Sommersgate House by Kristen Ashley Page B

couldn’t help but notice how even these superfluous
movements were innately graceful. Her face was free of makeup and
her hair was slowly falling back into place around her face. He
knew that she was thirty-six years old but she looked a decade
younger.
    Her voice was
low and deep but entirely feminine and very sensuous. He’d always
liked the way she’d said his name in that voice.
    He’d forgotten
that.
    She lifted her
legs to sit crossed-legged on the couch as he brought her the
whisky. His mother would have had a coronary, to see a woman at
Sommersgate sitting cross-legged, wearing whatever it was Julia was
wearing, no matter how fetching (and whatever it was, it was not
couture), with her feet tucked underneath her. That thought, as
well, almost made Douglas smile.
    “It feels warm
going down,” Julia said.
    “I’m sorry?”
he asked.
    “The whisky.
It tastes terrible but feels warm going down. I’m chilled the
bone.” And as if to demonstrate, she shivered dramatically.
    He wasn’t
surprised she was cold. She was barely wearing any clothes.
    With effort,
he pulled his eyes from her body and his thoughts away from the
better ways there were to warm her and said sardonically, “Welcome
to Sommersgate.” And to that, he lifted his glass to her in
salute.
    Her green
eyes, which had been staring into her whisky glass, moved to him
and in the briefest second, they lit right before she laughed.
    He could not
recall ever making her laugh before although he’d seen others do
it. She’d always had an uninhibited laugh, throaty and rich, which
engaged her whole body, rather than just her mouth. He’d always
enjoyed hearing and watching her laugh.
    He’d forgotten
that too.
    There
was something quite unusually… pleasant about being responsible for that kind of
laughter.
    What was
unpleasant was noticing that she did look exhausted. As her face
lit up, the exhaustion was replaced by a light that he was far more
familiar with when it came to Julia. And, as soon as the laughter
died, the exhaustion settled back on her features. This was not
evidenced in haggard lines, in fact, she hid it well. He hadn’t
noticed it until she laughed. But she was pale and, once the
laughter died away, there was none of the usual brightness to her
eyes.
    She lifted her
glass to return the salute and downed the contents after which she
grimaced.
    “I’m sorry,”
she said when she’d wiped the grimace from her face. “You get home
late and have some crazy female running around your house like an
idiot. You’re probably wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into.
I promise, this is not an indication of the years to come.” And
with that, she gave him a small smile that did nothing to transform
her face and most certainly did not reach her eyes.
    He had no
reply and she didn’t seem to expect one. She stood and gathered the
glasses.
    “I’ll just
take these to the kitchen and leave you in peace.” She turned
toward the door finishing with, “Goodnight, I’ll see you
tomorrow?”
    “Julia,” he
stopped her and she turned back. “Just leave the glasses. Veronika
will see to them.”
    She hesitated,
looked at the glasses, at him then put the glasses on the table
seeming somewhat confused.
    “I’ll see you
in the morning,” he finished, done with the episode, done with
her.
    She hesitated
again and he wondered, in a detached way as his mind was already
moving forward to when she would be gone, what she planned to do
next.
    Then she
walked up to him, put her hand on his arm, leaned into him and
kissed his cheek.
    She smelled of
tangerines and jasmine.
    “Goodnight,”
she said softly. “See you tomorrow.”
    He stood
leaning against his desk, his arms crossed on his chest and he
watched her walk out of the study and into the dark hallway until
she disappeared out of sight.
    Yes, he had a
problem and that problem was Julia Fairfax.
    Then the phone
rang and she went completely out of his