Captivated (12 page)

Remi knocked and a woman opened the door. She looked about mid-thirties and was clearly of Indian descent, even though her clothes—a boatneck shirt, white scarf and stylish slacks—were pure Parisian chic. And she was beautiful beyond words. So beautiful even Merrick had gone speechless—something of a miracle.

“Oh, holy Parisian shit,” Merrick finally said. So much for speechless.

“Excuse me?” the woman asked.

“You’ll have to forgive Merrick here,” Remi said, slapping Merrick on the back—hard. “You’re beautiful, and he’s a horrible person. Bad combination.”

“Forgiven,” she said. “Salena Kar. I work for Julien. You’re Remi Montgomery?”

“She is,” Merrick said. “And I’m Merrick Feingold. I work for Remi. It’s like destiny, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Salena asked as she waved them into the apartment. Remi noticed Salena was barefoot, so she slipped off her own shoes and set them by the door.

“I work for her. You work for Julien. It’s like we belong together, right?” Merrick asked.

“Are you in love with me?” Salena asked, seemingly nonplussed by Merrick’s enthusiasm.

“Not yet, but give me five or six minutes and I’ll get there.”

Salena nodded gracefully.

“Take your time,” Salena said. She showed them to a living room. While the apartment building had appeared cramped and unremarkable on the outside, inside Remi discovered Julien’s home, while not grand, was the perfect mix of classic and cozy.

“How can we help you, Miss Montgomery?”

“Please call me Remi. I’m sorry for the intrusion. I need to talk to Julien for a few minutes, and then we’ll be gone.”

“I’ll get him for you,” she said. “He’s in his office.”

The woman started to leave the room but paused and turned back around. “He’s mentioned you before,” Salena said. “Lovely to put a face to the reputation.”

“Bad reputation,” Remi said, trying not to blush or wince.

“Quite the opposite,” Salena said. She gave Remi a knowing smile and left the room.

“What do you think she does for Julien?” Merrick whispered after Salena had disappeared through a door.

“I don’t know. She might be his assistant, so she probably does for him what you do for me.”

“Annoy the piss out of you constantly and make you wish you’d never set eyes on me?” Merrick said.

“Among other useful tasks.”

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life,” Merrick said, sounding surprisingly sincere. “Can I have her?”

“She’s a human being. I can’t buy her for you.”

“If you loved me you would help me,” he said in a desperate whisper, staring at the door Salena had just passed through.

“I don’t love you.”

She started to pat him on the knee but paused mid-pat when Julien Brite stepped into the doorway of the living room.

“I have to say,” Julien began, a crooked smile on his face, “I’m really glad my parents aren’t here right now.”

He looked at her, and Remi felt something catch in her chest at the sight of him leaning in his doorway, his arms crossed, and amusement glimmering in his dark eyes.

“We made sure they weren’t going to be visiting you before we booked the trip,” Remi said. “And hello. Nice to see you again.”

“Really nice to see you again,” Julien said, still smiling. He wore jeans and a plain white T-shirt, no shoes, no socks.

“How have you been, Julien?” Remi asked unable to stop staring at Julien. She hoped he didn’t mind. He hadn’t lost all his teenage lankiness, although his shoulders were certainly broader. His hair had darkened to a deeper shade of red and was longer now and artfully mussed. He looked older, definitely. But more than that, he looked chiseled, as if he had walked ten thousand miles across a desert and the wind and sand had worn his adolescent innocence away.

“I’m not dead,” he said and laughed as if he’d made a joke. “So I’m good. You?”

“Great. Good. Also not dead.”

“You’re a little far from home, aren’t you?” Julien asked.

“I could say the same to you,” Remi said as she finally stood up and walked over to him. “Merrick said you’d moved to Paris, and I thought—”

“—Paris, Kentucky,” he said. “How do you think I tricked my family into letting me move here?”

“Smart,” she said.

He smiled again and held out his hand to her. Remi took it and a slight tremor passed through her body when her hand met his. The last time she’d touched him had been far more intimate than a handshake.

“I’m really sorry to show up on your doorstep,” she said, Julien’s hand still in hers. “I was afraid if we called first, you’d tell us to shove it.”

