Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(17)

I glanced up to check who entered, and my breath caught when I saw Julian. What was he doing here again?

“H-hello,” I greeted, palms growing sweaty. “Can I help you?”

He wore that lazy, sparkly-eyed smile that seemed to be his signature. “Reading magazines during your shift, eh? I should report you to Bernice.”

He was joking, but he wasn’t too far off the mark. Bernice was a firm believer that if people were going to read, it should be literature, not trashy gossip.

I made a concerted effort to look him in the eye. “Do you need something?”

Julian placed both hands on the counter in front of me. “I was wondering if your sister was around?”

“No, Elodie doesn’t really come here much.”

“But I saw her use a key to get in the other day,” he countered.

So, he had followed me. Hmm. My suspicions went into overdrive. Was he a journalist? He didn’t look like one. Then again, I had no idea what he looked like. I’d never met someone like Julian before. I frowned, certain it created a deep indent between my eyebrows.

“She was doing me a favour. I asked if she’d look after the shop while I went to my dentist appointment,” I responded.

“That was very kind of her, especially given you two don’t get along so well,” he mused.

“She owed me one.”

Julian didn’t take his eyes off me and it was unnerving to say the least. A moment of silence fell, and my heart started doing a thrumming anxious beat inside my chest. Imagine the drums from Phil Collins ‘In The Air Tonight’ in super speed.

Julian looked like he was settling in to stay a while, which was the exact opposite of what I wanted him to do, dammit!

“So, Ellen, what does a girl like you enjoy doing in her free time?”

Okay, if my suspicions went into overdrive a minute ago, now they were on red alert. I narrowed my gaze. “Why do you ask?”

Julian shrugged. “Just making conversation.”

I exhaled a heavy sigh. “If you’re looking for a book, you’re welcome to check out our shelves. Other than that, I can’t help you.” I brought my attention back to my magazine, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

But of course, he didn’t. “Actually, come to think of it, there is a book I’m looking for. I gifted my copy of La Dame Aux Camelias to a friend and have been meaning to replace it. It’s a favourite of mine.”

I remembered reading that book in Uni. It was about a French courtesan who ended up dying tragically young. An odd choice to be a favourite book for a man in his thirties. Then again, there was nothing about Julian that struck me as typical.

“I’m pretty sure we don’t have that one in stock.”

“Can you check anyway?”

Pursing my lips, I placed my magazine down, then got up and walked around the counter. Julian smiled as though he’d won the battle to wear me down. I led him over to a shelf, scanning titles as he stood next to me.

“Have you ever seen Black Books?” he asked. “You remind me of the main character.”

Unwittingly, I scowled, because I had seen that show and the character he was referring to was a wine-swilling, cranky old bookshop owner who treated every customer like a burden. I didn’t bother to justify his question with an answer.

“My first assumption was correct. We don’t have it. Sorry about that.”

He pursed his lips. “Too bad. I’ll have to search elsewhere. By the way, I do believe your top is on inside out.”

I followed his gaze as it lowered over me and he was right. Embarrassment filled me.

The stitching on my green T-shirt was on the outside instead of the inside. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed. I needed to start getting up earlier, so I had more time to get ready. Last night I’d stayed up until the wee hours writing. The muse had been upon me. Thanks, Muse!

Julian laughed softly. “You hadn’t noticed?”

“I was in a rush this morning,” I mumbled and walked back to the counter.

He glanced at his fancy wristwatch. “It’s almost half past two. You haven’t looked in a mirror all day?”

“It’s not really a priority for me.”

“No? If I had a face as interesting as yours, I’d be looking in the mirror all the time.”

Wariness trickled through me. “What’s your game?”

He gave a puzzled look. “My game?”

“Yes, your game. Why are you here talking to me? If you…” I inhaled a nervous breath. “If you think it’ll win you points with Elodie by cosying up to her sister, then you’re dead wrong. I told you, we don’t get along. Besides, I’m pretty sure she’s already seeing someone.”

“Of course, the stripper. She’s mentioned him,” Julian said, studying me even more closely now. “And I’m not here to win points with Elodie. Believe it or not, I pass by this shop most days. I saw you sitting there and came in on a whim. Yes, I like your sister, but I also happen to think you’re adorable.”

Pfft. Whatever. “Sure, you do. What’s your profession?”

My question seemed to give him pause, which only furthered my suspicion that he was a journalist. The fact that La Dame Aux Camelias was his favourite book pointed towards arts journalism. I’d bet my last penny he was a book critic.