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The questions ate at him.
Lifted him up.
Then brought him back down.
He tried swallowing around the giant lump in his throat.
Careful, a voice from the past whispered, one he’d shut out long ago, but only because he’d already learned from it so well.Fate is fickle. Hope leads you astray.
Don’t forget what you’re good for and what’s good for you.
“Julian?” Skylar whispered, and for a moment, her voice overrode the other noises in his head.
He smiled and said, “This is why I wanted to come here. To let you know you’re more to me than some sexual mission, Skylar. Even if you change your mind, even if you walk away from me for forever right now, I will always remember you— and the way you look tonight.”
33
An empty cardboard pizza box, flimsy from the dried grease, was the only thing between Julian and Skylar as they sat on the bank of the East River. After he’d almost lost his mind dancing with Skylar to the sound of Sinatra playing in the background, after he came dangerously close to telling her something insane like he was falling for her, Skylar had blinked up at him. She’d opened her mouth to say something he’d known would rock his world, but thankfully, Antonio had saved the day and chosen that precise moment to bring their pizza out.
Now they were enjoying their view of the Manhattan Bridge, even if it had grown cold. While things had been awkward between them at first, Julian had eventually relaxed, and that had enabled Skylar to relax. She’d kicked off her heels and smiled and laughed as she gripped her rumpled brown bag, her fingers unprotected by the chill. Thankfully, the rest of her was bundled into the heavy coat she’d brought with her, but it probably wasn’t the best time to be having a picnic. The tip of her nose was red from the frigid wind off the even more frigid waters, and that very same wind tousled her white hair that glowed in the city lights. She held her coat tight to her neck, which might keep out the cold but did little to protect her from the heat of Julian’s wandering gaze.
He knew the softness of her skin beneath those pesky layers. He knew the paleness of her breasts, the silkiness of her long legs, the fineness of the hairs along her arms that rose to the most gentle of touches. The harsh wind might not be able to touch her naked body, but he would when the time was right.
When Skylar was ready.
Whenhewas ready. And by ready, he meant when he’d regained his equilibrium and, despite what he’d told her and meaning it, accepted that the only thing between the two of themwassex. Sex with caring, but still sex.
He fisted his hands in his jacket pocket. He’d never thought holding himself back from touching a woman would be this fucking hard.
“I can’t believe I’ve never done this before,” Skylar said. She grinned over at him, not seeming to care in the slightest that her lips were trembling from the cold. “I’ve been in New York for years now, and I’ve never seen the city like this. It’s glorious.” She stretched her arm out over the river, twinkling not with stars but with headlights and streetlamps and city lights.
“What did you and Rex do together?” Julian asked, deliberating bringing up the one name that would grab hold of anything remotely resembling romance between the two of them and stomp the shit out of it.
Skylar eyed him warily. Her expression then flickered with disappointment as if she knew exactly what he was doing. “Is this Julian Bauer, the reporter, asking? Or Julian Bauer, my date?”
He couldn’t help mentally high-fiving her. She’d taken his obvious attempt to put her in her place and shoved it right down his throat.
He pulled his hands out of his pocket, but only to open the wrinkled brown paper bag he’d carried from the pizza place. He’d been in such a hurry to leave after Antonio brought out their pizza that he’d ignored the glasses of wine on the counter and asked him to ring up a bottle and supply them with a wine bottle opener and two glasses, which he’d wrapped in clean kitchen towels. When he’d handed the bag to Julian, Antonio had given him a strong pat on the shoulder and a sly smile as if to say, “Go get her, brother.”
It was completely uncalled for, but Julian had wanted to punch his friend in the face.
Now, he popped the cork out of the bottle, poured one glass of wine, and handed it to Skylar.
“What is this for?” Skylar said, bitterness leaking into her voice. “Is this the point where our date ends, and you start grilling me for answers to bring it home that I mean nothing to you?”
Julian, about to pour himself his own glass of wine, sighed. It was both annoying and impressive, sometimes, how she could not only read him but how she had no problem calling him out.
He poured the wine, took a hefty swallow, then looked up at her. “You don’t mean nothing to me, Skylar, but I don’t want to mislead you, and maybe I did that earlier. I enjoy being with you. I will make sure we both enjoy whatever’s coming next, if anything. But a relationship isn’t in the cards for either of us. Hell, I’ve never even had a relationship with a woman before.”
Liar! his inner voice screamed, but he shoved it away.
“And you don’t want one. Ever. I get it,” Skylar said, taking her own sip of wine and looking over his shoulder.
“It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, princess. It’s just I don’t have it in me to give you more. I don’twantto have it in me.”
She nodded, then plastered a stiff smile on her face. “Of course. You’re rich, successful, and women throw themselves at you every day. They’re even willing to pay you to have sex with them. What man in his right mind would want to trade that in for something as mundane as a committed relationship that probably wouldn’t last anyway? You’ve got it going on, Sex God of Manhattan.”
Julian gritted his teeth. God, he was beginning to hate that damn nickname.
