Finished (6 page)

“You’re still thinking in old-fashioned, conventional terms. We can be close and still be free, Julia.” His eyes held hers without wavering, and there was something almost hypnotizing in the gaze. “Just let yourself be.”

She couldn’t look away, and it felt like he was speaking some sort of deep truth, giving her an answer she really needed to hear.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted what she currently had to be all she’d ever want.

It didn’t feel that way at the moment, but maybe she could change.

She didn’t want to be conventional. Old-fashioned. She didn’t really think she was.

“Think about it,” Drayton said at last. “I want you to be happy, Julia. Really happy. But that doesn’t mean chasing some silly fantasy of a domestic life, just because other people have told you that’s what it takes to be happy.”

She was washed with a kind of relief, since what he said made perfect sense and it cast a different light on their relationship. Maybe there wasn’t something missing after all. Maybe she was just seeing it wrong.

One thing was true about her. She didn’t give up on people. She wouldn’t give up on Drayton. She certainly wasn’t about to give up on Mike.

“I’ll think about it,” she said. “I’m not about to give up something so good unless there’s a really good reason.”

He smiled back at her, and they held gazes for a long time. “I can’t think of any good reason to give up what we have.”

Finally, she glanced at the time and straightened up. “I better get back to work.”

He nodded and gestured toward the server for their bill.

Julia glanced across the street and saw something that gave her a strange little shiver. “Do you see that man there?” she asked Drayton softly.

Drayton looked up from where he was checking the bill and turned his head casually toward where she’d indicated.

The man standing there was older—maybe close to fifty—and he looked sophisticated and cosmopolitan in an expensive suit and long silver hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. Julia had noticed him a while back, and he was still standing in the same place on the sidewalk.

 “What about him?” Drayton asked.

“He seems to be watching us. He’s been there for at least twenty minutes now.”

“He’s not even looking in our direction.”

“I know. But he was earlier. It just feels like he’s watching us. It’s strange and a little creepy.”

“Well, maybe he just recognizes a gorgeous woman when he sees one. We’re leaving now.” Drayton tucked a large bill in the bill folder and stood up. “So it doesn’t matter.”

Julia frowned and glanced back across the street. The man caught her eye for a moment before he turned away. “It doesn’t feel like he was admiring my gorgeousness. It feels a little creepy.”

“Some men are creeps. Best to stay away from them.” Drayton looked relaxed, almost amused, as they walked down the sidewalk together.

Julia glanced back and saw the man had disappeared, and she started to be feel a little silly about her reaction. The man hadn’t done anything suspicious or inappropriate. He’d just been standing there. She’d just been imagining things.

She and Drayton stood on a curb, waiting for the lights to change so they could cross. When the light indicated they could walk, Julia stepped out, and then several things happened all at once.

She was aware of an approaching car and a squealing of tires, and she froze in instinctive reaction. She got a glimpse of the driver and registered his face. Then an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back onto the curb.

The car drove on—an expensive silver Mercedes. It had almost hit her.

She was cold and shaky as she stood on the curb next to Drayton, who still had his arm around her waist. He was the one who’d pulled her back.

“That was the man who was watching us,” she gasped, managing to step out of the way so other pedestrians could cross at the light. “He just tried to hit me.”

“I don’t think so. I think whoever was driving just tried to get through the light at the last second and ended up running it on red.” His tone was comforting, very calm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just scared. I’m sure it was him. It was like he was aiming for me.”

“He wasn’t aiming for you, Julia. He just wasn’t paying attention. It’s just scary, when something like that happens.”

She was starting to catch her breath, but she still felt shaky and confused. She managed to straighten up, though, since she didn’t want to be a wimp. “I’m okay. I’m sure it was that same guy, though.”

Drayton kissed her lightly on the lips. “Maybe it was, but it was just an accident. I saw it clearly.”

“Okay.” She took a shuddering breath and pulled herself together. No use to be melodramatic, after all. There was absolutely no reason anyone would be trying to kill her, and that would have been a pretty weak attempt. “I’m fine.”

Drayton walked her back to her building, giving her another kiss before she went inside.

She stood in the lobby for a minute, feeling shaky and kind of embarrassed by her response.

Drayton probably thought she was completely losing it. First, her outburst at the party last weekend. Then her pressuring him to go beyond the bounds of their relationship at lunch today. Then her paranoia about the man and the car.

