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“There’s nothing to tell.”
I kicked him under the table. “What he’s trying to say is he doesn’t know where to start.”
“Would you like to do the interview for me, kid? Considering you haven’t allowed me to answer one question.”
“Kid?” Charlie chimed in. “What’s that about?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Oh, so that’s nothing?” Julian mocked. Using my own words against me, he added, “What she’s trying to say is that Cherry and I go way back.”
“Now this just got good. How far back?”
“The interview is about Julian, Charles. Not Julian and me.”
“Julian? Are you usually on a first-name basis with your clients, Cherry? I don’t think so. Besides, this is what people want to know. Trust me.” He peered back at Locke. “You were saying?”
“I used to be her Prince Charming.”
“This is not—”
Julian interrupted me, “I can handle it from here, Miss Troy. I’m sure your other clients need tending to.”
“Lucky for you, I cleared my entire schedule this week, just for you.”
“Now this is getting really good. She never clears her schedule for only one client.”
“Charles!”
Locke grinned. “Is that right?”
I was about to explain myself, but my phone rang. “This is Autumn.”
Laurel was on the other line, and I had to excuse myself from the table. By the time I was done with our conversation, Julian was walking out of the interview into the lobby where I was talking to my boss with the same confident stride he had going in.
“Should I ask how that went? Or should I assume?”
“You know what they say about people who assume, kid.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
I didn’t give it too much thought. Charlie and I had an arrangement—nothing was published without my approval first. I’d go over his article once he emailed it to me. For the rest of the day, we went from one thing to the next until it was way past dinnertime, and I was starving. I wanted to try the restaurant at my hotel, well Julian’s hotel.
He held the door open for me.
“Today started a little rough—”
“You used to love it rough.”
“Oh my God,” I exclaimed, stepping into the restaurant. “You cannot say stuff like that to me anymore.”
“Try to stop me, sweetheart.”
“Damn. I should have added a clause about your inappropriate behavior.”
“It wouldn’t have done you any good. I wouldn’t have signed it.”
“On that note…” I stopped at the bar, nodding to the bartender. “I’ll take a martini with four stuffed olives, please.”
