Love Beyond Words (City Lights, #1)(47)

“I worry still,” he said. “I don’t want you to work alone at night. Not anymore.”

“I’m okay.”

“I can still come. Not to work, but to see you. The book needs time to breathe before I look at it again and start editing.”

“Time to breathe? Like a fine wine?” Natalie smiled. “Doesn’t sound too far off the mark.”

“If I let it alone I can come back to it with fresh eyes later. It puts distance between it and me so I can be a more ruthless editor.”

“I can’t wait to read it,” Natalie said. “And I’m not alone. You have a lot of fans, love. Like that woman in the bookstore.” She thought of the employee recommendation card and its fervent wish. “So many people who’d love to meet you.”

Julian frowned and turned his cappuccino cup in circles. “You think I should reveal myself?”

“Not unless you’re ready,” she said. “Not if it’s going to make you unhappy...”

“I just don’t see the point. I can’t imagine giving interviews and yammering about myself for an hour, or sitting at a table signing books. It seems so arrogant.”

“Not arrogant at all.” Natalie leaned over the table. “You don’t do all that stuff for yourself. You do it for us. The people who’ve read you and love you and want to thank you for what you’ve given them.” She hesitated, already feeling tears sting her eyes. “I want to thank you.”

“For what?” He leaned forward, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I…” She looked at him, held his hand tightly. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Write like you do?”

“I don’t know, love. I can’t answer that. I just put one word after another…”

“No, it’s more than that,” Natalie said. “It’s magic. That’s what it feels like, and I know you don’t want to hear this stuff, but I have to tell you…” The tears were building in her throat. “Jeez, I can’t even say anything without all this…old pain bubbling up.”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “You can tell me.”

She nodded. “Okay, well…When my parents died I was lost. I still feel like that sometimes. Alone. Or no…untethered. We had no other family but some distant cousins somewhere and so it was just us. And then my parents were killed and it was just me. I wandered aimlessly, and then I found your books. They helped me get through the worst days where it just seemed like the grief wouldn’t end, and they help me even now, when I have bad days…”

Julian silently offered her a napkin and she took it to dab her eyes. She heaved a sigh and rushed her words, trying to get them out before the sobs crashed in. “And your characters were my friends and my family when I didn’t have any, and when I had nothing and no one to talk to, I had your books, and I just want to thank you for that. Thank you,” she whispered, smiling through her tears. “Thank you so much.”

He came around to her side of the table and held her wordlessly, his chin on her head. She cried hard but quickly, like a rainstorm that bursts and then passes on. She felt better; as if some of the wound’s infection had been purged.

“I guess it’s official,” she said, pulling away and drying her eyes. “All I do is cry.” Julian didn’t reply but kept his eyes averted. She watched him return to his seat and turn his saucer around and around. “And I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“Yes,” he agreed, his smile gentle for her, “but in the best possible way.”





Chapter TwentyTwo


The last night, Sunday night, Julian pulled out all the stops. After a late breakfast, and an afternoon spent strolling through Golden Gate Park, they returned to his place to shower and change.

Natalie stepped into the amazing glass enclosure and let the rainfall drench her as if she were caught in a summer storm. She’d wondered if Julian would join her, but he did not. Throughout the day, he’d kissed her numerous times but never let anything progress. Every touch was charged with electricity, building but never releasing; an unspoken promise that the end of the night was going to be spectacular. The water falling over her was hot, but she shivered in pleasant anticipation.

She dressed in her vintage black velvet, and styled her hair as she sometimes did for Kyrie. She drew elegant stockings over her legs, making sure the black seam in the back was straight along her calves, and buckled the little strap on her cream and black Mary Janes with a four-inch heel. She put on red lipstick and black eyeliner, and then slipped the pendant he’d given her on Christmas around her neck. She studied herself in the mirror, pleased with the result but nervous that it wasn’t fancy enough for whatever he had planned.

She left the bathroom just as he emerged from his walk-in closet. Her breath caught at the sight of him, while her heart seemed to stop for a moment and then gallop to catch up.

He wore a black suit in a modern style—cut close to his toned physique—and a white shirt and a narrow black tie, loose at the neck. He’d tamed his curls with gel that enhanced the sleek, dark look of him. The sharp lines and angles of his face stood out in contrast to his broad mouth and full lips. And his eyes…Dear god, he’s stunning.