With a surge of mortification, she turned around and hurried back out to the street, hoping to catch Drayton so she could apologize or explain or something. She saw him at the end of the block, and she jerked to a shocked halt.

He was talking to the man she’d seen watching them at the restaurant. The man she was sure had almost hit her with his car just now.

Talking wasn’t exactly the right word. Drayton’s face and posture were as angry as she’d ever seen them, and he’d grabbed the lapels of the man’s suit in an obvious threatening gesture.

They were too far away for her to hear the words or tone, but Drayton was obviously laying into the other man. The man wasn’t reacting, except to look vaguely amused.

Julia couldn’t make herself move as her mind tried to catch up to what was happening.

Drayton had lied. Again. And then again. Convincingly. Right to her face.

And this man had come at her with the car on purpose. If it wasn’t an actual attempt on her life, then it was at least a threat. Drayton’s reaction now proved it.

No matter what emotional boundaries they put on their relationship—no matter how there weren’t supposed to be obligations of intimacy between them—Drayton’s lies were starting to affect her in very real ways.

Which meant she needed to discover what was driving them.

Julia brooded about what she’d seen the entire afternoon, trying to think of some way to find out what she needed to know, since it was clear that asking Drayton outright simply wasn’t going to work.

He’d been part of her life and Mike’s for too long to just give up on him because he was hiding something, but he was too important to her to just let it go.

So when she drove home that evening and saw Drayton was just pulling out of their parking garage, she acted on instinct.

She followed him.

He would recognize her car so she kept as far back from his black Lexus as she could. Her own midsized sedan was common enough to blend into traffic, and she wasn’t too worried about him spotting her, several cars back in the middle of rush hour traffic.

He was supposed to be working on a major project—a photography assignment that had been taking up most of his evenings for the last month. But she suspected now that it wasn’t really what he did when he left so often at night.

Although she had that heavy feeling of foreboding in her gut, she actually had a little fun trying to be stealthy as she followed Drayton’s Lexus onto the freeway and toward the eastside of the city.

She was hanging back so much, hiding behind a tour bus, that she almost missed Drayton get off at an exit. She managed to change lanes and exit herself, waiting until Drayton had turned, right before she sped up and stopped at the intersection.

She followed him onto a busy street, lined with small shops and restaurants. When he managed to snag a parking place in front of a used bookstore, she was forced to drive past him, ducking her head so he wouldn’t recognize her.

As she glanced back in her rearview mirror, she was satisfied that he hadn’t noticed her. He was too busy getting out of the car and eyeing a shop across the street.

Julia drove around the block and found a place about half a block down from him. Torn, she sat in her car with the engine running, trying to decide whether she should get out and see what he was doing in that shop or wait until he came out so she could follow him again.

Her sense of caution kept her in her car. He’d be much more likely to spot her if she got out onto the sidewalk. She waited for fifteen minutes until he came out of the shop—his hands as empty as they’d been when he’d gone in.

When he got back in his car, she was once again torn—part of her wanting to go check out the shop and the other part wanting to continue following him.

When he pulled out into traffic and darted through a yellow light just before it turned red, she decided there wasn’t much use in following him. Either she’d lose him or he’d spot her eventually.

And either one would be really embarrassing.

Instead, she got out of her car and walked over to the shop he’d just left.

It was a strange, little antique shop—without a window display or much of a sign. Its only designation was an engraved plaque beside the front door that read, “Antiques.”

She felt a little uncomfortable as she entered, not knowing what to expect inside. She was relieved when she saw it was indeed a shop—with antique jewelry, clothing, accessories, and furniture displayed in cluttered bins and shelves.

Pretending to browse through the nineteenth-century fans, she scrutinized the place, noticing the lack of customers, the desk filled with books and papers, and the heavy scent of spicy incense.

When she heard someone clear his throat, Julia whirled around in guilty surprise.

She noticed the candles before she noticed the man.

There were six of them on the walnut sideboard—lit black tapers in the same arrangement Drayton was so fond of.

It was almost eerie, seeing Drayton’s candles in such an inexplicable place. Julia stared at them, trying to process the details and acknowledging that they were exactly like those Drayton put in his room, her room, and the living room of their apartment.

