Free Moments of Julian by Keary Taylor Page B

getting his shoulder abused, and I
don’t mind that his other one is brushing mine.
    The attendants roll through the
standard flight safety spiel and then we are taking off. In three
hours we will touch down in Toronto.
    “ How have the last few
dance classes gone?” Julian asks after the attendants have taken
our drink orders. “Are you enjoying the rumba?”
    “ Things have been fine,” I
say, tearing my eyes away from the window to look at Julian. “Beth
has been having a hard time with the men since you disappeared on
us. They aren’t getting it very quickly.”
    “ How about you?” he asks.
“Are you?”
    Truth is that I am doing average, no
better or worse than anyone else. “Getting to wear shoes finally
helps.”
    “ Hmm,” he mutters. “I look
forward to seeing you in your beloved shoes.”
    I pull the inflight magazine from the
pocket in front of me and open it to a random page. I have no
intention of reading it, but I need something to keep my hands and
eyes busy.
    There is something about the rumba
that is incredibly sexy and intimate. The moves are controlled and
precise and Beth insisted one of the keys to the dance is eye
contact. It’s hard to do when you’re staring down Frank who is
fifty-six years old and always smells of pickles and
smoke.
    I’ve been dying to dance the rumba
with Julian ever since I saw the first steps. I wanted his hands on
my body again and I wanted to hold that intensity in his eyes with
every excuse to be doing so.
    But then he disappeared.
    “ I do hope you were able
to find a room to stay in in Toronto,” I say, still not looking up
from the magazine. I turn the page absentmindedly. “Apparently
there is a big conference going on. Gretch had to spend an
astronomical amount of the company’s money on a room for
me.”
    “ Actually,” Julian says,
crossing his ankle over the opposite knee. “When I looked, there
were no rooms available. Everywhere I looked was booked or over a
thousand dollars a night.”
    “ You apparently had the
money to book a last minute first class ticket,” I counter. “Surely
you could afford a room.”
    “ Call me
frugal.”
    “ So where are you planning
to stay Mr. Dohring?” I ask, looking over at him and raising an
eyebrow. “The park benches will be getting a little wet with all
the expected rain.”
    “ I suppose I’ll be left to
the streets,” he whispers, leaning in closer. “If some kind soul
doesn’t offer me refuge.”
    “ Are you asking me to
scandalously invite a man into my hotel room on a business
vacation?” I say, now only inches away from those devilish lips of
his.
    “ I’ll tell the world my
only intent is the couch,” his voice drops even lower and I can
feel his breath on my jawline.
    “ And we’ll all know you’re
a liar,” I breathe.
    “ May I get the two of you
a Chardonnay?” the attendant interrupts.
    Julian sits back in his seat relaxed
and unembarrassed so I try to do the same thing. But my skin
tingles and my chest feels warm. “I’ll take one, thank
you.”
    “ And you Maam?”
    I shake my head. “I’ll just have a
Diet Coke.”
    The attendant nods her head and leaves
to get what we asked for.
    “ That’s twice now that
you’ve declined a drink while I’ve been around,” Julian
observes.
    “ I like to have a clear
head,” I say, holding his eyes and daring him to question
further.
    Julian eventually gives a nod. “Fair
enough.”
    We get our drinks and while the
conversation dies down and is quiet, I contemplate the fact that I
know I will let Julian stay in my room with me and what that will
mean. How am I going to handle this situation in less than three
hours?
    I haven’t slept with someone in over
ten years, and I will not change that. But can I trust my body to
agree with my head when the door closes, there are no prying eyes
around, and no events pressing on our time?
    I hope so.
    But I tend to transform into a
different person when it comes to Julian and his