Moments of Julian Page 5

  I chuckle and shake my head. “Not only is he observant, he’s also a mind-reader.”

  “Yeah, I’m kind of regretting this,” he says with a smile. “I mean, I didn’t intend for this to be so…”

  “Intimate feeling?”

  “Like I’m supposed to be dropping to one knee and declaring my undying love or something.” Now he laughs.

  “Wow,” I say. “That escalated quickly.”

  “I’m sorry,” Julian says, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbing them. “Things have just been a little hectic lately, some peace and quiet sounded awfully nice.”

  “Hectic,” I say. When Julian sits on the dock, leaning back onto his arms, I mimic him. “Does this mean you have a job outside of dance class?”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re a pretty harsh judge of character, you know that?”

  “I am an expert in my judging,” I say, knowing I sound like a witch, but also being honest.

  “I set my own schedule, you could say,” he responds, his eyes once again turned to the lake. “Normally things are quiet, I’ll go months, sometimes years without working a day. But then there are times like this that they get crazy.”

  “How old are you?” I ask. I wasn’t meaning to get personal here, but the question needed to satisfy my sudden curiosity.

  He looks over at me and his eyes seem to be evaluating me. I must not seem too threatening when he proceeds. “I’ll be thirty in December.”

  “Lucky. I can’t wait to be thirty,” I say with an envious shake of my head.

  “What?” he asks in disbelief. He sits up and wraps his arms around his knees. “I’m dreading it. Thirty sounds so old. When you’re in your twenties you feel immortal and like every day can be the best day of your life. I feel like after I turn thirty it’s just all downhill from there.”

  A laugh bubbles up from my lips as I sit up and cross my legs and let my hands rest in my lap.

  “I’ve worked really hard to earn everything I have. I finished school early, got a great job at a young age. I’ve risen quickly in the company. But there are still people who don’t take me seriously. I hate being looked down on. I just feel like,” I say, pausing and trying to figure out how to word what I feel. “Like people will finally see me as an adult when I’m out of my twenties. Your twenties are all about being irresponsible but having all the expectations of being an adult. I’m just not like that.”

  “I know it’s important to care what people think of you,” Julian says, his eyes on mine. “But do you think that maybe you care just a little too much?”

  I can’t hold his gaze anymore and my eyes drop to my hands in my lap. “Maybe, but I don’t think that part of me is going to change any time soon.”

  “It’s not really a bad thing. We are who we are.”

  When I meet his eyes they are intense and sincere. I know there are things in his past and reasons he is saying the things he says. And this is the perfect setting to get all those things out.

  But this is just a casual get together with a stranger after a dance lesson.

  So instead of getting intense and close, I lay back on the dock and look up at the stars that are struggling to shine brighter than the city lights.

  Julian lies down beside me, and side by side, we silently stargaze.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ten years ago, some tech wiz created this technology called the Blue Wall. Every credit card processing company has to have some kind of security systems in place to prevent hackers from getting into their systems and potentially stealing endless amounts of money. When you swipe your credit or debit card at a store, for a short window, a door opens up to your bank account. They then collect the amount of money they need, and the door closes.

  But hackers can steal your information, and while the needed money is being withdrawn, the hackers put a doorstop in and the door never fully closes.

  That’s what the Blue Wall does. It prevents hackers from putting in that doorstop by constantly scanning for openings in its walls. It protects not only those credit card processing companies, but banks started using it five years ago as well.

  As soon as the banks started using it, our company was launched into the stratosphere.

  But we did not exist before the Blue Wall was invented.

  We do not handle our own credit card processing. Digit sells the software to them and we maintain the systems once they are in place. The entire third, fourth, fifth, and sixth floors are filled with teams of tech people. And we have crews that work twenty-four seven.

  Monday is when I suspected that there is something going on. Mr. Maxwell locked himself in his office all day and was on the phone for at least five hours. I know, because my office is directly across from his.

