After the Kiss (11 page)

She returned the favor. If someone had asked her to sketch out the female version of Mitchell, it would have looked a lot like this. The floor-length, one-shouldered black gown was fashionable yet conservative. The long, wavy strawberry-blond hair was feminine but not overtly sexy. She had straight, even features and a thin, boyish body.

The only thing interesting about her was her eyes, which had turned frosty when they fell on Julie.

“Ms. Greene,” Evelyn said, extending a bony hand. She didn’t take the necessary step to close the gap between them, requiring Julie to do the moving to shake her hand.

Instead, Julie matched Evelyn’s gesture, extending her own hand without moving her feet, so that there was a good foot of space between their extended fingers. Julie thought she
heard Mitchell cough out a horrified laugh.

Julie raised an eyebrow, and they had a silent pissing contest until Evelyn slowly lowered her hand and narrowed her eyes. “I’m familiar with your work, Ms. Greene. I have friends who are big fans, although I confess
Stiletto
’s not my usual reading unless I’m in the dentist’s waiting area and desperate,” she said with a little laugh.

“Of course.
Stiletto
’s meant to be fun and enjoyable. Certainly not for everybody.”

Evelyn’s eye twitched as though trying to figure out if she’d been insulted, but Julie pressed on. “I’m afraid you have me at the disadvantage in introductions. You are …?”

Mitchell stepped forward, attempting to ease the introductions, but Evelyn stopped him with a hand on his chest. Julie swallowed away the lump in her throat at the proprietary movement.

“You don’t follow politics, Ms. Greene?”

“Too busy shoe shopping, I guess. And hanging out with Mitchell.”

Julie intentionally let her gaze drift to Mitchell’s crotch, and he gave her an exasperated look. Before Evelyn could swipe back, Senator Blake ended his conversation with a constituent in the neighboring box and headed their way.

Julie was disappointed. Other than her ongoing feud with Kelli Kearns in the office, she rarely had a good catfight.

“Mitchell, good to see you again, boy,” the senator said as he shook Mitchell’s hand.

“You too, Senator.”

Senator Blake grunted. “How many times have I told you to call me John?”

“John,” Mitchell amended.

The senator turned to Julie, his expression curious but more openly friendly than his daughter’s. “And who’s this?”

“This is Julie Greene, Dad,” Evelyn cooed. “She’s a sex columnist.”

It was intended as a barb, but Julie rolled with it. “Guilty. I hope I’m not sullying your box, Senator.”

Senator Blake threw back his head and laughed. Already Julie liked him better than his daughter. He looked like the quintessential American senator: tall, broad-shouldered, salt-and-pepper hair, strong features, a big voice.

His daughter, on the other hand, was the quintessential shrew: pinched face, snobbish,
and currently all over Julie’s boyfriend. Julie tried to keep her eyes on the senator as he regaled her with some story about his pre-politics career in publishing, but her eyes kept flicking to where Evelyn—no,
Evvy
—had pulled Mitchell into the corner, his head bent down to listen to whatever she was whispering.

Julie must have been doing a piss-poor job of faking interest in the senator because he turned slightly to see what—or whom—she was looking at. For a second his eyes went sad.

“She thought he was going to propose,” he said, lowering his voice.

“Oh?” Julie said, her heart in her throat.

“We never did figure out what went wrong. I don’t know who was more upset to lose him, me or her,” he said with a small laugh. “He was like a son.”

Suddenly Julie felt guilty for judging Evelyn so harshly. She might be a bit of a bitch, but she was a brokenhearted bitch. Losing a man like Mitchell Forbes was bound to bring out the worst in someone.

She bit her lip. Where had
that
thought come from?

“How long have you two been together?” the senator asked, resuming his friendly manner.

“Oh, we’re not really together,” Julie said quickly. “Just sort of casually dating.”

Mitchell and Evelyn chose that moment to rejoin them, and Evelyn’s satisfied expression revealed that she’d overheard Julie’s comment.

Julie searched Mitchell’s face to gauge his reaction to her dismissal of their relationship, but his expression was even more placid and unreadable than ever.

