L.A. Fire

by Sarah Bailey

  Julian shook his head. “No. I want to help you with this.” His tone was earnest, and his eyes were brimming over with tenderness.

  I got up and sat back down on his lap, draping my arms around his neck. I kissed him lightly. “You’re doing everything you can. I’ve just got to figure this out for myself.”

  He shook his head again. “I screwed up last night,” he said. “I pushed you past your limit. I got scared that you were pulling away, and I acted up. I promise that will never happen again.”

  I took his face between my hands, and kissed the tip of his nose. “I know, Julian. It’s not your fault.”

  He slid his arms around my waist and pulled me close. “It is my fault, Sarah. I should have known better. And I intend to repair the damage. This weekend at my beach house. We can spend the whole weekend being domestic together. No restaurants. No bars. Just the two of us. Cooking together. Making love. Opening up to each other.”

  My heart melted at his words. That’s exactly what we needed to get closer. A whole weekend alone together, where we’d figure out each other’s habits, talk for hours, find our own rhythm both in the bedroom and out. “That sounds perfect,” I said, hearing the happiness in my own voice.

  “Good,” he said, looking pleased. “It’s settled. Now as I recall, I was about to fuck you senseless before you went to get coffee. I intend to stay true to my word.”

  I felt myself get immediately turned on, but it was getting late, and I was apprehensive about being late for work. “We’ve got to get to the office,” I said.

  Julian looked at his watch, and his face filled with disappointment. “You’re right,” he grumbled. “But I at least have time to give you a proper washing in the shower. Deal?”

  I felt a bolt of heat between my legs at the prospect of him lathering me up with soap and caressing every inch of my body. “Deal,” I said, softly, and then he picked me up and carried me to the washroom.

  ***

  Julian had sent the limo driver home after he dropped us off, so I drove us to work in my Mini Cooper. As Florence + The Machine sang through one of my favorite songs ‘Howl,’ my thoughts turned to the work ahead of me this morning. Paul was trying to sign on a new client, a guy named Richard Phillips. He was a hotshot screenwriter who was currently at loose ends. He’d had a falling out with his previous agent, and was now shopping around for a new one. He had just finished a new screenplay. It looked like it had the potential to be a blockbuster comedy, and Paul knew that sealing the deal with this guy would mean major revenue for the company.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Julian asked, rubbing his hand along my thigh.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m just getting a little preoccupied about this morning. Paul’s got that amazing screenwriter Richard Phillips coming in at ten, and I’m feeling nervous about the meeting.”

  Julian looked impressed. “Paul is bringing you in for a meeting with Phillips? That’s wonderful news, Sarah. You’ve obviously gained his full trust. And I’m certain you’ve earned it.”

  I beamed at him, and he looked back at me with pride. He winked at me. “Knock ‘em dead.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll try my best.”

  Julian studied me for a moment, and then his eyes glinted with mischief. He ran his fingers up my thigh, to my crotch, and started playing with the edge of my panties. I shot him a pointed look and said, “You better stop that right now. I can’t drive like this. It’s distracting.” Julian made a grumbling noise, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

  “I have to wait until lunch before I can lay my hands on you again. That’s at least three excruciating hours. I’ll be damned if I don’t take ever second I have between now and then to run my hands all over your exquisite body.”

  My lip started trembling, and my sex clenched in expectation of his fingers. Julian wasn’t the only one who was insatiable. I was addicted to him too. I wanted his hands all over me, all of the time. He was becoming almost as vital to me as breathing. When we reached the next stop light, Julian slipped his finger between my underwear and started massaging my clit. There were cars all around us. I could hear the music blaring from the car behind us, and the driver of the red corvette to our right was talking on his cellphone. I looked at Julian, and his eyes were ravenous, and I could tell he was intent on getting me off. “We’re in public, Julian,” I mumbled, but didn’t shift away from him. I leaned back my head, and enjoyed the pleasure he was giving me.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said. “You’re a little closet exhibitionist, aren’t you?”

  I don’t know what took a hold of me. But somehow his words hit a nerve, and his fingers touched me just right. Waves of euphoria started coursing through me, and I had to press my lips together tightly to keep from moaning. When the last burst of ecstasy had passed through me, I looked to my right and saw that the driver of the corvette had finished his call, and was now staring at me with his mouth dropped open. Julian followed my line of vision, then shrugged at the driver and chuckled. A moment later the light turned green and I just took off, feeling slightly embarrassed, but mostly thrilled beyond belief. I glanced quickly at Julian and he looked totally pleased with himself. “We’ll have to try that again sometime,” he said, giving me a wicked smile.

  I shook my head, and said, “You’re so going to be the end of me,” but I didn’t mean it. If anything, he’d brought me back to life. He most certainly wasn’t the end of me. He was instead the beginning of something mind-blowing, something I’d craved for a long time without even knowing it.

  ***

  When we arrived at work, Julian and I got on an empty elevator, and rode up together. Right before the doors opened he gave me a quick kiss, and wished me luck in my meeting.