  Tuesday there is a meeting with three of the six board members, which is odd. Why have a meeting with some board members, and not all of them? Beside Mr. Maxwell and the CEO, the rest of the board members are just stock and shareholders. None of them knew much about what we do here at Digit and they don’t have much of an active role in the company.

  So why were only a few of them at this meeting?

  I press the intercom button that buzzes out to Gretchen’s desk just outside my office. “Could you come in here for a minute?”

  She doesn’t even reply. She stands and walks straight in. There is a hint of nervousness in her eyes. Things have remained a tad frosty between us ever since last Thursday.

  “Do you have any idea what they’re meeting about?” I ask, keeping my voice low. Mr. Maxwell’s eyes are narrowed at some papers that are on his desk and two of the board members look like they’re trying to talk at the same time.

  “I don’t know but he told Cindy that he’ll fire anyone that walks through his door today and he’ll fire her if she disturbs them,” Gretch’s voice is a whisper.

  I nod, my eyes darting to Cindy, Mr. Maxwell’s assistant. She looks pale and even from this far I can tell her hands are shaking as she staples some papers together.

  “This conversation doesn’t leave this office, okay?” I say, giving her a solid, serious stare.

  Gretchen nods.

  “Have you heard any talk about new technology that the company is creating?” I ask.

  “Brian hasn’t said anything to me about it,” Gretch says as she sits in the chair across from me. “But he’s been awfully busy lately. There’s been some pretty nasty technology the hackers have come up with lately. Nothing the Blue Wall can’t handle, but they’re working to counteract it.”

  Brian is an average middle man, not one of our top guys by a long shot, but not one of the pee-on’s either.

  “Hm,” I say, looking one more time toward Mr. Maxwell’s office. “If you hear anything, will you let me know?”

  “Of course,” she says with a small, forced smile. Just then, the phone at her desk rings. “Gotta’ get that.”

  She darts out to her desk and answers the call by the third ring.

  “Sage?” she calls back through the door. “It’s Avia.”

  My mind is distracted, but I pick the phone up anyway.

  “Seriously, if you ever let that girl go, I want her.”

  “Avia, I’ve already told you, Gretchen isn’t for sale and I have no intension of giving her up.” I say this just loud enough for Gretch to hear. I’ve punished her long enough for calling me out on having no social life.

  “Fine,” she says with a dramatic sigh. “Hey, I’m in the mood for some Thai, you want to come with?”

  “Uh.” The board members have stood and they’re all shaking hands like they’re ready to leave. “Uh, yeah. I have somewhere to be by seven, but can you meet at six?”

  “I’ll see you then!”

  “K, bye.”

  Mr. Maxwell is standing now and he’s wearing that fake, forced smile of his that says he’s putting on the show for those that are around him, but he isn’t happy about how the meeting has gone.

  The
three board members exit the office and head for the elevator.

  The second they’re in it, Mr. Maxwell lays into Corbin.

  I can’t make out individual words, but his booming voice sends vibrations throughout the tenth floor.

  Maybe my promotion is coming sooner than I thought.

  “The rugs, the throw pillows, the wall color, it was all a total wreck,” Avia says animatedly as our plates are set down in front of us. “It’s a complete redo. I mean, what is a woman with that much money trying to do decorating a house like that on her own?”

  “The nerve,” I say as I grab a fork and stab at the pile of noodles and vegetables on my plate.

  Avia was a half hour late, and now I’m looking at the time on my phone every few minutes.

  “I know, right? I mean, why would she go and make my job harder? Do it right the first time.” Avia twirls her noodles around her fork and pops it into her mouth.

  I love Avia. We have a lot in common. We’re young, ambitious, brash, and occasionally a bit too judgmental. But she tends to rant. And it gets hard to listen to; because once she starts it’s hard to get her to stop.

  “I mean, she has mustard throw pillows, with grey chevron curtains. Her flooring is wood, orange-brown hued wood! Why doesn’t she just gag me now?” she says as she twirls another forkful.

