Jealousy Page 4

  Austin stands back up pulling his phone from his pocket while dropping the napkin that he just retrieved from the floor onto his chair. “I’m sorry, I have to take this,” he says, tapping his phone. “You can open it if you want, honey.” He walks away from the table.

  My heart beats to a dull thud now, calming.

  “Open it. I’m dying to see what he got you,” Jacqueline says, leaning closer.

  Dylan remains standing. Nervous, panicked.

  “What, Dylan?” She questions.

  I lift the hinged lid. Earrings. Oh thank God!

  Mimicking my inner dialogue, Dylan says, “Thank God!”

  Again Jacqueline stares at him confused. “You’re acting so strange tonight. Are you all right?”

  I understand his behavior. All too well.

  “Sorry,” Austin says, returning to the table. “That was Japan. They work opposite hours and I wanted to get that call out of the way so we could enjoy the rest of our night. Do you like the earrings? They’re classic and beautiful just like you.” Austin picks my hand up from the table and kisses it. “Happy birthday, Jules.”

  I exhale. The pressure finally off my lungs.

  “They’re beautiful. Thank you, Austin. The sapphires are breathtaking and vibrant.”

  “I thought you’d like something with color.”

  “I do, very much. That was very thoughtful. Thank you,” I say, leaning in and kissing him.

  I feel his hands on me, gently urging for more, but I don’t ever forget we have an audience. I blush when we part and my gaze slowly makes its way over the earrings and across the table to briefly meet Dylan’s. The earrings actually remind me of his eyes—breathtaking and vibrant.

  After dinner, we stop on the sidewalk, everything feeling awkward since I opened my present.

  “You and Jules should take the first cab,” Jacqueline offers. “Since we invaded your private party and all.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Austin says. “We have a car, you and Dylan should take it.”

  Dylan steps forward, and says, “Jacqueline, you can have the first cab. We live in opposite directions.”

  “You’re not together?” I ask before thinking. “I just assumed. I know it was a business meeting but—”

  “No, we’re not together,” Dylan quickly clarifies. “We’re just business associates.”

  Austin takes my hand. “I should have told you. I apologize. Jacqueline is Dylan’s boss.”

  Jacqueline looks uncomfortable by the conversation.

  Looking at her, I say, “I apologize.” When I look to Dylan, he’s smiling, knowing exactly what I was doing.

  He reassures her to end the night on a good note, “Jacqueline is a great catch though.”

  She turns to him, smiling, not blushing. I bet she hasn’t blushed in years. She’s more experienced that way.

  Our car pulls to the curb and I can see something in Dylan’s expression change, but I don’t have enough time to pinpoint it. Austin ushers me forward, then we stop and turn around. He shakes Dylan’s hand, tells him he’s glad he’s on the team, and that he’s been impressed with his work ethic.

  Dylan was always a hard worker, at least when I knew him before. There’s something comforting in the fact that he still is, that maybe he didn’t change completely.

  Jacqueline shakes my hand. I thank her for the gift and promise to get that facial she was raving about. She turns to my boyfriend, shaking hands and holding it, laughing about some inside joke, her other hand on his bicep. Not professional, too comfortable, not just flirtatiousness, but blatant passes in my opinion. Austin takes it in stride. He’s used to women finding him attractive. He’s gorgeous. Her passes don’t pass, but are stopped as he pulls me closer, his own blatant show that he’s taken.

  I look to Dylan, awkwardness straddling the air between us. The wall of tension that has divided us for so long begins rebuilding again.

  With a sigh, Dylan looks down the street then back to me. “It was nice to spend your birthday with you. Thank you for including us.” He takes my hand just as Austin releases it to wait at the open door, Jacqueline still talking his ear off, distracting him.

  I shake it, though that wasn’t the original intention when he took it. “Yes, thank you for joining us.” The words aren’t right between us. They’re for show, not what we feel inside, not truly.

  His blue eyes search mine needing more from me, needing what I need from him right now—more. More time, more talking, more of everything.

