Blindfolded Innocence

  “Let’s go to dinner.” He moved his hand from my chin, dropping it to his side, and my skin wept at the absence.

  “I already ate.” As I spoke, my stomach growled. I ignored it.

  “Then tomorrow night.”

  “I already have plans.” At that sentence, his eyebrows rose. I was bluffing my ass off, but wasn’t about to give him dinner so easily.

  “Oh-kay, when is your packed social schedule free?”

  “Umm...maybe Tuesday? Wait—” I shook my head, trying to think clearly. Trying to hold on to my anger. “Why are we going to dinner?”

  “To talk. About this.”

  “About what? And I came all the way over here to talk about this. Why can’t we talk now?”

  He sighed and put his hands on his hips, looking absolutely, ridiculously sexy. I fought to keep my hands by my side and the enraged look on my face. “We can’t talk now because you’re drunk.”

  “I am not drunk!” I sputtered, though either I was now swaying or the sidewalk was.

  “Okay, then you’re impaired. Either way, I’m not having this conversation with you right now. Where is your car?”

  “At the bar. I took a taxi.”

  “Where is the taxi now?”

  “I don’t know. He left.”

  Brad turned and looked at the house, and for the first time it occurred to me that he might not be alone. “I’ll take you home. Come on.”

  “No!” I held up my hand and he folded his arms, looking at me with irritation. “I’ll have one of my friends pick me up.” I fumbled in my purse and pulled out my phone.

  “Julia...” He reached for me, grabbed my arm, pulled me into his strong embrace. I pushed back, holding a finger up at him, and dialed Olivia’s number. Please pick up, please pick up....

  “Hello?” Thank God.

  “O, it’s me. I need a ride.”

  “I’m kind of in the middle of some—”

  “O, I need a ride.”

  A sigh. “Okay, where are you?”

  “Twelve forty-four Olive Line Trail. It’s just north of downtown.”

  “I’ll put it in GPS.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be out front.” I ended the call and looked up at Brad. “My friend’s picking me up.”

  “A guy or a girlfriend?”

  I threw my phone at him, a long, perfect heave that easily could have taken out one of his eyes if he hadn’t ducked with an athlete’s reflexes. He laughed, looking at my phone now lying harmlessly on the grass. Good thing he wasn’t standing in front of pavement. I stalked over and picked up the phone, then marched over to the driveway and started heading back to the front of the house. My defiant stomp was marred slightly by the fact that I was wearing heels and the damn man had a cobblestone driveway, but I forged on, stumbling twice, him there beside me, catching me both times.

  “Julia...” Brad hurried ahead of me, grabbing my arms and holding me in place. I ripped them free, pushing him aside, seeing a quick flash of his face, frustration in his eyes, and rounded the curve of the house. I plowed through a bed of recently planted tulips—what bachelor has tulips?—stomping up the first two steps to the front porch and dramatically flopping down on the step, hugging my purse to my body and staring stonily out at the street.

  He moved in front of me, my stubborn gaze now locked on his crotch, clad in loose athletic shorts that, despite their best effort, did nothing to hide the bulge of his cock.

  “Look, I’m sorry I said anything to Todd. That wasn’t my place.” His apology was scratchy and stilted. He was probably out of practice admitting he was wrong.

  “And to Bob.”

  “And to Bob. Though I didn’t really say anything to Bob.”

  I grumbled through my purse. “No, you just sucked all the air out of my office and stared him down like he was a rogue agent.”

  Brad sighed and sat down next to me on the step. I fought the urge to lean against him. He was just so damn...everything: strong, protective, sexy—and smelled ridiculously good, even with dried sweat all over him. He started to put an arm around me and I stiffened. “Don’t.” He dropped his arm and leaned back, gazing out at the street. It was warm, and in the distance we could hear the sounds of the neighborhood. Somewhere a basketball thumped; garage doors opened and closed. We sat in silence and I tried to calculate how long it would take Olivia to get here from campus. Assuming she had been at her apartment, which was about a fifty-fifty chance, I figured about seven minutes, and probably—

  Brad’s voice interrupted my calculations. “What are you thinking about?”

