Wrapped Around You: For the Billionaire's Pleasure, #2

ONE

JULIE BLAKE LEANED BACK SO the server could set an assortment of bite size desserts on the charger in front of her. She thanked her, grateful for the chocolate fortification. Sitting across from her, Brad didn’t stop talking long enough to acknowledge the server and barely drew breath before digging into the petite bowl of salmon colored custard. He’d talked through the entire meal, but thankfully hadn’t required more than occasional nod or murmur of approval. It was a good thing because sitting in the dining room of Eric Auxtres’s flagship restaurant, she was so distracted; she doubted she could have managed more.

She still didn’t know how she’d let Brad talk her into going to Comme Ci for dinner. Well yes, if she was being honest, she did. She needed the Smithfield account and Brad was the gatekeeper to the company. It’s the only reason she’d been putting up with his endless stories and wandering hands all day. If she could hold it together for a little while longer, she could take the train home, knowing she’d done everything she could to secure the account. If her brother screwed it up after that, it was on him. And anyway, what was the chance that Eric would be working in the dining room on Christmas Eve? Surely being a celebrity chef got him out of holiday shifts.

Thinking about it, she wasn’t sure whether to be happy or disappointed. It had been over ten years since she’d seen him. More than enough time to get over the feelings she’d had for him, or at least it should be. It wasn’t. She pushed back the deep sense of longing she felt, sitting in the restaurant created by the only man she’d ever loved.

Over the years, she’d wondered how he was, wondered if the celebrity changed him. Maybe it had, but the man she’d known was still there. She could see him everywhere in the details of his restaurant, the cool grays and creamy whites and the dishes that manage to be sophisticated but not fussy. Eric shone through all of it.

Julie forked up a taste of some kind of glorious dark chocolate cake. She was letting the creamy almost fudge like bite melt in her mouth when she realized it had gotten awfully quiet on the other side of the table. She looked up from her sampler of desserts just in time to see Brad licking the back of his spoon in a suggestively creepy way. She fought a shudder, but if he saw, he wasn’t deterred. He ran his tongue over the smooth metal, flicking it slightly when he reached the tip.

Crap.

He wasn’t a bad looking guy. He had a small paunch and was softening around the middle, but he still had hair. Although it looked like he used more product than she did. He was over the top, but even if he hadn’t been, Julie wouldn’t have been interested. She didn’t want a relationship. She wanted to help her dad and her brother get settled, and then she wanted to move on with things. She’d had more than enough of the men in her life. She had no intention of adding to the list.

I hate to hurry things, she said, making a point to check her watch. But I should probably get going. I don’t want to miss the last train out of the city.

Brad leered at her with an expression that made him look a bit like Sylvester when he’d come up with a particularly inventive trap for Tweety.

Listen, he said, leaning across the table. I know you’re in the city alone and no one should be alone on Christmas Eve. I took the liberty of getting us a room at the Westin. I’ll order a bottle of champagne, and we can take it up to the room and celebrate the holiday together. I’ve got a package, I’d be happy to let you unwrap. The double entendre laced his words, and she had to fight the urge to add a wink wink nudge nudge to the end of his offer. But he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would appreciate the humor, especially where his package was concerned.

I’m sorry, she said, planting a demure, repentant smile on her face – one that she hoped telegraphed it’s me not you. I think there’s been a misunderstanding.  I’m not interested in anything personal right now. Not with anyone. Please, let him think it was her fault and not be offended. Her family needed the account and she hated to think the unending tiresome day had been a waste.

No, he said, his expression turning smug and steely. I think you misunderstood. You want the account, don’t you?  This is how you close the deal.

The way he said it made it clear he wasn’t just talking about the credit card. Unfuckingbelievable. He was actually trying to blackmail her into sleeping with him. She loved her brother—at least she thought she still did. She didn’t want to see him lose everything, especially because it would blow back on her dad. But there was no way in hell she was having sex with some creep to save her brother’s sorry ass. No account was worth that.

I don’t know what you imagined was going to happen, but I am not going to bed with you.

