Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(39)
“That’s okay,” I replied in a sassy voice. “I’m an independent woman, I can carry myself.”
Julian’s chuckle sounded from up ahead, clearly having heard Keith’s offer and finding my refusal amusing. I chanced a peek at Keith and he appeared a tad chagrined.
When we reached Julian’s flat, he opened the door into a spacious yet cosy space. The walls were covered in various artworks and photographs. Lots of memories. I noticed several pictures of him with his friend, Rose. There was a large bookshelf loaded with paperbacks. For a second, I froze, heart beating fast as I scanned for any copies of my own books. His friend read them, after all. Perhaps Julian did, too.
The idea of him reading my stuff was nerve-wracking, mainly because many of Elodie’s anecdotes were stories from my novels. Sure, some of them I made up on the spot, but the more detailed stories came directly from Sasha. If Julian ever put two and two together…
Well, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it. I’d never had to explain my profession to anyone before, because I kept it to myself. Although it wasn’t hard to keep secrets when the only people I ever really spoke to were my pet birds. Sure, there was my boss, Bernice, but though we were friendly, we weren’t close. Most people thought I only worked in the bookshop. No one expected someone as quiet and unimpressive as Ellen Grant to be an international bestselling author.
I was relieved not to find any of my books in his collection. They were mostly classics. I did smile when I saw he owned all of the Fifty Shades books, plus a few Jackie Collins. Julian read romance?
He caught me looking and came to whisper in my ear, “Those belong to Rose.”
I smirked. “Sure, they do.”
His eyes sparkled at my teasing. “Christian Grey is admittedly dreamy.”
I laughed louder than expected, garnering the attention of Val and Keith.
“What are you two snickering about?”
“The allure of bondage,” Julian answered, not missing a beat as he turned to her. “Would you care for a drink?”
Val preened. “I’d love one.”
I was surprised when Julian produced a bottle of expensive wine, given the fact he didn’t drink alcohol. It reinforced the idea that he entertained people here often.
I took a seat on the plush love seat, only realising my mistake when Keith lowered to sit beside me. He threw his arm over the back and I stiffened. It seemed being Elodie gave me confidence only so far as talking to people. Physical contact was a whole other ball game.
Julian came and offered me a glass. I took it gratefully, needing some Dutch courage. He went and sat next to Val on the larger couch as she asked him questions about the artwork he owned.
I decided I needed to make an effort with Keith. It was rude to come back here and not even talk to him. “Do you live in London?” I asked.
“No, I’m from Nottingham,” he replied. “The groom is my cousin, so I came down for the weekend to attend the wedding.”
The fact he didn’t live close was a relief. At least there wasn’t much of a chance I’d see him again. Maybe I should take advantage of this situation and practice my non-existent seduction skills. He was a good-looking guy, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.
“Well, Julian and I are wedding crashers. We don’t even know the couple.”
Keith grinned down at me, took a sip of wine and said, “Little rebel, are you?”
“Yes, very rebellious.” What are you saying?
Keith arched an eyebrow and moved a tiny bit closer, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Care to show me how rebellious?”
I smiled my best Elodie smile, it was all puckered lips and flirty eyes. “Maybe,” I whispered back, then forced myself to be spontaneous. I pressed my lips to his. He tasted like wine, smelled like generic cologne. The kiss was pleasant, but it didn’t make me feel much of anything. He pressed closer, his lips coaxing mine to open. He slid his tongue into my mouth and I instantly broke away. I stood and looked around. Julian was too busy chatting with Val. He didn’t even see the kiss.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I said, then turned and hurried down a hallway. I opened the first door I saw and stepped inside. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the bathroom, but Julian’s bedroom. The sheets were mussed, as though he’d just decided to leave them that way, and there was a gigantic painting of a naked woman over his bed.
I was taken aback for a second. It was just so sensual, so unexpected. It looked like an original, too. The woman lay in bed, a dark silk sheet strewn across her torso, her breasts and bottom half exposed. My cheeks heated just looking at it.
I stepped closer to study the painting better, still trying to catch my breath after the kiss. To anyone else, a kiss like that would be nothing. But to me, it was a very big deal. I didn’t kiss people, not ever. The last time had been when I was a teenager, and that memory was so old it hardly felt real anymore.
I sat down on Julian’s bed, the familiar smell of him soothing my nerves, and stared up at the large painting. Whoever the artist was, they were more skilled than me. I mostly painted flowers, sometimes scenery, but I wasn’t great with people. I didn’t have the technical skill to get their proportions right. Any time I tried, I’d always make their legs too short, or their torso too long. Not this artist though. The naked woman in the picture was so well executed you felt like you could reach out and touch her skin.