Chapter Eleven
Julian
In truth, I already knew that my feelings for Josephine weren’t 100% platonic; the memory of her figure in that red gown from the gala had ensured that. She had curves and grace, such a classically beautiful face that over the last week, I found myself trying to memorize every detail. Despite all of that, she was also down to earth and humble, a contradiction that made me wonder if she knew her effect on men or if she’d somehow skated through life without yet realizing it.
I told myself I noticed these details and thought about her beauty not because I wanted to sleep with her, but because she and I had become friends. Besides Lorena and Dean, Josephine was my only friend in New York. Plus, after only a week of working with her, I was fairly certain that out of everyone, I enjoyed her company most of all.
She was smart and witty, different than the women I’d surrounded myself with in Boston. My life there was cold, a boring routine I’d tried to think of as something more. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but there was definitely an emptiness in my life there. Yes, I’d achieved quite a lot: I had an investment portfolio that guaranteed I didn’t need to work another day in my life, three cars, and a house in the most expensive part of the city, but then I thought of Josephine’s smile, and everything I’d built before just seemed…hollow.
How?
How could she have done that to me so quickly?
“Jesus! It’s like the zombie apocalypse over there by the bar,” Josephine said from behind me as she rounded our cocktail table, balancing four drinks in her hands. I reached out to help her, but she had a delicate balance going.
“I recommend nursing your drink for as long as possible. The chances of getting another one are slim to none.”
After we’d arrived at Provisions, Josephine and I had decided to divide and conquer. I’d found the table Dean had promised us and she’d headed to the bar to grab our drinks.
I eyed the tequila shots she set down beside our sangria.
“Shots?” I asked with a smirk.
Josephine smiled up at me and it felt like a punch to my gut. She was so fucking beautiful. Her dress was short and black, the straps barely there and the neckline verging on dangerous territory for me. When she’d climbed into the car earlier I’d fought the urge to maul her. Thankfully the driver had been there to keep the peace.
“And sangria! I figured since you have some Spanish blood, you’d approve,” she said with a wink.
I smiled. “My grandfather was from Spain.”
Her eyes lit up. “So that’s where you get your whole ‘Latin lover’ look from. I was wondering,” she said, waving up and down my body. “You could totally be in a soap opera.”
I laughed. “Thanks?”
“That’s a good thing! Seriously, every girl likes that look.”
I wondered if “every girl” included her. Instead of asking, I licked the patch of skin between my pointer finger and thumb and then sprinkled some salt over it. Josephine did the same, but before she could reach for her shot, I grabbed her hand and held it in front of my mouth.
Her eyes widened as she stared up at me.
“Is this how you Spaniards do it?” she asked, a slow smile peeling across her lips.
I could feel her arm shaking against my hand and instead of answering, I bent forward and licked the salt off her skin. Her nostrils flared as she watched me and then a moment later she realized she was supposed to follow suit. She leaned forward and licked along the inside of my hand. She might as well have been giving me a blow job by the way my dick stirred in my pants. Her lips were just as soft as I’d imagined them to be and I had to resist the urge to pull her mouth to mine.
I released her hand, we reached for our shots, and we downed them in one go. The lime slices followed and I laughed as Josephine’s features contorted from the burn of the alcohol.
“Jesus, that was strong!” she said, reaching for her sangria. I watched her lips wrap around the brim of the glass just before hearing my name from across the bar.
“Julian!” a voice called from behind me. “I’ve been looking all over for you man.”
I glanced to my right to see Dean approach our cocktail table, eyeing Josephine with curiosity. There was another guy with him, a friend I didn’t recognize.
“What’s up Dean? You just missed the tequila shot,” I said, holding up the empty shot glass.
He smiled. “There will be plenty more, I’m sure,” he replied, letting his gaze fall on Josephine and then back to me with a question lingering in his stare.
“You must be Julian’s new employee,” he said, stepping forward and extending a hand. “I’m Dean, and this is my friend, Lucas.”
I nodded to the newcomer and then glanced back at Josephine. Her pale green eyes lit up and an unfamiliar shot of jealousy wound through me as their hands touched.
“Dean as in Dean Harper?” she asked. “This is your restaurant?”
Dean smiled, obviously pleased that a beautiful woman knew of him. I resisted the urge to burst his bubble. I explained who you were on the way over.
“How do you like the place so far?” he asked, stepping another foot closer. My fist clenched under the table.
“It’s amazing,” she said, waving her hand over her head. “The courtyard is beautiful.”
Dean caught my eye and quirked his brow. I shrugged. We’d just communicated an essay’s worth of content in the matter of a second.
“Let me show you around. There’s another courtyard up front that I bet you’ll love,” Dean said, extending his elbow for her to take. “Although—you’re not on the clock right now, are you?”
My mouth opened, but no words came out. What was I going to do? Forbid her to go with him?
She glanced over at me from beneath her lashes, a silent request lingering between us. My eyebrows rose as I took a sip of my drink. By all means, let Dean sweep you off your feet.
They strolled away together and I resisted the urge to sneak a glance at her walking away in her little black dress. I already had the image burned into my memory anyway. Her waist was tiny and her curves were impossible to forget. Fuck.
“So is that your friend?” Lucas asked, filling the spot where Josephine had just been sitting. I didn’t really feel like explaining myself to a stranger, but it was better than sitting alone.
I nodded and took another sip. Josephine had advised me to nurse the drink, but there was no way that was possible now.
“She’s gorgeous,” he said, waiting for me to contradict him.
I narrowed my eyes and stared at Lucas. “She’s my assistant.”
He laughed and nodded. “Of course. Of course.”
I ignored him and downed the rest of my drink.
“Do you think you could put in a good word for me?” he asked with a crooked smile. “Y’know, if Dean doesn’t end up going for her?”
I scooted my chair back from the table and ignored him. I’d rather wait for Josephine at the bar than deal with the rest of that conversation.
I found Josephine and Dean over in the courtyard, talking beneath a canopy of trees. He was pointing out various features of the restaurant, waving his hand around to the trees and the fountains beneath them. She had a smile perched on her lips as she listened to him talk and for a while I kept my distance, watching them together. She’d tied her hair up at the base of her neck, revealing the slope of her back in her black dress. I couldn’t see them, but I’d learned earlier in the week that she had freckles sprinkled across both of her shoulders. They were faint, hardly there at all unless you looked closely. They’d be almost impossible to see in the dim light of the courtyard, but I knew I’d be able to find them if I got closer.
I wasn’t sure where to compartmentalize that desire. It wasn’t as if I’d never worked with a beautiful woman before. I’d had plenty of experience with tempting women throughout college and my early years working in investment firms. So why was I leaning against the arch of the courtyard, studying Josephine from a distance instead of wandering through the party, looking for a beautiful woman to take home for the night?
Josephine peered over her shoulder, scanning the crowd until her gaze fell on me. My gut clenched as her smile spread even wider.
She waved me closer with her hand and I resisted at first. My body warned me to keep my distance from her. That yearning in my chest? The tight twist of my gut when she was focused on me?
Those symptoms held all the makings of my demise if I wasn’t careful.