by Sarah Bailey
I leaned back in my chair, crossed my arms, and gave him a skeptical look. “Now, really. You know all of my tells.”
The corner of his lip quirked up, and his eyes became speculative. “Well, not all of them. But I will, soon enough. Nothing gets past me, Sarah.”
I cocked my head to the side, and smirked at him. “Okay, I’ll bite. Tell me one.”
His eyes began to twinkle, and he leaned forward. “Whenever you’re overcome by strong emotion, your lip starts to quiver. It happens almost every time I look at you. Now that either means you’re drawn to me or you’re repulsed by me. Whatever it is, I have a strong visceral influence on you.”
I breathed in sharply, and felt my lower lip start to quiver. I quickly took a sip of water to try to hide it, but even my hand was trembling slightly as I brought the glass to my lips. I could feel a rash of heat rising from my chest up to my neck. I looked at Julian sheepishly, and he seemed to take soft delight in my embarrassment. But not at my expense. It was more like he was happy that he could read me so well, and that I seemed to trust him enough to not try to hide my vulnerability.
I downed my water, and slammed the glass on the table. “Okay, you got me. I definitely need a drink.”
He nodded and flashed me a victorious smile. “Red or white?” he asked again.
“Red,” I said.
“Great.” The waiter was in our general vicinity, and Julian motioned for him to come back to our table.
“Mr. McGregor. So nice to see you again. What can I get you to drink?” he asked. He was a lanky, middle-aged man, with closely cut salt-and-pepper sideburns. He smiled at me brightly, then looked attentively back at Julian.
“We’ll have the Barolo Granbussia Riserva. In a decanter please.”
I practically choked on my water. That was a four hundred dollar bottle of wine. In the Liquor store. Before the three hundred percent mark up they usually added in restaurants. And then there was the way he ordered. In that perfect Italian accent. So unbelievably sexy.
“Very well sir,” the waiter said, giving Julian a slight nod, and then disappearing again.
“Julian,” I said in a pleading tone. “You can’t. I mean, I can’t accept. That’s an outrageously expensive bottle of wine. Also, a whole bottle? Are you trying to get me drunk? And then fired?”
Julian shot me another wicked look. “And what if I am? Trying to get you drunk, that is. You deserve to loosen up a bit. And we’re sharing the bottle. So in the end, it’s only two glasses, Sarah. And, there’s no way you’re getting fired. You’re much too valuable an asset.”
“But you’re driving,” I blurted out.
“No, I’m not. I’ve hired Steve to come get my car. We’re taking a cab back to the office.”
“I can’t accept, Julian,” I repeated in a soft voice.
“Yes you can,” he said sternly. “And you will. You deserve it, Sarah. And I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than treat you wonderfully.”
I felt totally overwhelmed. My mind was muddled with conflicting emotions; part of me loved the idea of being pampered, another part of me felt so undeserving of such a grand gesture.
Julian’s expressions suddenly became curious. “By the way,” he said. “How do you know so much about wine?”
“My dad,” I began. “He had a wine cellar. Back in Manhattan. In the house I grew up in. He loved his Barolos. Still does. As kids, we weren’t supposed to go anywhere near the cellar, but I often played hide and seek with my sisters, and that was our favorite place to hide out. When I was in grade ten, I stole two of his precious Barolos and got drunk with my two best friends. As far as I was concerned then, it tasted just awful, and the incident ended with all three of us with our heads in a toilet bowl. And when my dad found out, I was grounded for a month. It wasn’t until my early twenties that I was actually able to tell the difference between a good wine and a bad wine. So really, it was a big waste.”
Julian gave me another sly, provocative smile. “I knew there was a wild girl streak in there somewhere. You come across so contained, so controlled.” His expression darkened, and again his eyes caressed my lips and my curves. “But I can see the passion simmering just below the surface.”
I felt my lip start to tremble again, and Julian’s eyes became riveted to my mouth. I sat up straight and smoothed back my hair, doing whatever I could to avoid Julian’s gaze. Luckily the waiter returned, providing a well needed distraction. He showed Julian the bottle, opened it, and poured him a splash to taste. “The lady will test it,” he said, handing me his glass. “She has an excellent palette.”
I took the glass from Julian and took a long sniff, savoring the aromas of plum, spice, and rich tannins. The wine itself had a complex structure and a smooth finish. I gave the waiter a look of approval. “It’s fabulous.”
He nodded, filled up our glasses, and took our orders. I decided on the cobb salad, and Julian picked the steak and frites.
There was a long silence as we sat there for a moment enjoying our wine. Julian finally broke it. “Are you seeing anyone, Sarah?”
I almost spit up my fabulous wine. Even with all the innuendo, somehow his question still came as a surprise. “No,” I said quietly. “And I want to keep it that way.” I was amazed by how firm I sounded.
Julian sat back in his chair, and eyed me with that now familiar assessing look. “You’re a beautiful woman, Sarah. And smart, too. You’re an absolute catch. Why are you not open to dating?” he asked, scrutinizing me closely.
