Harlequin Desire January 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Maisey Yates (sad books to read .txt) 📖

“How about later? Come to the hotel. We’ll have a drink at the bar.”

Bettina searched his face with those clever green eyes. “A rendezvous at a hotel bar? That’s not what exes do.”

That wasn’t what he was proposing. He simply didn’t want to offer her a job while on the set of her current job. “I’m clear on that.”

Julian’s palms were sweating. He shoved his hands in his back pockets and thrust out his chest. Bettina caught the gesture and laughed. “You’re nervous! Could you come out with it? I don’t have all day.”

He came out with it. “Betty, where do you stand on us working together again?”

“You and me?”

“Yes.”

“Christ, no!” She recoiled from him. “Haven’t we been through enough?”

The director called out her name and held up five fingers. “Got it!” she fired back and turned to Julian. “Just curious. What project did you have in mind?”

“Midnight Sun.”

She laughed again, her bare shoulders bobbing. More freckles had been painted there, too. “Your pet project?”

He waited for the barb to lose its sting. They were regressing. It was starting to feel like old times. Except this tense exchange wasn’t about her choice of restaurant or his pile of clothes on the bathroom floor. This concerned their careers and everything they’d worked so hard to achieve. Bettina would be phenomenal in the role of Amanda King. He’d written the role with her in mind. But this project was supposed to mark a fresh start. How could they move forward if they were forever in each other’s way?

“Sorry,” she said. “That came out wrong.”

The apology threw Julian off the path he was heading down. He stared at her without understanding. Bettina never apologized; at best she shared the blame.

“Don’t look so shocked. I’m working on myself.”

For the year that they’d been apart, Julian had been working on himself, too. But he’d been so close to walking out on Bettina just now, which was his MO. The theatrical exit was a signature move. Also, he had a tendency to be pushy. He could no longer deny that he’d been pushy with Nina. He’d pushed her into accepting to work on the script and again, last night, he’d pushed her to agree to stay. It had to stop. His bullishness stemmed from fear of losing her. He was sure they were at the start of something significant, but they needed time.

The director shouted, “Actors on set!”

Bettina snapped to attention. “You’ve got to go, Julian. The next scene is a closed set.”

He played his last card. “I don’t know if this makes a difference, but Francisco Cortes is directing.”

Bettina was walking away backward and came close to knocking over a piece of lighting equipment. She stopped short. “For real?”

“I wouldn’t make it up.”

“Quiet on set!” the director bellowed.

Bettina waved goodbye and went back to work. A makeup artist approached her and began dabbing her forehead with a sponge. Julian exited the brick building at end of an alley lined with similarly bland buildings. The sky was the color of ash, and rain made the sidewalk slick. The driver sprang out of the car with an umbrella, but Julian was quick to slide into the back seat unassisted.

“To the W, Mr. Knight?”

“No. The airport.”

Just as the car pulled away from the curb, he caught sight of Bettina, yanking on a robe as she stepped out of the building. Julian asked the driver to wait and rolled down the window. “What is it?”

She shielded her eyes from the sting of rain. “Send me the script. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll read it.”

“I can’t ask for more,” Julian said. “Now get back inside. Pierce is waiting.”

She gave him the finger. He blew her a kiss.

* * *

Nina spent the rest of the day working on the script. In the evening, she took her journal to the garden. She was greeted by the smell of freshly cut grass and nothing else. She had expected to find Grace enjoying a glass of wine, but the garden was empty. She paid respects to the goddess Aphrodite, plopped down in a rattan chair and flipped open her journal, picking up where she’d left off.

“You look lonely in there.”

“You mean peaceful. I’m at peace in here.”

“Well…we can’t have that.”

Julian climbs into the tub. Water splashes everywhere, creating puddles on the marble floor. I give him my expert Goldilocks assessment. “This tub is too small!”

“Feels just right to me.”

Our wet hands grab for each other, and his feels just right in mine. I fit him inside me. His moan is just a rumble in his chest. He nudges a lock of damp hair away from my ear and murmurs, “I could drown in you.”

I’m drowning already. He cradles me, lifts me, but I refuse to be rescued—not this time, not again.

Nina tucked the pen between the pages. The memory overwhelmed her. Thoughts of Julian had tugged at her all day. She hated the way they’d left things—without even a hug goodbye. He hadn’t called all day; it was quiet on all fronts. She would have welcomed anything—a briefly worded text or simply a thumbs-up emoji. Plus, the larger question still loomed. Was she staying or leaving or what? He hadn’t asked. After spending the day with Bettina, would he have a change of heart?

“Good evening, Ms. Taylor.”

Grace arrived, looking more somber than a woman swinging an ice bucket fitted with a glistening bottle of wine had any right to be.

“Your Grace,” Nina said with a little bow. “What do you have for us this evening?”

“A fine prosecco.”

“Perfect.”

Grace set down the bucket and two stemless champagne flutes. Nina wondered if she was always prepared for company or if she was expecting someone in particular. Either way, she accepted a glass of the sparkling wine.

Grace took her glass to her lips, sipped from it and let out a soft sigh. “Qué rico.”

It truly was a rich experience: the warm evening, the wine, the fragrant garden, the mansion gleaming like polished ivory against the