L.A. Fire (15 page)

  “Wonderful choices,” Bill said,
smiling at both of us, and then discreetly excusing himself.

  As soon as Bill was out of
earshot, Julian turned his attention back to me, pinning me with one of his
piercing looks. “Why won’t you surrender to me?” he asked. “What’s holding you
back?”

  I brushed back a stray piece of
hair, and started tapping my fingers anxiously against my water glass. “I’m
more than willing to sleep with you, Julian. Isn’t that enough?”

  “No,” he said, his eyes going
dark. “It isn’t. I need your emotional commitment as well, Sarah. Otherwise
this won’t work.”

  “You mean you need me to bare
myself completely. Be an open book.
And
give up all control.”

  “You need to trust me completely,
Sarah.”

  I cocked my head to the side,
almost as though I wanted to see him from a different angle. “Why can’t we just
be fuck buddies?” I asked. “No emotional strings attached.”

  His eyes flashed with fury.
“Because, I want you, Sarah. Not just your body. I want all of you. I want to
break through every last one of your defenses, unbridle all of that pent up
passion, hear you scream my name like you mean it while you thrash and quiver
beneath me.” He leaned back, his expression calmer, but still serious. “I don’t
think any man has ever truly known who you are at your core. You hide, Sarah. I
want to be the man who brings you out of your shell. I want my touch to drive
you wild, and bring out a part of you that no other man can.”

  Again, my body responded to his
words. A tingling heat flushed up from between my legs, and desire roared
through my veins. But again, my reservations got the better of me. I pressed my
lips together, and gave Julian a wary look. “Do you remember that game everyone
played when they were kids? Where one person stands behind the other with his
arms stretched out, and the person in front has to fall back, and trust that
the other person will catch her?”

  Julian nodded his head. “Well, I
was a good catcher. I’d never let a person drop. In fact, my friends were so
sure that I’d catch them, they wanted me to increase the thrill by waiting
closer and closer to the last second to hold them up.”

  Bill returned just then with our
bottle of wine, opened it, let Julian taste it, filled our glasses, and then
disappeared again.

  I grabbed the wine glass by the
stem, and took a long, luxurious sip. The wine was smooth, with a complex
finish. “The thing is,” I continued. “I could never do it the other way. I
could never be the one to fall back. I just didn’t trust anyone to catch me.
Not that I thought they’d intentionally let me fall. I just worried that
something might go wrong. They might step back at the wrong time, or I’d fall
in an awkward way where I’d be too heavy, or something. I don’t know. I just
couldn’t do it.”

  Julian studied me thoughtfully.
“You’re a responsible person. Too responsible. I’d be willing to bet you’ve
always been surrounded by people who count on you to be reliable, but who you
can’t depend on yourself.”

  I thought about that for a
moment. I knew my mom loved me, but she was always busy taking care of my dad’s
needs, leaving me to take care of myself. She relied on me to be a good
daughter, not make a fuss, be self-directed. Neither she nor my dad ever had
the time to help me with school work, but they expected top grades nonetheless.
They taught me to always be there for others, but to not make a nuisance of
myself by being needy for help myself. When we had to do projects in school, I
usually got badly taken advantage of. Somehow, I always ended up with a group
of people who never did their portion of the work, leaving me to do all of it
by myself, with them also getting credit. Then there was my best friend from
grade school, a vibrant, hilarious, redheaded girl name Jane, who loved the
sandwiches my mom made for lunch. One day she forgot to bring hers, and I had
an extra sandwich, so I gave it to her. From that day on she always forgot her
lunch at home, relying on me to bring extra food for her. I told my mom about
it one day and she laughed it off, saying I was being a good friend and she
would make sure to always pack enough food for the both of us.

  My friends now were awesome.
Angela and Lisa both had my back, and would always hear me out. Still, Angela
rarely did her share of cleaning around the apartment, leaving me to pick up
after her. And in the boy department, I was a mess. I tirelessly championed
Rob, bragging about his talent to all of my friends, and he rarely ever cheered
me on for my academic success, or told people how good I was at discovering
talent.  

  I looked at Julian, feeling the
realization dawn on my face. I took another long sip of my wine, once again
savoring the taste. Julian looked delighted. “I see you’re enjoying the
Gaffeliere,” he said, his eyes crinkling slightly.

  “Very much. Once again, you’re
spoiling me rotten,” I said, suddenly feeling shy.

  He leaned forward again, and
locked eyes with me. “I haven’t even begun to spoil you yet, Ms. Stevens,” he
said. I shivered under his intimate gaze. “I’m going to take good care of you,
Sarah. You deserve the very best, and I intend to give it to you.”

  I shook my head, feeling
embarrassed. “Julian, this is all too much. I can’t even begin to repay you for
it.”

  Julian face became pained. “Repay
me, Sarah?”

  “Yes,” I said. “For all of this
lavish treatment.” I gestured around the restaurant. “All of this. It’s way out
of my league.”

  Julian reached across the table
and grabbed my hand, pinning me with another deadly serious look. “You don’t
owe me anything, Sarah. Ever. Do you understand me? I’m treating you because it
gives me pleasure, not because I expect anything in return.”

  I looked at him skeptically.
“From what I understand, you are expecting something in return. You’re
expecting me to give myself to you, utterly and completely.”