“Because,” I said, my voice sounding a bit shaky, “I’m trying to focus on my career right now. I don’t have time to get into a relationship.”
He took another sip of his wine, and shook his head slightly. “That sounds like a rationalization.” Then his face clouded over. “Are you not interested in dating? Or are you not interested in dating me?”
I gave him a long look, and he stared back at me, trying to read my expression. “It’s a bad idea, Julian,” I finally said.
“Why?”
“Because I work for you. And I don’t want to jeopardize my career.”
Our meals arrived, and I quickly busied myself with unfolding my napkin, adjusting my cutlery, anything that would keep me from having to look at this smoking hot man in front of me, because I knew that if I met his eye, my resolve to push him away might falter.
“Sarah,” he said in deep, rumbling voice that put my stomach in knots. “Look at me.” And I did. And again my breath caught when I saw the relentless desire in his eyes. The way he was looking at me held the promise that he wouldn’t back down, no matter how many times I pushed him away. But I couldn’t give in. My career was important to me. I couldn’t throw it away. I had to be strong.
“You don’t work for me,” he said in an even tone. “You work for Paul.”
I drove my fork forcefully into a leaf of romaine lettuce, and shook my head. “But you and Paul are partners.”
“We handle separate accounts.”
I shook my head. “It still looks bad,” I said.
“I don’t care how it looks.”
I glared at him. “Well, I do.” My hand started trembling again, and my voice rose a bit. “You have nothing to lose. You own one of the most successful talent agencies in the city. Scratch that, the country. I’m just a new young hire, who has everything to lose. Working for Paul is a chance of a lifetime for me. I don’t want to blow it.”
Julian took a long sip of his wine, and his expression softened a bit. “I won’t jeopardize your career,” he said. “No matter what happens with us, your job is safe.”
I felt so conflicted, so confused, and it must have shown on my face. Julian reached across the table and put his hand over mine. Just the feel of his strong, warm hand on mine sent a charge of electricity coursing through me.
“You can’t deny the strong attraction here, Sarah.” I looked up at him helplessly. He tightened his grip on my hand. “I’m not going to let you deny it,” he
said, forcefully. But then he pulled his hand away, and the instant he did, I had an immediate craving for him to put it back. I realized I was already addicted to his touch.
The feeling of loss must have registered on my face, because Julian suddenly looked encouraged, and more determined than ever. “Let me take you out tonight.”
I felt myself frown slightly. “Like on a date?”
His expression became deadly serious. “Precisely.”
Flustered, I looked away. “I can’t,” I said. “I’m meeting my roommate.”
He scrutinized me closely, no doubt trying to figure out if I was lying. I decided to expand, feeling like I owed him an explanation. “I’m heading to the bar she works at. Strut. On Sunset. I promised I’d go tonight.”
I saw something flash in his eyes, something I couldn’t quite place. “Alright,” he finally said. “But I will take you out, Sarah. On a date. In the very near future. Are we clear?” he asked, his expression hot and demanding.
I sighed, and then, despite my better judgment, I surrendered. “Crystal,” I said, downing my final sip of wine. Then I looked at my watch. It was almost 1:30. I must have looked panicked, because Julian reached across the table for my hand again.
“Don’t fret, Sarah. I’ll just get the bill, and then we can head back to the office.”
In five minutes we were in a cab, on our way back to Cooper McGregor. I had to admit, I’d had a fabulous time with Julian. Despite my reservations, there was no doubt I was drawn to him. Still, the reservations were significant. Sitting in the cab with my wine buzz fading, fear suddenly bolted through me as it dawned on me that I may have made a huge mistake. Despite what Julian said, there was a very real chance that going on even one date with him might jeopardize my career. There was no question I had to think this all through carefully, when I was far away from him and could think straight.
Chapter 5
I couldn’t have been more excited to get home from work that day. The afternoon had been crazy hectic, with Paul having me draw up more contracts, type up his notes, and read through more works in the slush pile. When I got back from lunch with Julian, he gave me a weary look. I could totally tell he wasn’t impressed. I even think he ran me so ragged that afternoon because he wanted to make sure I was more about work than play.
I sunk into our comfy, brown leather couch, and threw my purse on the coffee table. I noticed the message light was beeping, so I went and picked up the phone. There were two messages. The first was from Angela.
“Hey, babe. Just reminding you that you promised to show at Strut tonight. And I’m holding you too it. See ya soon.”
I smiled into the phone. I could always count on Angela to pull me out of my default mode of housebound workaholic. It was 8pm, and she was clearly already at work, but I desperately wished she was home so I could dish about Julian. I so needed to vent right now. The second message was from Lisa. My absolute bestie. She was living in Manhattan right now, working at a literary agency, but we still talked at least once a week.
“Hey Stranger, home early tonight. You know your life’s pathetic when early means 7pm. I know you’re still at work, seeing as it’s 4pm in sunny L.A., but if you get this before 11pm my time, give me a call. I miss you tons.”
It was 11pm her time now. Perfect. I dialed her number, and hoped and prayed she wasn’t in bed yet.
