Page 35 of A Spy is Born
"Thank you.” I duck my head, all scared, sad woman in need of defense.A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
The night is warm,but I am chilled. Julian slips off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders as the black car pulls to the curb. I climb into the back. "Straight to the hotel," Julian tells the driver.
"Yes, sir."
I lean my head against the seat and close my eyes.
Julian is tense next to me. I turn to him, opening my eyes. "You okay?" I ask.
He lets out a sharp laugh. "Me? I'm fine."
"You seem tense."
"I am. That was intense."
"Yes, it was." I rest my head back again but keep my gaze on Julian. The lights of the city flash across his flawless features as we move through the metropolis.
"You were very brave," he tells me.
I flutter my lashes and glance away, feigning shyness. "Thank you, but I didn't do anything."
"You didn't scream with hysterics."Crap, maybe I should have."I'm sorry that happened to you."
"I'm more worried about him," I say, looking up at Julian, pouring sympathy into my gaze. "Do you think he's dead?”
Julian breaks eye contact to look out the window before answering. "I don't know. What causes a seizure like that? Epilepsy? I don't know what else." He turns back to me. "I'm not a doctor…haven't even played one on TV." He gives me a weary smile, and I return it.
"You'd make a very handsome doctor."
His smile grows, and he drops his eyes to the seat between us, playing coy. But we both know that we are some of the best-looking people on the planet. That's how we ended up in the back of this luxury car. For whatever talent we have, there is a genetic component to the placement of our features, the coloring of our skin and eyes, the quality of our hair, that has brought us as far as any ability to pretend.
"I think mothers would be much happier to meet me if I was a doctor. No one wants their daughter dating an actor."
I wrinkle my nose. "They can't be trusted, you know. Fakers, every last one of them."
He lets out a rich laugh that zings right through me. I'm suddenly starving for touch, affection, and oblivion. I don't want to fake anything else tonight.
My gaze drops to Julian's hands…long-fingered, elegant. I don’t think I’d have to fake anything with him.
When I bring my eyes back to meet his, Julian cocks his head. I let the heat in my center roll up into my gaze, burning away all the questions and strangeness of this evening.
"Angela." His voice is low, not a question so much as a statement.He’s been waiting for this.
I give him a coy smile, not fake. Nothing else will be fake tonight.
He walksme to my door, and I unlock and push it open, strolling in. Julian follows, not needing a verbal invitation. Tossing my purse onto the entry table, and slipping out of his jacket, I turn to him. He stalks toward me, the playful gentlemen replaced by a hungry predator.
The intent in his gaze sends a shiver over me, and I bare my throat, tilting my chin up.Take me.Take me away.
My back hits the wall, and I put my hands against it, letting him push up to me. No words are exchanged. We don't need them anymore. We've spent the last six weeks dancing around this—the inevitable.
His hand touches my waist, gentle and almost tentative except for the desire in his eyes, which have gone deep ocean blue in the dim room.
Julian lowers his head and brushes his lips to mine. I close my eyes, the glittering sparkles of darkness waiting for me, promising oblivion. My hands stay against the wall, feeling its cool smoothness as he kisses me. His tongue caresses my lips, and I open for him.
We've kissed before—under the lights, with the director coordinating each stroke of Julian’s hand, every one of my whimpers. Julian has touched my breasts before, caressed along the sides…wrapped his hand into my hair.
But never alone.