“The candles aren’t scented,” a precise, British voice spoke from beyond the sideboard she was staring at. “It’s a common mistake. If the incense bothers you, I can—”

“It’s fine,” Julia broke in, trying to shake herself out of her stupor. “I don’t mind. I was just…” She trailed off, having no explanation for her preoccupation with the candles.

When she shifted her eyes, she stared again—this time at the man who stepped closer to her with a smile.

It was the same man from before. The one who’d been watching them, who’d almost hit her with his car, whom Drayton had had the argument with. He had silvering hair and an attractive face of sophistication and character.  He looked expensive—privileged and educated and highly cultured.

There was also something about him that reminded her of Drayton, but she couldn’t specify what it was.

“First time in the shop?” he asked, his dark eyes taking in her appearance, from her windblown hair to her favorite high heels.

“Yeah. I was just passing by and saw it. I like looking at antiques.” She flushed a little, feeling self-conscious although she had no idea why she should apologize for entering what was obviously a store.

He had to have recognized her, but he made no sign of it.

“Help yourself,” he said, with a graceful wave of his hand. “I have more in the back, if you’re looking for something particular. And I can always help you acquire anything you should happen to desire—even if I don’t have it in hand.”

His words were perfectly polite and innocuous, but her cheeks flamed as glanced down at the bin of beaded jewelry. His tone had sounded nuanced, suggestive, almost sexual.

Almost worthy of Drayton.

She pretended to browse for a minute, and then she glanced back over her shoulder at the man, who was sorting through some paperwork at the desk. What had Drayton been doing here anyway? And what secrets lay between the two men? “Been busy today?” she asked, hoping to sound casual.

“Not very. I do most of my business through requisitions. In fact, my last customer was a woman who came in primarily to use the restroom.”

His wry smile was charming, but Julia wondered why he was lying.

Drayton had been the last person in the shop.

Maybe he wasn’t a customer.

She wandered over to the sideboard with the candles. “How long have you been in the U.S.?” she asked.

“Caught the accent, did you?” He came over to stand beside her and carefully repositioned one of the candles. “I haven’t been able to shake it, although it’s been ages since I left.”

The answer was vague, but something about the fatigue in his eyes made her wonder exactly how long it had been. And why he’d left.

“These candles are interesting,” she commented, deciding she might as well ask about them while she was here. “I haven’t seen ones like these before.”

“They aren’t sold commercially. But if you’re interested, I could order some for you.”

Julia frowned thoughtfully, as if she were considering the offer. “Is there something significant in the arrangement here?”

The man leaned forward, his eyes studying her face with such scrutiny she felt naked. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged. She kind of wanted to run out of the shop—this guy was definitely weird—but this might be her one chance to find out something about Drayton. “I don’t know. It just looks like they’re arranged purposefully—you fixed that one candle like it was out of place. It feels almost…” She searched for the right word. “Almost like a ritual or something.”

“Ritual,” he repeated, sounding more fascinated than offended. “Interesting choice of word.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that comment so she persisted, “Is it religious or something?”

He smiled, as if he were hiding private laughter. “There’s nothing religious about it.”

He wasn’t very forthcoming, but he didn’t seem to be closing her out either. In fact, he appeared to enjoy her questions. So she kept it up. Studying the candles, she asked, “But there
is
some sort of purpose behind the arrangement?”

The man leaned against the sideboard. “Six candles. What do you know about the number six?”

“Not much.” She searched her mind and came up with, “666 is the mark of the Beast in the Bible.”

He nodded, the corners of his mobile lips turning up. “True. Seven is the number of completion, of perfection. Six is incompletion.” His eyes drifted to the candles, which were strangely mesmerizing. “Six is incomplete, unfinished, never reaching the end, always one step away from conclusion. Six is never-ending.”

Julia’s lips parted as she stared at him. “I thought you said it wasn’t religious.”

The man chuckled softly. “It’s not. Six is a symbol. It can mean…anything.”

She looked back at the candles, flickering in the quiet shop. “So what does it mean?”

“It means there happened to be six candles in the box.” He gave her a wry smile.

“Oh. Okay.” He’d sounded so amused that she was kind of embarrassed by her intense questioning. Why the hell should six candles mean anything but that was how many came in the box. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” She sucked in a startled breath when the man touched her face and then slid a finger along the fall of her dark hair. “You’re lovely,” he murmured, “And so deliciously young.”

