"Would you like to see the break room?" Roy asked kindly. "It's quieter there. You can think without all the noise."
I nodded gratefully, and Roy led me through a door into a smaller, much calmer space. It was clearly designed for the staff to decompress, with comfortable couches and a coffee station with large windows that looked out onto a small garden.
And in the corner, hanging on a hook, was a motorcycle helmet.
"Is that Julian's?" I asked, walking over to examine it.
"Oh yes," Roy said with a smile. "He rides his bike to work sometimes, especially when he's stressed. Says it helps him think."
I touched the helmet gently, remembering the sight of Julian pulling up to the gallery on Friday night, the way he'd looked both dangerous and elegant as he'd removed it on the sidewalk.
"I'll leave you to it," Roy said tactfully. "Coffee's fresh if you want some."
Alone in the break room, I settled onto one of the couches with a cup of coffee, my mind spinning with the events of the morning. Julian wanted me to model for him. It was flattering and terrifying in equal measure.
I was still holding the warm mug when Julian appeared in the doorway, looking slightly frazzled but relieved.
"Crisis averted," he said, closing the door behind him. "The backup model is on her way, and we've rearranged the schedule." He noticed me looking at the helmet. "I see you found my gear."
"Roy mentioned you ride to work sometimes," I said. "I was thinking about last night, when you showed up at the gallery on your bike. How did you get it home? You rode in the car with me."
Julian's smile was slightly sheepish. "I had my driver take me back after we dropped you off so I could pick it up. Not my most efficient moment."
"You left your motorcycle on the street so you could ride home with me?"
"I wanted to spend more time with you," Julian said simply. "The bike was a practical consideration. You were… well, you’re everything."
I felt warmth spread through my chest at his honesty. "You looked incredibly sexy walking up like that, with your suit and helmet," I admitted. "I thought you might be some dangerous stranger at first, and then you took off the helmet and..." I trailed off, heat rising in my cheeks.
"And?" Julian prompted, moving closer.
"And I realized you were my dangerous stranger." I finished softly.
Julian was standing directly in front of me now, his eyes dark with something that made my pulse quicken. "Vivienne..."
I set down my coffee cup and stood, closing the distance between us. "Julian."
When he kissed me, it was with the pent-up intensity of someone who'd been holding back all morning. His hands framed my face, his mouth moving against mine with a hunger that made my knees weak. I responded with equal fervor, my arms winding around his neck, my body pressing against his.
"I've been wanting to do that since the moment you walked in," Julian murmured against my lips, his gloved hands sliding down to my waist.
"What took you so long?" I whispered back, and felt his smile against my mouth.
He kissed me again, deeper this time, and I could taste mint and something uniquely him. When his hands found the hem of my sweater, his cool leather-covered fingers sliding against my lower back, I didn't protest, too lost in the sensation of his touch to think about where we were or who might walk in.
Julian's mouth moved to my throat, finding that sensitive spot that made me gasp and arch against him. His hands explored the curves he'd mapped so carefully with his measuring tape, but this time there was nothing clinical about his touch.
"God, you feel so good," he breathed against my skin, his gloved fingers tracing patterns that made me shiver with want.
My hands found the hem of his t-shirt, sliding underneath to feel the warm skin and lean muscle I remembered from our night together. Julian made a low sound in his throat, his body responding to my touch in ways that made me feel powerful and desired.
"Vivienne," he said, pulling back slightly to look at me. "If we don't stop now..."
"I know," I said breathlessly, my hands still exploring the planes of his chest. "I know we should stop."
But neither of us moved to break the contact. Julian's leather-covered thumb traced my lower lip, his eyes following the movement with fascination.
"You're making it very difficult to be professional," he said with a rueful smile.
