“You’re quite a spitfire, Ms. Kinley,” he remarks as he moves toward me. Gently, he sets his mug down, and it’s as if I can see the wheels turning in his head. Perhaps he’s about to tell me to leave. Maybe he’s going to pick me up and throw me out himself.
The thought of his arms around me makes my body grow hot, and my thighs squeeze together. I’m not sure if he notices, but I feel exposed when he lifts those green pools to rest on me.
“Perhaps I misjudged you,” he tells me. “I think you should start tomorrow. Even though it’s Saturday, I would like to set up for the upcoming event. There’s a show starting next week, on Wednesday evening, and I’ve got the caterer on standby.” He waves his hand in the air, flippantly, as if this annoys him. “You can go through the plans I had typed up and let me know what else you’ll need. Would that suit you, Ms. Kinley?”
“Oh, I . . . yes, of course, I can start tomorrow.”
He offers me a sly grin before stepping closer. When he reaches for my arm, he touches the material of my blouse instead of actually touching me. His gaze burns through my clothes, causing my skin to tingle with anticipation.
I can’t deny that Phee’s words come back to haunt me right in this moment. Her teasing me about sleeping with the boss was the last thing on my mind. But looking at Mr. Elliott, I can’t deny that he’s more than handsome, which is definitely not good.
Goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch, and I want to ask him to do it again. Calm the hell down, Nea.
“You have tattoos.” It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. “I don’t like them. I didn’t want someone who’s so frivolous with her body to work for me.” His words sound distant, yet they stab at my chest. “It reminds me of a child who is rebelling against her parents.”
“The swirling sunflowers represent Van Gogh, and as you’ll notice here,” I tell him, tugging the sleeve up my arm. “I have the melting clocks over my shoulder that are synonymous with Dali. Both my favorite artists.”
He snaps his gaze to me, watching me as he tips his head to the side. There’s something more he wants to say, I can see it in his eyes, but he shakes his head instead.
“Tomorrow, be here at eight.” He turns and heads for the door, stopping only a second to glance over his shoulder. “I’ll show you out.”
I grab my bag and follow him back to the entrance. He opens the large wooden door and waits for me to step outside.
“What is that perfume you’re wearing?” he asks suddenly. The man is like a goddamned puzzle. Hot and cold.
I turn to him. “It’s something my friend bought for me while we were in Italy. A small perfumer made custom scents, and she bought me a bottle for my birthday last year. It’s a mixture of lilies and apples.”
Suddenly, he leans in, and I’m sure he’s going to kiss me, which only has my heart thrumming wildly against my chest. Confusion and a wave of desire shoot through me as he inhales the scent.
“Don’t wear it again.” His voice is a mere whisper, feathering over my cheek as he moves back. I can’t help but shiver in the wake of his command, my cheeks heat and I wonder if they’re bright red because I can feel them burning.
Shock thrums through me, reminding me he’s not my friend, and he’s certainly not flirting with me. He’s an asshole, but I need this job, so all I offer is a quick nod before I turn and leave him with a quick, “Goodbye, Mr. Elliot.”
He nods. “See you tomorrow.” He doesn’t wait for me to say anything in response before he shuts the door in my face, and I’m left on the porch of my new boss. I got the job, but what have I gotten myself into?
I can’t help enjoying the freedom from Julian’s grumpiness. Even if it’s for a short time. But even as I stroll by the interesting and colorful store windows, my mind is still locked on Mr. Elliot. I’m forcing myself not to call him Julian, because the moment he becomes too familiar, I’ll allow myself to be even more intrigued by him.
When I reach a small café, I step inside and inhale the scents of flavors that make my mouth water. I haven’t eaten yet, and my stomach is grumbling. When I walked away from the Elliot house, I grabbed a taxi all the way into the French Quarter. I needed to explore my new home and find my way around. It’s been easy enough, and with every corner I turned, I fell more and more in love with the French Quarter. I can see why my mother wanted to return.
“Hello, how can I help you?” One of the servers walks up to me while holding a menu card in her hands.
With a smile, I ask, “Can I sit anywhere? I need some good food.”
She grins. “Of course. Since the lunch rush hasn’t yet come through, you can choose a seat.” Glancing around, I note a small table in the corner, which I make a beeline for and settle in. She sets the menu down and tells me, “We have a special, French toast with avocado and bacon today. Other than that, the menu has all our options.”
“Thank you. Can I get a coffee in the meantime?”
With a nod, she leaves me to peruse the food items, each one sounding better than the last. By the time my drink arrives, I decide on the special of the day and sit back to sip the strong black coffee and stare out the window.
Tomorrow, I start my new job, and I know I have to impress the man who’s given me a chance. Even though he looks like he needs a lot more than just someone who can run his gallery.
From the disheveled appearance that greeted me at the door, I think he needs to realize that life moves on. I can’t believe he would be in that state because of his father’s passing. It’s been years, which begs the question, has he been in such deep depression for that long, or is it something else?
Even though I know I should stay out of it, my curiosity burns. I want to delve deeper and find out what makes him tick, and more so, what makes him act like a grumpy old man.
The moment the thought appears in my mind, I try to push it back, but it doesn’t relent. Did he lose a girlfriend or wife? Nothing that I found in the articles stated he was married. But he’s so private about his life; he could’ve had someone special, and nobody would’ve known.
I know what Phoebe would say. She’d convince me to find out all I can. And she’d most probably tell me I should be the one to bring him out of his funk. Rolling my eyes, I dig into my brunch and try to focus on the delicious flavors of the food instead of thinking about my new boss.
I need to remain professional.
Chapter 5
Julian
How is it that it’s been a whole day, and all that’s been on my mind is the strange girl with the black and purple hair? She’s nothing like the women I usually bring home, and she’s definitely far too young for me, but her pretty face has been emblazoned on my brain since I shut the door in it early this morning.
I shouldn’t have been rude, but my head was spinning, pounding painfully at the reminder of the bottle of bourbon I’d finished the night before. But even as I moved through my day, with every twist and turn, raven hair with wild purple strands and wide eyes captured me. And now I find myself in front of the easel that had eluded me for so long. I wanted to capture her, but not just her face. I craved to snag her essence and drench the canvas with it.