  Julian’s face became pained.
“Sarah. Our discussion of the terms of our relationship is completely separate
from me treating you to dinner. The one has nothing to do with the other.”

  Just then our soups arrived. I
looked away, feeling awkward, and unfolded my napkin, placing it in my lap.
When the server left, Julian reached across the table and tilted up my chin.
His eyes were grave and earnest. “Sarah. Anything I give you is a gift. Pure
and simple. I don’t expect anything into return. If you surrender to me, it’ll
be because you want to. Not because you owe me anything.”

  I pulled my chin out of his grip,
and gave him a level stare. “Julian. I can’t just take and take and take.
That’s not an equal relationship. I’m not just going to sit back and let you
pamper me like I’m some spoiled socialite.”

  Julian let out a long, hard
laugh. “Sarah,” he said, still chuckling. “You are the furthest thing from a
spoiled socialite. You have passion. Drive. A strong work ethic. And I admire
all of those things. I’m not trying to take that away from you.”

  I felt ambivalent, and it must
have shown on my face, because Julian face became anxious. “It’s just, I’m used
to taking care of myself. And I don’t ever want to feel dependent.”

  “Don’t think of it as a threat to
your independence. Like I said, there are no strings attached.”

  I spooned up some soup, blowing
on it because it was still hot. The broth had a strong, rich taste, and the
cheese was to die for. For a moment I thought ‘I could get used to this,’ then
felt my back go up. I put my spoon back in the bowl, letting it clink against the
ceramic. “You say that now, Julian, but the thing is, there are always strings
attached.”

  His brow furrowed, and he was
about to say something, but I raised my hand to stop him. “Just hear me out,” I
said. I felt awkward getting into this so soon. We were, after all, on only our
first date, but the discussion had already gotten so deep, and so intense, so
soon. I decided I may as well get another piece of my baggage out of the
closet. “Like I told you last night at the bar, my dad, he swept my mom off her
feet. But there was a price to pay, as there always is. She gave up her career.
Her art. And spent the better part of her prime years looking after my dad,
then me, until he finally left her for a younger woman.”

  Julian’s eyes softened. “I promise
you, with me there will never be a price. I’ll never rob you of your identity.
Never make you live in my shadow.”

  I suddenly felt embarrassed.
“Like you said last night. We shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves.”

  He took a bite of his soup, then
met my eyes again. “Do you feel awkward having such an intimate conversation?”

  I considered for a moment, then
smiled and shook my head. “Oddly enough, I don’t. Somehow I feel so comfortable
with you. I don’t know, in some ways it feels like I’ve known you for years.”

  He nodded, and took another bit
of his soup. “I feel the same way.” Something about the way he was looking at
me over the table, his expression both ravenous and reverent, made me want to
lunge at him. I flicked my eyes away, grabbed my wine glass, and swallowed a
huge gulp.

  “Take it easy,” he said.

  I gave him a challenging look. “I
thought it was clear from our negotiations that I will only take orders in bed,
and not anywhere else.” I took another long swig, draining my glass. It was a
waste of good wine to drink it so quickly, but I needed it desperately to calm
my nerves. I reached for the bottle, intent on pouring myself another glass,
but Julian reached over and stilled my hand.

  “I need you to take it easy,” he
repeated, his eyes humorless. “I intend to take you to my bed tonight, and I
want you sober.”

  “If I’m drunk, it will make it
easier for me to let go,” I said.

  Julian pinned me with another
deadly serious gaze. “I don’t want you to let go because of the booze. I want
you to let go because it’s me that pushes you over the edge.”

  I felt another surge of arousal,
another intense fluttering in my stomach, and decided that there was no way I
was going to survive this man if I didn’t have another drink. “You’re killing
me, Julian,” I said, outrageously turned on and frustrated. “I want you right
now. So badly, it’s killing me. I’m so revved up that I feel like I’m going to
explode. If I have to sit here another minute I’ll be pouncing on you, giving
the whole restaurant a show. So do the humane thing and let this girl have a
drink. It’s the only thing that will help me endure this exquisite,
mind-blowing torture.”

  Julian looked triumphant,
grinning at me roguishly across the table. He released his grip on the bottle,
and seeing my opportunity, I grabbed it and poured myself another glass. Just
then the server arrived with our Coq au vin. “I’m so sorry,” Julian said to the
server, “but please let Bill know there’s been a change of plans. Something
rather important has come up that we need to attend to immediately. Could you
please package our mains for take-out?”

  I felt my mouth drop open. Holy
hell. This was it. I took another long swig of my wine, and Julian gave me a
warning look across the table. “One more sip of that wine, and there will be
hell to pay,” he said sternly.

  I stared at him with mock horror.
“Well we can’t just leave it unfinished. That would be a tragic waste.”

  Julian picked up the bottle and
examined it. There was a third of it left. Just then Bill appeared, looking
concerned. “Is everything all right, Mr. McGregor?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Everything was
just perfect. But something rather urgent has come up,” he added, giving me a
smoldering look across the table. “Perhaps I could interest the wait staff on
break in a touch of your finest Gaffeliere?”

  The corners of Bill’s mouth
turned up, and his gave Julian a small wink. Clearly the two of them were on
very friendly terms. “I’m sure they’d be very interested. Thank you kindly,
sir.” He bowed slightly, then added, “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “Just the bill,” Julian said.