Fight with Me (With Me in Seattle 2)

“No, nothing important.”  He pushes back from his desk and saunters over to me, his warm gray eyes holding mine.  “You are stunning.”

“Thank you.  You look incredible yourself.”  I run my fingers through his hair and I don’t care that I have a goofy grin on my face.  “I like your hair down.”

“Do you?”  He bends down and softly kisses my neck, just below my ear.  “You take my breath away, Julianne.”

“I’m glad.”  I kiss his chin and adjust one of the buttons on his shirt.  “Where are we going tonight?”

“There’s a great seafood place down on the waterfront.”

“Sounds good.” He kisses me, sweeping his lips across mine, and then lays his forehead on mine.

“Let’s go.”

***

Dinner has been enlightening and delicious.  We have talked like old friends, and I’ve learned even more about Nate’s childhood, growing up as an only child with just his father.  We’ve avoided talking about work, so I decide to broach the subject.

“So, what’s going to happen Monday?” I ask and take a sip of wine as we wait for dessert.

“I’m assuming we’ll be at work,” he comments, and eyes me apprehensively.

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, let me ask you this,” he takes my hand and examines my French-tipped fingers. “Is this a one-weekend thing for you?  Do you want to go back to having a purely professional relationship at the stroke of midnight tomorrow?”

No!  Is that what he wants?  The thought makes me sick.  I’ve learned so much about him in the short twenty-four hours we’ve been together; seen such an amazing new side to him.  I enjoy his no-nonsense conservative side at work, and I can’t get enough of the bad-boy I’ve met today.

“No,” I whisper.  “That’s not what I want.”

He exhales deeply and kisses my fingers, relief evident on his gorgeous face.  “Me neither.”

“So, what do we do?”

“We continue having an amicable, professional relationship at work, and whatever happens outside of the office is our business.” He shrugs like it makes perfect sense.  Like it’s so easy.

“I’m not a good actress.”

“Oh, I don’t know, you’ve done well enough for the past eight months.”  He sits back and takes a sip of wine, not letting go of my hand, his eyes hooded.

There is no choice.  If we give any clue at work that we’re intimate we’ll both be fired.  If we decide to never see each other again, I’ll be devastated and broken-hearted.  Neither option is appetizing.

“Okay.  Business as usual.”

“Excuse me,” our waiter approaches the table and I smile up at him.  “Aren’t you Jules M from Playboy?”

I feel the blood drain from my face.  I’m never recognized, ever.  It’s been five years since I last posed in that magazine, and it has to be now, when I’m with Nate, that some kid remembers seeing me in a magazine his dad probably had hidden under his bed.

I throw on my fake smile and wink at him.  “I am.”

Nate releases my hand and I cringe on the inside.

“Wow,” the waiter blushes and smiles back at me.  “I thought I recognized you. I don’t want to bug you, I was just curious.  Your dessert should be ready in a second.”

“Thank you, Derrick,” I reply smoothly, reading his name tag.  He nods awkwardly and walks away and I take a deep breath and meet Nate’s eyes across the table.

“I guess I should mention that I posed in Playboy a long time ago,” I murmur.

“I guess you should,” he responds.  His voice has gone colder and I cringe, on the outside this time.

“It’s not something I’m ashamed of, but it doesn’t come up often any more.  It was a long time ago.”  I shrug and watch his expression, which doesn’t change.

“Why did you do it?” he asks.

“Well, Natalie used to take a lot of photos of me.  She still does.  The biggest part of her business is boudoir and couples photography.  She got into it in college, and I was the one she practiced on.”

“Go on,” he says after Derrick places our desserts on the table.

“So, there was a talent scout in Seattle one weekend, and I grabbed a few of the photos she took and went there to see what they thought.  One month later I was in L.A. at a studio posing for the magazine.”  I shrug again and fidget with my silverware.  “It didn’t pay very well, but I didn’t need the money anyway.  I guess it made me feel sexy, and girly, which was important to me because I’d always been around so many boys, and it was fun.  The photographer was very professional, as was everyone else on the set.  I got to stay at the Playboy Mansion a few times and hang out with the other girls and Heff, and there were celebrities around.  For a twenty-one year-old, it was glamorous and exciting.”

“But?” he asks, prompting me to continue.

“But, I didn’t like the crude guys that would approach me when I was out with Nat. One guy cornered me in a bathroom hallway in a bar one night, and well, let’s just say he had a hard time taking no for an answer.” I swallow and look down at my clenched hands. “ I beat him to a bloody pulp.”  Nate’s hand flexes into a fist on the table and I raise my eyes to his.  “I literally put him in the hospital.”

“Good,” is his only response.

“I decided that posing those few times was enough.  It’s something I’ll always have, but not something I need.  I’m shocked that kid recognized me.”  I shake my head and close my eyes, wishing Nate would give me a clue to what he’s thinking.

“Please say something,” I whisper when it feels like minutes tick by without a peep from him.

“I don’t like it.”  His voice is quiet and cold, and my stomach clenches in fear.

“That’s understandable,” I mutter, my head down.  I focus on the table cloth, running my fingers over it, steadying myself for him to say he’s done.  This is a deal breaker for him.  He thinks I’m a whore.

I’ve heard all those things before.

“I think you’re incredible.”