The lights flickered, indicating the end of intermission, and Julie breathed a sigh of relief. She was starting to get frostbite from Evelyn’s glare.

“It was nice to meet you,” Evelyn said politely. “Mitchell, I’ll call you about what we discussed?”

Julie’s fingers tightened on Mitchell’s arm, and he glanced quickly down at her. “I think we’re good, Ev,” he said in a kind voice.

Evelyn’s eyes clouded over again, and Julie almost felt sorry for her again. Almost.

Julie and Mitchell didn’t say a word as they made their way back toward their own box, and Julie resisted the urge to ask the clichéd woman’s question:
What are you thinking about?

On a professional level she hoped he wasn’t hung up on his ex-girlfriend. That would
derail her story.

On a personal level … well, on a personal level, she
really
hoped he wasn’t hung up on his ex-girlfriend.

Julie almost smiled. The green had been an apt dress choice. She wondered absently if jealousy looked good on her, and was about to ask Mitchell when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into an empty box.

“This isn’t ours,” she said, looking around in confusion.

His lips nibbled her ear. “I know. It’s empty.”

“How do you know?”

“I noticed during the first act.”

“And we’re here because …?”

“So I could do this,” he said, his mouth opening and planting warm kisses along the side of her neck.

She couldn’t help it. She purred. “So is this like the grown-up version of making out at the movies?”

“I hope to do a lot more than making out.”

Julie’s eyes widened at that. Those glasses hid a naughty side.

“So we’re just casually seeing each other, huh?” he asked, still taking soft bites out of her neck.

She froze before continuing her restless stroking of his back. “Well, what would you call it?”

“That sounds about right.”

Julie swallowed around the disappointment.
Give him a break, Jules. It’s only been a week
.

Still, she couldn’t resist asking. “Evelyn …?”

“What about her?” He pulled back slightly, and Julie wanted to zip her mouth shut and yank his lips back to her neck.

“Never mind,” she said quickly.

But Mitchell leaned back and met her eyes. “There’s nothing between us.”

“Didn’t look that way from where I was standing,” she grumbled.

He shrugged. “She was hoping there might be a chance at a reunion. I told her no.”

Julie’s heart began to thud. “You did? Why?”

He gave a wicked smile and pulled her into the shadowy corner of the box, where they were out of sight. “Because Evelyn doesn’t put out at the Met.”

Julie gave a soft laugh as she ran her hands over his chest. “So you like me because I’m slutty?”

“Exactly.”

The orchestra began its overture, indicating the end of intermission, and the lights dimmed.

“We’re going to miss the show,” she whispered.

“Thank God,” he whispered back.

And then his hand moved over her breast, and Julie bit back a moan.

They didn’t talk for a long, long time, and when the fat lady sang, Julie wanted to sing right along with her.

As she drifted back to earth, her mind flitted to the article. Maybe this was a new element she could add.
Sign he wants to take things to the next level: he rejects his rich ex-girlfriend to make you come in the shadows of the Metropolitan Opera House
.

On second thought,
Stiletto
readers wouldn’t be getting that little bit of wisdom. This was one memory she was saving for herself.

She was starting to worry she wanted to save it
all
for herself.

“So let me get this straight. You and Mitchell haven’t gone a single day without seeing each other since that night you picked him up at MoMA?”

“Shh!” Julie hissed. “Do you have to announce it to the world?”

Riley pointedly looked around at the nearly empty hallway. “And by ‘world,’ you mean … Grace?”

“I already knew,” Grace pointed out practically.

“Well, still. I don’t want people to know about it until I figure out how to explain it.”

“What’s there to explain? You have a new boyfriend.”

“Mitchell is not my boyfriend,” Julie said.

“Um, how do you figure? You’re seeing him on weekend days and weeknights. How many times has that happened, Grace?”

“Hmm, let me count … Zero, and never.”

“Exactly,” Riley said as she started to push open the conference room door for their weekly staff meeting.

Julie yanked her back. “You know full well why I’m doing this. It’s not real.”

Grace’s finger hooked into Julie’s collar. “That hickey sure is real.”

Julie’s hand slapped over the right side of her neck. The saleswoman at Bergdorf’s had been such a liar—that concealer could
not
cover anything up. She wanted her fifty bucks back.

