Mad About You (3 page)

“You must be good at what you do.”

“I’m very good,” he said, the innuendo unmistakable.

She laughed softly. “Promises, promises.”

“I always keep my promises.” He felt alive and impatient with anticipation. “I’m looking forward to Monday night, Julie,” he said softly.

“I am, too.” She paused. “Truthfully, I’m tempted to invite you over now.”

“To help you with your project?”

“To help me off with my jeans.”

He shifted with the zing of desire her words caused. He wanted to say
yes
and that he’d be right over, but he knew the benefit of delayed gratification. He also didn’t want to give her a reason to have regrets in the morning.

Reining in his impatience, he said, “Monday.”

“Monday,” she repeated, a promise in one word.

He’d take it—and her. Soon.

Chapter Four

Three months of hard work was coming to a culmination in less than three weeks, and the only thing Julie could think about tonight was Scott, his talented lips, and their impending date tomorrow night.

She shook her head, staring at the design spread on her kitchen counter. She had too much riding on the competition to get distracted now.

The theme to this year’s San Francisco Flower Competition was “San Francisco Spirit.” A lame subject, in her opinion, but she wasn’t going to criticize the committee.

Instead, she’d done her best to figure how to symbolize it. What she’d come up with was brilliant: a to-scale representation of San Francisco’s cityscape, done in a rainbow-assortment of flowers.

The thing was she’d been having trouble with the foundation for the panorama. The carved blocks didn’t look enough like the San Francisco skyline. So last night she’d scrapped her previous design and started from scratch. She’d edited the designs one last time tonight, and she finally had it right. She hoped.

Her intercom buzzed. Knowing it was just Sophie, she buzzed her in.

Except saying “just Sophie” was an understatement. There was nothing that was “just” about Sophie Martineau. There were a million reasons why she was so successful, and most of all was her presence. When she walked into a room, everyone knew it.

Somehow, the world-famous actress had decided that she and Julie were soul mates. Secretly, Julie was grateful for Sophie’s friendship and support. But she’d never tell that to the actress. Sophie already had an overinflated sense of self—compliments just made her unbearable.

Julie opened her front door as Sophie skipped up to the top landing.

“No wonder you’re so thin,” the actress said as she walked in, taking off her wrap and the sunglasses she wore night or day, to avoid being recognized. “I’d be a rail if I climbed up and down those stairs a couple times a day.”

As if Sophie wasn’t skinny as it was.
Actresses
. Julie shook her head.

Sophie dropped her things on the folded up futon and gave her a kiss on each cheek. “This date of yours is so exciting. Even Tony was beside himself when I told him.”

“Right.” Julie snorted. She knew better than to think that Sophie’s husband, a big-time talent agent, cared one way or the other. “I’m sure he can’t wait for a detailed report.”

“He can’t wait because
I
can’t wait.” Sophie gave her a smile cloaked in feminine satisfaction. “I have the man wrapped around my pinkie.”

Her friend talked a good game, but Julie knew it was a two-way street. There wasn’t anything Sophie wouldn’t do for someone she loved, and she loved Tony in a way Julie didn’t understand.

For some reason, Scott came to mind. Ridiculous, because she didn’t know anything about him other than he had a PhD in oral gymnastics.

Before Sophie could pick up on her thoughts, Julie walked into her tiny kitchen. “Want something?”

“Do you have Perrier?” her friend asked, following her.

She gave Sophie a look from over the refrigerator door. “Seriously?”

The actress shrugged. “If you don’t ask for what you want, you never get it. What is this?”

Getting out two bottles of water, she looked over her shoulder. “It’s my design for the flower competition. I’m going to crush Dr. Hyacinth Gardner this year.”

Sophie flipped a sheet. “Your animosity towards this woman might be construed as excessive by some people.”

“Oh, it’s really not.” She set a water bottle on the counter and gestured as she uncapped her own. “I’m doing society a favor. That woman is a menace, and someone needs to take her down.”

“And you’re the perfect vigilante to do it?” Sophie asked in her dry way.

“Yes.”

Her eyebrow arched.