  I smile as I watch her eat. She’s warm and round and absolutely beautiful. Unfortunately most guys won’t ever look past her slightly plus sized figure to see that she’s got gorgeous cheekbones, the most amazingly shaped eyes, and hair I would kill for. Seriously, it’s always set in perfect soft waves.

  “And don’t even get me started on her bedroom. It’s obvious she didn’t even try in there. Which I suppose is a bit of a relief, I don’t feel like I have to be so polite about it and fake that it isn’t that bad. She knows it is. And you’re already bored of me,” she suddenly changes direction.

  “No,” I insist. “I’m not. It’s just that there’s been some weird stuff going on at work lately.”

  “I personally think pretty much everything your company does is weird,” she says as she sips at her Diet Coke. “We’ve been friends for three years and I still don’t even understand what it is you or your company does.”

  I chuckle and twirl up another bite. It’s spicy, just enough that my eyes nearly water as I chew.

  “What was it that you needed to go to at seven?” she asks and then forks another bite into her mouth.

  “Just this thing,” I say, trying to brush it off and not have to fess up that I am taking dance lessons.

  “Uh huh,” she says, giving me a speculative look. “And is this thing a guy?”

  “No,” I scramble to redirect this situation I don’t want to be in. “Not a guy. Just, something I need to fix.”

  “What’s with all the mysteriousness?” she asks, her eyes suddenly gaining concern. “Are you going to a doctor or something?”

  “No,” I say, my voice losing its patience. “Can we just drop this? I need to hurry and finish eating. I’ve got to go in like ten minutes.”

  “Well, if it’s not really a guy you’re shrouding in mystery, perhaps he will do.”

  Avia’s eyes have locked on the windows that overlook the street and I turn to see what she’s staring at.

  Of course staring back at us is Julian. And the second our eyes lock, a smile curls on his face.

  “Oh, he’s coming inside!” Avia squeals at the same time my heart sinks.

  Crap. Crap. Crap.

  “Ladies,” Julian says as he stops next to our table. “It looks like you’re enjoying a lovely meal this evening.”

  “I could be enjoying something much lovelier much later this evening,” Avia says unabashedly as she looks Julian up and down. He’s wearing a tight pair of khaki pants and a dark blue shirt that hugs him nicely. They also expose the tattoos that sleeve his arms that I have not had the privilege of seeing yet.

  “Tempting,” Julian says, flashing her a devilish smile. “But we might be moving a little fast. Sage seems to have forgotten her manners and hasn’t even introduced us yet.”

  Avia’s eyebrows jump and she gives me a look. “You two know each other already?”

  “We had the pleasure of meeting at her work banquet last Friday,” Julian says, giving me a smug smile that makes me want to grind my four inch heel into his toes.

  “Uh huh,” she says, now giving me the stink eye. “And you never found it important to tell your best friend that you met a piece of eye candy like this?”

  “Best friend?” Julian says, excitement in his voice. “Wow, it’s an honor to meet a person who considers herself to be the best friend of a woman like Sage. You must be an impressive character.”

  “Sage, if you aren’t going to claim him, I will keep him,” Avia says, a smile plastered over her face, completely won over by Julian’s charm.

  “Avia, this is Julian no-last-name, Julian, this is Avia Leroux,” I say. I have a mean poker face, but I am often given away by my easily blushing skin.

  “It’s nice to meet you Avia,” Julian says, taking her hand and actually pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “And it’s Julian Dohring, not no-last-name.”

  “My pleasure,” Avia says, mock fanning herself.

  “Now, if you don’t mind, Sage and I have somewhere to be,” Julian says as he pulls a wallet from his back pocket. He drops three twenty dollar bills on our table and then reaches for my hand. “I must steal her away or we will be late.”

  “Liar!” Avia accuses as I grab my purse before Julian can lead me out of the restaurant.

  “I’m sorry!” I call loudly, drawing lots of attention. “I’ll explain, maybe. Later!”

