11. Chance Encounter - Jules
“I can’t believe you’re not going to be my roomie anymore.” Les flops onto the mattress in my new bedroom with a dramatic sigh. “You didn’t have to move out so soon, you know.” She’s over the moon about my new job, but the end of our slumber party is making her sad.
Truth be told, it’s making me a little sad too.
Hanging up a dress in my dinky closet, I shoot her a smile. “It’s much closer to work,” I point out. “Besides, I had to find my own place eventually.”
“I know. I just thought eventually would be a while longer. God, I’m going to miss your face first thing in the morning.” She takes a look around my bedroom. “You know, this place is kinda small. Are you sure you’re going to be okay here?”
“Seriously, Les?” I laugh, raising an incredulous brow. “I’ve had my shit all over your room for the past few weeks. Why are you not celebrating getting your space back?”
Lesley sits up suddenly. “Hey, that’s a fantastic idea. We should go out tonight,” she says, her tone brightening. She switches gears as fast as she drives. “Let’s celebrate, ‘kay?”
“Tonight?”
“Jules, it’s Saturday, and we haven’t hit the club once since you’ve been here.”
That’s true. I’ve been too busy busting my ass at MontBlake, trying to stay busy in order to make a good impression, but also to minimize contact with Cash. It’s almost been two weeks since he hired me, and instead of the heat between us sizzling out, it’s only gotten hotter.
“So where are we going?”
“Club Shadow. Zan’s been trying to get the band a gig there.” She shrugs. “Maybe I’ll have better luck. I’ve seen pics of the owner. He’s a hottie for sure.”
“All right. Count me in.”
“Sweet!” Jumping to her feet, she snatches a red dress from the bed. “You should wear this. You’ll have every guy in the place drooling.”
“Why do people say that? It’s not like the sight of drool is sexy.”
Rolling her eyes, she pushes the dress into my hands. “Just be ready by eight.”
“Okay, boss. Will do.”
“Speaking of…” she says, glancing at her watch, “I’ve gotta put in a couple hours at work today. Accounting bullshit.”
I walk her out, and after she gets into her Bug and disappears down the alley, I go back inside and resume unpacking. My clothes and personal items don’t take long to put away, since most of what I own came with me in a large suitcase, and the apartment came furnished. But I did buy other necessities with what little money I had left over from my savings after paying a deposit and three months rent on this place.
And maybe Les is right. Maybe this huge step should be cause for celebration. This is all a little surreal—the new city, new job, new me. A version of myself I didn’t know I was capable of finding. A me that can make it on her own. A woman, despite what Mom says, is capable of being alone just fine. I’m liking this new woman.
But I’d like her a lot more if she’d quit lusting after a married man.
I still have a few hours to kill before Les comes back, so I step outside and lock up the apartment, excited about exploring the area. A gentle breeze drifts through the vestibule, and I don’t miss the Oklahoma humidity at all. In fact, with each day that passes, Seattle feels a little more like home instead of a place I’m visiting. I descend the stairs and head down the alleyway as the sun breaks through fluffy white clouds. Those rays warm my skin, and I’m flushed by the time I end up at Pike Place Market.
Taking in the weekend bustle with a secret smile, I step into the busy market, overwhelmed by the expanse of fresh food and handmade crafts as the lilting melodies of street musicians filter in from the sidewalk. I feel like a child on Christmas, wanting to sample everything. Touch and taste everything. Experience everything. I’m eyeing a display of berries when I sense a presence behind me.
“Hello, Jules.” His tone is deep, and it tingles down my spine. He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t have to. I turn to face him, preparing myself for the shock that electrifies me every time I lay eyes on Cash.
Once again, I remind myself that he’s my boss, and fucking married, but nothing stops the smile from spreading across my face.
Even worse, he’s wearing the same excited grin.
“Hi,” I say as a wave of heat washes over me. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I stop by most Saturdays.”
My eyes are masters of treachery, and they take him in from the casual wind-tossed state of his dark hair to the running shoes on his feet. Jesus. Cash in a suit is dangerous, but seeing him in a T-shirt and shorts is lethal.
I’m gawking and helpless to stop it, so I word-vomit the first thing that comes to mind. “This place doesn’t seem like your kind of scene.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to snatch them back.
Or kick myself. Possibly both.
An amused smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. I tear my attention away from such dangerous territory and lock my eyes on his, which isn’t much better because everything about this man has me aflutter.
“That came out wrong.”
“It’s okay,” he says with a laugh. “I know what you mean.”
