Of course, there is the slight issue of him winking at me yesterday when I stepped off the elevator. I have no idea what possessed me to turn and look at him, but I did, and wow! Just freaking wow. There is no mistaking the fact that Julius Cunningham is a fine-looking man. No, he’s better than fine. Some would say he’s handsome or good-looking, while others—me being in the “others” group—would say he’s smoking hot with a side of gorgeous. As much as I hate to admit this, I find the man incredibly attractive. More so since I met his daughter. The way he was with her, I never expected the man I met weeks ago could be so gentle. It was like he was a completely different person with her. But then again, he called me weather girl, so his use of this nickname negates any personality change.
I stand in front of the mirror, turning from side to side. I opted for the casual look today, with jeans, a T-shirt, and a sweater. I never gave the Pioneers office any instructions on what Julius should wear, just that he needs to meet me in front of my . . . our apartment complex. I step closer to the mirror and shake my head. What are the chances that the man who had been a thorn in my side since I moved to Portland would live above me? Granted, he’s way above me, but that’s to be expected. With one last look in the mirror, I grab my things and head toward the elevator. As soon as I step out into the hallway, I find myself looking in both directions, half expecting Julius to be coming toward me or even lurking around the corner. Would he do something like this? It’s unlikely, although he does seem a bit childish at times.
My nerves are on edge by the time I step out of the elevator. I scan the lobby and even peek inside the restaurant for any sign of Julius. I requested he meet me outside, but again, I find myself second-guessing whether he will follow the rules or not. And even though he said he’d see me today doesn’t mean he will show up. He was pretty adamant about paying me back for the money I spent on winning him.
When I step outside, I use my hand to shield the sun. Across from the entrance to my building, a man stands. He’s dressed in khaki pants, a white dress shirt, and has a dark-colored jacket or sweater in his hand. I swallow hard at the hulking form coming toward me. It doesn’t take long for me to recognize Julius, and with each step he takes, I start to see him in a different light.
“Good morning,” he says when he stops in front of me.
“Morning,” I somehow choke out even though my tongue feels four inches thick. There’s a slight breeze, and I get a good whiff of his cologne. My knees go weak. It’s woodsy with hints of spice. Very masculine and very sexy.
“I didn’t know what you meant by casual,” he says as he looks himself over. “If this isn’t okay, I can run up and change.”
“No, it’s fine, you’re perfect. I mean—” I cover my face with my hand and shake my head. I inhale deeply to center my thoughts. “What you’re wearing is fine for what I have planned. Are you ready?”
Julius holds his arm out and tells me to lead the way. I point back to the door. “We need to go get my car.”
“Do you want me to drive?” he asks, and I shake my head. I don’t bother to check and see if he’s following me. I can sense him . . . or rather smell him. He’s close, right on my heels. Instead of going to the elevator, I head for the stairs. I don’t want to be trapped in a small box with him right now because my mind is in the gutter, counting the ways I could climb him like a tree.
When we get to the garage floor, Julius steps in front of me and opens the door. “Thank you.” I know chivalry isn’t a lost art, but it’s becoming harder and harder to find someone who still wants to open doors for women. “My car is over there,” I say, pointing to my black Tucson.
“Do you like this car?” he asks.
“I do. It gets great gas mileage.” I hit the fob and unlock the doors. I’m sort of expecting Julius to open the driver’s side to let me in, but he doesn’t. What he does do, is wait until I’m inside before getting in. “How’s Roxy?” I ask as I start my car and back out of my space.
“Roxy’s great. She’s a handful but worth it.”
“She’s a cutie. I enjoyed meeting her.” I exit the garage and head toward work. It’s a short drive, which works out well since neither of us is talking. When I pull into the station's garage, Julius asks what we’re doing.
“Well,” I start by saying, “Since I live in an apartment, I’m sort of limited on what I can have you do. I don’t have a yard to maintain, and washing the windows is probably against the ordinance. Not to mention dangerous. The Pioneers made me sign a form saying I wouldn’t do any bodily harm to you, so putting you on a street corner in a chicken suit is out as well.”
“You were going to make me wear a chicken suit?” he asks in a voice that borders on panic.
We get out of the car, and I glance over at him. He seems genuinely concerned. To put his mind at ease, I tell him, “It was an idea. Believe me, what I came up with is much, much better.” I give him a soft smile and motion for him to follow me. He’s next to me in a flash and stepping ahead of me to get to the door.
“I’ve never been here.”
“I’ll give you the tour.”
I like that Julius is nervous and doesn’t know what to expect. His punishment, for lack of a better word, will be much more appreciated this way. Once again, I opt for the stairs. The drive over was torture with him sitting so close. Until now, I never spent longer than a few minutes with him, and the conversation centered around him telling me what he thought of me. And those thoughts haven’t been very nice. Plus, I don’t trust myself not to drool in front of him. Julius is hot, sexy, desirable, and completely off limits.
When we reach my floor, I open the door this time. I’m confident he would’ve done it had he known where we were going, but I’m also okay with it. There is nothing written in arbitrary rules saying I can’t hold the door for him.
Julius follows behind me. We walk down the hall, passing a couple of the offices. I hear a few chairs scrape against the floor after we go by and a sure sign of someone rushing to the door. I have no doubt tomorrow it’ll be the Spanish Inquisition when I come to work. We walk by the reception desk, where I give the new girl a little wave. Her mouth drops open, and it makes me wonder if she knows who Julius is or if she’s just a fan of how good-looking he is right now.
“Everyone is staring,” he mumbles into my ear. For him to be this close, he has to press against my back, which means I can feel his hard chest against me. I’m angry at myself for wearing my sweater and wish I had half the sense Julius did and just carried it.
“You’re famous,” I remind him. “Aren’t you used to this?”
“Yes, but most people just approach me, ask for an autograph and a picture and then go on their way. These people are staring.”
“Huh,” I say as I open the door to the stage.
“Whoa.” Julius walks past me and takes in the set. “This looks nothing like what we see on TV.”
“I know, it’s crazy.”
“Where do you stand?” he asks. His question gives me pause. Up until now, he’s never asked a single thing about my work. He’s only berated me and called me weather girl. I point to where I stand, and he looks confused.