Dating Games(73)

New York drivers.

“And what would that be?” I lean against the seat, tilting my head to admire him. God, I love the confidence he exudes when he drives, the way he handles the car stirring too many fantasies to the surface of my subconscious.

“You can spend the weekend with me in the Hamptons, but just me.” He lifts his brows.

“Just…you?” I swallow hard, my pulse increasing.

“Exactly. No parties. No dinners. No distractions. Just us and whatever we want to do. We’ll be on our own schedule. No one else’s.”

“Just us?”

Approaching a traffic light, Julian presses on the brake, coming to a stop. As he licks his lips and curves toward me, I almost combust right there, the proximity of his mouth to mine making me want to erase the last bit of space between us and finally have a taste of what I’ve fantasized about since my first weekend in the Hamptons. Since he picked me up for our first dinner together. Since I first saw him from across the bar on what I thought was the worst night of my life.

“Just us,” he confirms.

On a hard swallow, I slowly nod. “Okay. Just us.”

“Perfect.” He grins, pulling away from me. “Oh, and by the way...”

“Yes?”

“You have no idea what hearing you call me Mr. Gage does to me, Guinevere,” he growls, the husky rumble hitting me deep in my core. I open my mouth, stunned, unsure how to respond to his brazen flirting. Thankfully, the light turns green and he puts the car back into gear, following the flow of traffic.

I blow out a long breath, smoothing a ringlet behind my ear as I squeeze my legs together, praying he doesn’t pick up on how on edge I am. If he does, he doesn’t say anything.

When we walk into Julian’s house after an uneventful drive, it’s unusually quiet. Normally the foyer is bathed with light, heavenly aromas of whatever Camille has prepared for me to eat upon my arrival meeting me. Now it appears like a ghost town.

“Where is everyone?”

“I gave them the weekend off,” he explains as he heads toward the stairs.

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“When did you do that?”

“When you dozed off on the drive.”

“I’m sorry. I’m a horrible fake girlfriend. I’ve just been really tired lately, and—”

“Has anyone told you how adorable you are when you snore?” He continues up the stairs and down the corridor leading to the wing where our bedrooms are located.

“I do not snore.”

“You do. Don’t worry,” he adds quickly. “It’s not this big, gravelly snore that makes me worry you’re about to keel over and die. It’s this little snore, almost like a whistle.”

“A whistle?”

“Yes. A whistle. Music to my ears, baby doll.”

When we reach the door to what’s become my room, he doesn’t stop, continuing toward his, leaving me confused. Every other weekend, there’s been an itinerary full of events for us to attend. Without that, I’m uncertain what to do, how to act, who to be.

“Julian?” I call out. He spins around, arching a brow. “What are we doing?”

“You wanted a bit of sun and sand. Go put on a swimsuit. I’m taking you out on my boat.”

I chew on my lower lip. “I’m not sure I have one for this weekend. This wasn’t on the itinerary, so I doubt Dana set one aside. There are a few outfits in case of emergency, but I didn’t see an extra bathing suit.”

“Just put on one you’ve already worn. If I can make a suggestion…” He grins a devious smile. “That two-piece you wore your first day here was…” His eyes harden as his pupils dilate, the vein in his neck throbbing.

“Yes?” I bat my lashes.

“Hot, Guinevere. It was fucking hot.”





Chapter Twenty-Six





“Holy crap,” I moan as I revel in the flavors dancing on my tongue. Garlic. Butter. The spiciness from the bold cabernet Julian opened to complement our meal.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” he replies in a smooth voice, smirking as he raises his wine glass and takes a sip, swirling the liquid around his mouth. His eyes never leave me as I indulge in his exquisitely prepared dinner. I sense he likes watching me enjoy the fruits of his labor.

“I never pegged you for the type who could cook.” I tear my gaze from his, looking at the darkened ocean from the small bistro table on the patio overlooking the pool where we currently dine. The breeze wraps around my skin that’s sun-kissed after spending several hours relaxing and reading on the deck of Julian’s boat. But any chill that would normally find me is chased away by the fire pit.

Everything about today has been perfect. For the first time since we began this charade, it felt authentic, like we were a real couple enjoying each other’s company instead of putting on a show for everyone. He took me out on his boat, then let me drive one of his cars into the downtown area, where we indulged in ice cream. Seeing a farmer’s market, we stopped and picked up the steaks we’re currently savoring.

“Especially this well,” I add as I slice into the filet mignon once more, the preparation rivaling that of any steak I’ve had in recent memory.