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If anyone had been looking, they would have seen a slight shimmer in the air next to the biggest tree in the park. Then, they would have seen a tall, handsome, blond-haired man step away from behind the thick tree trunk. The thing is, the man hadn’t walked up to the tree. He hadn’t been there before.
Fortunately, no one was looking. At least not at the tree.
All eyes were on Julie.
Because even when Julie was in a bad mood—or maybe especially when she was in a bad mood—she was vision in motion. She walked with confidence, pulling herself up even taller than her five-feet-eight inches, and taller than the extra height the three-inch heels gave her.
She also walked hard and fast. With her coat mostly open, it was easy to see the bounce and bobble of her breasts against the thin black mesh of the dress. With her light olive skin, the darkest of brown eyes, and a shock of wild nearly black hair, she looked like she’d just walked off the set of a raunchy music video.
The park had a good dozen cement benches set in a ring around a fountain that had been closed for the winter. Cement walkways covered most of the area, with bits of dried out grass poking through dirty melting snow. Further out from the fountain, there were more grassy areas, and a nice mix of little trees planted in a line and big old trees that looked like they’d always been there.
Julie selected a sunny park bench with absolute purpose, as if it was an adversary to be defeated. She never hesitated about where she would land. When she sat down, it was as if she owned the cement bench. Her posture, and even the slight tilt of her chin up in the air told the world to lookout. The posture stayed even as the nasty-cold of the cement penetrated her chic jacket.
She was accustomed to attracting attention whether she wanted it or not. It would be easy to assume it was simply her looks, since she was tall and built like a female action hero, but it was her attitude as much as anything else. Sometimes her outrageous actions, too. And now, three men who’d been hovering near the benches were about to become her audience. And they were in for a show.
Julie crossed her legs, arched her back and angled her face up to the sun. A hint of warmth was a nice start, but it wasn’t going to fight off the icy coldness of the bench. If she stayed too long, she knew her butt would be positively numb. Yet it was worth it to feel something—and that something had nothing to do with the cold bench or the warm sun. She knew in a few minutes, she’d have men hitting on her (assuming they had an ounce of courage) and she’d have the fun of dismissing them. Turning them away. Giving them a dose of what she was feeling right now, except she’d be the one in control.
It was a small and petty, and she knew it. But she also knew it would help fight the pity and self-loathing that was threatening to overwhelm her. And it was a whole lot better than going home and crying. Though she’d probably do that, too.
The classy black trench coat caught a gust of wind whipping through the park, the coat flapped entirely open, showing off Julie’s barely clad body in the hot little dress, and lots and lots of leg.
As she stretched her hands toward the back of the bench, Julie had to try not to smile. She let the tiny length of skirt crawl up practically to her hips. But she didn’t care (officially, anyway). She knew the effect it would have on her onlookers. Let them look. Let them squirm. The unspoken challenge was out there. Let them try, only to find out they would be the ones going home alone.
Unless, of course, she decided to indulge in one of them.
Hel-lo.
Where did that beautiful blond man come from? He walked toward Julie, but never once looked at her. In fact, he seemed to avoid looking at her.
He was well over six feet tall and moved like a wobbly, baby deer—like Bambi getting his footing in the big scary forest.
He wore a crisp, perfectly pressed white button up shirt, an unbuttoned navy pea coat, and thin linen pants—the kind that allowed a woman to imagine the material moving lightly over his thighs like a gentle stroke of a woman’s hand. And what a happy hand that would be.
His skin glowed like golden sun light and now that he was just a few yards away, she could see he had the most intriguing color of periwinkle-cornflower blue eyes. It was as if they were mysteriously reflecting the blue sky above.
When he sat on the bench near Julie’s, he crossed his long legs like an overgrown kindergartener and seemed to contemplate the air molecules.
He was a hunk in a hand basket and Julie needed him to want her.
She stopped posing for the miscellaneous admirers—none of whom had walked up to her yet—and concentrated on Mr. Hunk. He was a mere two benches away to the right. Certainly he’d chosen it for a reason, and that reason had to be her.
She shifted her gaze away from the man, hoping it would give him the opportunity to stare at her, then she’d catch him in the act and smile coyly at him.
Over in the grassy area of the park—the part that would be grassy come summer, anyway—a man with a dog on a leash stooped to pick up something with plastic wrapped around his hand like a big loose glove. Dog poop. The man was picking up his dog’s poop. How disgusting. Yet the man seemed happy, like it was the highlight of his day. He and the dog continued on their way, first to a trash can, then making their farther and farther away. Every once in a while the man would stop to pat the dog on the head, or chat with people who wanted to pet his dog. Eventually, they moved along out of sight, continuing their normal boring activities elsewhere.
What would these happy, shiny people do if they were suddenly aware of the Chicago Julie knew? The one where demons sublet apartments, werewolves work in the financial district, and vampires throw birthday parties for their girlfriends? Well, obviously girlfriend wasn’t the right word. Acquaintance? An acquaintance you had sex with, and paid for it with dresses, diamonds, and a birthday party.
Thirtieth birthday party.
Holy crap. Not twenty-nine. Thirty.
Talk about What now?
Surely it sounded worse than it was.
Julie eased a subtle look over to Mr. Hunk, but he wasn’t looking her way. Not yet, anyway.
He reached into his small wicker picnic basket, retrieved some nuts, and tossed them to a waiting squirrel with the oddest coloring. The squirrel had a shiny tan coat for the most part, but it had a dark gray muzzle, making him look a little like a cartoon character that needed a shave.
Then, the squirrel did the oddest thing. It scampered up to the man and sat right next to him on the bench. The blond hunk didn’t seem surprised. His only reaction was to hand the squirrel another nut from the basket. He actually handed it to the animal as if this was the most natural thing in the world. The squirrel seemed to expect this and accepted the nut, nibbled at it, and continued to sit with the man.
While all of this was certainly strange, it wasn’t nearly as strange as the picnic basket suddenly appearing. If anyone had been looking, they would have noticed the man didn’t have a picnic basket when he walked from the big tree to the bench. And the picnic basket hadn’t already been at the bench. It just appeared.
Even though Julie had been watching, she wasn’t in the state of mind to notice whether the man had been carrying anything. She just watched him.
The squirrel received a few more nuts and tilted its head first to the left, then to the right. Mr. Hunk looked like he whispered something to the squirrel, then pulled himself up straighter as if he was ready to face the world.
Julie decided it was time to make him want her.
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