Bed, floor, up against a wall. We can be flexible. He reached for her hand, gripping it like a vise. If you want the account.

Julie yanked her hand away and jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair in the process.

Not a chance in hell, she said, heading for the door.

THAT’S IT. ERIC AUXTRES flipped the last ticket and smiled at the tired cooks behind his line. Go ahead and break things down. With murmurs of yes chef in the background, he slid out of his soiled coat and into fresh chef whites.

Holidays were an important part of the business. A mainstay of their jobs, after all, was helping people celebrate, but it was Christmas Eve. He wanted to get his people home with their families as soon as possible. He loved what he did and rarely wished for a day off, but thankfully the restaurant was closed tomorrow so his staff could spend the holiday at home. And if he didn’t have anyone waiting for him, well so what? He could use the time to sleep in, recharge, and figure out where he wanted his life to go next. On second thought, the last bit sounded too intense. A few extra hours of sleep should be more than enough to set him right.

It felt good to be working the line for a change, he thought as he pushed open the door to his dining room. So much of his time lately had been tied up in meetings and appearances. Not cooking. He missed it, but it was a necessary part of his business, his brand, and one that only he could do. He made his way through the artfully arranged white cloth-clad tables and sparkling candlelight, shaking hands and accepting compliments. He’d almost reached the front of the restaurant when a large hand clapped him on the back.

Well, I guess as far as meals go, that was adequate.

Eric turned to face Luke Masters, a mega-rich pain in the ass and his best friend.

Shut up, said Claire, his gorgeous wife. You have no taste. She smacked Luke’s arm and leaned forward to accept Eric’s kiss on her cheek. It was brilliant as always.

Claire was glowing. Her pregnant belly grew more every time he saw her and along with it, his friend’s happiness. He was still a little stunned that his confirmed bachelor friend was married and going to be a father, but he couldn’t help but be thrilled when he saw how happy Luke was with Claire.

Eric was so grateful they’d worked past any strangeness between them after the failed evening they’d shared months back. He’d been careful since not to do anything to push Luke’s buttons, keeping his touch light and the kiss completely platonic. He loved them both and wouldn’t risk anything that might put distance between the three of them. As it was, Luke still pulled Claire in closer, tucking her possessively against his body.

Merry Christmas, Eric said, taking his old friend’s hand.

To you, too. Luke grinned at him before helping Claire into her coat.

Eric saw them to the door and watched them climb into the backseat of the Bentley. He had a moment of real envy. Not for Claire, she was smart and gorgeous and sexy as hell, but she and Luke were made for each other. He didn’t envy Luke the woman—not much anyway. He envied him the love he saw move back and forth between them like air. It would be nice to have someone to go home with. Someone who meant more to him than one of his many one night stands. Someone he could watch unwrap a present that was important because he really knew her and not just because it was expensive. He shook his head. He was one of the most successful celebrity chefs in the country. His career was on a meteorite trajectory and here he stood feeling sorry for himself.

He turned to head back to the dining room and collided with a woman practically sprinting for the door. She stumbled on her heels and he caught her before she fell, his hands sliding appreciatively over her silk covered curves.

Careful, ma cher, he said, staring down into familiar hazel eyes. Eyes that had woven their way in and out of his dreams for the past ten years. Jules?

HELLO, ERIC. SHE TRIED to step back, but he tightened his grip, unwilling to let go of her. It’s nice to see you, but I’ve really got to go.

He saw her glancing over his shoulder toward the dining room and moved to put himself between her and whatever, or more likely, whoever she’d been trying to get away from. But he didn’t let go and he didn’t relax his grip on her. Nice, she said. He hadn’t seen her since the summer of his senior year at UNC right before he headed to the Cordon Bleu in Paris. She’d turned his world upside down, stolen his heart and then disappeared. But it was nice to see him, she said.