“I am embarrassingly happy to see you again,” he said, and Remi was embarrassingly relieved to hear it. “Mom said you’re Arden’s manager now?”

“Your mother told you about my promotion?”

“Oh yeah,” Julien said, as Salena appeared in the doorway behind him. She put her hand on his hip to indicate she needed to pass by him, and he shifted the necessary six inches. The subtle gesture spoke of an intimacy between them, Salena touching his hip like that and his instant understanding that she needed him to move out of the way for her. Maybe Salena and Julien were more than mere employer and employee. “Mom keeps me up on all the Bluegrass gossip whether I want to know it or not. I know about your promotion. I know that your parents bought a satellite farm outside Versailles. I know that’s your assistant Merrick Feingold sitting on my couch staring at Salena. You went to Harvard?” he asked Merrick.

“I did.”

“What’s a Harvard computer nerd doing working at a horse farm?” Julien asked, sounding both casual and suspicious.

“I have no people skills. It was either Wall Street or animals. And when you work for Remi Montgomery you have the sexiest boss in the world.”

Merrick winked at her. It was an
I’m goading him for your sake
wink. She appreciated that.

“And how did you know I was a Harvard computer nerd?” Merrick asked. “Did my mother call you to brag?”

“Mom told me that Remi hired some Harvard computer genius who knew nothing about horses to be her assistant. And that he creeped everyone out because he wore black sunglasses all the time and was weird.”

“Is ‘weird’ code for ‘Jewish’?” Merrick asked. The sunglasses in question were currently sitting on his head.

“For my mother, yes,” Julien said. “But two of my three sisters like you for some reason.”

“Sisters? You have sisters? I didn’t know you had sisters.” Merrick whistled and looked around the apartment. “And these alleged sisters of yours must have been speaking of another Merrick Feingold. Very common name in Kentucky.”

“I apologize for my assistant,” Remi said to Julien. “And me. We’ll be out of your hair soon. I wanted to talk to you for about ten minutes, and then we’ll leave you alone.”

“You really don’t have to leave me alone,” Julien said. “But if you get topless again, please make sure the door’s locked this time.”

“Lesson learned.” Remi laughed, and she knew she was blushing like a teenager in love. Luckily Julien was polite enough not to mention the blush. Unluckily Merrick wasn’t.

“Stop blushing, Boss. You’re the December in the May-December, remember?” Merrick said. “Wait. That rhymed.”

“Merrick, you’re fired,” Remi said.

“Is that code for ‘Merrick, please call the hotel and extend our reservations’?”

“Yes, please,” Remi said.

“Thought so.” Merrick pulled his phone out of his pocket. She hadn’t planned on spending more than a weekend in Paris, but looking at Julien right now, it seemed the most appropriate course of action.

“Let’s go to the office.” Julien, slightly blushing, too, inclined his head at the door. “We can talk there. Alone.” He glanced at Salena, who waved her hand to shoo him from the room.

Remi followed Julien through the doorway. Behind her she heard Merrick trying to flirt with Salena.

“You married?” Merrick asked Salena.

“My family disowned me after I refused to submit to an arranged marriage,” Salena said.

“Too bad. My family disowned me, too,” Merrick confessed.

“Did you also refuse a marriage?”

“No,” he said. “I’m just an asshole, and no one can stand me.”

“Merrick’s an interesting guy,” Julien said once they were out of earshot.

“He’s obnoxious and bizarre. And he’s flirting with your assistant.”

“Salena’s not my assistant.”

“Girlfriend? I’ll kill Merrick if you want me to. And even if you don’t, I’ll take any excuse at this point.”

“Not my girlfriend, either. Long story.” Julien pointed at an armchair. Remi glanced around. Julien had a lovely little office that was rather cramped and messy. Only two chairs and a desk graced the room, which he’d decorated with old French cinema posters. He sat on a cushioned window seat across from her; a closed curtain hung behind him. “I’m guessing you didn’t hire Merrick for his knowledge of Thoroughbred racing.”

“Or his charm. And not his face or body, either, despite all the rumors about us. Most days I ask myself why I hired him.”

“Why did you hire him?”