  I grabbed the Richard Phillips file from my desk and went straight to Paul’s office.

  “Morning, Sarah,” he said, ushering me in. “Please sit down.”

  He leaned back in his chair, and looked at me with concern. “I just wanted to warn you that Richard Phillips is a bit of an abrasive character.” He picked up a pen, and started tapping it against his desk. “He’s likely to be brash, possibly even rude. And he’s got an ego the size of the Nevada desert.” He stared at me long and hard. “Do you think you can handle it?”

  Could I handle it? I knew I could be diplomatic, but I also knew my face was very expressive. Perceptive people could see exactly what I was thinking just by looking at my face, and Richard Phillips was a successful writer, so he was perceptive almost by definition. And if there was one thing I hated, it was egotism. Confidence I had no problem with. Arrogance, however, was another matter. I would have to put on a tremendous performance to hide my dislike for this potential client. But I had no choice. Helping sign this writer would be another career game changer for me. I flashed Paul what I hoped was a winning, confident smile and said, “Yes, I can handle it.”

  He eyed me carefully, looking slightly weary, but then he finally nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Mr. Phillips will be here in half an hour. Bring him to the boardroom when he arrives.”

  At ten-thirty, Richard Phillips was still nowhere in sight, and he hadn’t called to tell us he’d be late. At five past eleven, Annabel buzzed me to let me know he had finally arrived. I quickly called Paul to give him the heads up. He let out a long sigh and said, “It’s going to be a difficult morning. I’ll meet you in the boardroom.”

  When I reached the lobby, I caught the client leaning suggestively against the reception counter, leering at Annabel, and obviously trying to flirt with her. She had a tight smile on her face, and looked relieved when she saw me. “Mr. Phillips, this is Sarah Stevens, Mr. Cooper’s assistant.”

  Richard Phillips turned toward me, a lazy smile on his face as he looked me up and down. “Very nice,” he said, then winked at me. I felt myself cringe. This guy was so gross. Not that he was physically unattractive. He was lean, tall, and dressed in a grey Hugo Boss suit. His eyes were an intense green, and they twinkled wi
th amusement. He had tan skin, and his face in general was easy on the eyes, but it was obvious from the way he was looking at me that he was a total sleazebag.

  I put on my most professional smile, ignored his leer, and held out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Phillips.” He grasped my hand firmly, and held it for a little too long.

  “The pleasure’s all mine,” he said, and winked at me again.

  I could feel my temper begin to simmer, but I kept my cool. “Please follow me. Paul is waiting for us in the boardroom.”

  When we got to the boardroom and he saw Paul, his demeanor immediately became more professional. “Nice to see you again, Paul,” he said, his tone suddenly genuine and warm.

  Paul smiled at him warmly, and gestured for him to take a seat.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” I asked.

  He gave me a lopsided grin and said, “Yeah, sure, Sweetpea. A coffee would be great.”

  I cringed again, and my eyes darted toward Paul. He gave me a knowing look, as if to say, this is what I warned you about. I quickly got Richard his coffee and settled into my seat.

  “So Paul,” Richard began, leaning back in his chair. “What exactly are you prepared to offer me?”

  Paul started tapping his pen on the boardroom table, and for a moment he looked deep in thought. “We’re a boutique agency. We’re very selective of our clientele, and because we take fewer people on, everyone gets star treatment. We’ll be behind you two hundred percent.”

  Richard smirked at him. “I’m already a star, Paul. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

  Paul leaned forward, his expression very serious. “I’m sure you’re aware of my reputation at the bargaining table. My clients earn top dollar. I’ll get you the best deal in town, Richard.”

  Richard nodded slightly, then took a long sip of his coffee. “Okay,” he said. “What else?”

  Paul gestured toward me. “Ms. Stevens – Sarah – has drawn up a contract for you. As you’ll see, the percentage split we’re offering you is very favorable.”

  I pulled the contract out of my folder, and slid it down the mahogany table toward Richard. “The percentage split outline is at the bottom of page four,” I said.

  He gave me a crooked smile, and then a strange glint rose from the back of his eyes. “You drew this up?” he asked, his tone exaggeratedly incredulous. “And here I thought Julian only slept with bimbos. Good to know you’re good for something both in the bedroom and the boardroom.”

  My mouth dropped open in shock. I felt my blood start to boil, but I took a deep breath and gripped the table hard to keep the tension out of my body. I had to keep my cool. Not only keep my cool, but remain strictly professional. I could feel Paul watching me closely, weighing how I would respond. I pinned Richard with a level stare, then returned his crooked smile. “I’m a talent agent,” I said. “And I’m damn good at my job. If you think Paul would hire anyone who wasn’t, you’re not as perceptive or savvy as your reputation would have me believe.”

  Richard’s eyes started to twinkle, and a smile slowly spread across his face. “Not easily ruffled,” he said. “I like that.” He winked at me, then turned his attention back to Paul. “She’s a real keeper, this one,” he said.