  “What a dick you are.”

  “Wow. Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

  “I bet.”

  “Again, I’m sorry about Todd. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to him.”

  I snorted. “Like that won’t be awkward.”

  He let out a deep breath of air. “It’s all I can do.”

  “Well, thank you for the apology. The good news is there aren’t any other good-looking interns, so you can’t really do any more damage.” I turned and looked at Brad, his strong profile gently lit by the recessed step lights. “I don’t get you, Brad. This has jealousy written all over it.”

  He clasped his hands and looked at them, then at me, his gaze direct. “I don’t know what to tell you, Julia. It was just a reflex action. I heard Todd talking on his cell about meeting you for drinks and it just popped out. I know it was out of place. I just didn’t want him getting you drunk and taking advantage of you.”

  “This coming from you—the man who whisked me off to Vegas and poured drinks down my throat at every opportunity? The man who had me naked on his bed the first morning of our trip?”

  He frowned at me. “Don’t try to twist that trip into something it wasn’t. I didn’t take you to Vegas to woo you into sex. I took you to Vegas because you had never been, and it was an opportunity for us to get to know each other without fear of running into someone from the office. I don’t think I was pressuring you when you walked naked and dripping into the living room and invited me into the shower.”

  I blushed and gritted my teeth. The man had a point. I changed the scope of my attack. “And you told Todd that fraternizing with coworkers was bad business? What about fucking clients? Did you include that in your business advice? And you can’t even talk about fraternizing with coworkers! Seriously, did you choke on your own bullshit?”

  “Okay, Julia, you’ve made your point—I’m an asshole. I was out of line. I have apologized. I’m not going to sit here and have you chastise me like I’m a child. I’m not used to not getting what I want. I’m not used to being told I can’t have something. I’m sorry if it pissed me off to see someone else getting you so easily.” He swore angrily and stood up. I quickly followed suit, grabbing his arm when he started to step away.

  “I’m not a fucking object! I’m not something that you can choose to have, or choose to toss away. Does it even matter to you what I want?”

  He looked down, at my hand, which still gripped his strong biceps, my fingers not even reaching halfway around it. Then he looked at my eyes, his face unreadable.

  “What is it you want?” he asked. “What do you want from me? You want me to spend a weekend with you, have you naked against me, your smile, your laugh, and then just cut you off? Kiss you goodbye and then let anyone else have you? You want me to sit in my office and watch Todd ask you out? I’m not engineered that way. Maybe I am polyamorous, as you put it, on one hand and territorial on the other. That might seem fucked up, but it’s how I am. I take what I want, and I own what I have. I’m just trying to figure out what you want.”

  I stared at him, my jaw tight, my eyes unable to pull from his. “I don’t want a fuck buddy, much less to be owned by one.” I released his arm, crossing mine over my ches
t.

  Thankfully, Olivia chose that moment to arrive, pulling up and waving at me. Brad stood, hands on his hips, and watched me as I walked past him to the car. I didn’t look back, and he didn’t say anything, didn’t chase after me.

  I got in the car and looked at Olivia. “Is he looking over here?”

  “Yep. He’s looking and shaking his head, like he’s confused.”

  “Okay. Stop looking at him and drive away.”

  “Is that De Luca?”

  “Drive away. Then you can grill me.”

  She obediently put the car in Drive and pulled off, waiting until she hit the first light before turning to me with an expectant look.

  “Yes, that was De Luca. No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Damn, Jules, the man is a god! Those shoulders—”

  I held up my hand, stopping her gush. “I really don’t want to hear about it. I spend at least half of each day trying not to think about his body. Can you just take me home?”

  “Sure. Just so I know, where’s your car at?”

