Write It Up!. Elizabeth Bevarly
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a one-night stand with over the course of a month of speed-dates. And that was exactly what Daniel intended to do.
Julia was right about Cavalier. The glossy monthly didn’t exactly put women on a pedestal. Unless it was to look up their skirts. The magazine objectified them, poked fun at them and didn’t take them seriously for a minute. Daniel had never been bothered by that, because he didn’t take women seriously, either. At least, he hadn’t before. There was something about Julia, however, that made him want to reconsider.
Bullshit, he told himself. Julia was no different from any other woman he’d met. Hell, she was no different from any other woman period. If he found her sexier or more appealing or sexier or more interesting or sexier or more intelligent or sexier than other women of his acquaintance, it was only because…Because…Because…
Well, just because, that was why. And it was a damned good reason, too.
She was just like every other woman he knew, he told himself more adamantly. And just like every other woman he knew, he was going to do or say whatever he had to in order to have sex with her. Then she’d become just one name among many on the final tally for his article. With any luck at all, by morning, Julia would be nothing more than a footnote in his story and a fond memory in his brain.
“Unfortunately, I have to do three more of these speed-dating things over the next few weeks,” she said when he didn’t reply, sounding a little anxious. Doubtless because of his profound lack of response. “For the story,” she quickly added. “I just want to tell you that now, because…I mean, I don’t want to be presumptuous or anything, but…” She lifted her shoulders and let them drop in a shrug that was…
Well, hell, Daniel thought. There was no way around it. It was adorable. Dammit.
“Look,” she continued, looking and sounding even more nervous now, “I don’t want you to think I’m assuming anything, but it seems like you and I are hitting it off pretty well, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sitting here trying to get up the nerve to ask you out again. But if I do, and if you say yes, I’m still going to have to go to those speed-dating things and even go out with some of the guys I meet, so I can write about it for my story. I just want to be straight with you about that right off the bat. So if that’s going to bother you, or if I’m totally off base about the way things are between us at this point, then be straight with me, too, okay?”
Daniel really wished she hadn’t said that. The last thing he could be with her right now was honest. He appreciated her telling him what was what—he hated when women said one thing while they were thinking another, which was a malady that seemed to be endemic to their gender. But he couldn’t extend the same courtesy to her. Not about the subject matter of his article. Her article, he thought, was really nothing major, and was actually kind of sweet.
And oh, man, had he really just used the word sweet? Right on the heels of adorable? Great. Already she was turning him into a girly-man. He ejected the thought from his brain and got himself back on track. With the speeding locomotive that was his brain, by God.
Her story was a fluff piece, he amended, disregarding, for now, the fact that he had used the word fluff, too. It was an industry term, dammit. If he told Julia the object of his story was to sleep with as many women as he could and then discard them like dirty socks the next day, there was no way he’d get her into the sack. Not tonight, not ever. Which would mean he wasn’t completing his assignment as ordered. Ergo, he wasn’t doing his job.
That was the only reason, Daniel assured himself, why he didn’t want to be straight with Julia. It wasn’t because he was worried she’d think less of him for pursuing such a story. And it wasn’t because he was afraid he’d never see her again once she knew the truth. Hell, that was the whole point. To not see her again after the two of them hooked up. And to hook up with her in the first place.
So donning his most disarming smile—and ignoring the bad taste in his mouth—Daniel told her, “Okay, I’ll be straight with you. I understand completely. It doesn’t bother me at all.”
And he assured himself he was telling the truth when he said it, even if it felt like a half truth instead. He did understand why she needed to keep speed-dating in order to write her story. But damned if it didn’t bother him.
A lot.
BY THE TIME THEIR CAB arrived at the Chelsea brownstone that housed Julia’s third-floor apartment, it was after 3:00 a.m. Even though tomorrow—or rather today—was Saturday, she couldn’t believe how late the two of them had stayed out. She was never out this late. The time had just passed so quickly with Daniel. Even now, she didn’t want the evening to end. Unfortunately, there was a fine line between good night and good morning, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross it with him yet.
Strangely, it was because she liked him so much that she didn’t want to invite him up to spend the night. Sex was a wonderful thing, and it had been a while since Julia enjoyed it. Sex with a guy like Daniel would be phenomenal. But even before they’d sat down at the club, she’d begun to realize she wanted to share more with him than just sex. If the two of them slept together now, sex would become the defining characteristic of their relationship. And Julia wanted any relationship they might have to be defined by something else. So the sex, she decided, was going to have to wait.
“Thanks for seeing me home,” she told him. She opened her purse as she glanced over the front seat of the cab to read the meter. “Since you paid for two rounds to my one tonight, I’ll cover the cab.”
He curled his fingers gently around her wrist before she could reach her wallet and slowly drew her hand back out of her purse. “I’ve got it,” he said.
Before she could object, he was thrusting a handful of bills over the front seat and thanking their driver. Then, to her surprise, he climbed out of the cab on his side, circled the back of it to hers and opened her door for her.
Julia couldn’t remember the last time a guy had done something so, well, gallant. Chivalry really wasn’t dead, she thought. Gee, who knew? And it was living in Daniel Taggart now.
They’d shared last names and phone numbers and cell numbers and e-mail addresses before leaving the club—along with middle names, birth dates, political affiliations, childhood injuries and highest spider-solitaire scores. If he wanted to see her again, he knew where to find her. But as the cab pulled away from the curb and he did nothing to stop it, she realized he was thinking he wouldn’t have to look far. In fact, he seemed to be thinking the next time he wanted to exchange hellos with Julia, all he’d have to do was roll over in the morning and nudge her.
“You let the cab drive away,” she said as she watched the red taillights disappear around the corner half a block down.
“You didn’t stop me from letting it go,” he pointed out.
“I wasn’t thinking,” she told him.
He grinned. “Neither was I.”
It would be best, she thought, to lay it all out, right up front. Cards-on-the-table time. “You can’t come upstairs with me, Daniel,” she said as gently as she could. “Not tonight.”
His expression changed not at all, so she had no idea what he was thinking. “Why not? I thought we hit it off pretty well.”
To punctuate the statement, he lifted a hand to her hair and tucked a few strands behind her ear, then turned his fingers backward and lightly brushed his knuckles over her cheek. The sensation that shot through her in response was nothing short of atomic. Her eyes fluttered closed, and unable to help herself, she tilted her head to the side, so that he might touch her again. He evidently didn’t need any more encouragement, because he immediately framed her face in both hands and dipped his head to graze her mouth with his.
It was an extraordinary kiss. He brushed his lips lightly over hers, once, twice, three times…lightly…gingerly…blissfully. Then he took a step closer, bringing his body flush against hers, and covered her mouth more completely. Julia curled her fingers into the lapels of his jacket and tipped her head backward, savoring the