by Keary Taylor
They load the plane within the next few minutes and Julian and I hand our tickets to the attendant for them to be scanned. We make our way down the ramp and into the plane.
I glance down at my ticket for my seat number and slide into it. Julian stashes our bags above head and looks down at his ticket. With a smile, he looks back down at me.
“This is your seat, isn’t it?” I ask, indicating the seat next to me.
“Well, how about that?” he says as he lowers himself into it.
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” I accuse him, even though I’m fighting a smile.
“Actually,” he says, leaning toward me. “I was on standby for both these flights. I booked them so last minute the airline wasn’t sure they’d be able to get me on. This is pure luck.”
Some guys are difficult to tell when they are joking and when they are telling the truth. Despite Julian’s teasing nature, I am sure he’s telling me the truth.
The attendants finish loading the plane and for fifteen minutes it is chaotic and noisy and the air grows stuffy and filled with too many people smells. Julian leans slightly toward me to avoid getting his shoulder abused, and I don’t mind that his other one is brushing mine.
The attendants roll through the standard flight safety spiel and then we are taking off. In three hours we will touch down in Toronto.
“How have the last few dance classes gone?” Julian asks after the attendants have taken our drink orders. “Are you enjoying the rumba?”
“Things have been fine,” I say, tearing my eyes away from the window to look at Julian. “Beth has been having a hard time with the men since you disappeared on us. They aren’t getting it very quickly.”
“How about you?” he asks. “Are you?”
Truth is that I am doing average, no better or worse than anyone else. “Getting to wear shoes finally helps.”
“Hmm,” he mutters. “I look forward to seeing you in your beloved shoes.”
I pull the inflight magazine from the pocket in front of me and open it to a random page. I have no intention of reading it, but I need something to keep my hands and eyes busy.
There is something about the rumba that is incredibly sexy and intimate. The moves are controlled and precise and Beth insisted one of the keys to the dance is eye contact. It’s hard to do when you’re staring down Frank who is fifty-six years old and always smells of pickles and smoke.
I’ve been dying to dance the rumba with Julian ever since I saw the first steps. I wanted his hands on my body again and I wanted to hold that intensity in his eyes with every excuse to be doing so.
But then he disappeared.
“I do hope you were able to find a room to stay in in Toronto,” I say, still not looking up from the magazine. I turn the page absentmindedly. “Apparently there is a big conference going on. Gretch had to spend an astronomical amount of the company’s money on a room for me.”
“Actually,” Julian says, crossing his ankle over the opposite knee. “When I looked, there were no rooms available. Everywhere I looked was booked or over a thousand dollars a night.”
“You apparently had the money to book a last minute first class ticket,” I counter. “Surely you could afford a room.”
“Call me frugal.”
“So where are you planning to stay Mr. Dohring?” I ask, looking over at him and raising an eyebrow. “The park benches will be getting a little wet with all the expected rain.”
“I suppose I’ll be left to the streets,” he whispers, leaning in closer. “If some kind soul doesn’t offer me refuge.”
“Are you asking me to scandalously invite a man into my hotel room on a business vacation?” I say, now only inches away from those devilish lips of his.
“I’ll tell the world my only intent is the couch,” his voice drops even lower and I can feel his breath on my jawline.
“And we’ll all know you’re a liar,” I breathe.
“May I get the two of you a Chardonnay?” the attendant interrupts.
Julian sits back in his seat relaxed and unembarrassed so I try to do the same thing. But my skin tingles and my chest feels warm. “I’ll take one, thank you.”
“And you Maam?”
I shake my head. “I’ll just have a Diet Coke.”
The attendant nods her head and leaves to get what we asked for.
“That’s twice now that you’ve declined a drink while I’ve been around,” Julian observes.
“I like to have a clear head,” I say, holding his eyes and daring him to question further.
Julian eventually gives a nod. “Fair enough.”
We get our drinks and while the conversation dies down and is quiet, I contemplate the fact that I know I will let Julian stay in my room with me and what that will mean. How am I going to handle this situation in less than three hours?
I haven’t slept with someone in over ten years, and I will not change that. But can I trust my body to agree with my head when the door closes, there are no prying eyes around, and no events pressing on our time?
I hope so.
But I tend to transform into a different person when it comes to Julian and his wicked lips and savage hands.
Two and a half hours later, the tires touch down in Toronto. Julian once again takes my bag and we are let off the plane.
“I’m assuming you have at least one other bag?” Julian asks as we walk into the main terminal. He’s teasing as usual, I can barely imagine the sound of his voice without it, but he isn’t being disrespectful.
“I thought I was doing pretty good, only having to check one bag,” I say as I adjust the strap of my briefcase over my shoulder.
“I am impressed,” Julian says as a full smile breaks over his gorgeous face.
When Julian smiles, I can’t help but smile too.
We reach the baggage claim and my robin’s egg blue suitcase that matches my carryon comes rolling out. Julian grabs it and clips my two bags together. When he turns to leave the airport, I realize he isn’t waiting for any more bags for himself. He’s got his duffle bag and that is all.