He searched her face, seeing traces of the girl he’d loved overlaid with the refined image of the woman she’d become. She’d always been beautiful, but what had been a fresh-faced innocence had become the polished sophistication of a woman in her full power. She wore her dark hair swept into a smooth French twist and pinned, exposing the nape of her neck. The red bow of her mouth was full and lush, and her eyes shone, lit with golden flecks.

Holding her in his arms, feeling the warmth of her skin through the silk of her dress, he wanted her as much as he had that summer long ago. More, because now he knew exactly how rare the thing between them was. There was no way he’d let her slip out of his arms again. Not until he had a chance to see if they were as good together as he remembered.

Let me go, Eric, she said, but her words only made him tighten his grip on her.

No, he said, staring down at her, drinking her in. All these years spent thinking about her and the fantasy hadn’t come anywhere close to the reality of holding his Julie again. You’re not running away from me this time.

This time? She twisted, managing to put a little distance between them. I wasn’t the one who ran the first time. If I’m remembering right, you were the one who got on the airplane and flew away.

I went to school. You knew where I was going. He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly so frustrated he was afraid if he held onto her arm he’d leave bruises. When I came back, the farm belonged to someone else, and you were gone. It had been at Christmas, too. He’d gotten off the plane and bolted for Julie’s family’s farm, needing to see her first before he even went home to his own family. Strangers answered the door and told him the Blakes had sold the place and no, they didn’t know where the family had gone. No one knew how to find you, and you sure as hell weren’t looking for me.

Something that looked like pain flashed in her eyes, and Eric deliberately softened his tone. He was frustrated and angrier than he realized, but the last thing he wanted to do was chase her off. Stay. Share a cup of tea with me. We can catch up. Then the realization hit him, and he let his other hand fall. Unless there is someone waiting for you at home. Of course there was someone waiting for her. It was Christmas Eve. There was no way a woman like his Julie was alone for the holiday. He wasn’t sure which shocked him more—the jealousy that bubbled to the surface at the thought of another man waiting at home for her or the fact that in his head she still was and always would be his Julie.

Before she had a chance to respond, a tall man with a definite swagger and too much hair gel stalked through the doorway. When he saw Julie, his scowl changed to a satisfied smirk, one Eric fully intended to knock off his face.

I see you’ve had the good sense to reconsider. Don’t worry, he said, catching Julie by the arm. I’ll let you make it up to me.

Eric grabbed the man’s hand, peeling his fingers off Julie’s arm and positioned himself between her and the guy. He looked up, ready to take on whoever had gotten between him and his target, but when he recognized Eric his demeanor changed.

Chef Auxtres, he said, plastering an overly enthusiastic smile on his face. It’s a real pleasure to meet you. Brad Westerhouse. He thrust his hand at Eric, who took it, using the opportunity to steer the man away from Julie and toward the door.

Wait, he said, glancing over his shoulder when he realized she wasn’t following him. Excuse me, chef.

Reluctantly, Eric let go of him. He’d rather hit him, but it wouldn’t be good for business to start decking patrons. But if the asshole touched Julie again, all bets were off.

Coming, Julie? He held his hand out clearly expecting Julie to take it.

She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. Not in this lifetime or the next.

Her words were all the permission he needed to march the other man out the front door. He cursed under his breath, but Eric didn’t give him another chance to speak to Julie. When he closed the front door and turned back to her, she looked shaken but resigned.

There’s no one waiting for me, she said. A cup of tea would be great.

TWO

T HANK YOU FOR THAT AND for this, Julie said, picking up the fragrant cup of tea Eric set on the small table beside her. He’d settled her into one of the club chairs flanking the ten foot tall Christmas tree. The glass balls decorating the branches picked up the colors of the glass fixtures in the restaurant and the deep blue and purple ornaments contrasted beautifully with the soft grays and cool white of the rest of the restaurant. It had obviously been done by a decorator. It had none of the spicy pine scent of a real tree, but even sitting this close to it, she couldn’t tell for sure. And surrounded by the twinkling of the tiny white lights combined with the candles on the tables, Julie could almost let go of the stress of the day and remember it was a holiday.

