After the Kiss
Page 18

“Mitchell, good to see you again, boy,” the senator said as he shook Mitchell’s hand.
“You too, Senator.”
Senator Blake grunted. “How many times have I told you to call me John?”
“John,” Mitchell amended.
The senator turned to Julie, his expression curious but more openly friendly than his daughter’s. “And who’s this?”
“This is Julie Greene, Dad,” Evelyn cooed. “She’s a sex columnist.”
It was intended as a barb, but Julie rolled with it. “Guilty. I hope I’m not sullying your box, Senator.”
Senator Blake threw back his head and laughed. Already Julie liked him better than his daughter. He looked like the quintessential American senator: tall, broad-shouldered, salt-and-pepper hair, strong features, a big voice.
His daughter, on the other hand, was the quintessential shrew: pinched face, snobbish, and currently all over Julie’s boyfriend. Julie tried to keep her eyes on the senator as he regaled her with some story about his pre-politics career in publishing, but her eyes kept flicking to where Evelyn—no, Evvy—had pulled Mitchell into the corner, his head bent down to listen to whatever she was whispering.
Julie must have been doing a piss-poor job of faking interest in the senator because he turned slightly to see what—or whom—she was looking at. For a second his eyes went sad.
“She thought he was going to propose,” he said, lowering his voice.
“Oh?” Julie said, her heart in her throat.
“We never did figure out what went wrong. I don’t know who was more upset to lose him, me or her,” he said with a small laugh. “He was like a son.”
Suddenly Julie felt guilty for judging Evelyn so harshly. She might be a bit of a bitch, but she was a brokenhearted bitch. Losing a man like Mitchell Forbes was bound to bring out the worst in someone.
She bit her lip. Where had that thought come from?
“How long have you two been together?” the senator asked, resuming his friendly manner.
“Oh, we’re not really together,” Julie said quickly. “Just sort of casually dating.”
Mitchell and Evelyn chose that moment to rejoin them, and Evelyn’s satisfied expression revealed that she’d overheard Julie’s comment.
Julie searched Mitchell’s face to gauge his reaction to her dismissal of their relationship, but his expression was even more placid and unreadable than ever.
The lights flickered, indicating the end of intermission, and Julie breathed a sigh of relief. She was starting to get frostbite from Evelyn’s glare.
“It was nice to meet you,” Evelyn said politely. “Mitchell, I’ll call you about what we discussed?”
Julie’s fingers tightened on Mitchell’s arm, and he glanced quickly down at her. “I think we’re good, Ev,” he said in a kind voice.
Evelyn’s eyes clouded over again, and Julie almost felt sorry for her again. Almost.
Julie and Mitchell didn’t say a word as they made their way back toward their own box, and Julie resisted the urge to ask the clichéd woman’s question: What are you thinking about?
On a professional level she hoped he wasn’t hung up on his ex-girlfriend. That would derail her story.
On a personal level . . . well, on a personal level, she really hoped he wasn’t hung up on his ex-girlfriend.
Julie almost smiled. The green had been an apt dress choice. She wondered absently if jealousy looked good on her, and was about to ask Mitchell when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into an empty box.
“This isn’t ours,” she said, looking around in confusion.
His lips nibbled her ear. “I know. It’s empty.”
“How do you know?”
“I noticed during the first act.”
“And we’re here because . . . ?”
“So I could do this,” he said, his mouth opening and planting warm kisses along the side of her neck.
She couldn’t help it. She purred. “So is this like the grown-up version of making out at the movies?”
“I hope to do a lot more than making out.”
Julie’s eyes widened at that. Those glasses hid a naughty side.
“So we’re just casually seeing each other, huh?” he asked, still taking soft bites out of her neck.
She froze before continuing her restless stroking of his back. “Well, what would you call it?”
“That sounds about right.”
Julie swallowed around the disappointment. Give him a break, Jules. It’s only been a week.
Still, she couldn’t resist asking. “Evelyn . . . ?”
“What about her?” He pulled back slightly, and Julie wanted to zip her mouth shut and yank his lips back to her neck.
“Never mind,” she said quickly.
But Mitchell leaned back and met her eyes. “There’s nothing between us.”
“Didn’t look that way from where I was standing,” she grumbled.
He shrugged. “She was hoping there might be a chance at a reunion. I told her no.”
Julie’s heart began to thud. “You did? Why?”
He gave a wicked smile and pulled her into the shadowy corner of the box, where they were out of sight. “Because Evelyn doesn’t put out at the Met.”
Julie gave a soft laugh as she ran her hands over his chest. “So you like me because I’m slutty?”
“Exactly.”
The orchestra began its overture, indicating the end of intermission, and the lights dimmed.
“We’re going to miss the show,” she whispered.
“Thank God,” he whispered back.
And then his hand moved over her breast, and Julie bit back a moan.
They didn’t talk for a long, long time, and when the fat lady sang, Julie wanted to sing right along with her.
As she drifted back to earth, her mind flitted to the article. Maybe this was a new element she could add. Sign he wants to take things to the next level: he rejects his rich ex-girlfriend to make you come in the shadows of the Metropolitan Opera House.
On second thought, Stiletto readers wouldn’t be getting that little bit of wisdom. This was one memory she was saving for herself.
She was starting to worry she wanted to save it all for herself.
Chapter Eight
“So let me get this straight. You and Mitchell haven’t gone a single day without seeing each other since that night you picked him up at MoMA?”
“Shh!” Julie hissed. “Do you have to announce it to the world?”
Riley pointedly looked around at the nearly empty hallway. “And by ‘world,’ you mean . . . Grace?”
“I already knew,” Grace pointed out practically.
“Well, still. I don’t want people to know about it until I figure out how to explain it.”
“What’s there to explain? You have a new boyfriend.”
“Mitchell is not my boyfriend,” Julie said.
“Um, how do you figure? You’re seeing him on weekend days and weeknights. How many times has that happened, Grace?”
“Hmm, let me count . . . Zero, and never.”
“Exactly,” Riley said as she started to push open the conference room door for their weekly staff meeting.
Julie yanked her back. “You know full well why I’m doing this. It’s not real.”
Grace’s finger hooked into Julie’s collar. “That hickey sure is real.”
Julie’s hand slapped over the right side of her neck. The saleswoman at Bergdorf’s had been such a liar—that concealer could not cover anything up. She wanted her fifty bucks back.
“I still can’t believe you slept with him,” Riley hooted. “That is so geisha of you!”
“It wasn’t like that,” Julie said as she flipped her collar up around her neck. “The other stuff was for the story. The sex part just . . . happened.”
“What other stuff?” Grace asked, pulling them out of the way so they weren’t blocking the conference room door.
Julie hedged. “You know, just hanging out for the sake of research. We go out to eat, go to the movies, drink wine. Nothing important. We’re just two people who enjoy each other’s company and happen to have sex. I don’t know that there’s a name for it.”