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The room was silent. She wasn’t using her pottery wheel, but he knew she was in there.
“Come in.”
Heath twisted the knob and pushed his way into her work space. Julianne was hovering over a sculpture on her table. This was an art piece for her gallery show, he was pretty certain. It was no simple vase, but an intricately detailed figure of a woman dancing.
Julianne’s hair was pulled back into a knot. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a fitted T-shirt. There was clay smeared on her shirt, her pants, her face, her arms—she got into her work. It reminded him of that first night they’d spent together, sending a poorly timed surge of desire through him.
“I have a proposition for you, Jules.”
At that, Julianne frowned and set down her sculpting tool. “That sound ominous,” she noted.
“It depends on how you look at i
t. I need to take a trip for work. And it’s a long story, but I need you to come with me. Do you have a current passport?”
Julianne’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Yes. I renewed last year, although I haven’t gone anywhere. Where on earth do you have to go for work?”
“We’re going to Paris this weekend.”
“Excuse me?”
Heath held up his hands defensively. “I know. I don’t have a choice. It’s an important account and the client will only work with me. She’s a little temperamental. I know it sounds strange, and I hate to impose, but I have to take you to Paris with me. For, uh...public companionship.”
A smile curled Julianne’s lips. “I take it the French lady has the hots for you?”
He shook his head in dismay. “Yes, she does. I had to tell her I was married so she’d back off.”
“She knows we’re married?” Julianne stiffened slightly.
“I had to tell her something. Rebuffing her without good reason might’ve cost us a critical account. I had to tell my business partner, too, so he was on the same page.”
Julianne nodded slowly, processing the information. She obviously didn’t care for anyone outside of the two of them and their lawyers knowing about this. It was one thing for family to find out, but who cared if a woman halfway across the globe knew?
“She’s insisting I come to Paris to correct some things she’s unhappy with and to bring you with me on the trip. I think she wants to meet you, more than anything. It would look suspicious if I didn’t bring you. We’re supposed to be happily married.”
“What does that mean when we get there?”
Heath swallowed hard. They’d gotten to the sticking point. “Exactly what you think it means. We have to publically act like a married couple. We need to wear our rings, be affectionate and do everything we can to convince my client of our rock-solid romance.”
Heath looked down and noticed that Julianne was tightly clutching her sculpting tool with white-knuckled strength. “No one here will find out,” he added.
Finally, Julianne nodded, dropping the tool and stretching her fingers. “I haven’t seen you look this uncomfortable since Sheriff Duke rolled onto the property.” She laughed nervously and rubbed her hands clean on her pants.
He doubted he had looked as concerned as she did now. “I can probably get Wade to step in and help while we’re gone. Things are in pretty good shape around here. So can I interest you in an all-expense-paid weekend in Paris? We leave tomorrow. My personal discomfort will simply be a bonus.”
Julianne nodded and came out from behind her work table. “I get to be a witness to your personal discomfort and experience Paris for free? Hmm...I think I can stand being in love with you for a few days for that. But,” she added, holding up her hand, “just to be clear, this is all for show to protect your business. Nothing we say or do can be considered evidence of long-suppressed feelings for one another. By the time we get home, the clock will be up on the two of us. Consider this trip our last hoorah.”
Nine
“Did you remember to bring your wedding ring?”
Julianne paused in the lobby of J’Adore and started searching in her purse. “I brought it. I just forgot to put it on. What about you?”
Heath held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers. “Got it.”
Julianne finally located the small velvet box that held her wedding band. The poor, ignored gold band had been rotting in her jewelry box since the day they returned from their trip to Europe. They’d bought the bands from a small jewelry shop in Gibraltar. With a reputation for being the Las Vegas of Europe, there were quite a few places with wedding bands for last-minute nuptials. They hadn’t been very expensive. They were probably little more than nickel painted over with gold-colored paint. Had they been worn for more than a week, the gold might have chipped off long ago, but as it was, they were as perfect and shiny as the day they’d bought them.
She slipped the band onto her finger and put the box away. It felt weird to wear her ring again, especially so close to the finalization of their divorce. Part of her couldn’t help thinking this ruse was a mistake. It felt like playing with fire. She’d been burned too many times in her life already.