  I groaned. “A metered spot by Cantina del Mar. I’ll have a taxi take me by it in the morning.” I leaned against the cool window, watching the streets zoom by. She pulled up at my house just when I was beginning to doze. I gave her a grateful hug, and dragged myself inside to my bed. Crawling under the sheets, still in my work clothes and makeup, I barely remembered to set the alarm before I fell asleep.

  * * *

  My alarm rang at 5:45 a.m.—forty-five minutes early so I would have time to figure out my car situation. I hit the alarm, stumbled to the bathroom to pee, then wandered back into my room. I grabbed my phone to look up a taxi company’s number when I saw a text sent from Olivia at eleven-twenty the night before.

  Becca and I picked up your car. It’s in the driveway. Your extra key is back in the hidden magnet

  God bless friends who know every aspect of your life. I crawled over my bed to the window, looked outside to verify that my car was, in fact, in the driveway, and then crawled back under the covers, resetting the alarm for 6:30 a.m.

  7:35 a.m.

  Jogging into the CDB lobby, I called Olivia’s phone. It rang once and then went to voice mail. I left her a short but sweet message thanking her profusely for both rescuing my ass the night before and for returning my car. I decided to wait to call Becca; she was undoubtedly still asleep. I made coffee in record time, a feat I had now mastered, and my butt was firmly in my seat by 7:45 a.m. I nodded a good-morning to Broward as he passed, then rose to pour him a cup.

  “Morning, Julia,” he said as I set the coffee mug in front of him.

  I smiled at him pleasantly. “Good morning. Anything special on the agenda today?”

  “Not really,” he said, flipping through some papers on his desk. “Except that I have that mediation next week that I have to fly to Dallas for, so I’ll be gone from Tuesday through Thursday.” He looked up at me expectantly.

  Yes! Three days without Broward. I tried not to let my exuberance show and nodded calmly at him. “Anything I can do to help you prepare, sir?”

  “Yes, I’ll need all of the files related to the Bandor Construction suit. Also, it will be informative for you to sit through the mediation prep calls with me. Check my calendar and invite yourself to any events that are related to that case between now and Tuesday. When I get back, we’ll have a lot of mediation paperwork, and hopefully a settlement offer to work on.”

  I nodded mutely and turned to leave.

  “Oh, Julia?”

  Oh, no. I turned demurely and smiled at him, my eyebrows raised. “Yes, sir?”

  He stood, now at eye level with me. “Last time I was out of town, I heard from Sheila that De Luca had been...bothering...you. I was worried, but it appears that he has backed off. Is my leaving town again going to cause a problem?”

  I kept my voice light and my eyes perplexed. “I don’t see why it would, sir. I’ve only spoken to Mr. De Luca a few times, and always regarding work items. He hasn’t bothered me.”

  He looked relieved and sank back to his seat. “Great. That’s great. Just checking, Julia. You have a bright future ahead of you, and I didn’t want it being tarnished. I know I don’t need to tell you again, but please stay in the West Wing, and as far as you can from Brad De Luca.”

  * * *

  Back at my desk, I held my head in my hands. Halfway through my internship and I was lying to my boss and breaking the only rule he had given me. Combine that with the fact that Brad was a headcase, and the right thing to do seemed obvious—stay away from him and hope that no one ever found out. Stick to the plan, and maybe salvage the ridiculous internship that I was already regretting taking. My phone rang.

  “Julia Campbell.”

  “It’s me.” Brad.

  I hung up the phone.

  Twenty-Seven

  Thursday morning, 10:45 a.m.

  Todd Appleton knocked on my door and stuck his head inside. “You busy?”

  “Nothing I can’t pause. Come on in.” I smiled at him hesitantly, with him doing the same to me. Neither one of us spoke for a minute.

  “Look, Julia, De Luca came and talked to me this morning. He said I could talk to you, or hang out, or whatever. It’s cool.”

  “So he gave you permission?”

  “I guess. He just let me know that he shouldn’t have said anything, and I can hang out with whoever I want.”

  “How swell of him.”