She jerked away from him, her cheeks burning again, although she was more self-conscious than offended.

He smiled again—but it wasn’t predatory. He was oddly unassuming for having made such an advance on a stranger. “I hope I didn’t offend. I’ve lived too long to hold my tongue. And your appeal is…surprisingly strong. I would take you to bed, if you wish.”

Julia’s mouth fell open. “What? Are you serious?”

“Very. I would enjoy it. And so would you. I could give you great pleasure.”

Blazing with self-consciousness, Julia managed to say, “I…I appreciate the offer, but I’m involved. And I get great pleasure at home.”

The man’s smile broadened. “I believe you.”

She couldn’t take anymore. This encounter was too weird for words. So with a mumble of farewell, she ducked out of the shop and hurried clumsily to her car.

She pulled out of her parking space without looking carefully, and an oncoming car had to slam on its brakes to avoid hitting her.

She drove until she had to stop at a red light. Then she peered at herself in the rearview mirror. She was flushed, and panting, and kind of wild-eyed.

What the hell was wrong with her?

She needed something normal and healthy and secure.

She needed to get back to Mike.

***

Mike wasn’t home when she returned to their apartment. No one was home.

As she dropped her keys and purse on a chair, Julia was irrationally annoyed with Mike for not being around when she needed him.

When she walked down the hall and passed Drayton’s room, however, she decided she was more annoyed with Drayton than with Mike. He was the one who’d gotten her into this. He was keeping secrets from them. He’d pushed her into following him and then having that disturbing conversation with that bizarre man.

She forced the feelings aside, since they were mostly a product of her mood, and went to change clothes. Then, since her laundry basket was getting full, she hauled a load toward the closet that housed the washer and dryer. She pulled out her whites first and started them in the washer. Since it wasn’t a full load, she decided to get past her bad mood and do something nice by checking to see if Mike or Drayton had any whites to add to the load.

Mike must have done his laundry a couple of days ago, since he just had two pairs of boxers and a pair of socks. She collected them and dropped them in the washer before heading to Drayton’s room.

He’d been a little prickly lately about letting them into his room. They hadn’t had sex in his room in ages, except for that morning she’d caught him with the necklace. But if she was in the room to help him with his laundry, then surely he wouldn’t mind.

She gathered some t-shirts, underwear, and socks and then took them to the washer, thinking that it would be nice to be in a more serious, committed relationship, but they’d have to parcel out the chores because she sure as hell wasn’t going to be responsible for washing the underwear of two different men.

It was on this thought that she noticed something on Drayton’s white t-shirt before she dumped it in the washer with the rest of the clothes. A dried stain near the bottom. Rust brown.

Like blood.

She studied it carefully, feeling her heart rate accelerate.

Several months ago, she’d found a similar stain on one of his shirts. When she’d asked him about it, he’d said it was just a solution from developing photographs. The shirt had already been washed at that point, so she’d believed him and hadn’t thought about it again.

But, peering at the stain now, she wondered if Drayton had been lying to her then, and she’d stupidly fallen for it.

The stain looked like blood.

There was no bullet hole or cut from a knife on the shirt, so if it was blood, it didn’t seem to be from a wound on Drayton’s body.

Maybe it was someone else’s blood.

By this point, the washer had filled with water but hadn’t started spinning since she hadn’t closed the top. She lay the t-shirt on the dryer and closed the washing machine so it would keep going.

Julia stood in the hallway while the washer started to spin, feeling confused and embarrassed and deeply unsettled. Antsy.

Damn Drayton, anyway. Why couldn’t he just tell her the truth?

Why would he have blood on his shirt?

It didn’t take her long to talk herself into stepping into his room and looking around. The room appeared as it always did, neat and expensive, in shades of gray and blue.

After a minute, she was able to force aside the guilt she was experiencing. She didn’t care if she was invading his privacy. She didn’t care if she was betraying the unspoken trust that had always existed between the three of them.

Drayton had already broken that trust.

She started to search his room, as quickly and carefully as she could. He had a lot of clothes, and they were all well-kept. His books were those she’d already known he owned—some classics, the better written of the modern bestsellers, and some random titles of history, biography, and philosophy. Nothing that gave her any insight into him.