Julie shook her head. “Don’t look at me that way. She totally deserves it, and not because she’s won the competition for the past five years, flaunts all her degrees, or calls herself ‘the Dr. Oz of flora.’“ All those were good reasons on their own. “She cheats, Sophie.”

Her friend frowned, which she never did because it caused wrinkles. “You have proof of this?”

“No, but every year something goes wrong with my entry. One year, my Coit Tower replica died inexplicably. By the time the judges got to it, it looked like a post-apocalyptic decaying penis.”

Sophie laughed. “Tell me you took pictures.”

“Hell no. I wanted to forget.” Julie crossed her arms, getting angry remembering it. “I thought I’d done something wrong, until a couple years of disasters later. Last year, my shipment of crimson carnations went missing, and I received white chrysanthemum instead.”

“That’s not so awful.”

“It is if you’re building the Golden Gate Bridge.” She shuddered, picturing the pitying looks on the judges’ faces.

Sophie propped herself against the counter. “Is her name really Dr. Hyacinth Gardner? Because if I had a florist character in a screenplay, I wouldn’t name her something so obvious.”

“I know, right?” She thought of Hyacinth’s fake smile and crossed her arms. “I really can’t stand her.”

“Because she’s evil, or because you’re jealous?”

Maybe she was a little jealous of Hyacinth’s degrees—she hadn’t been able to afford to go to college—but this was about professional pride. She was a good florist with a prospering business. She should be able to win the trophy, degree or not.

“I didn’t come here to analyze your psyche.” Sophie set her water down and pushed off the counter. “Take me to your closet. We have a date outfit to strategize.”

Julie sighed. Knowing better than to argue, she trudged to her small closet and opened the door. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Sophie that it didn’t matter what she wore—she planned on taking it off as soon as Scott arrived—but she didn’t need to give her friend that kind of ammunition.

Sophie’s nose wrinkled as she flipped through the few hangers in the closet. “Where’s the rest of your wardrobe.”

“In the dresser.” She pointed to the three-drawer chest sitting on the closet floor.

Her friend gaped, her face a mask of horror. “I don’t know whether to throw my arms around you and tell you I’ll rescue you or to stage an intervention.”

Julie rolled her eyes. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll just wear jeans.”

“Oh, no, you won’t.” Sophie turned to her, a militant gleam in her eyes. “I’ll bring you options tomorrow.”

“I don’t need options. It’s just a quick date.” She turned around so Sophie wouldn’t read the lie and went to huddle in the corner of the futon. “I don’t have time to get serious about anyone right now, anyway. I need to focus on the competition.”

“And yet you agreed to go out with this man.” Sophie followed and stood over her like a righteous Amazon. “What do you think that means?”

“That I need to see a shrink?”

Sophie grinned. “A love doctor might be more fitting.”

“Love?” She recoiled physically. “Who said anything about love? We’re getting together for pizza. End of story.”

“Deny it all you want, but I saw the way you two looked at each other.”

“How did we look at each other?” Julie asked in horrified fascination.

“Like you two could look at each other for the rest of your lives.”

She thought about that. Then she shook her head. “You’re just being dramatic.”

Sophie pointed a red-tipped finger in her face. “If I’m right, I get to plan the wedding of the century for you.”

Julie shuddered at the thought. “What if you’re wrong?”

Her friend shrugged as she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. “Then you lose.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but she had a feeling Sophie was right.

Chapter Five

Bull paced back and forth outside Nicole’s
atelier
, as she called it.

In the past year, Nicole’s life had changed. She’d married Griffin Chase, one of the best rock stars on the planet, if you asked Bull. They had bought a spacious condo in Laurel Heights, but she rented this space for working, to keep work and her private life separate.

He glanced at his watch. It was only nine in the morning—he wasn’t even sure she’d be there yet. Her working schedule varied because Grif was a musician.

But he was at his wit’s end. He’d tried to track down Josephine Belle, but had no luck. There were a surprising number of women with that name, and none of them in San Francisco.

Normally, he would have been calmer about finding her. He liked unraveling mysteries. But the group taking his smoothie line national was dragging their feet with the contract, and one uncertainty in his upended life seemed more than enough at the moment.

