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Julie had been in the opera house before. Rich, fancy people loved themselves some Met.
But being at the opera house to watch an actual opera? Different story. For starters, opera was kind of nightmarish. Mitchell had warned her that it was an acquired taste, but he hadn’t warned her of the shock of it.
Still, she had to admit that there was something to be said for this kind of stately, classy living.
The gowns alone made the evening worth it. Yes, gowns. In the twenty-first century. It was wonderful.
“I’ve never seen so many beautiful dresses,” she muttered at intermission as she leaned over the balcony to people-watch.
His fingers skated over her exposed shoulder blades. “I like your dress best.”
Julie glanced down. She did look pretty good. She hadn’t had anything worthy of Marie Antoinette in her closet, and there’d been no time for shopping, so she’d pulled out her old standby. The strapless emerald-green silk had always felt like it was made for her. She always felt pretty in it. But tonight she wasn’t sure if it was the dress that made her pretty or the way that Mitchell had spent the entire first half of the performance sneaking glances at her cleavage instead of watching the stage.
“So what do you think of your first exposure to opera?” he asked, his arm going around the back of her seat.
“Well, I can’t say I plan on becoming a season ticket holder anytime soon. It’s a little … intense. But I like the idea of it.”
I like the company is what she wanted to say.
He nodded. “It’s not my preferred entertainment either. But my boss offered me tickets with the kind of awed reluctance of a man being asked to hand over his firstborn, so I figured I’d better accept.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder from where she’d folded both arms on the railing. She gave him a slow, sexy smile. “Well, I’m glad you chose me.”
He snorted. “There
you go again with your moves. I thought we were over that phase.”
She smiled again, for real this time. “I can’t lose my touch, ya know? Gotta keep my flirting skills fresh for the next guy.”
His smile slipped, and Julie wanted to slap a hand over her mouth. She knew better. Referencing your next boyfriend as though it was an inevitability was the mark of a fling, not a serious relationship. He pulled his arm back and she bit her lip in regret. Damn it.
Wanting to avoid his piercing gaze, she turned back to people-watching. She made a low tsking noise. “Look at that couple wearing jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers. Dirty sneakers. Don’t they know they’re missing the point of the evening?”
“Yeah, I’m sure the point has nothing to do with the music and everything to do with the audience’s attire,” he said, leaning forward to see where she was looking. He glanced in the direction she indicated and froze.
“You know them?” she asked.
“Not them. The woman behind them,” he said.
Julie’s eyes flew to his profile. That was a tone she hadn’t heard from him yet. Angry? Annoyed? Nervous?
She followed his line of sight, trying to figure out who’d captured his attention. Just then a strawberry blonde in a long black dress turned and glanced up, as though sensing someone’s eyes boring into her back. Her lips parted when she saw Mitchell before breaking out into a wide smile. The woman’s eyes flicked to Julie and her smile slipped.
Ah. So it’s like that then. Ex.
The woman tapped the arm of her older companion, and he too glanced up and waved. Julie gaped when she got a good look at his face. “Isn’t that Senator Blake?”
“Yup,” Mitchell said, looking more annoyed than surprised.
The red-haired woman beckoned him with a fussy little wiggle of her fingers.
“Shit,” he muttered. “I have to go say hello.”
“Now?” Julie asked in surprise. “Isn’t the screeching, er, singing about to start again?”
“No. These intermissions are tediously long. I have plenty of time. Unfortunately.”
Julie didn’t miss that he’d said I and not we. “You want me to go with you?”