  He sat down in the chair across from me and played with a lone paper clip that was lying there. “What’s the deal with you two?”

  “What do you mean?” I said. I swore silently to myself. I should have realized that this would all seem really weird to Todd.

  “I mean, you act so pissed at him...and the way he warned me about you—are you seeing him or something?”

  I laughed harshly. My laugh sounded weird, not casual the way I had meant it to come out. “Todd, I’ve never even met the guy. Maybe once, in passing. I just hear all the stories and he sounds like an asshole.”

  “De Luca? No, he’s like the coolest guy ever!”

  “Well, he sounds like a jerk. I just don’t like anyone telling you what to do. Last night I was drunk, and overreacted. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, you like...wigged out. We were all wondering where you were headed—you had this death stare going.”

  “I was just pissed about something else. I’m sorry. I swear I’ll be normal and sane next time.”

  “Yeah, heard Broward’s going to be out of town next week some.” He looked down at the paper clip, which he had now twisted into something resembling a fortune cookie. “Maybe next week you’d like to hang out or something?”

  Just what I need right now, more workplace drama. “I don’t know, Todd. I’ve heard they take interoffice dating really seriously.”

  “Dating! No, I didn’t mean dating.” He laughed nervously. “I just meant, like hanging out. Watching a movie or something.”

  “Sure, Todd. Something like that sounds good.” I smiled at him and his whole face lit up.

  “Awesome! Really awesome. Okay, I’m, ah, gonna get back to the East Wing. We got a lot going on today.”

  “Thanks for stopping by.” I waved at him and he reciprocated, turning so fast he bumped into the door frame. He blushed and ducked out, closing the door softly behind him. I groaned and returned to the brief I was proofreading. I don’t know why, but it seemed my good-girl days were gone, and all I knew how to do now was break the rules.

  * * *

  I didn’t hear from Brad again after I hung up on him. The weekend passed uneventfully, with me spending Saturday cleaning my room—oh, joy—and Sunday working on photo scrapbooks with Olivia. I wasn’t really sure if Brad was mad at me, or if I was still suppose
d to be mad at him. It had been a little childish of me to hang up on him, but I was fresh off Broward’s admonishment, and it had seemed like the easiest thing to do. Tuesday was coming up, and I wondered if he still planned to take me to dinner. I didn’t know if I wanted to go. Well, I knew I wanted to go, but didn’t know if I should.

  I could only screw with my mind for so long before it would just up and quit on me, walking out the door holding its middle finger up. I think I was close to that point. I knew what I should do in the Brad department. It was so freaking obvious and easy. Stay away from him. Old Julia would not have hesitated. She would have walked away, never looking back. But New Julia really, really wanted to tell Old Julia to go to hell.

  * * *

  Monday, I listened for my office phone to ring, hoping for De Luca’s call. It didn’t come, and I worked fervently in my silent and lonely office, trying to distract myself with case prep. I hated the fact that I even noticed the absence of a call, hated that I glanced at the phone every ten minutes, as if the voice mail button would magically light up, indicating a heartfelt message waiting from him. I wondered if he knew about my date with Todd. Now, in the absence of possessiveness, I wanted him to care, to warn Todd away. Talk about being fucked-up. I was as guilty of it as him.

  As night fell, and everyone trickled out, only Broward and I were left. We worked in and out of the conference room, all the mediation prep files laid out on the big table, us passing each other silently in the halls. At seven-thirty, I stuck my head into his office and asked if he wanted me to order dinner.

  “Yeah,” he said, distracted by the document he was highlighting. “Have one of the couriers go get us something. Subs, if possible.”

  “What kind do you want?”

  Silence, then, “What?”

  “What kind of sub do you want?”

  “Oh. Uh, meatball on wheat. With provolone.” I withdrew my head from his office and walked back to mine. I got on the phone and tracked down Jerome, our night security guard, the only person we had resembling a courier at that point in the night. I told him I’d call it in if he’d pick it up. I went ahead and got his order also, then called the local Jimmy John’s.