  For the rest of the meeting, his demeanor toward me became markedly more professional. He asked me several questions about royalty percentage calculations, and mentioned he’d heard through the grapevine that I was making a name for myself spotting new talent. As he was leaving, he even asked me to send him feedback on his screenplay. He said he wasn’t ready to sign yet because he had three meetings this week with other talent agents, but he’d been impressed with what he’d seen today at Cooper McGregor, and was still seriously considering signing with us.

  After I walked him out, I returned to my desk and found Paul standing there waiting for me. “Sarah. Follow me to my office.”

  We entered, and he gestured for me to take a seat. His expression was a strange mixture of paternal concern and pride. “I just wanted to say that I found the way you handled yourself in the meeting today remarkable. You showed yourself to be not only feisty and thick-skinned, but also a consummate professional.”

  I looked at him in wonder and awe, and felt gratitude swell up in chest. “Thank you,” I said, feeling truly moved by his compliment.

  He pressed his lips together, and his brow furrowed slightly. “I know it can’t be easy,” he said. “Being a new hire, and dating the boss’s partner. People make assumptions. Even I made assumptions. But you’ve proved me wrong, Sarah. You’re growing into a fine businesswoman, and you’re doing it on your own merit.”

  I felt my heart melt at his words. “You don’t know how much that means to me, coming from you,” I said.

  He nodded curtly, and looked slightly embarrassed. “That’s all,” he said, then grabbed a pile of papers off his desk and handed them to me. “Please type these up and have them on my desk by three o’clock.” I smiled slightly, and took the papers. It was back to business as usual; I’d be working my butt off for the rest of the day, but I wasn’t complaining. I loved my job. I loved everything about it. Even the more menial stuff I didn’t find a chore. And one of the best agents in the industry had just told me that I was damn good at doing what I loved. I left his office feeling on cloud nine, and the feeling lasted all through the day. In fact, all through the week. By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, I was feeling confident and in control. I was good at my job. And dating Julian, I decided, wasn’t going to jeopardize my career. I might have to work harder to undo some people’s impressions, but I wasn’t against working hard, and Julian was worth it.

  Chapter 18

  By eight o’clock Friday night, I’d packed my weekend bag and pulled out of my condo’s underground garage in Little Blue, headed toward Julian’s place in Venice Beach. When I pulled into his driveway, he came out the back door of his beach house, and rushed over to my car, lifting me up into his arms. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” he said, grabbing my bag from the front seat and locking up my car.

  He was wearing a loose white linen shirt and khaki shorts, which perfectly showcased his tight, firm ass. I leaned my head against his chest and breathed in the warm, deeply masculine scent of his skin. As soon as we entered the house, I was hit by a waft of cool central air and the smell of spices, sweet potato, and cooked meat. My stomach started rumbling in response. “You cooked me dinner?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said, placing me down in the foyer and taking my hand.

  “Fantastic. I’m starving,” I said. “What are we having?”

  He eyes glimmered with delight. “It’s a surprise,” he said. “Follow me.”

  Julian led me through the kitchen, where something was simmering in a pot, and out to his private courtyard. My breath caught when I saw the table he had set up outside. Three candles in blue blown-glass were dispersed about the table, flickering and glowing in the dark. A single red rose sat in a glass flute, forming a centerpiece, and two gold rimmed bone china dishes were placed on either end of the table, flanked by silver cutlery. “You set this all up?” I asked.

  Julian looked sheepish. “No, my housekeeper did,” he said, “But I did cook dinner. From scratch.”

  I was wearing an off-the-shoulder white lace dress, and Julian scooped my loose hair off my neck and planted a long lingering kiss on the back of my neck. His touch sent an electrical charge shooting through me. After a long moment, he released my hair and pulled out a chair for me. “Have a seat. Dinner will be served in a moment.”

  I hesitated. “Can I help?” I asked.

  His lips formed into a hard line. “Absolutely not,” he said. “Now sit down.”

  I flashed him a half-smile, and said “Yes, sir.”

  His eyes started twinkling with amusement, sending a flood of warmth through me. “You’re starting to get the hang of this,” he said, running his tongue over his lower lip.

  I smirk
ed at him and said, “I’m just indulging you, butternut. So don’t get any ideas.”

  Julian let out a long chuckle. “Butternut?” he said. “I’m not sure I can live with that nickname.”

  I shrugged, then fluttered my eyelashes at him. “How ‘bout Tiger?”

  The corner of Julian’s mouth quirked up. “Tiger I can live with.”

  A moment later, Julian returned from the kitchen with the pot I’d seen earlier simmering on the stove. He pulled off the lid with a flourish, and my nostrils filled with an intoxicating mix of herbs and cooked meat.

  “Pot-au-feu,” I said, grinning up at him. “This must have taken you all afternoon to make.”

  Julian shrugged, and started serving me some of the beef stew. After serving himself as well, he went to the kitchen again and returned with a bottle of red. “This wine is the perfect pairing with this meal,” he said, pouring me a healthy glass of a Chateau Evangile Maison Descaves. I sighed. Another exquisite bottle of wine.