  A light drizzle has started outside and I’m torn on whether to let my hair get soaked or let my three hundred dollar handbag take the hit.

  “Do you know how much you just embarrassed me?” I screech as we make our way across the parking lot toward my car. “And did you walk here?”

  “Of course not,” he says, his eyes squinting as he shakes his head.

  “Then where is your car?”

  “That doesn’t really matter right now, I’ll get it later. I was just going to get something to eat on my way to class,” he says with a nod of his head toward the burger place next to the Thai restaurant he just stole me away from. “And I saw you inside and I don’t know, I was suddenly inside too.”

  We’re at my car by this point. “You kind of sound like a stalker.” I raise an eyebrow at him.

  “I told you, I was just getting some food,” he says as he takes a step closer. I can smell that signature scent of his again. Crisp and sophisticated. “No stalking needed.”

  He licks his lower lip and then bites it and I realize then how crazy it makes me feel inside when he does that.

  Just a few more inches and there will be no more space between us. And oh, how bad I don’t want there to be any more space between us…

  “Not now,” I breathe, pushing my hand against his chest. “Not when I know Avia is watching from inside like a hawk.”

  “Later then?” he asks hopefully as one eyebrow arches up.

  “Maybe,” I tease. “If you’re a good boy.”

  He gives a bad boy chuckle that reminds me a lot of a man taking on a challenge. I pull my door open and he automatically climbs into the passenger seat.

  “Pretty soon I’m going to start thinking you’re just using me as a taxi,” I tease as I back out.

  “If I’ve got to take a taxi, this isn’t a bad one to ride in.”

  “Not bad?” I say in mock offense. “Do you have any idea how much this car cost me?”

  “I never said it was cheap.”

  “Uh huh,” I say as I close in on the dance building. I park the car and climb out. I’m about to reach for my bags but Julian has already grabbed them and is carrying them inside.

  He can be a challenging pain in the neck, but he is a gentleman.

  Then again, I did tel
l him to be a good boy tonight.

  We are ten minutes early and no one else is here yet. Julian sets my bags on a chair and turns hungry eyes on me. “There’s a changing room down that hall, past the bathroom.”

  I dig my clothes out and warily meet his eyes. “Thanks,” I say, and head in that direction.

  I’ve opted for a skin tight pair of black leggings today and a grey shirt that is loose fitting through the shoulders and tight around the waist. There’s a mirror in the changing room that I appraise myself in. My rear end looks pretty amazing, even I’ll admit it.

  By the time I walk back out into the classroom, four other students have arrived, as well as Beth. I’m slightly disappointed and relieved at the same time. Julian is talking with Beth next to the stereo, but he glances back in my direction every few seconds.

  I turn away from him and a coy smile curls on my lips.

  Within the next three minutes the rest of the class has arrived, each of us wearing some form or another of dance clothes. I’m dying to put my shoes on, but Beth once again asked everyone to wait another week.

  “Alright!” she says cheerily from the front of the room. “Let’s quickly review the waltz for the first twenty minutes and then we’ll move onto the cha-cha basics!”

  We first go over the box step, which I remember easily. Back, side, together. Forward, side, together. We then practice the rotating box step on our own and I mess it up the first time, but so does everyone else. And then it is time for partners.

  I dance with a man who is in his fifties, and then another in his thirties. We switch partners again and I dance with Beth to practice the underarm turn.

  Finally, we go over the rise and fall footwork which still has me messing up.

  “It looks like all of you have the basics down alright,” Beth says as she turns the music off. “We will be learning the basics of all three dances before moving onto some more complicated steps. Let’s spice things up a little with the cha-cha-cha, shall we!”

  This time, Beth has everyone line up in one long line, with her on the right side, and Julian on the left in front of everyone.

  “So, the cha-cha is counted in fours, but starting on the two. Two, three, four, and one. Or, you’ll more often hear me counting it as two, three, cha-cha-cha. How about you all clap it with me?”