“Yeah, I couldn’t do it.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and let out a breath. “I took her home and came here. But not before making a special stop.” He held the pink box out to her. “For you.”
She accepted the gift, but just like when he’d asked to come inside, she had no words. Julian ditched his date with Ms. Gorgeous, and when he could’ve done anything else, he didn’t. He came here. To Amalie.
Her heart swelled as her fingers traced the box before opening it to reveal a dozen heart-shaped donuts. A you’re-totally-forgiven smile split her face. “Thank you,” she said as she led him to the couch. He nodded as he sat next to her, so close their shoulders brushed. She thought about moving or scooting down, but that would just draw attention to her awkwardness.
She reached for a donut, but then turned to him, nose scrunched. “Why did you buy me donuts?”
Julian’s hand traced an outline of a skull on her knee, his voice rough. “Because I wanted to tell you happy Valentine’s Day.”
She was held captive by the movement of his fingers, her body growing hot as she remained frozen, donut in hand. “But you told me that at the tennis court,” she said dazedly.
He dragged his gaze to hers, a thousand different emotions flitting through his eyes like the fluttering pages of a book. “I didn’t do it properly.” He moved to trace a skull on the top part of her thigh, slowly moving up, up, and up.
Was Write Night Seducer Julian about to make an appearance? If so, Amalie didn’t know if she could resist him again.
Then suddenly, as if jolting awake, Julian pulled his hand from her leg, blinking several times. Amalie bit down on her disappointment, careful to stop the groan that wanted to come rolling out. Once recovered, Julian reached for a donut too, stuffing it into his mouth.
“Hey!” Amalie pulled the box to her chest, cradling it protectively, desperately trying to erase the memory of his touch.
He shrugged. “You snooze, you lose.”
How quickly they returned to their normal banter.
“But you bought these for me,” she said.
“I figured we could share.”
“Ha, think again! I don’t share sweets.”
Julian grinned as he ran his hand over his perfectly fitting pants. “So why aren’t you out tonight? I figured you’d have a date—one of those rich boys from the country club or something.”
She pursed her lips and then extended a hand to the television where Parks and Recreation played. “Meet my date. We’re horribly busy, as you can see.”
Julian looked at the screen and back to her. “It’s actually kind of perfect. Mind if I join?”
She took a bite of her donut, saying with her mouth full (her debutante mother would be absolutely appalled), “Well, seeing as you did bring the donuts, I guess I kind of have to say yeah.”
Julian’s lips tilted in a lopsided smile as he settled deeper into the couch, kicking off his square-toed dress shoes. “I’m keeping that up here for future use.” He tapped his temple with his finger.
“What? That it’s easy to bribe me with food?” Her voice was light as she set the box on the coffee table and stood.
“You bet,” he called after her as she went to wash her hands in the kitchen.
When she returned, Julian was in the process of removing his tie—his throat, oh that sexy throat of his, constricting with the movement. The tie made a swish sound as it slid from his neck, and her mind ventured into all kinds of daydreams that involved various ways he could use that tie…on her. He made matters worse when he began unbuttoning his shirt a little, revealing the hollow of his neck. It was basically begging to be licked. She wet her lips as she gawked, thankful that he hadn’t even realized she was standing there. He sank into the couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table, effectively waking her from her stupor.
Awkwardness settled in her bones, and her heart rate kicked up as she wondered if she should sit back down beside him or sit in the other chair? Julian was the hardest person to read, and she still didn’t fully understand what he was doing at her house, but it was impossible to deny she was glad he was there.
As though sensing her dilemma, he patted the spot where she’d been sitting. “Come back. I won’t bite.” She raised a brow, and he added, “Unless you want me to.”
Amalie sighed dramatically in an attempt to hide how affected she was. With a huff, she bravely plopped down next to him. Julian swung his arm around her, pulling her close to his chest. “You know you like it.”
Like it? If he had any clue to the thoughts racing through her mind, he would be shocked. The temptation was way too much, actually touching him and sitting there on the couch like a couple, all cuddled up, especially since her risqué daydreams still sat at the forefront of her mind. Julian smelled so good, his sandalwood cologne mixing with his skin, giving her a smell that was so uniquely him that ignited her senses. On top of that, he looked so damn good all undone and rumpled. Her hands itched to run up his thigh, to explore, and her lips trembled with that leftover thought from earlier, to press against the tanned sliver of skin that was visible from his unbuttoned shirt.
Her thighs clamped together as she contemplated climbing into his lap and just saying to hell with inhibitions. She needed to move away from him for a second or else their entire arrangement was going to unravel. Julian propped his head on hers, his voice low, and said, “You know, Paul recommended I go out on that date tonight.”
Taking a deep breath that did nothing to calm her hormones, Amalie moved under the pretense that she was trying to meet his stare. His arm fell away and she tried not to think about how much she missed it. “What?” Her voice was a little too shrill.
Julian nodded as he scratched his freshly shaven chin. She missed the scruff—it added a level of sexy roughness. “Yeah, he told me I deserve a break, a chance to blow off steam, but I couldn’t get into it. Alexis was hot…”
Amalie’s lips flattened, her body instantly cooling down with those words, but Julian continued on undeterred. “But she was boring as hell and giggled at everything I said.”