It’d have been nice to have someone who cared at his back. Someone to share his frustrations with, who’d rub his head and tell him it’d all work out. Someone like Josephine Belle.

So he worked out, trying to burn off the frenetic energy on his own. Only it didn’t help, because there was only one way he wanted to work it off: in bed, with Josephine.

The door suddenly flung open, and Nicole leaned against the lintel. “You coming in, or do you want to wear a groove in the hall?”

He growled under his breath—not at his friend, but at his situation—and strode into her workshop.

“You’re cheery this morning,” she said brightly as she closed the door. “I’m so glad you came to spread it here.”

“You’re lucky I love you.” He walked into the airy, bright studio and thrust his hand out. “I brought you a smoothie. It’s a new combination I’m trying out.”

“Awesome. Your smoothies are always delicious.” Smiling, she took it and rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Do the men you fight know what a big softie you are?”

“I’m not fighting anyone. I’m retiring,” he blurted for the first time ever. He hadn’t even told Ethan, his best buddy, yet.

Nicole’s eyebrows lowered in concern. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“No.” But it was only a matter of time. His fights stayed with him longer these days, and he woke up sore more often than not. “I never wanted it to be my entire life. It was just a way to bide my time until I found what I wanted to do.”

“What’s that?” she asked as she perched on the stool at her drafting table.

He nodded at the to-go cup in her hand.

“Smoothies,” she said, lighting up. “Of course. And then you can be your own spokesman, because who better than a popular, champion fighter? Are you opening your own shop?”

“I’m going into partnership to have them manufactured.” At least that was the deal he wanted. The company backing him was being difficult on that point.

“That’s so great!” She hopped up and gave him a big hug. “Do you have details on the deal?”

“I’m waiting for the final contract.” As she resettled on her stool, he brought a chair closer, turned it around, and straddled it. “Basically I asked to oversee the product line and overall branding, but they handle all the grunt work and distribution for a cut.”

“I didn’t know you were working on this.” She shook her head. “You’ve been very hush-hush. It has to have been a while. Deals like this don’t happen overnight.”

“It’s not a done deal yet, and I didn’t want to eclipse your achievements.”

“You wouldn’t have.” She grinned proudly. “I
rocked
the lingerie show.”

“You did.” He cleared his throat. “About the show—”

“Yes?”

He frowned at the way she was batting her eyes at him. “If you know what I’m going to ask, you could just put me out of my misery.”

“But this way is so much more fun.” She laughed at his scowl.

“You don’t have to look like you’re enjoying it so much.”

“What fun would that be?” She tipped her head. “This is about Joey, of course.”

“She didn’t want to go out with me,” he grumbled, feeling like a surly bear.

Nicole patted his chest. “You’ll just have to work harder at winning her over, won’t you?”

“Damn straight. I need her address.” He pointed at her. “That’s where you come in.”

“I can’t give you her address,” Nicole said regretfully. “Have you tried Googling her?”

“Yes, but I don’t know her last name.” He scrubbed the top of his head with his palm. “You’d think Josephine Belle would be uncommon enough, but it wasn’t.”

Nicole shook her head, but there was a gleam in her eyes. “I just can’t give out personal information like that for my models, especially for
Josephine Williams
.”

He perked up. “Josephine Belle Williams.” Her whole name tasted delicious on his tongue, just like
she
would be.

Nicole nodded vehemently. “I can’t give you her address or tell you that she works as a curator at the Asian Art Museum.”

He stood, grabbed Nicole by the shoulders, and smacked a big kiss on her lips. “
Thank you.
”

Nicole wiped off his affection with the back of her hand, but there was a grin on her face. “What’s your plan?”

“I’m going to send her the corset.”

Nicole’s froze. “The corset you bought from Romantic Notions last year?”

“Of course. I’ve been looking for the woman who’ll fit it, and I think she’s Josephine Belle.”

“
That’s
your plan?”

He thought about the red corset, and about Josephine filling it out, and growled hungrily in his throat. “It’s a great plan.”