“About a year ago, I started to get the feeling my parents and I were working against each other. I needed someone entirely outside the racing industry who wasn’t afraid of being, you know,
sneaky
if I needed him to be. As annoying as he is, he’s also brilliant and does everything I tell him to do. He helped me find you.”

“Did he?”

“His brain is like a computer, and he’s happy to do anything I ask him to do, especially if it’s immoral or unethical—like bribing a housekeeper for your address.”

“Why did you want to find me? And will I regret asking that question?” Julien grinned at her and she couldn’t help but grin back. She was going to scare the boy if she didn’t stop grinning.

“Probably,” she admitted, forcing the smile off her face. This was business, not pleasure. “I’m here because something’s rotten in the state of Kentucky. And I think our families might be involved.”

Chapter Three

One Kiss, Two Kiss, Red Kiss, Blue Kiss

Remi laid everything out for Julien as clearly and concisely as she could. His parents had just dropped ten million dollars on yearlings. Her parents suddenly had ten million dollars to blow on a five-hundred-acre second farm. Her father had changed the banking passwords and hadn’t given her a good explanation why. If that wasn’t damning enough, the private feud between the Capital Hills Brites and the Arden Farm Montgomerys had gone public this year, and it was the only story the racing press cared about. At the end of October, a Verona Downs Stakes race would take place. Six horses were entered. Shenanigans and Hijinks were the favorites. The feud and the Stakes race had even made the cover of
Sports Illustrated
. And creepy Tyson Balt had been at her parents’ house and no one would talk about it.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Julien agreed. “I don’t know much about the farm, but I do know last winter Dad said they’d budgeted for four million for yearlings.”

“I triple-checked. They bought twenty-two yearlings for five million and then bought a four broodmares and four stallions—ten million total. And my parents paid cash for the farm—no mortgage. And for four years our little feud has been just between our families—and anyone who was at the Christmas party at the Rails that night. Now it’s all over the news.”

“Did the article mention us specifically?” Julien asked.

“No, thank God,” she said. “Although it’s only a matter of time before the story comes out. The article just quotes a rumor that the feud started as a lovers’ quarrel.”

“They can’t call it a lovers’ quarrel if the two lovers didn’t get to be lovers.”

Remi grimaced. “Better than saying the twenty-two-year-old manager of Arden Farms seduced the Brites’ youngest son who was in high school.”

“I have a very old soul,” he said.

Remi laughed and buried her face in her hands. Between her fingers she peeked at him.

“And my very old soul had a massive erection that night.”

“You’re not making this any easier,” she told him, lowering her hands.

“Can’t help it. I’d rather talk about us than whatever our parents are into.”

“Us?”

“Well...you know. What happened between us, I mean.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I should have said that a long time ago.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I was worried you might be pissed I just showed up at your door almost four years later asking for help.”

“I’ll help you any way I can, Remi. It’s just...it’s really good to see you again.”

Remi felt the heat return to her face. “You too, Julien.”

They stared at each other until the silence grew heavy and awkward.

“Anyway,” she said and wrenched her eyes away from him. “I am sorry to be the bearer of this shitty news.”

“It’s okay, I promise. I wish I could help you. I’m happy to dig around a little if I can, talk to my sisters, see if they think something weird is going on. If my parents are doing something unethical, I’d rather find out from you than from the newspapers.”

“Thank you. I hate to ask you to spy on your own family.”

“I haven’t exactly been thrilled with my parents recently, either.” Julien pulled his knee to his chest and wrapped his arm around his shin—the same arms that had once been wrapped around her.

“You moved across the ocean. That’s not a great sign.”

“They were asking for it,” Julien said. “Two years ago when you got your promotion to farm manager, Mom said it was nepotism at its worst, that no way were you qualified to run Arden and the place would fall apart in a week. Then Arden had its best season ever. After that Mom said it was unladylike for a woman to run a horse farm. Then there were the rants about how disgusting and disgraceful it was you had an ‘attractive male assistant’ you were obviously sleeping with. That’s when Salena and I started packing.”

“You moved out just because your mom thinks Merrick and I are sleeping together?” Remi asked, astounded. “Everyone thinks Merrick and I are sleeping together except for Merrick and me.”