“And we both know you’re not that funny.” Amalie winked and stretched her feet out. She pushed one foot onto the coffee table, knocking off a familiar ecru square painstakingly embossed in silver and black. It fell toward Julian, and he leaned forward to pick it up.
“What’s this?” he asked.
She snatched it from his hand, her gaze darting down to the classic stationery that screamed money. “It’s an invitation to my sister’s party next month.”
Julian studied her. “The one Romina mentioned a while ago?”
Shocked he remembered it, she fought to hide her surprise and answered, “That would be the one.”
“And Maxwell will be there?” he asked, Maxwell’s name coming out between gritted teeth.
“Of course. He runs in the same circles, and I’m sure he’ll bring his perfect fiancée.” The words sounded bitter even to her ears, but not for the reasons one would think.
“Do you still love him?” Julian asked, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his muscles tight.
“God no. I hate him. I just…I go to these things…and you know what? Never mind. Let’s just watch TV or talk about something else, anything else. Even tennis.” She turned her attention back to the screen, carefully avoiding his eyes.
Julian grabbed the remote, clicking off the TV before settling the full force of his stare on her. Something in his eyes made her lightheaded.
“No. I want to talk about this, Amalie. You always make such a fuss about me being shut off, but you’re not any better. I feel like even though we spend all this time together, I don’t know much about you at all, but I know I want to.”
A lump formed in Amalie’s throat. His words were tiny little sinews stringing pieces of her heart together. So often she was overlooked, pushed aside. It was rare that anyone cared to know exactly what made her tick.
Thrown off-balance, she s
hook her head as she put the invite on top of the box of donuts. She tapped it with a few fingers, making an offbeat rhythm. “You know I like donuts,” she offered weakly.
“I know. I know you drink sweet tea like it’s crack too, and that you love to write but lost yourself along the way, and that we’re a lot more alike than we think, but this personal stuff? I feel it’s only fair that if I have to share, so do you. You’ve even met my mom, but I’ve only seen your family in sad-looking photographs.” He gestured to her mantle.
“You’re not missing much.” Amalie sighed as she ran a hand over her messy bun. “Well, you’d like Simone and her daughter, but my parents?” She shook her head, not finishing her sentence.
“Are they home?”
“No. My mom took off with the guy she was having an affair with when I was nineteen. I only get postcards and guilt gifts from her. My dad? Well, he’s been gone since the end of January and will be back sometime next week.” At Julian’s questioning look, she added, “He’s traveling overseas, checking on our international hotels.” She pulled in a breath and added, “But the truth is, I don’t miss either of them, as horrible as that may sound. I feel less suffocated, less pressured without them hovering nearby.”
“Why?” Julian angled his body to fully face her, sincerity lacing his tone.
“Because for my whole life, Simone has been their world and that’s fine. You’ll be shocked to hear that we actually have a good relationship, but she stays busy with her family and social stuff. She’s the heiress, you know? But their attention shifted just slightly when my book hit it big. They realized I was worth something, if that makes any sense?”
Julian nodded. “It does.”
“Yet they still didn’t care about my actions, my running off to New York”—she gave her head a little shake—“at least not until I failed. Then they said they weren’t really surprised. My dad said I wasn’t cut out for success, and that’s why Simone was next in line.”
Julian’s face had gone red. “He said that to you?”
She nodded, her jaw tight. “Yes. He’s always tried to force me into this mold, like when he shoved tennis down my throat. But the thing is, I just don’t…fit. Now you see why this book is so important to me? I’ve got to get out of here”—she gestured to the four walls surrounding them—“and get away from this life.”
Julian moved her hand so that it was palm up, and then gently, and excruciatingly slowly, laced his fingers through hers and squeezed. “I’m going to try my hardest, not only for me but for you. Got it?”
His voice was thick with emotion, his touch waking parts of her soul that had long been asleep, and she had to fight back tears that suddenly threatened to fall. Julian was a lot of things, but he had her back. He’d promised to fight for her, with her for this preposterous idea of theirs to succeed.
“Thank you.” Her voice hushed as his thumb stroked her wrist, and her body shook with the touch.
“So, what were you going to say earlier? About the parties?” he asked.
She squirmed, suddenly realizing why Julian had fought so hard when she questioned him about personal things. Revealing oneself was a lot harder than she’d made it seem.
She released a pent-up breath. “When I go to those stupid events, I feel like a loser.” She frowned. “They all treat me like one. Except for Simone, of course. She faces a ton of pressure from our dad, but she handles it with so much ease and grace.”
“I can imagine, but hey”—he lifted their joined hands—“you’re not a loser. When is this thing?” He leaned forward, perusing the details on the invitation. “March twelfth, right after the Island Open. I’m going with you.”
The way he said it brooked no argument, but Amalie didn’t roll like that. She didn’t think anyone should be subjected to her family’s dysfunction. But there was something else wiggling around in her mind. What if, after seeing her in that environment, her insecurities and awkwardness would show, and Julian would finally see what a failure she was? What if he saw her the same way everyone else did? That alone would break her heart. She couldn’t risk it.