“Ser! I was just about to pack it in for the night. How are you, babe?”
I smiled into the phone. If there was one thing I loved about Lisa, it was her exuberance. She always sounded so excited to hear from me. “I’m okay,” I said.
“You sound hesitant,” she said. “I know that voice. What’s going on?”
“Man troubles.”
“Okay, this I gotta hear.”
“Well, I’m trying to figure out if it’s worth throwing my career out the window for a chance to bang the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “You are so not thinking of sleeping with your boss.”
“Not exactly. More like my boss’s partner.”
“Julian McGregor. You can’t be serious.”
I let out a long sigh, and walked to the kitchen to go grab a glass of water. “I know, I know, but he’s coming on really strong, and, there’s just something about him.”
“Okay,” she said, “I get it. But be careful with this, Ser. I love you girl, but your taste in men is questionable. And I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
I slumped back onto the couch. “Right, my notoriously bad taste in men.” I sighed. Lisa had hated my ex, Rob, right from the beginning. We’d gone to a dive bar in Venice Beach together at the end of our sophomore year at UCLA, and Rob’s band, The Bare Essentials, was playing that night. His vocals were haunting, raspy, majestic, and I’d immediately known I’d randomly come across the next big thing. Both Lisa and I had been rapt through their whole set, with the drummer effortlessly laying down the beat, and Rob doing these crazy, intense guitar riffs between his delivery of his rockin’ lyrics. He caught my eye at the end of his set, and came over to join us. Our connection was instant. He was tall and handsome, with disheveled dirty blond hair, and he was wearing an endearingly grungy band t-shirt underneath a badass leather jacket, and motorcycle boots. We ended up going down to the beach after Lisa went home, and talking all night, then watching the sun rise over the ocean together.
Lisa had found him charming enough that night. But she soon started to develop a distaste for him. She once warned me that he was too needy for praise and attention, and whenever he got it, it made him act cocky. She predicted that he would probably cheat, and she was right.
Lisa cleared her throat over the line. “Listen. I don’t mean to be a downer, but I’ve heard things about Julian McGregor. Well, not exactly heard. But I’ve read all about him in the gossip column. From what I’ve read, he seems to be with a new girl every month.”
I suddenly felt dread and jealousy form knots in my stomach. “So you’re telling me he’s a player,” I said, matter-of-factly.
“Ser, I don’t know. It’s just what I’ve read. But you should be super careful with this one.”
I felt a feeling of unease creep into my stomach, and my chest tighten. Lisa’s words were like a well needed splash of cold water in my face. Of course the man was a player. It was so easy for him. I’d seen all the heads that turned when we walked into Melinda’s that afternoon. If the attention he received then was any indication, he had women crawling all over him. And look at my own reaction. It was pathetic, really. I was practically ready to drop my panties at the first sight of him, and jeopardize my whole future for what would end up being a casual lay for him. No, there was no way.
“Thanks for hearing me out, Lisa. And for the advice. You’re probably right. Getting involved with him is a stupid idea.” I could hear Lisa banging around in the kitchen. “Enough about me. What’s up with you?”
Lisa chuckled darkly. “Oh, you know, I’m living the dream, babe. Making thirty grand in Manhattan, fetching coffee all day, and reading horrible unsolicited manuscripts. You know, leading the oh so glamorous life of the editorial assistant. Remind me, why did I want to move to Manhattan again so badly?”
I pulled my legs up onto the couch. “For the frenetic pace, and the culture and sophistication you said you couldn’t find in L.A.”
“Right,” she said, her tone sheepish. “Now if I only I made enough money to actually enjoy those things.”
I bit my lip, and decided to tread cautiously. “What about the trust fund your parents set up for you?”
She sighed in frustration. “I want to make my own way.”
I nodded to myself. I knew the feeling. “Of course you do.”
She laughed again. “But that didn’t stop me from dipping into it for buying a ridiculously chic set of clothes for work. Too bad everyone else was dressed in jeans or outfits from Walmart. Now my pretty threads just sit in the closet because I’
m too embarrassed to wear them.”
I chuckled. Lisa had always been obsessed with sophisticated clothes. While everyone else came to class in jeans and a tank top, Lisa always showed up wearing designer dresses in bright floral colors. With her straight, sleek brown hair, hazel eyes, and high cheekbones, she was a real looker. But no matter how sexy her outfit was, she always wore her trademark dark framed square glasses. She said she hated contacts, and liked that the intellectual look intimidated guys. According to her, she could quickly tease out what guys were worth her time based on how they responded to her ‘nerdy glasses.’
I got into an argument about this with her, saying her method of observation wasn’t very scientific. Just to prove her point, she drew up a fake resume, and, dressed in a naughty school girl outfit, full makeup, and trademark glasses, she dragged me to a strip club on Sunset. The sleazy manager invited her over to a table by the dance floor for an informal interview. He told her they should talk privately, but she insisted that I would be staying with her for protection. The six foot tall manager looked me over and chuckled to himself, clearly amused that Sarah consider at 5’4 girl as ‘protection.’