“My issues with my parents are yet another really long story. Let’s just say it was the last straw. Salena suggested we sublet a place in France for a few months. She used to live in Paris and knew I’d like it. I’m starting college again in January, so I told my parents I was getting a little place in Paris until I started school.”

“Not so little,” she said, glancing around what she hoped was a two-bedroom apartment. He said Salena wasn’t his girlfriend, so she guessed that meant she wasn’t sleeping with him. “Although I can’t imagine your parents or your sisters living in a third-floor walk-up garret apartment. No offense.”

“None taken,” Julien said, clearly finding the idea as amusing as she did. “But, for all its downsides, this place has one very big upside.”

“It is very pretty,” she said.

“And it has an amazing view.” Julien turned around and opened the curtain behind him that had shielded the window.

“Holy...” Remi rose out of her seat and walked to the window. Julien moved to the side and Remi sat next to him on the bench.

Through a gap in the buildings she could see the top of the Eiffel Tower in all its illuminated nighttime glory. She stared at it in silence and sensed Julien’s eyes on her, not the tower in the distance. Four years evaporated in an instant. Four years ago they were talking by the fireplace and now a window overlooking Paris. Four years come and gone in an instant.

“I used to dream about living in Paris,” she said after a long pause. She couldn’t quite believe that she was here in Paris with Julien Brite gazing at the Eiffel Tower. It was perfect—the autumn air of the city pressing against the window, the lights dancing on the tower, Julien at her side looking at her and nothing else. Not just perfect but a perfect moment—why did she keep having these with him? “When I was a little girl. Too many Madeline books, I guess.”

“Who?”

“It’s a girl thing.” Remi gazed at the top of the tower, wondering what the city looked like from the top. Maybe she would see it before they left. Maybe Julien could take her there tomorrow.

“What did you dream about?” Julien asked. He kept his voice low, as if the entire city were trying to listen in but he wanted to keep their conversation between only them.

“Oh, the usual kid dreams. Living in Paris, speaking French, eating croissants all the time.”

“They are pretty amazing here,” Julien agreed.

“Then I got older, and I still dreamed of Paris. When I was a teenager it seemed like the most romantic place in the world. I wanted to get my first kiss in Paris. Which, sadly, did not happen.”

“Where did you get your first kiss?”

“In the Kentucky Theater in Lexington. Not nearly as romantic as Paris. You?”

“Um...the Capitol building, actually. School field trip. Some girl in my class thought it would be rebellious to make out in the Capitol Rotunda. The statue of Abraham Lincoln was watching us. Not romantic. A first kiss in Paris with the Eiffel Tower watching us would have been much better.”

“Definitely,” she said, smiling. When she turned her eyes back to Julien, she found him still looking at her. He wasn’t smiling, but the look on his face was better than a smile.

“Can I tell you something crazy?” she asked.

“Please. The crazier the better.”

“I look for you at every race,” she confessed. “Kentucky. California. New York. Florida. Doesn’t matter what the race is, what track we’re at, I always look for your face in the crowd, in the clubhouse, in the stands. You’d think after all this time I would quit looking for you. Is that crazy?”

He shook his head. “Not as crazy as me writing you letters that I’ve never worked up the courage to send.”

“Letters?”

“Real ones. Ink on paper.”

“Why did you never send them?” she asked, hoping he still had the letters. “I wanted to write you, too, or call you, or anything. But I was the older one and my parents forbade me from contacting you at all in case your parents got cops and lawyers involved.”

“I didn’t send them because I didn’t think you’d want to read them.” Julien took a heavy breath. “I convinced myself I was just a stupid love-struck kid and no way would this beautiful older woman want to hear from me. Especially with everything that had happened.”

“I would have loved to have heard from you, I promise. Even if it was just to tell me you were okay. I worried about you after that night.”

“You did? How come?”

“I don’t know. Just a feeling I had. I couldn’t shake it. I saw your sisters at the races but never you. It was like you disappeared after Christmas. Maybe that’s why I kept looking for you at every race I went to. Or maybe I just really like your face.”

She raised her hand and stroked his cheek. His skin felt warm—not feverish, simply heated. If he touched her face right now he, too, would feel her raised temperature just from the proximity of their bodies. She lowered her hand, afraid to touch him any further.