For some reason, this makes me smile.
“So,” Julian says as we near the exit. “Taxi or rental car?”
“Taxi,” I reply without hesitation. “There is no way I’m driving myself around an unfamiliar city of this size.”
Julian lets out a huge breath and a chuckle at the same time. “I am so glad you said that. Not that I don’t trust your driving. So far you’ve been an excellent taxi.”
“What do you mean?” I question as we step out onto the sidewalk and I raise my arm for a taxi. One instantly spots us and makes its way over.
“Confession time, if you’re ready for it,” he says with raised eyebrows. A smile curls on my lips and I shrug one shoulder. “Traveling to big cities seriously stresses me out. If I have to drive, I’m an anxious train wreck.”
“See,” I say as the driver stashes our bags in the trunk and we climb in. I quickly rattle off the address of the hotel and he takes off. “I’m once again beginning to wonder if you really do have your own car. You obviously don’t like to drive.”
“Oh, I don’t mind driving,” he says as he looks out into the evening light. “But not when I don’t really know where I’m going. I have an irrational fear of getting lost on the roads.”
“That’s an interesting fear,” I say, starting to feel uncomfortable. This is starting to sink into the personal and so far I’ve managed to avoid this.
No man has wanted to get too personal with me once they’ve spent a few minutes in my presence. After so many years, I’ve convinced myself that I don’t want to get too personal anyway.
Don’t let people see the real you and they can’t ever hurt you.
I’m questioning my ability to cling to that doctrine through this weekend.
“Mazeophobia,” Julian says. I give him a quizzical look and he continues. “That’s what it’s called.”
My instinct reactio
n is to say something sarcastic and snarky about it, but I’m really not that cruel. “It’s understandable,” I say, not entirely sure what to say. “I don’t like driving in unfamiliar places either.”
“So we thank you for your services, sir,” Julian says, his tone instantly light again.
The driver chuckles and waves a hand at us.
Just seven minutes later, he pulls up to the front doors of the hotel. I pay the man with the company credit card, and he leaves Julian and I there with our luggage.
The lobby of the hotel is huge with at least twenty foot ceilings. Giant wooden pillars with metal inlaid in them stretch high above us. Every so often, an abstract sculpture hangs from the ceiling. The space is intimidating and reeks of successful residents.
It’s a bit cold and manly feeling for my taste, but I like it well enough.
We walk to the huge check in desk.
“Welcome to the Four Seasons,” the man greets us with a warm smile. “How may I be of service?”
“I have a reservation under Digit Securities,” I tell him.
The man takes ten seconds to look it up. “Miss Sage McCain?” I nod. “And I see you’ve brought a guest with you.” There’s suggestion in the man’s voice that both makes my face warm, my skin prickle, and my blood race. “Your name, sir? I just need it for emergency reasons. We like to know who’s staying with us.”
“Julian Dohring,” he replies. I can hear a smile in his voice and know he didn’t miss the desk man’s suggestive tone either.
“Okay,” he says as he types that in. “You two will be staying in the Bellaire Suite on the fifteenth floor.” He slides two room keys into a sleeve and lets it rest on the counter. “I just need you to sign here, and here.”
I sign the papers and take the room keys. I turn and don’t look at Julian as we walk toward the elevators.
There is an ancient looking man hobbling his way in our direction. I catch his eye and he smiles at Julian and I.
“You two look like you’re just starting out a honeymoon,” he says with a wink. “You make a lovely couple.”
“Oh, uh…” I stutter, about to correct the man.
“Why thank you sir,” Julian says as he puts an arm over my shoulders and hugs me close. He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “We are very happy and it was a lovely wedding.”
The man beams and gives us another wink as he starts on his way again. “You two kids have fun tonight.”
My face is frozen in horror as Julian walks forward, his arm still around my shoulder and presses the button for the elevator. It immediately dings and we walk inside.
“That was…” I struggle for words.
“Fun,” Julian says. He sees my still frozen in disbelief face and gives me a lopsided smile. “You know we just made that old man’s day. Come on, it was cute for him and hilarious for me.”
Suddenly my face unfreezes and forms into a scowl. “Maybe I should just let you go ahead and spend the thousand dollars for your own room tonight.”
“I don’t think so,” Julian says back. “I’m already on the room. They took my name down and everything.”
“Hmm,” I say, still scowling. “A couch for you tonight may be too generous. I’m thinking the floor maybe and you can use that jacket as a blanket.”
Julian’s eyes darken and his face drops into the come-hither realms. He takes a slow step forward. He puts a hand on the wall behind me on either side of my face and lowers his own to the side of my ear. “I think I might be able to change your mind about that.” His breath traces its way down my neck and down the front of my shirt. Every cell in my body becomes electric. He barely brushes his lips against the hollow at the base of my ear.
The door slides open.
“Ew!” a shrill voice calls out. Julian backs away instantly and my eyes widen in shame when I see the mother with two young children staring. The woman glares fire darts at us.
I lower my head and walk straight past them, leaving Julian to the luggage.
My fingers are trembling and it takes me three tries to get the door open. I push through it just as Julian catches up with me.
