partner with. But all of this is a start.”
“I should say it’s a start,” Julian said as he slipped the tablet from her hands, shut it down, and slid the hinged cover over it. “I’m profoundly grateful, Vanessa, but I must ask you, would you like to dance?”
He stood and took her hand.
“Right here? On the beach?”
“Why not.”
It wasn’t a question.
She stood facing him, just an arm’s length away.
He smiled. “This particular minuet that I’m about to teach you does not start out with us facing each other—”
“Oh.” She stepped back and the sand felt a little cooler on the balls of her feet.
“But this is lovely, I have to admit.”
Lovely? Well, no American guy would be caught dead saying that word at a time like this, but it really was . . . lovely. Even the wispy clouds overhead oozed orange in the blue sky while the waves provided a rhythmic background.
Was it his modern clothes, the fact that he lorded over a large, albeit derelict, estate, or simply his personality that created his magnetism?
He took both of her hands, her cool hands, into his large, warm ones. He slowly pulled her closer to his body and—OMG—he was going to kiss her!
She could see his long dark lashes dropping, his lips parting ever so slightly, his neck turning to the side, and she wanted to reach out and touch his razor-stubbled cheek, but luckily she restrained herself just long enough to watch his eyes open and his jaw tighten as he stepped back.
He changed his mind?!
Never, in all her dating years, had a man come so close to kissing her only to clearly change his mind and deliberately, willfully,
not
kiss her! WTH? Was the setting not perfect? The moment not ideal? The girl not worth kissing after all?
Then again, they had a business relationship, and maybe he’d decided not to jeopardize it.
Her phone rang in her bag and she dropped his hands. Saved by the cell. It wasn’t the first time. Thank God for modern technology.
“I’d better check that—it could be Aunt Ella.”
It was a client, after hours, and she chose not to pick up. Instead she just tossed her phone back in her bag. “So where do I stand, then?” she asked. A good question.
He took her hand. “You’re meant to be here, by my side.”
For a moment, she stood, stuck in the sand, while that line struck her.
You’re meant to be here, by my side.
How could she ever read into such an offhanded remark when the guy refused to even kiss her?
Determined to get this minuet thing over with, she moved to stand next to him, he dropped her hand, and she learned the minuet as the sun went down behind the skyscrapers and the streetlights flickered on.
All this time she’d lived downtown and she’d never danced with anyone on the beach. Although, admittedly, many a man had kissed her on the shores of Lake Michigan here, and some had managed significantly more than that, but now one man had
not
kissed her on the beach.
That
was a first.
Well, she didn’t want him to kiss her anyway, as it would only complicate a very simple business relationship, and it would make things awkward, as they had to travel to Louisville and then, poof! He would be gone, off to New York and then back to his life of writing books and shoring up his country estate, and she would be bereft of nothing—nothing more than a client who didn’t pay.
“Congratulations, you’re ready to try this with music now,” he said. “Wonderful work. You’re a quick study. It’s going to make your aunt so happy if you open the ball.”
“Yes—about that. I’m not so sure I’ll be the one opening with you.”
“Oh?”
“It’s a long story . . .”
He bent down to pick up her sandals, bag, and jacket.
Was this what it was like to be treated like a lady? He certainly did surprise her with the gesture, and, even though he hadn’t kissed her, he did look adorable carrying her bag.
They walked right by the beach volleyball courts, with girls in their
“I should say it’s a start,” Julian said as he slipped the tablet from her hands, shut it down, and slid the hinged cover over it. “I’m profoundly grateful, Vanessa, but I must ask you, would you like to dance?”
He stood and took her hand.
“Right here? On the beach?”
“Why not.”
It wasn’t a question.
She stood facing him, just an arm’s length away.
He smiled. “This particular minuet that I’m about to teach you does not start out with us facing each other—”
“Oh.” She stepped back and the sand felt a little cooler on the balls of her feet.
“But this is lovely, I have to admit.”
Lovely? Well, no American guy would be caught dead saying that word at a time like this, but it really was . . . lovely. Even the wispy clouds overhead oozed orange in the blue sky while the waves provided a rhythmic background.
Was it his modern clothes, the fact that he lorded over a large, albeit derelict, estate, or simply his personality that created his magnetism?
He took both of her hands, her cool hands, into his large, warm ones. He slowly pulled her closer to his body and—OMG—he was going to kiss her!
She could see his long dark lashes dropping, his lips parting ever so slightly, his neck turning to the side, and she wanted to reach out and touch his razor-stubbled cheek, but luckily she restrained herself just long enough to watch his eyes open and his jaw tighten as he stepped back.
He changed his mind?!
Never, in all her dating years, had a man come so close to kissing her only to clearly change his mind and deliberately, willfully,
not
kiss her! WTH? Was the setting not perfect? The moment not ideal? The girl not worth kissing after all?
Then again, they had a business relationship, and maybe he’d decided not to jeopardize it.
Her phone rang in her bag and she dropped his hands. Saved by the cell. It wasn’t the first time. Thank God for modern technology.
“I’d better check that—it could be Aunt Ella.”
It was a client, after hours, and she chose not to pick up. Instead she just tossed her phone back in her bag. “So where do I stand, then?” she asked. A good question.
He took her hand. “You’re meant to be here, by my side.”
For a moment, she stood, stuck in the sand, while that line struck her.
You’re meant to be here, by my side.
How could she ever read into such an offhanded remark when the guy refused to even kiss her?
Determined to get this minuet thing over with, she moved to stand next to him, he dropped her hand, and she learned the minuet as the sun went down behind the skyscrapers and the streetlights flickered on.
All this time she’d lived downtown and she’d never danced with anyone on the beach. Although, admittedly, many a man had kissed her on the shores of Lake Michigan here, and some had managed significantly more than that, but now one man had
not
kissed her on the beach.
That
was a first.
Well, she didn’t want him to kiss her anyway, as it would only complicate a very simple business relationship, and it would make things awkward, as they had to travel to Louisville and then, poof! He would be gone, off to New York and then back to his life of writing books and shoring up his country estate, and she would be bereft of nothing—nothing more than a client who didn’t pay.
“Congratulations, you’re ready to try this with music now,” he said. “Wonderful work. You’re a quick study. It’s going to make your aunt so happy if you open the ball.”
“Yes—about that. I’m not so sure I’ll be the one opening with you.”
“Oh?”
“It’s a long story . . .”
He bent down to pick up her sandals, bag, and jacket.
Was this what it was like to be treated like a lady? He certainly did surprise her with the gesture, and, even though he hadn’t kissed her, he did look adorable carrying her bag.
They walked right by the beach volleyball courts, with girls in their
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