The Allure of Julian Lefray (The Allure #1)(53)

“I was going to meet Dean for drinks. Why?” I was trying hard not to sound over eager, but in reality I just sounded short. I’d never had to try this hard around a woman before.

She hesitated before continuing. “Can you cancel?”

“Depends on what you’re about to ask me to do.”

“Will you please, please come to a party with me?” She was using her honey-laced tone, the one that had a direct line to my pants.

“Whose party? I thought I was your only friend.”

If she was calling to invite me to some dude’s party, I was going to lose it. I knew it was only a matter of time before some guy noticed her on the subway or in some deli as she picked out a sandwich. She was too gorgeous to fly under the radar of other men and I was about to have to sit through a night of watching some bass player from Brooklyn try to work his moves on her. Oh cool, tell me more about your indie band.

“Well…my landlady is throwing a party tonight and I promised her I’d come. I kind of owe it to her considering how much she’s helped me with my blog.”

Her landlady?

“I told you I’d help you with those photos,” I protested, annoyed that she hadn’t taken me up on my offer.

She groaned. “I know. I know. I just feel bad asking you for favors. You already do so much for me and I don’t want you to get sick of me.”

“Aren’t you asking me for a favor right now?”

She laughed. “This is different. This is supposed to be fun!”

“How old is your landlady?”

“I’d say she’s closer to seventy than fifty.”

“Jo…”

“Okay. You’re right. I’ll buy you a beer after.” She continued before I could reply, “No, wait. I can’t afford that. I’ll buy you a coke from the nearest vending machine.”

I laughed. “Okay. What time should I meet you?”

“Eight.”

Eight? What kind of old person starts to party at 8:00 PM?



…



At 8:05 that night, Josephine and I made our way up the four flights of stairs that separated her apartment from her landlord’s place on the top floor. I’d already memorized what she was wearing: jeans, sandals, and a white tank top. The fabric looked soft, and the spaghetti straps were thin, hardly there at all. The fact that I couldn’t see a bra strap made it that much more painful to bear.

“My landlady is a little old school so just say that we’re friends. I don’t want her to think we’re living in sin or anything,” Josephine said.

“Isn’t that what we are?”

She shot me a sidelong glance.

“Would she really care about that?” I asked, pushing away from the topic of our “are we or aren’t we” relationship status.

“Yes. She specifically asked me before I signed my lease if I was going to have any male guests stay over.”

“Really? I think that’s against the law.”

She nodded. “Yeah, well just don’t say anything that will upset her. I don’t want to be homeless.”

I held my hands up, defenseless. “I solemnly swear that I won’t get you kicked out of your apartment.”

When we arrived on the top floor of the building, Jo knocked on her landlady’s door and then offered me a gentle smile.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said, reaching over to squeeze my hand.

Before I could reply, the wooden door swung out in front of us and I came face to face with a very drunk, very sweaty old man.

“Newbies! Welcome!” he said with a grin as his gaze swept over us.

Josephine hesitated before offering him the platter of cupcakes she’d made earlier.

“Barney, don’t scare them! Let me answer, let me answer.” An older woman rushed forward and smiled wide when she caught sight of Jo on the other side of the doorway.

“My little Josephine!” the woman squealed, enveloping Jo in a hug that at once tipped Jo off balance and allowed the woman to drag her full force into the apartment.

I stepped in after her, trying to stay close. Why was that guy so sweaty? And where was he going with those cupcakes?

“Oh! You brought a friend?” the woman asked with an arched brow. She had red lipstick on that was crusted in the corners of her mouth. Her cotton dress was short, with a halter top that tied behind her neck. It would have looked good on a twenty-two-year-old. On Jo’s landlord, I felt like I needed to avert my eyes. There was too much wrinkly, tanned skin on display.

Jo smiled. “Yep. This is Julian. He’s just a friend.”

I reached out for her hand, but she stepped forward and wrapped me in an awkward hug. Clearly, this woman was the touchy feely type.

“I’m Holly, Josephine’s landlady,” she said with a wide smile.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, stepping back out of her grasp.

Her apartment was much bigger than Jo’s. It took up most of the top floor of the building, which meant there was plenty of room for a party, though I hadn’t seen anyone besides Barney and Holly. Barney disappeared down the hall, and Holly led us past the entryway into an empty kitchen. An entire bar’s worth of alcohol was set out across the island and it looked like a few people had already dipped into it.