Dexter walked by Julian and bopped him on the head. “Thanks a lot, genius!”
A nickname, but also the truth. Julian’s IQ was near genius level—part of the being special his grandmother Claire had alluded to when he was a babe.
“For what? I wasn’t even playing.”
“That’s his point,” Terrell deadpanned, taking a seat beside Julian. “We needed that sharp mind of yours to best those conniving women. Now we’re going to have to endure their endless ribbing for the next two years. All because of you!”
“No, because of Jackson and his sidekicks.”
“Don’t put all the blame on me.” Jackson was more than ready to defend himself. He looked pointedly at Terrell. “I’m not the one who named sparrow as a bird that people eat.”
“Hey.” Terrell shrugged. “Chicken, turkey and duck had already been mentioned. Those are the only ones I...” His voice trailed off as he looked beyond Julian. “Is that who I think it is?”
Jackson looked up. “Who do you think it is?”
“Julian, isn’t that your girl?”
Julian turned his head in the direction Terrell and Jackson were focused.
Nicki? He slowly rose from the chair as a tall, fit woman wearing a bright yellow maxi and a devilish smile walked toward him. She was with his youngest sister, London, who, given the look on her face, had obviously been in on the surprise.
He held out his arms to wrap her in a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“Milo decided to let us enjoy the holiday after all.”
“The same director who works y’all for twelve hours a day, the one you questioned had a heart?”
“Yep. Guess there’s something beating in there besides a drum after all. I texted London to surprise you and caught the first plane out.”
“Surprised?” London asked, her smile widening.
“Delighted.” His eyes drank in Nicki like a parched man guzzling water. “Let me take you around to meet everybody. Are you hungry? Can I get you a drink?”
Nicki laughed. “Okay, yes and yes.”
“Hey, Nicki!”
“Hello, Terrell.” She accepted his hug.
“You remember Atka, Teresa’s husband.”
“Of course. My mom still raves about your company’s salmon that I had shipped to her house.”
“And my cousin Jackson.”
Nicki waved. “Hello.”
Both were actually in-laws, but the Drakes disregarded that fact. Family was family. After going around to those nearby, Julian reached for Nicki’s hand and headed toward the food tent. “We’ll say hi to my parents and then get something to eat. You look beautiful, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“You feel good, too. In fact—” he pulled her closer “—why don’t we make our plates to go and find a more private place to...enjoy the meal?”
“Are we still talking about food?” she teased.
“Definitely not.”
“Ha!”
Exactly thirty-nine minutes later, Julian and Nicki had successfully and surreptitiously left the farm, driven to a four-star hotel and checked in. Here, within the confines of a single room with a king bed, the quiet, studious doctor showed the wilder, passionate side that few would imagine. The door had barely closed when he reached for the hem of Nicki’s maxi and backed her up to the bed.
“Julian, wait!”
“Shh. No talking.”
They collapsed on the bed. Julian planted several kisses across Nicki’s face before plunging his tongue into her mouth, his hungry, scalding kiss outmatched only by an ever-hardening shaft grinding against her thigh for proof of his ardent desire. He broke the kiss and tugged at her dress. She lifted her hips enough to free the unwanted material from beneath her body, then pulled the dress up and over her head and tossed it to the floor. His shirt quickly followed. Then pants, bra and undies. Julian groaned and delivered another hot kiss before his mouth left hers and went on a journey along the skin he’d missed immensely since Nicki’s last visit to Paradise Cove over a month ago. He nibbled the sensitive area by her collarbone before inching down to modest breasts, pulling a hardened nipple into his mouth even as his hand traveled lower to Nicki’s shaved treasure. He slid a finger along lips already creamy and teased her pearl with his fingertip even as his tongue caressed her other nipple.
“Ah!”
Her cry of pleasure made him smile as he continued to cherish every inch of her body with the same focus and attention to detail that he applied in professional life. Positioning himself between her legs, he scooted farther down, planted kisses on her pelvis, down her inner thighs, his tongue on a languid journey down the length of a leg solid and defined from years of lessons in tap, modern and jazz. She pulled her legs up and away from him, parted them in a perfect inverted split in the air. Her exposed, rock-hard pearl sent a clear message of what she wanted next.
He got the memo and without hesitation drew the nub into his mouth and then plunged his tongue inside her. Swirling, tickling, licking her joy trail as though it were chocolate ice cream. She ground herself against him. Short bursts of breath hinting of her impending climax. Just as she erupted, he replaced his tongue with several inches of hard passion and continued loving her.
Julian wasn’t a dancer, but one couldn’t tell. A disciplined workout regimen and martial arts training kept his six-foot-one-inch frame in shape, ready for several rounds of lovemaking. Finally, after Nicki’s third orgasm, he gave in to his own shuddering release. A thin sheen of perspiration covered them both as he folded back the flowered spread, pulled away the cool white top sheet and covered them.
“See how much I missed you?” he asked, using his finger to smooth strands of dampened hair behind Nicki’s ear.
“I felt how much.” Her face was turned away from him, but Julian heard the smile in her voice.
“You sure I can’t talk you into leaving New York, moving to the West Coast and ending this notion of a long-distance relationship? I can’t see not having you, not having this—” he caressed her booty “—on a regular basis. Can you?”
Nicki turned to face him. “I almost died this month without having you around to do what you do, and very well, I might add. Of course I want to be with you. But you know I can’t. I’m not the lead in this show, but it is Broadway. When are you coming to see the show?”
“I don’t know, but I’d love to be there opening night. When does it start?”
“Next month.”
“August? Isn’t that unusual?”
“It’s rare. Most shows open during the fall. We’re hoping that being one of the few new shows next month will translate into a strong box office showing. What about you? Ready to open for business?”
“I already have a few clients. The office will open in two to three weeks, depending on how quickly I can hire an assistant. Mom worked with an interior designer friend to create the type of environment I want—professional and relaxing at the same time. It’ll be finished by the time I get back in town.”
“From here?”
“No,