“That night at the party,” Julien said, “I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life. How is it possible you’re even more beautiful now?”

She knew she should say something, anything to dispel the anticipation, the tension that buzzed in the air between them. Their families were in a very public feud. Their families weren’t just families but businesses. Getting involved with Julien could lead to accusations of collusion. Real ugly consequences. She needed to take a step back from Julien. Maybe two. Three would be best. Actually she should get on a plane and head straight for Kentucky.

Right now.

She kissed him.

Julien didn’t seem the least surprised she kissed him. When their lips met he opened his mouth and let his tongue graze her tongue. She felt the kiss all the way from her lips to her toes and back up again.

Remi pulled back before the kiss turned into more than a kiss. She’d been down that dangerous road before.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Remi said.

“You didn’t?” Julien asked, looking flushed and bright-eyed.

“No. Really. I was thinking in my head all the reasons I shouldn’t kiss you and then...”

“I was thinking the same thing,” he said. “Thinking that our parents’ worst nightmare would be you and I getting involved and so we should absolutely not get involved.”

“You’re right. You’re completely right.”

“But I’m going to kiss you anyway,” Julien said.

“Thank God.”

He cupped the back of her neck and brought his mouth to hers. The second kiss was even more passionate than the first.

Julien kissed her like he’d die if he didn’t, like he hadn’t been kissed in a decade, like he had a gun to the back of his head and had been ordered to kiss her as if his life depended on it.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pushed her breasts against his chest. She dug her hand into the back of his hair and found it silky and soft. Julien’s hand was on her thigh over her skirt, creating a thousand wicked images in her head. He could lift her skirt, pull off her panties, and bury himself inside her right now. And they could do it and she wouldn’t feel at all guilty about it, because he wasn’t in high school anymore and his parents were across an ocean.

They paused long enough to look at each other for confirmation that they could and would continue. In the distance, the lights on the Eiffel Tower turned to blue. And in the haze of blue light their lips met again.

Julien ran his hand down the center of her back. Remi held him even closer, tighter to her body.

This is crazy.
This is wrong.

Those words bounced about her brain as they kissed, but they touched neither her body nor her heart. Yes, it was crazy. Yes, it was wrong. And no, that wasn’t about to stop her.

She stopped only long enough to take a breath.

The Eiffel Tower turned red.

“What on earth?”

“Light show,” Julien said. “They do it every night. But we can pretend it’s just for us if you want.”

“I want. God, I want.”

She wanted to kiss him again and so she did. Or perhaps he kissed her this time. What did it matter who kissed whom as long as the kiss never ended? For four years they’d had this unfinished business hanging between them. Maybe they should finish it.

“I missed you,” Julien said against her lips. “I kept trying to forget you, and I couldn’t.”

“I think of you every Christmas,” she whispered back. “Christmas hasn’t been the same since that night. No matter what I get, it’s never what I want.”

“What do you want?” Julien asked, and she knew he wasn’t asking about Christmas gifts.

“Another shot at Christmas with you,” she whispered.

She rested her forehead against his. One minute. All she needed was one minute of not kissing to clear her head so she could think straight.

“Julien, if we get involved, our parents are going to kill us,” she said. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t get involved. I’m just saying there will be consequences.”

“My mother thinks it’s shameful Arden Farms has a female manager. My father routinely calls you a slut. And your family and my family are somehow making millions of dollars off a staged horse rivalry. You think I care what they think?”

“Yes,” she said. “Same way I care about what my parents think, because they love me and I love them even if they are pissing me the hell off right now.”

“I care too,” he admitted. “But not enough to stop kissing you.”

“No more kissing until we get to your bedroom. You kiss me again like that, and we’ll never make it.”

“Kiss you like what?” he asked as he half-dragged her from the bench.

“Kiss me like you haven’t kissed anybody in a really long time and you need to make up for lost time.”

“Would it completely freak you out if I told you that was true?”

“No, of course not. We all have dry spells.”

“This is a little more than a dry spell,” Julien said, looking sheepish. She knew that look. Julien had worn that same expression right before confessing he was only seventeen.

“What is it, Julien? You can tell me.”