The Allure of Julian Lefray (The Allure #1)(52)

“I would squeeze you so hard if I could stand right now. Do you realize how much I’ve heard about you?” Lorena said. “And shit, you’re gorgeous. My brother insists that wasn’t one of the reasons he hired you. If I hadn’t known how great your blog is, I daresay I wouldn’t have believed him.”

Josephine blushed. “Oh, you know about my blog?” she asked.

My mother cleared her throat in the hallway and all three of us turned to look at her. Her bright blue eyes were locked on Josephine as if waiting for her to pay her the attention she was so clearly due.

“So I take it that you’re the reason my philistine of a son left my fundraiser so early the other night?” my mother asked with haughty tone. Her arms were crossed and the point she was trying to make was loud and clear.

Josephine turned and smiled wide. “You know I’ve been dying to meet you, Mrs. Lefray. You’ve raised such a wonderful son. Did he mention that he’s been my only friend since moving to New York? Well, other than my landlady. I met him a few weeks after I moved here and I was already so lonely. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably be holed up in my apartment trying to teach myself to knit or something.”

I watched my mother’s face the entire time Josephine spoke. She wore her frown like armor, but as soon as Josephine started to compliment her parenting skills, she started to crack. Her eyes softened and her arms loosened across her chest.

“Hmm. Where are you from, Josephine?” my mother asked, taking a hesitant step into the room.

Josephine smiled. “This little town in Texas that you have definitely never heard of. Our one claim to fame is when we made it into the Guinness Book of World Records for growing the biggest pumpkin or something.”

My mother smiled. “My, how…quaint. So no New York City roots then?”

That question was my mother’s way of asking about her pedigree, as if this were the 18th century and Josephine still needed to prove her maidenhood.

“I wish,” Josephine answered. “I mean look at your scarf. I don’t think my hometown would know what to do with a woman as chic as you are. They’d probably assume you were a famous celebrity rolling through to film a movie.”

At this, my mother laughed. A genuine, loud laugh. I hadn’t heard the sound in years.

I knew Josephine was laying it on thick, but she was a smart woman to do so. Having an enemy like my mother didn’t do anyone any good. Besides, having my mother like the woman I loved made my life a lot easier.

My gut clenched at the thought.

Love?

Are you fucking insane?

“Okay, stop hogging her, Mother. She’s my employee!” Lorena teased from the bed. “Jo, get over here and help me plan my fall collection for next year. I’m thinking army green and navy will be the bulk of my colors. I want to stay away from black for now.”

Josephine oohed and awed at the photos spread out across Lorena’s lap. Meanwhile, I stood in the corner of the room, trying to figure out when exactly I’d fallen for Jo. When exactly my heart had won out over my head. I watched her lean across Lorena’s bed. I studied her smile as they talked, and wondered when it had wound itself so deeply into the very fiber of my happiness. That smile was directly related to me. When Josephine was happy, I was happy.

I felt my mother’s stare on the side of my face and glanced over toward her.

She knew.

Moms always know.

She’d probably known from the moment we’d stepped off the elevator. I’d had my arm wrapped around Josephine’s waist for Christ’s sake.

She didn’t say a word though. She just tipped the edge of her mouth up and cocked a brow.

An unspoken question clearly asked between us.

Well? What are you going to do about it?





Chapter Twenty-Nine


Julian





I’d just finished the last stretch around Central Park’s six-mile running trail and was cooling down with a walk on the way back to my hotel. The morning air still held a crispness to it that I knew the sun would steal in a matter of hours. I loved New York City, but the summer heat was a bitch.

I passed by a bagel shop already packed with customers and contemplated buying a dozen for Jo and I to share throughout the week. My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I paused my This American Life podcast and switched over to answer Josephine’s call.

“Could you smell the bagels through the phone?” I asked after the line connected.

She groaned in mock pleasure, but my dick still responded as if she were actually having an orgasm on the other end of the phone line. Really? At 6:00 AM on the sidewalk outside of a bagel shop? There’s a toddler staring at you through the window with slobber dripping down his face. Focus man.

“Are you at Hot Bagel?” she asked.

“How’d you know?”

“Because it’s Saturday, which means you’re doing your six-mile loop around Central Park.”

Christ I was predictable.

“Yeah, yeah. The sooner you leave me alone, the sooner I can go in and buy us some bagels for next week.”

“Okay. First off, make sure you get some cinnamon raisin. Not just a bunch of those gross sesame seed ones. Second, what are you doing tonight?”

I tucked my hand up under my arm as I held the phone to my ear and gave myself a second to calm down. She’s not asking you to go down on her, Romeo. She’s asking you a simple question.