  “I hope to see you again,” he adds, his voice quieter, more private as his thumb rubs over my knuckles, reminding me of the gentle bond we once shared.

  “Me too.” I say, but before I turn away from him for what feels like the last time, I add, “Goodbye, Dylan.”

  “Goodbye Jules.”

  WHAT A FUCKING night! It’s like the first time I ever saw her, reliving that moment all over again. She was gorgeous, engaging, and the center of attention. There’s no turning back for me. I know what I want, even at the expense of Austin and the damage he can do to my career. It’s ironic. I gave up Juliette for my career three years ago and now I’m willing to sacrifice my career to get her back.

  The cab drops me off three blocks down at the park near my building. I’m so excited that I run to the center near the pond, not caring if I mess up my shoes, and let it out. I yell in triumph. The smile hasn’t left my face since I left the restaurant. I fist pump in the air. Jules. It’s all because of Jules. Laughing out loud to an empty park seems much more sane when you’re high off life.

  I haven’t felt this good since… well, since we were dating. I run back to my apartment, adrenaline driving me forward as my mind tries to erase all the years that didn’t include her. Everything else that happened is just a blur now except for Jules. She remains crystal clear in my mind, tonight refreshing that fading memory of her lips on mine.

  Finally, I can breathe. I didn’t realize the pressure that remained from our fight last April. The last five months were utter hell. I’ve tried hard to forget her, but it didn’t work. I worked eighty hour weeks. I got a promotion, but all those hours were just a distraction. I took up racquetball. Fun, but not fulfilling. It was a filler of time, not my mind. My thoughts always came back to her.

  I run up the stairs taking them two at a time and burst into my place. Stripping my suit off, I drop my clothes as I rush to the bathroom and start the shower. Invincible. I feel invincible.

  All because of her.

  She looked so fucking gorgeous in that dress.

  I step under the spray.

  Her body even more incredible.

  I scrub my body with soap, drenching my head in the process.

  Once I set my eyes on Jules, I couldn’t take them off her.

  She’s not officially taken. Thank God. I freaked when I thought Barker was going to propose, but he didn’t.

  I wash my hair.

  His mistake. I won’t make that same mistake twice. I now know what I’ve been missing. She looked edible tonight in that dress and fuck hot shoes. I wanted to drag her into the bathroom and fuck her like I used to. I wonder if she remembers how we used to fuck.

  I grab my dick… Leaning forward, my palm goes flat against the tile as my other hand continues.

  “Jules!” I call her name while coming hard.

  MY KNOCK ALERTS her to my presence, though the door is open.

  Jacqueline looks up and smiles. “Hey Dylan, come on in and shut the door.”

  “You summoned,” I reply, sitting down in front of her desk.

  “I thought we should talk about dinner last night,” she says, her smile faltering a bit.

  “I had a good time. Did you?”

  She stands, brushing her hair behind her shoulders. Walking around the desk, she leans against it in front of me, very close. I know she wants me. She’s not subtle, except when it comes to the details. I think that was obvious to Jules last night while Jacqueline was hitting on her b
oyfriend.

  “How do you think it went overall?” She lengthens her legs out and crosses them at the ankles. The action puts her knees between my legs. Obvious.

  I sit up straighter, putting just a little distance between us. “I think it went well and I think the client had a good time.”

  She remarks, “Jules was offish, don’t you think?”

  “No, not really.”

  “I didn’t get a good vibe from her. Like with the gift. Do you think she really liked it or was just saying that?”

  I chuckle, surprised I’m having this conversation right now, a conversation about Jules and her boyfriend. This is really fucked up. “I think she reacted normal to receiving a gift from a total stranger who was trying to suck up to her boyfriend.”

  “Dylan!”

  “It’s true and you know it.”

  She stands, offended by my accusation. Apparently calling her out hurts her feelings. “We may be friends, but soften the delivery next time.”