Does he? I’m skeptical as he crosses his arms, stretching thin cotton over the muscles his suits fail to accentuate. For an insane second, I think about running my fingers over his biceps.
Get a fucking grip, Jules.
God, how I’d like to.
“Even pretentious guys like me are susceptible to the charms of a Seattle tradition.” He shoots me a look full of mischief.
“You are so not pretentious.”
Swarms of people are passing by, and Cash steps toward me to clear out of their path. “Have you been here before?” he asks as he grabs a small container of blackberries. He’s so close that his breath rustles the top of my head, and the woodsy scent I’m ashamed to admit is as familiar as my own perfume floods my nose.
“Uh…” Blinking, I snap out of my stupor. “Today is the first day I’ve made it down here.”
“That’s criminal.” He moves toward the cashier, and I follow without thinking.
“Why’s that?”
“Well, it’s been five weeks since you moved here. That’s about five weeks too long.”
He’s poking fun at me, but I can’t get past the fact that he remembers the exact amount of time I’ve been in Seattle.
After he pays for the berries, he pops one into his mouth. “Walk with me for a while? I’ll share.” He holds the container toward me, and I pick up a berry, my fingers trembling the slightest bit. We step onto the brick street and meander around the various food carts on the sidewalk.
“How are you liking Seattle so far?”
“I’m loving it. I think I could really call this place home.” Peeking at him from the corner of my eye, I reach for another berry, and my arm brushes his, skin to skin. Even with the breeze, it’s too warm out to blame the eruption of gooseflesh on the weather. We walk in companionable silence for a while, popping berries every few steps. “Where are we going?”
“Where do you wanna go?”
Sliding the fruit between my lips, I try to shrug with nonchalance, but I’m sure I fail. Or maybe he doesn’t notice how nervous I am, since his attention is on my mouth.
“You been to the waterfront yet?” he asks, and my heart skips a beat because I don’t think I’m imagining the uneven quality of his voice.
“I haven’t.”
“You’re racking up the felonies today.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s criminal,” he reminds me. “You might call Seattle home now, but that doesn’t mean you should skip the tourist experience.” He tilts his head toward Elliot Bay. “Want to check it out?”
“Sure.” I’ll do anything he asks if it means I get to spend more time with him. I shove the fact that he has a wife to the back of my mind. I’m convinced my good friend Denial lives in that area of my brain.
The sidewalk is busy. Even so, we stroll toward the waterfront closer than is necessary. Closer than is appropriate. Before long, a Ferris wheel looms ahead of us.
He gestures toward the giant ride. “You up for it?”
I glance at the monstrous wheel. This whole encounter feels like it’s straddling the line we’re trying hard not to cross, but I can’t bring myself to break away from him. Being near Cash is so intoxicating, it’s addictive.
With a nod, I let him usher me through the tide of bodies to the ticket booth, where I lose the battle of trying to pay for myself. He insists, and we shuffle into the short line. As we wait for the next gondola, his presence behind me sends a palpable wave of heat over my backside.
I convince myself the warmth flushing my skin is from the sun, but as we board, I know I’m fooling myself. Not even the summer heat could light me up like this. A flutter of excitement goes off deep in my belly as I slide onto the bench. He scoots in beside me, and though we have the gondola to ourselves, he chooses to remain at my side.
Maybe he’s worried I’ll have a panic attack. Or maybe he can’t fight this uphill battle any more than I can. The need to be near him is inescapable.
Fuck. The only thing scary about this ride is the fact that we’re confined in a private setting, utterly alone.
“You should see the view at nighttime,” he says.
“I bet it’s spectacular.”
As the gondola moves a few feet forward, he rests an arm along the back of the bench, and his hand lingers next to mine where I’m holding onto the seat. We aren’t even touching, but no one’s nearness has ever affected me like his does. As the ride sends us higher, I’m taken back to our brief time on the plane, and suddenly, I wish he had kissed me. At least then I could have tasted him under the umbrella of anonymity. But that ship has sailed, and it hurts something fierce to know we’ll never get that chance again.
“Wow,” I say, leaning toward the glass doors. I peek at the ground and watch the movement of people shrinking in size as we climb skyward. To my left, I spy the Space Needle, but the rest of the Seattle skyline stands like a panoramic picture in front of us.
Cash looks over my shoulder, his chest brushing against my back. “So, you’re afraid to fly but not afraid of heights?”
The scent of his aftershave fills my senses, and I catch myself swaying into him. My pinky twitches toward his hand, and not even the sight of his wedding band has the power to shatter this moment between us. Will he touch me the way he did on the plane if I tell him I am scared? But I’m not a liar by nature, and there’s no way I’m going to lie to him.