“I still can’t believe you slept with him,” Riley hooted. “That is so geisha of you!”

“It wasn’t like that,” Julie said as she flipped her collar up around her neck. “The other stuff was for the story. The sex part just … happened.”

“What other stuff?” Grace asked, pulling them out of the way so they weren’t blocking the conference room door.

Julie hedged. “You know, just hanging out for the sake of research. We go out to eat, go to the movies, drink wine. Nothing important. We’re just two people who enjoy each other’s company and happen to have sex. I don’t know that there’s a name for it.”

Grace and Riley exchanged a meaningful glance, looking very much like they wanted to
burst out laughing.

“What?” Julie snapped.

Grace tried unsuccessfully to wipe the smirk from her face. “Hon, what you described most definitely has a name.”

“Yup,” Riley said, taking a slurp of her macchiato. “It’s called … oh, what’s the word? … a relationship.”

Grace’s smile slipped at Julie’s scowl. “Julie, we’re not trying to be difficult. But you’re a bundle of mixed signals. One second you’re jumping down our throats about how he’s only a story, and the next minute you’re all protective like you actually like him. Which is it?”

I don’t know
.

“Let’s talk about it later,” she grumbled. Julie shoved open the door to the conference room before Grace and Riley could continue their assault, and took a seat between Angela and Maria. She couldn’t cope with any more prying questions from her best friends at the moment. Normally she relished the chance to discuss everything involving men, on both the personal and professional levels.

But this thing with Mitchell—and she really didn’t have a name for it—felt far too private. And she was afraid she knew why. She was falling for him. She was falling for the subject of her story.

“Are you all right?” Angela asked. “You’re looking kind of … feverish.”

No, what you’re seeing is guilt. I’m seeing this perfectly great guy, using him for sex, companionship
, and
my August column
.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she replied breezily. “Just a little warm this morning.”

Further conversation was halted by Camille’s arrival.
Stiletto
’s editor in chief marched into the room with a cellphone attached to her ear. From the look of things, the boss had not been having a good day. Her lipstick had faded to unbecoming flecks on her lips, and her hair was pulled back into a stubby, unattractive ponytail.

Julie and some of the more senior columnists exchanged looks. They all knew what the presence of a disheveled Camille meant. That the meeting would be run with all the gentle sensitivity of a Navy SEAL raid.

Camille didn’t waste any time. “Health and Fitness, where are you?”

Annie Zapelli, the senior editor of the section, took a deep breath and bravely raised her
hand. Camille reached into her tote bag and dropped a thick stack of paper in front of Annie.

“Well?” Camille demanded.

“I don’t know what this is,” Annie asked, scanning the papers quickly, trying to catch up.

“This is two hundred and nine letters about your article on the controversial nature of eggs.”

“Two hundred and nine people don’t like eggs?” Annie asked.

“No, two hundred and nine people don’t like that you claimed eggs might increase cholesterol.”

Annie’s lips tightened in frustration. “We never said we personally thought eggs were bad. We merely cited the new studies suggesting egg yolks
might
be bad. We didn’t fabricate or claim anything.”

“Of course not,” Camille snapped. “If you did, you’d be putting that ugly fern on your desk in a cardboard box and be on the Q train back home. But tackling eggs was a foolish move. The studies on those damned things change every month. The research had switched back the other way before we even made it to print.”

Annie opened her mouth in anger but clamped it shut. Julie shot her a sympathetic look. She knew full well what Annie wanted to say but wouldn’t.

The truth was, Camille read the entire magazine cover to cover before it went to print. If she’d thought eggs were risky business, she’d had plenty of time to say so before the issue hit the racks.

“Enough,” Camille said when one of the new interns bravely tried to suggest they could print a follow-up discussing all the various contradictory studies and encouraging readers to make their own informed decision. “We’ve done far too much talking about dairy for a magazine that sells mostly for its love and sex advice.”

All eyes in the room flicked to Julie, Riley, and Grace. They weren’t always spared Camille’s wrath, but the sheer popularity of their section had resulted in what Julie knew the others perceived as a “teacher’s pet” mentality from Camille.