  “Sorry,” I say, shrugging. “But I do think you got an appropriate reaction from her. Do I think she’s cold? Um, she wasn’t last night. I thought she was quite charming actually. We had great conversation over dinner.”

  Twirling her hair around a finger, she says, “She seemed attached, too attached, like really clingy to Austin considering they’ve only been together for five months. Don’t you think?” I’m starting to get pissed. I don’t want to talk about Jules and Austin. I should leave. I stand, but she steps forward. “Don’t go yet.”

  My tone is terse, more than I mean, but I’m over this conversation. “I thought dinner went well—”

  “I think we should invite them out again. You know, double.”

  “That makes no sense. You and I are not dating.”

  “I just need a little more time with her and I know we can become good friends.”

  “Why do you want this so bad, Jacqueline? Are you trying to be chummy with her to get to Austin? Save yourself the trouble. I saw how he looked at her, how he touched her.” My voice involuntarily rises. “For fuck’s sake, I thought he was proposing last night. He’s in love with her.”

  Jacqueline walks back around her desk and sits in her large leather chair, crossing her arms over her chest, and smirking. “Well, well, Mr. Somers, unless I’m completely mistaken, that sounds like jealousy I hear in your voice?”

  I shift uncomfortably. “This is pointless. You’re trying to get a man that only cares for one woman—”

  “But who does that woman care for? You two sure did seem caught up in some intimate conversati—”

  “That’s because you effectively blocked us out of yours while making the moves on Austin. I was being polite to his date, so she didn’t have to watch that play out.”

  I turn toward the door, reaching it in four long strides.

  “So no double then?” she asks to my back.

  I laugh, then leave.

  I ENTER THE gallery behind a small group, blending in while looking around for Jules. I don’t see her, but realize she’ll be busy tonight anyway. I walk into the other room. The lights are dimmed low, spotlights focused on the walls. I take a glass of red from the wine table. Standing off to the side, I look over the space.

  Jules is here. I see her, like a breathtaking angel in white tonight. Her legs are bare, the short dress showing her figure. Fucking gorgeous.

  I watch her as she laughs, then excuses herself from a couple she’s been chatting with. She hasn’t seen me, but walks with purpose before getting sidetracked by a large painting. Stopping. Staring. I always loved watching her admire art. Even from over here, I can tell she’s let her mind drift somewhere else. Transported.

  I take a few steps closer just as a man comes up behind her. He has his hands on her waist, but she doesn’t react like his touch is unwelcome or unfamiliar. He’s not Austin or Brandon, but she knows him. I move even closer, emotions spinning in my chest. He whispers in her ear and she smiles, amused, tilting her head slightly away from him. He doesn’t notice, but I do. Maybe she doesn’t welcome him as much as he wants.

  There’s something in her body language that tells me he’s flirting and she’s enjoying it, but nothing has ever happened. Maybe it’s in his body language—he’s trying too hard to be seductive. It doesn’t come natural to him. He wants her. That much is clear, but he’s barely legal looking. Jules Weston needs a man.

  I move closer until I’m near, not wanting to invade her space. She turns, then our eyes connect.

  She whispers to him, both of them wandering over after. With a smile on her face, she says, “Dylan,” as if it’s of no surprise that I’m here. We knew we’d see each other again when we said goodbye on her birthday.

  “Jules.” I greet with a smile of my own. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you. You came to the show?”

  “I wanted to see the paintings you mentioned the other night.”

  While touching the other guy on the shoulder, she says, “This is Jean-Luc, the artist.”

  This guy is the artist? Of course he is. He hasn’t had real passion but tries to capture it in his paintings. He doesn’t shake my offered hand. Yep, I called it. He’s immature.

  Dropping my hand to my side, I look back to Jules who’s giggling. She always said artists were temperamental. She reaches forward and grabs my wrist unexpectedly, pulling me closer. “Have you seen this one yet?” She’s referring to the painting of the naked woman on the wall in front of me.

  Jean-Luc is talking to some woman who flirts with him. His hands are on her just as they were on Jules minutes before. I’m relieved to find out he does that to everyone.