“Probably lacks logic, but no. I love heights.”
He inches his hand closer to mine. “What is it about planes that scare you so much?”
“The unknown, maybe?”
“I think it’s perfectly logical, Jules. Planes are pretty much at the mercy of chance, the skill of the pilots, and even Mother Nature. You never know when a flock of birds will take out an engine.”
“I’m so glad we didn’t have this conversation up there,” I say, nodding heavenward.
He laughs. “I figured I’d spare you the terror.”
“You made me feel safe.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and I hear him inhale a quick breath. Slowly, his hand slides over mine.
“You made me feel the opposite.” He dips his head, and his breath teases the space behind my ear. “You still do, Jules.”
We’re stalled at the top of the wheel. I’m afraid to move, and it has nothing to do with the distance to the ground below, or the way the gondola is gently rocking in the wind. I feel as if I could sit here forever with him, frozen in time. Barely breathing.
Just soaking up the heat of his breath on my neck and the sound of his voice in my ear.
He breaks the spell by removing his hand from mine. As the Ferris wheel begins moving again, he puts several inches of space between us.
“I promised I wouldn’t put you in a precarious position when I hired you.” A heavy beat passes. “I’m going to do my damnedest to keep that promise, Jules.”
There’s a note of reluctant determination in his tone. The selfish girl in me curses his resolve, and for a moment, I’m weak enough to wish he’d break his promise. Weak enough to break the promise I made to myself.
I want his hands on me—and more than just a brush of his fingers on the back of my hand or drifting over the small of my back. Fuck no. I want him naked and on top of me, taking me with the passionate fervor I somehow know is burning inside him. I’ve never craved dominance before, but something about the quiet authority in everything he says and does calls to me.
We’ve gone a full rotation on the wheel, and we spend another whirl in silence until I can take it no more. The silence or the worry plaguing me.
“Is this going to work? Because I just signed a lease on an apartment. I need this job, and if you think it’s a bad idea, I can—”
“Jules, stop.”
I fall quiet, not even questioning the gentle command in his tone.
“If you’re uncomfortable working directly for me, I’ll transfer you to another job with equal pay. It’s not your fault we met before you walked in for that interview.”
“It’s not your fault, either,” I point out.
“No, but I don’t ever want you to feel uncomfortable. Your job will never be in jeopardy because of how I—”
He breaks off abruptly, and I scoot to face him, completely uninterested in the view at this point. Not when Cash is sitting beside me, on the cusp of admitting his feelings for me. I’ve known it since that night on the plane, just as I’m sure he’s known how I feel, but we’ve never come right out and said it.
We’ve tiptoed around it, but we’ve never voiced the forbidden.
I study his expression, cataloging the resolute furrow of his brows and the unwavering line of his mouth. And that’s where I falter. That’s where I allow myself to wish he’d bring his tempting mouth down on mine.
Obviously, he has no intention of going there.
“Do you understand what I’m trying to say, Jules?” His voice is a soft caress to my senses, and I find myself nodding.
Agreeing even though every fiber of my being revolts at the truth behind his words.
He’s married. I’m his employee. And that’s that.
“I understand,” I say, tingling under the steel of his gaze. Everything we’re not saying flows between us as the last leg of the ride passes. The gondola comes to a stop, and we finally break eye contact.
He falls into step beside me after we exit, and we head back toward Pike Place amid the flow of foot traffic and the constant swoosh of cars on the freeway overhead. A few minutes later, we stall on the brick road in front of the market.
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Is your place close by?”
Chewing on my lip, I nod.
“I’d walk you home, but…”
“It’s okay,” I say, shuffling my feet like a fool. “You’re my boss, so…”
Something about my words seems to bother him, because he takes a step toward me, brows furrowing. “I’d like to think we’re friends.”
“Me too.” No matter how impossible that notion seems.
Friends or not, allowing him to walk me to my apartment is out of the question. It doesn’t have to be spoken by either of us; we both know if he walks me home we’ll be tempted to end our time together in my bed.
“Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun.” I want to ask if I’ll see him again next Saturday, but I bite back the question.
“Me too.” He runs a hand through his hair, and my attention is drawn to those long, lethal fingers. God, how his touch would set me on fire. My resolve to do the right thing would disintegrate so easily.
“I’ll see you Monday at work,” I say, slowly backing away. Thirsting for an escape from my own desires.
“See you Monday,” he says with a nod.
Somehow, we manage to turn at the same time and walk away from each other, and I wonder if it was as difficult for him as it was for me.