hers. “I promise that won’t be the case, beautiful, because I’m heading the design team. Nick Fairfax.”
Julienne blinked as he brushed his mouth across her skin. Had Nicholas Fairfax—Nick—brilliant restoration architect and naughty boy extraordinaire, just called her beautiful?
The glint in his sultry eyes answered that question positively but before she could absorb such an amazing thought or push an introduction past her lips, she heard a familiar, and very unwelcome, voice yell, “Jules.”
Turning toward the sound, she found Ramón and Katriona weaving through the crowd toward them. In barely the time it took her to inhale a steadying breath, Julienne saw Ramón’s gaze pivot to the hand Nick Fairfax still held against his lips. Katriona didn’t appear to notice; in fact, she eyed the man himself with such a hungry expression Julienne guessed she’d like nothing better than to gobble Nick up in one bite.
“Jules.” He brushed his lips across her skin again, before releasing her. “My pleasure.”
“Nick,” she managed to reply, before Ramón and Katriona were upon them and she made polite introductions.
“I’ve read all about you,” Ramón told Nick, but not before casting her a surreptitious wink that reminded her of their earlier conversation about finding a new guy. Apparently Ramón thought Nick Fairfax could be an acceptable contender. “Take my card. You’ll need a stylist while you’re in town. Send your employees in, too. My staff will take good care of everyone.”
Julienne rolled her eyes, still feeling a bit dazed by the chemistry between her and this utterly exquisite architect who towered above her, though she wasn’t exactly short in her heels.
But Nick took Ramón’s solicitations in stride. “If you’ve played a part in this beautiful lady’s appearance, I’ll book an appointment and recommend you to my team, no problem.” His gaze trailed from her hair to her toes, and she couldn’t miss the approval flashing in his dark eyes.
“I can’t take all the credit,” Ramón said magnanimously. “Jules is a joy to work on.”
Katriona inclined her regal head, clearly about to add her two cents, but Ramón clamped a hand on her arm and stopped her before she opened her mouth.
“Would you look at the time? Come on, Kat.” With a vice grip on her chiffon-clad arm, he launched Katriona into the crowd, no mean feat given her size. Then he glanced back and said, “Jules, don’t forget your appointment tomorrow.”
Julienne stared. Appointment? Since when was Casa de Ramón open on Sundays? When Ramón glared at her over his eyeglass rims, she realized he wanted her to call.
“I won’t forget,” she shot back, earning Ramón’s smile before he and Katriona disappeared into the crowd.
After tucking the business card into his pocket, Nick fixed her an examining look. “Did you come with them?”
“No.”
“I don’t see a date. I’ve been watching you since I arrived.”
“You have?” Okay, not the most confident of replies, but it seemed to amuse Nick, judging by the grin suddenly playing at the corners of his mouth.
“I have. And I particularly enjoyed your performance during the living theater. You made a very graceful exit.”
That earlier blush returned to haunt her and she hoped he didn’t notice in the dim lobby lighting. But the heat in her cheeks also served to knock some sense into her.
Naughty girls feel good about feeling naughty.
“No date. I’m all by myself tonight.”
“Not anymore.” Nick extended his hand in a very gentlemanly gesture of invitation. “If you’ll allow me, there’s a party downstairs and I’d like you to be my guest.”
3
NICK WAITED for Jules’s reaction. Then there it was, a slight melting of those clear gray eyes, a sudden softening of her mouth. When she slipped cool fingers into his, he breathed again.
“I’d be delighted,” she said in a sultry voice that made his nerve endings rise to attention, along with other parts of his anatomy that had no business behaving as though they’d been ignored of late.
Tucking her hand securely in the crook of his arm, Nick led her through the lobby down to the basement and dressing rooms where the Arts Council currently hosted a closing night party for the actors, musicians, theater patrons and other attendees from the arts, cultural and historical societies.
What was it about this woman that made him feel as if every nerve in his body was live with max voltage? Was he simply reacting to a very beautiful woman?
From her shimmery hair, the color of claret from the vineyards around his home in Northern California, to her intriguing combination of bold words and shy blushes, he noticed everything about her, wanted to know even more. He planned to spend his night discovering exactly who this beauty was.
He couldn’t believe his good fortune earlier when he’d recognized her heading onto the stage. His good fortune hadn’t been hers, though, because from his seat he could see her face and recognized that she hadn’t been thrilled to be onstage.
But she’d handled her exit very well, gifting him with an incredible show of swaying curves and wild hair as she danced her way off the stage again, inspiring all sorts of fantasies about her dancing across that stage just for him.
Nick hadn’t been the only one affected. Dale had hung out of their box, vowing to give up beer and joyrides for good. Nick had told him not to bother. He’d had his chance for a shot at this red devil. He wouldn’t get another.
The closing night party hosted an eclectic mix of actors in outrageous costumes—or barely any costumes at all—and the more conservative members of the city’s various boards. He and Dale were the only ADF staff currently in Savannah as his design team wrapped up various tasks from their last project and would arrive throughout the next week.
Seizing two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, he cornered Jules across the room from Dale, who schmoozed with several matrons from the Arts Council near the buffet, earning his high-figure salary by representing ADF when its principal was otherwise engaged.
“So tell me, beautiful.” He let his fingers linger on hers when he handed her the glass. “What brings such a lovely lady to an erotic theater alone?”
She shrugged, just a slight lifting of her shoulders that seemed at once both feminine and noncommittal. “There aren’t too many men who appreciate the historic significance of this theater and I wanted to see it one last time so I can marvel at your skill when the renovation’s done.”
Nick couldn’t decide what turned him on more, her interest in his architectural abilities or her confidence in them. “So the history of the place appeals to you. What about the architecture and the performance?”
“If I were to put them in order of importance, I’d actually have to say the renovation would be first on my list, then the history and finally the theater. What’s onstage doesn’t seem to matter much. The real magic is being here.”
Nick
