not to sound melodramatic or anything; I’ve just been spoiled all summer, having you within reach most of the time.”
“Mmm.” Another moment of quiet communion, until he broke the stillness in a low full voice. “Do you know what kept me going, in the middle of those damned sessions, bank officials droning on pointlessly?”
“I can’t imagine.”
He bowed his head next to mine and let his breath warm the skin of my face, my neck. “I started off by picturing you at your very height, beloved. When your cheeks are flushed scarlet and your eyes burn up at me, begging me to send you over the edge. And I wonder how much longer I can hold out, how much longer I can keep you teetering on the brink, without simply disintegrating altogether.”
“Oh, great. With the fate of Wall Street hanging in the balance.” I closed my eyes. Steam curled into my nostrils, vanilla and Julian, delicate alluring alchemy.
“Or else when you’ve taken charge of things,” he went on, drawing his wet hands upward. “And your head’s tilted back, and that midnight hair of yours tumbles down your shoulders, and your pale breasts dance before my eyes, and I’m half mad with the sight of you, the feel of you.”
“Julian.” I covered his hands with mine.
“But that proved far too stimulating,” he conceded, brushing his thumbs against my breasts. “And so I thought of you afterward, sprawled across my chest, your skin glowing against mine like a moonbeam. And the way you look up at me, at last, with your limpid eyes and your enchanting smile. Or else with some cheeky remark, perhaps, to keep me properly in line. And I wonder whether such happiness is even right. Whether I’m not tempting the gods into some unholy vengeance, knowing such bliss.”
“Only you,” I said weakly, “only you could worry about that. All that’s going through my mind at that moment is how much time you’re going to need to recharge.”
“That’s all?” He reached down under the water and pinched my backside. “I’m expiring with love for you, little minx, and you’re only thinking about your next ruddy orgasm?”
“Well,” I giggled, squirming to avoid his nipping fingers, “you do it… so well… Julian! All right! Yes, I do… on occasion… reflect on the metaphysical profundity… Julian! I’m serious. You know that. You know I’m… that I…”
“You what?” He stilled his fingers, eased his arms back around me.
“You know how I feel.”
“Mmm.” His lips buried themselves in my hair, and I placed my arms over his. In the quiet, I could discern the faint creaking of the floorboards above us, the trickle of water through pipes: Michelle, I guessed, getting ready for bed.
“Charlie tells me you had an uneasy moment the other day,” Julian said at last.
I shifted against him. “Oh, that. Just a guy hanging around outside yesterday, when we got to the house. Maybe the same guy as tonight. Same build.”
“Mmm,” he said again.
“And there was something else. When I got to my apartment, it looked like Brooke had gone through my things, and I was kind of thinking…”
“Gone through your things? What do you mean?” His voice sharpened.
“Well, my papers. Drawers. Not that I have anything top secret lying around. But with all this going on with Sterling Bates, and both of us involved in it…”
A beat of silence. I felt the slow spooling of tension in the muscles beneath me. “Darling,” he said, “why don’t you ring up Allegra tomorrow and give her the details. We’ll have a moving van there straightaway.”
“Yikes.”
“Lest you forget, Mrs. Ashford,” he said, “this is your home now. Our home.”
“I know. I’m just getting used to the idea.”
“We could always find something else, you know. If you’re not comfortable here. An apartment, perhaps, if you’d rather. Grand or small, anything you like.”
I smiled at the thread of anxiety in his voice. “I love this house, Julian. It’s perfect. It’s home. It’s just a big change for me, that’s all.”
He pressed my ring again. “Does it bother you?’
“Well, strangely enough, it was easier when you were back in Connecticut. As Julian Ashford, I mean. It all makes more sense coming from the real you. This, on the other hand, is more intimidating.” I waved my hand.
“This?”
“Your Manhattan life. Julian Laurence, head of Southfield. Crusher of evil business adversaries. Endless loops of you on CNBC.”
He began laughing. “Kate, for goodness’ sake. We’re the same man.”
“No, you’re not,” I insisted. “When you’re talking on the phone with one of your traders or whatever, you’re all ruthless and commanding. Which is sexy, I won’t deny it, but… Excuse me, would you stop laughing for a moment?”
“Darling,” he said, picking up my hand and kissing the inside of my wrist, “what would you have me do? Whisper sweet nothings in the poor chap’s ear?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying I don’t see that side of you. You don’t show me…”
“That’s because I’m in love with you. Besides, if I but tried to talk to you that way, minx, you’d let me have it.” He paused and covered my other hand with his own, drawing them both inward. “Sweetheart, I know what you’re trying to say. You haven’t been living with this as long as I have; it’s not natural to you. But you’re overanalyzing again. Whatever I am, darling, Laurence or Ashford or whatever the ruddy hell, you’re always at the absolute center of me. Don’t waste an instant worrying about any of that.”
I wiggled my toes, catching the emphasis. “So what should I be worrying about?”
He hesitated.
“Look, Ashford. I can tell when something’s on your mind by now. So spill it, please, so we can move on to the welcome-home sex.”
“Nothing like candor, is there?”
“You love my candor. Now talk.”
His body shifted, straightening against the back of the tub. “Kate, I’ve been doing a great deal of thinking during these interminable meetings. I think it’s time for a change of strategy.”
“Strategy?” I trailed my fingers through the cooling bath water, watching the ripples spread out and ricochet from the walls of the tub. “What do you mean?”
“You were right to come into the city. I’ve been a coward, an ostrich, hiding both our heads in the country soil and hoping it would all go away. I haven’t learned the lessons of my own war, you see. I’ve been busy digg
ing in, instead of taking the battle to the enemy and ending the conflict entirely.”
“Sorry, I don’t quite follow military logic. What exactly are we talking about?”
“I mean it’s time to flush out whoever it is that’s threatening us.”
“Threatening us? Is someone actually threatening us? Like that guy tonight? Because you didn’t seem worried…”
“Because I don’t think that’s related.”
“Related to what? To my stuff being searched? To all these vague premonitions of yours? I mean, what’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”
He didn’t reply at first. “Look, Kate,” he said finally, “you’ll have to take a bit of a leap of faith here. There is a danger, a real one. I honestly can’t tell you what it is. I don’t even properly know myself. But it’s there, Kate, whatever it is, and I think it’s time to stop hiding from it.”
I was silent.
“What are you thinking?” he pressed me.
“Julian, I trust you. If you think there’s something out there, fine. Hire a bodyguard. Do whatever it takes so you can rest easy at night, and we can live our lives.” I stopped. “Just what do you mean by flushing it out?”
He drew in a deep breath; I felt myself rise and fall on his chest. “I mean go out. In public. Charity balls, opening nights, that sort of thing. Allegra can arrange it all; she’s quite efficient. Make a bit of a splash.”
“What?” I sat up and turned to face him, sloshing water over the sides of the tub. “Are you kidding?”
“It may, I hope, provoke our chap to act. And we’ll be prepared for it.”
“Julian, I don’t do that stuff. I’m terrible at it. Look at what happened at MoMA. I broke a champagne glass over a guy’s head. And I wasn’t even drunk.”
“I’ll be by your side every second,” he said. “It’s September, and the social calendar is full of all sorts of rubbish. You might even enjoy yourself.”
“No, no, no. Way out of my sphere. What, prance around in designer dresses and be your arm candy? Are you nuts?”
He frowned at me. “I thought you wanted to spend some time in the city.”
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