The rare happy memory of her childhood was interrupted by Julien, asking her about her wine.
They made small talk throughout the meal, but it wasn’t until she was pushing around the remnants of her fresh raspberries and chocolate mousse that Julien ventured beyond the “how is your” or “don’t you like your” questions.
“Why are you being like this? I told you I was sorry, and I’m trying to make it up to you.”
From his peeved expression, it was clear he thought she was being unreasonable. Was she? He had gone to the trouble of arranging a romantic dinner rather than having a curry with the rest of their group, and the prices were high for his starving-grad-student budget. But an expensive meal wasn’t what she wanted. What she’d wanted was an explanation.
“I know, and I appreciate it. But I guess what happened earlier bothered me more than I realized. It wasn’t like you.”
At least she didn’t think it was, but then again, how well did she really know him? Maybe that was what was botheringher most of all. She’d run off to Scotland on a wild adventure with a man she had known for two months, and the reality of that was catching up with her. She wasn’t usually impulsive.
He’d been acting different since they arrived. Or had he? Could it be that she was only seeing him clearly now because everything else was different, too? Alone in a way they’d never been before—without her familiar surroundings and other friends around her—what she’d excused as foreign or eccentric was now just rude and...weak.
The much-hated word resonated in her ears. It had been the worst criticism her father could level on someone, and she’d always reacted against it. Just because not all men wanted to play superhero like him didn’t make them weak. And ironically being a superhero had made her father exactly that.
Julien wasn’t weak. He was kind and compassionate and thoughtful. He’d always treated her with consideration and respect. He was always a perfect gentleman—even when they made love. He took his time—foreplay was the national sport of France, he liked to jest—always seeing to her pleasure first. She’d never had someone spend so much time kissing her shoulders and arms. If she sometimes wished he would just hurry up, she told herself not to be ridiculous. She was lucky to have someone so considerate and romantic in her life.
She was being unfair to him. And she realized how much when he reached over to take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before bringing it to his mouth. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. But I was jealous.”
“What?” Annie was incredulous. “Of the scruffy captain?”
Julien gave her a searching look from under his indecently long lashes. “I saw the way he looked at you, and I thought you might be attracted to him.”
He couldn’t be serious. She might have noticed the captain’s longshoreman’s physique and size—it would be hard not to—but that wasn’t what attracted her to a man. Admittedly he had amazingly sharp and piercing eyes, and the part of his face she could see beneath the threadbare cap and heavy beard appeared to be good-looking in that tough-guy fashionthatcouldbe appealing, but physical appeal wasn’t what was important to her.
Or rather, it wasn’t usuallyallthat was important to her.
“How could you think that?Youare what I’m attracted to. You are drop-dead gorgeous”—not to mention clean-shaven—“sophisticated, cultured, smart, and the most charming man I have ever met.” The captain had about all the charm of a rock. “Not to mention that you care about the same things I do like politics and the environment.” She shook her head. “Didn’t you see him washing out that oily engine part in the sea? God only knows how many carbon emissions that old guzzler of a boat he captains is giving off. He probably has an old pickup truck or SUV to go along with it. A guy like that?” She shook her head. “I can’t imagine anything we’d have to talk about.”
“You seemed to talk about diving long enough,” Julien pointed out. She bit her lip, realizing he was right. She’d felt bad for excluding him, but it was rare she had the opportunity to talk with someone who knew as much about diving as she did. Julien held her gaze and added, “And I don’t think talking was necessarily what he had in mind.”
The realization of what he meant made her blush. And for a moment she imagined what it would be like having that big, muscular body on top of her—naked—and that sizable column she’d had her hand wrapped around slowly pushing inside.
No. She immediately knew that he wouldn’t be slow. He’d be hard and fast and probably a little rough. Just the way she imagined when she was alone in bed at night.
The wave of heat that passed through her was so powerful, so intense, she almost shuddered.
Maybe Julien was a little more right than she wanted him to be. The physical attraction had been stronger than she wanted to admit. But it didn’t mean anything.
She returned the squeeze of his hand with one of her own. She rolled her thumb over his finely boned fingers. He had good hands, even if they were a little soft. But she wasn’t Jerry Seinfeld; she wasn’t going to get skeeved out by something as silly as “man hands”—or rather, the lack thereof.
The captain’s hands had been big and rough with calluses. She frowned, remembering the cuts and burn marks as well. She’d noticed a few marks on one side of his face as well that looked recently healed. Had he been in some kind of accident? Was that why he seemed so grim?
Why was she thinking about this?
She turned back to Julien. “I think you are reading far more into it than there was. I don’t think Captain Dan likes me any better than I like him. But none of that matters. The only man I have in my mind is you.”
Her words seemed to convince him, and things felt back to normal as they walked back to the room hand in hand. She even felt a slight flutter of excitement when he closed the door behind them and started to kiss her. Until he turned on the light and moved on to her neck to begin the long, drawn-out process of unbuttoning her blouse.
With Julien everything was long and drawn out.
He must have sensed her withdrawal. He lifted his head and looked down at her. “What is it?”
He really was good-looking with that dark hair slumped over his brow, his dark eyes, full lips, and clefted chin. If physical attraction was so important to her—she thought with frustration, recalling her reaction to the captain—why wasn’t she into this?
“Nothing,” she said. “Don’t stop.” She tried to move his head down to her breast. She liked the way he circled his tongue on her nipple and sometimes sucked, but apparently it was too soon for that. He began to press slow kisses around her clavicle. Not the clavicle, she nearly groaned. He would be there for an hour.
Impatience rose inside her. She couldn’t hold back and blurted, “Do you think we could, um, go a little faster tonight?”