She rarely thought of herself as Jules anymore, and no one had called her that for years. Not since Eric left for Paris. Hearing it now, seeing him, took her right back to that summer. To the consuming passion and heartache of first loves. She inhaled the rich tannin smell of good black tea combined with the scent of lemon from the paper thin slice floating in the cup. She looked around for the sugar bowl, but except for their cups, the table was bare.

I sweetened it. Taste it. If it’s wrong, I can get you another cup.

She raised the cup to her lips, knowing before she took a sip that it would be perfect. Her tea had always tasted better when he fixed it, and if she was surprised that he remembered how she liked it, she shouldn’t have been. His attention to detail always had been amazing. It was probably part of what made him such a successful chef.

So, he said, watching her with the blue gray eyes she knew so well. When she swallowed and nodded with pleasure, his grin met hers. He waved a dismissive hand toward the door. Charming guy. The way he said the name made it sound like something that smelled bad, she fought the urge to laugh. His soft accent picked up from his parents and accentuated by his time in Paris along with his mannerisms—the things that made it obvious that he wasn’t from North Carolina—were part of what charmed her all those years ago, but it hadn‘t stopped her from teasing him when he acted French. Date?

God no! Potential client who mistakenly assumed I was part of the deal.

What kind of client? What do you do now?

I’m helping Caleb with his tech security firm. I needed to convince Smithfield to use Blake Enterprises, and Brad is the gatekeeper. Needless to say that won’t be happening. As important as it had seemed when she started the day, she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad about it. She’d done everything she could to win the account and put up with way more than her brother would have in her place. It was his fault the company was overextended.

I’m sorry he caused trouble for you, Eric said. His voice sounded controlled and civilized, but she saw the tightening around his jaw and recognized the expression. He was a grown man, bigger and somehow more present than the much younger man she’d fallen for all those years ago. But something about the familiar expression took her right back to the summer, to the sweat slicked scent of him and the feel of his skin warm under her hands. Before she had a chance to think better of it, she reached out to cup his cheek, feeling the sandpaper rough of his stubble against her palm.

His eyes widened, but he caught her hand before she could pull it away, turning to press a kiss to her palm. His lips were warm, soft and strong, and a charge ran through her at the brush of his kiss, coiling tight in her belly. It had been that way the first time he’d touched her all those years ago. Her body reacted to his like polar ends of a magnet. Like they’d been made to fit together—her curves meeting his planes, her softness filling his edges.

Her body thrilled to life at the simple touch of his lips on her hand. She could lie to herself and say it was because it had been so long since she’d been with a man, but it would be just that—a  lie. Time had done nothing to diminish the way she felt when she was near Eric.

Turning her hand, he brushed a kiss over the backs of her knuckles before sliding his palm over hers. He kept their hands linked, resting them on the arm of her chair.

I didn’t know you were interested in tech security. It’s not what I’d pictured you doing.

It wasn’t what she’d pictured herself doing either. Blake Enterprises was her brother’s brain child. If it hadn’t been for the fact that her father sank the proceeds from the sale of the farm into the company, she’d have let Caleb sink or swim on his own. But as angry as she was at both of them, she couldn’t do that to her dad.

It wasn’t my first choice, she said. It was as close as she could get to the truth without going into the details of her brother’s colossal screw ups and her father’s inability to see them. When she didn’t offer more, he went ahead and asked.

What do you want to do? He kept up a steady rhythm with the pad of his thumb, stroking circles in the center of her palm.

His touch was intoxicating. It made it impossible to concentrate on anything other than him and what he wanted from her. Staring into his kind, intent gaze she found it impossible to lie or even hide.

Aquaculture. Fish farming, she clarified and braced herself for his laughter, but it never came.

Brilliant, he said. It’s a brilliant idea. A quality source of protein near population centers. I know several chefs who’d be very interested in the idea. Truly locally sourced food. Genius. He leaned forward, gesturing with his free hand while he talked. His undeniable excitement was contagious and for moment she forgot all the reasons why she couldn’t make her dreams work. "Why are you wasting your time with tech securities? Is it