  “It’s okay, but it lacks sincerity. It’s superficial stuff,” I note, glancing down at her. “Nothing real about the woman is exposed, just her flesh. Her eyes say nothing. A woman’s eyes always say more than her lips ever could.”

  She’s staring at me, my eyes, my face, my mouth. Her eyes overtly lingering on my mouth, then she shifts. “That’s an incredibly sexy observation.”

  I lean a little closer. When her eyes finally meet mine again, I whisper, “Do you want me to tell you what your eyes are saying right now?”

  She blinks rapidly, then I feel her breath against my cheek paused to say something.

  “That’s a painting of Jules.” I jerk up to see Jean-Luc referencing to the painting again.

  I think my skepticism is showing when I ask, “That’s Jules?”

  “Yes. I painted it about 5 months ago. She’s stunning and her body… I let my imagination run wild.”

  With sarcasm, I add, “That’s why it lacks emotion. You painted for you not—”

  “Dylan. Stop.” Jules takes my hand and pulls me away. I’d go with her willingly but I like her hand on mine too much. She drags me a few feet away… away from the ‘artist.’ “Dylan, please don’t upset him. He’s very talented and very sensitive.”

  “He needs a dose of reality.”

  She rolls her eyes but I see the smile in the corners of her mouth. “It’s abstract and you, my friend, are going to be thrown out of here with that attitude. It’s Jean-Luc’s night.” Her tone is playful, not threatening.

  Nudging her, I ask with a smirk, “So I’m your friend now?”

  Looking up at me, she tilts her head. “That’s all you got from that?”

  “That’s all that matters,” I say, more serious than I intend. I don’t want to scare her, but she’s all that matters. That’s the truth.

  “Oh, Dylan,” she sighs, looking around the gallery.

  It’s getting busier, more crowded. She’ll have to leave me soon, so I need to act fast. “Say it, Jules.”

  With her arms crossed in defiance, she says, “No.”

  She’s such a tease. “Come ooonnnn… say it. Just for me. No one else has to hear.”

  “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “You’re playing games.”

  “Fine.” She leans in really close, l
ifts up on her toes and whispers, “You win. We’re friends.”

  “Was that so hard?” I poke her playfully in the side, much like I used to when we were a couple. The ease between us right now is not lost either. I see it in her eyes. Jules is smiling from the inside out.

  I reach into my pocket and pull the small box out, presenting it on my palm. “It was rude of me to not have a gift for you on your birthday. I thought I’d make up for it.” I step half a foot closer, almost touching, but not.

  She reaches tentatively for the box and I try to lighten the mood. “I’m sure it’s quite intimidating after seeing how you reacted to Austin’s small present.”

  An instant comeback slips from her lips, “If you thought I looked worried, you should have seen your face.”

  There’s my girl—all spark and moxie. We laugh as she takes the box and opens it like she has a point to prove. Her expression becomes more serious, so I say, “You always loved that one we had years ago.”

  She looks up, holding the prism by the string. Her eyes are watery now. I didn’t mean to make her cry. “Dylan, I—”

  “Hey, that’s just like the one in your apartment,” Austin says, taking to her side and kissing her cheek. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was brutal from the downtown. Dylan, good to see you.” We shake hands.

  No matter how much his presence bothers me, he just gave me way more than I expected. She still has it. She has the gift I gave her for Christmas back in college.

  Austin is his usual polite self, and asks me, “Did you come for the art or the beautiful company?”

  Watching as his arm snakes around her waist, I answer honestly, “The company, of course.”

  She places the prism back in the box and closes the lid. Turning, she kisses Austin, a nice greeting but she could’ve done better. I remember some very heated kisses when she’d greet me. With a smile, she says, “Hi, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “So that’s like the one you have hanging in your window, right?” He smiles between us, oblivious that he’s interrupting anything.

  “Yes.” Jules’ answer is abrupt and she keeps her eyes averted.