The room is huge with a designated bedroom area, a sitting area with a couch, two oversized chairs, and a television, and an enormous bathroom. Everything is beautifully modern and sleek. There is an overall white and sea foam green coloring to the place that makes it feel light and airy.
“Nice place,” Julian observes as he lets the door close quietly behind him. He wheels my bags in and parks them next to the bed. “King size.” He raises an eyebrow, but seems to know better than to look at me.
“Let’s find somewhere to eat, shall we?” I say, trying my best not to panic.
I am not prepared for this. I play tough and unaffected and I banter and tease. But having that door close and having this bed here and having no other eyes around makes this very real. There is only Julian and there is only me here and I am not fool enough to deny that I am ridiculously attracted to him.
But the past makes us who we are and I just cannot go there.
“Hey,” Julian says and when I catch the genuine concern in his voice, I turn. His brows are furrowed and he’s looking right at me. “I’m…I’m sorry. I’m just playing around. Sometimes I get a little carried away. I’m not trying to be an assuming dick.”
I bite my lower lip and I should say something snarky so he doesn’t see how upset I am, but I just don’t have it in me. So instead, I just nod and pull my phone out to start looking for somewhere to have a late meal.
CHAPTER SEVEN
In the morning, I wake to find Julian gone. For a moment I panic. I’d wanted him to back off last night, but the last thing I wanted him to do was leave. But then I see that his bag is still at the foot of the couch and there is a note lying on the coffee table.
Went for a swim.
My pulse slowly works its way back toward normal. Taking advantage of the alone time, I lock the bathroom door and strip down. The shower is complicated and modern and it takes me a minute to figure out how to use it, but soon hot water cascades from the rain shower head.
I do my hair in a French braid across the top of my head before knotting the rest of it in a complicated twist just below my left ear. Makeup kept simple yet effective, I hook a pair of simple earrings in and pull on a grey pencil skirt. I adorn the detailed white sleeveless top and top it off with a red, three-quarters length, blazer. A simple pair of black pumps completes the not too intimidating, but still confident outfit.
I open the door and step out to find Julian digging through his bag.
“You look nice,” he says, his voice sincere.
“Like I’m ready to conquer the Canadian banking world?” I ask, doing a slow turn for him.
“Something like that,” he says. He smiles, but there is something sad to it. But before I can observe it too closely, he looks back down at his bag and pulls out different clothing items. “You done with the shower?”
“Yeah,” I say, stepping awkwardly out of the way and clearing my throat. Julian gives that sad smile again as he walks past me and into the bathroom. I hear it lock, and a few seconds later, the shower is turned on.
Something has felt different between us since my freak out yesterday. I let that defense down, I let a crack show in my concrete barrier. He knows there’s a reason for the way I reacted, how could he not?
And now Julian isn’t being that flirtatious, borderline cocky guy he’s been since I met him. He’s keeping his distance and looking at me with something that isn’t quite pity in his eyes.
Deciding I don’t want to wait around and deal with it again, I leave a note saying I have to head to my meeting early, grab my briefcase, and walk out the door with my room key.
“It is going to be a pleasure working with you Ms. McCain,” Mrs. Valchez says as she signs her name on the contract. “I have to say, I am very impressed with your knowledge on this technology and your clients. You are very young. Your employer must t
hink you are an absolute gem.”
“Well, thank you,” I say, smiling. “I enjoy my work very much. And it is my pleasure to welcome you to the Digit Securities fold. I guarantee you will be very happy with the service you will receive. And your clients will never have to worry about security breaches again.”
“I do hope so,” she chuckles and leans back in her chair. “We’re going to be paying Digit handsomely for it.”
“Mrs. Valchez?” a young girl says as she steps inside the office. “I’m sorry, but your four o’clock is here.”
“Then I will get out of your way,” I say as I gather up the papers and slide them into my briefcase. “I will get on the phone with Digit and our IT department will get in touch your IT guys and we’ll get things rolling.”
“Thank you, Sage,” she says as she stands and shakes my hand. “And I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here in Toronto.”
“I’m sure I will,” I smile as I turn and walk to the doors.
I barely make it to the elevator before the victory squeal erupts from my chest.
My pulse was racing the entire meeting. I can usually stay cool and collected during sales pitches, but considering the scale of this one, I knew that if I messed it up, it could potentially cost me my job. Unlikely, but possible.
When I get to the lobby, I pull my phone and call Mr. Maxwell’s direct line. He answers after five rings.
“The paperwork is signed and the bank is on board,” I say as soon as he answers with a grumpy what? “I’m about to call IT and they’ll start getting the ball rolling.”
“I knew if anyone could get the sale closed it’d be you, Sage,” Mr. Boss says and I can hear the smile on his face. “As soon as you fax me the signed documents I’ll be having accounting deposit that bonus we’d talked about into your account. You remember the last one? I think we can safely approve twenty percent more for this deal.”
“Thank you, Mr. Maxwell,” I say, feeling pride blowing all of my insides up. “I’ll head to the business center at the hotel right now and get them sent over.”