She moved away from him, taking her hand from his. “No, you don’t have to. Actually, trust me, you don’t want to do that.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Trust me, I do. I’m going as your date, so go ahead and let your sister know to expect me. No arguments.”
She tried to ignore the sudden lightness in her chest, how it felt to have someone truly on her team. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Babe, I think I can handle a few rich, stuck-up assholes. You forget what sport I play,” he teased, his comment drawing a soft laugh from her.
Julian grabbed the donuts and pointed the remote at the TV, turning Parks and Recreation back on. “Can we start from the beginning? I’ve never watched this show.”
“What?” Amalie gaped at him. “Never?”
He shook his head and bit into a donut. “Never.”
“Then yes, we can totally watch from the beginning.”
They sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh as hilarity unfolded onscreen. But at some point, Amalie’s eyes grew heavy, and before she knew it, she was startled awake by the feel of a gently calloused hand running up her arm.
When she opened her eyes, Julian stared back at her, his beautiful face mere inches from her own. She was nestled against his side, held against his body in an even more intimate way than before. The backs of his fingers played along her jawbone, and she couldn’t help but inhale the scent of his cologne that lingered on his wrists.
She had to be dreaming.
But then Julian leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss to her cheek. The warmth of his lips seared her skin and heated her from within. She closed her eyes, hardly able to think. If she just turned her head, their mouths would meet, and it would be over. Any restraint she’d had before would be no more than a memory.
Her heart pounded like a drum as desire stirred through her like a living thing. She ran her hand up his arm and twisted her fingers in the fabric of his shirt.
Julian pulled back, staring her in the eyes again. “It’s almost midnight, princess. I couldn’t let Valentine’s Day pass without you getting a kiss. Even if it was from a jerk like me.”
The corner of his mouth curled, and she tried desperately to mirror the action, her mind swirling back to the reality that this night wasn’t going to go any further, which was for the best. She knew that, even if her body hated her for it.
Julian slipped from her grasp, grabbed his tie, and slipped on his shoes. He snatched one last donut, then Amalie walked him to the door. Even still she ached to feel him against her one more time, which seemed wild now that she was waking up.
“See you tomorrow, princess,” he said, “and happy Valentine’s Day.” He leaned forward in the doorway, kissing her on top of her head. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.” He winked and gestured with his donut, and then he was gone.
Amalie pressed a hand to her chest to steady her fluttering heart, thinking he’d given her more than he knew, and it terrified her.
Chapter Eleven
Julian
March blew in quicker than Julian expected, but it didn’t matter—he felt ready. His body hummed with anticipation as he waited for Amalie to pick him up. This weekend was the Men’s Island Open at Jekyll Island, off the coast of Georgia, and if he did well, he’d get enough points to play the sectionals at Stone Mountain, the tournament to get into qualifying for the US Open.
He replayed Paul’s words in his mind as he paced. “You should win it. Mainly weekend warriors playing, but there will be some good players from around Jacksonville and Atlanta. This is good for you to learn how to win again.”
Now that last part stung because Julian heard the part that went unsaid—that he hadn’t won in a very long time. Paul wasn’t being hurtful, it was just the cold, hard truth.
But that wasn’t the only thing that had him pacin
g. Wesley Walker, a young tour professional, would be playing. Lots of young players had done this in the past but rarely at Jekyll Island, so it was kind of a big deal.
Paul had left early for Jekyll Island to get things settled, leaving Julian and Amalie to make the almost five-and-a-half-hour trek together. Amalie had been brimming with excitement, and she’d booked their rooms at her favorite place in the state of Georgia, the historic Jekyll Island Club Hotel. But Julian was on edge. Tomorrow he’d be playing to see if he was good enough, to see if he had what it took to be a champion.
And then there was this thing with Amalie that he couldn’t quite figure out. Something had shifted between them on Valentine’s Day. Something he wanted to explore, even though he had no business even thinking about it.
“Get your head in the game, man,” he reminded himself as he adjusted his headphones around his neck. A text from Amalie alerted him that she was downstairs.
With a deep breath, he headed to her shiny silver Audi. The first hints of an early spring blew through the air, although there was still a winter chill that refused to give way.
Amalie rolled down the window, and he tried not to pay attention to how gorgeous she looked—flushed, her lips wet with some sort of gloss. “Just throw your stuff in the back,” she said by way of greeting as she popped the trunk. Julian nodded and placed his overnight and tennis bags on top of her luggage.
Damn, it was a small car, and he was not a small guy. He would be a whopping six inches away from Amalie, and today was not the day for that, not with his adrenaline rushing and her, well, looking like a snack.
He opened the door to the back seat and slid over the cool, supple leather. This probably wasn’t going to go over well.
Amalie met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Um, why are you sitting in the back?” Her eyes darted to the empty passenger seat and back to him. She turned to actually make eye contact instead of talking to his reflection.
God almighty, she really did look edible. She wore a V-neck T-shirt that revealed a tempting line of cleavage now that she was twisted to face him. The back seat looked like an even better idea now.
Painting the Lines: A Hot Romantic Comedy (Ace of Hearts Book 1) Page 10
