A Cautious Person

S U M M E R

It was impossible to truly understand a man like Julian Wolf.

Charming.

Exceptionally educated.

Irresistibly alluring.

A notorious playboy.

And arrogant? Without a doubt, but he was far less insufferable than I had initially thought.

I was clueless about his motives or how he had managed to scare off two attackers and car thieves with just a glance. Yes, that piqued my curiosity, but I was a cautious person and intended to stay that way.

Sitting in his car, the most stunning sports car I had ever experienced, left me feeling uneasy.

He was overwhelming, a mystery I couldn't quite decipher, and that unsettled me.

I had never visited the small, charming bar he brought me to, as he navigated the cozy space with the confidence of an owner. The bartender recognized him with a brief nod and promptly sent a waitress to our table.

After placing our orders, an awkward silence enveloped us.

What was I supposed to say to him?

My daily routine took over, and I found myself bombarding him with questions.

"Did you know those thieves? Did they realize you were a threat? Are you dangerous? Did you intimidate them?"

He appeared relaxed, leaning back in his chair as if savoring the ambiance. "Well, I don’t know those two men, but I’m familiar with types like them. I believe they understood I was serious. Yes, I can be very dangerous, but only to those who try to cross me in my business. My brothers might have a different opinion. I don’t make threats; I’ve never needed to. Does that cover all your questions?"

"Only the ones that immediately come to mind. I'm not entirely convinced by what you're saying."

"You have me curious as well, Summer."

My vodka sour arrived within minutes. Switching to alcohol over wine wasn't the best decision, but I was nervous.

Hell, I was perspiring and ladies didn't do that around men.

According to Melissa anyway.

"Why curious? Because I didn't fall at your feet? Because men like you don't impress me, no matter how much you're worth on the Fortune 500 list?"

"The Wolf family is listed on the Fortune 100 List, but who cares?"

Goddamn the man. Even his snarky replies were appealing.

"What are you curious about?" I pressed.

"What you do for a living. Something tells me you're not a schoolteacher or salesclerk."

"Good guess. My student loans will provide proof I'm neither. My work is handled in a stark, very dark environment. I get to play with cadavers, unveiling the harm they suffered before succumbing to fading away. I enjoy playing with intestines and draining blood. Does that sound like something you're interested in?"

Yes, I was egging it on, but I couldn't help myself. I wasn't a pushover, no matter what the hottie thought.

Why was my inner core already heated to about a million degrees?

He cocked his head, a knowing smile crossing his face. "Ah, the fairly new medical examiner."

"You know of my reputation?"

"There's little that goes on in Cambridge I don't know about."

"So, you're a legend around here."

There was something sultry about his laugh that drew me in.

"I'm no legend, just a businessman. Tell me about other aspects of your life other than carving up dead bodies. Now, I have a question for you. Does my confidence still turn you off?"

Actually, I thought it was pretty sexy. I wasn't going to tell him that. “Not as much, but you do come on fast and hard. Be mindful of that next time."

"Why, yes, ma'am."

"Maybe I was a little harsh."

"You were," he said in his deep voice that was like smooth velvet, "but I can be a jerk. Perhaps we can start over."

His statement broke the ice, allowing me to feel more comfortable around him and one drink turned into two, our conversations centered on everything from our love of music to favorite movies. There was no discussion about his business or mine, no repulsive come-on techniques. Just... conversation.

I liked him, his appeal not just about his dazzling good looks or angular face. When I noticed that over two hours had passed, he didn't push me to stay for another round, merely paying the tab and escorting me back to his car.

I'd kept the location of where I lived from everyone except my closest friends. Few people had my new cellular number and I was cautious making new friends at all. But with him, I felt comfortable. Connected.

Electrified.

As he pulled into the driveway beside my tiny car, I was sad to see the night end. He didn't say anything, allowing the engine to idle as I gripped my clutch purse.

Sighing, I made a decision I hoped I wouldn't regret. "Would you like to come in for a drink?"

"Only if you have the time."

Or the desire...

I could feel the question in the air, but he was going to allow me to address our intense feelings. My entire body was vibrating from a level of energy and longing that I'd never experienced. Maybe it was the wine followed by vodka, but in the back of my mind I knew better.

Karma had finally brought sunlight instead of wretched storms into my life. Maybe only for tonight. Maybe for longer. I wasn't a fool to believe this would lead anywhere else. But I also wasn't certain I cared.

"I have the time. Tomorrow is Sunday."

Oops.

I'd lied to Melissa and my other friends.

Another bad girl moment I'd admit to later.

I opened the car door, still admiring the gorgeous sports car. I'd seen a fleet of them on commercials, but sitting in the butter-soft leather seats, inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla or something just as delicious, had reminded me of all the things I was missing out on in my life.

Maybe Melissa was right. It was time to live a little.

Or a lot.

The stars were twinkling above me, which was a good sign. Only then did I think about the two men who'd tried to assault Melissa and me.

What if Julian hadn't been there? And what the hell had he done to prevent them from attacking?

My curiosity remained as high as the edge I had about the incident.

I unlocked the front door, thanking the skies above my babe was staying elsewhere for the weekend. Melissa's insistence. I'd need to thank her later.

Damn it.

I couldn't help but smile as I welcomed him in, flicking on a few lights before making my way to the kitchen. "I don't have much to offer—just some wine, bourbon, and maybe vodka."

"I'll take whatever you're having," Julian—his preferred name—said, leaning casually against the kitchen doorframe. His long, athletic legs were crossed at the ankles, and his hands rested in the pockets of his dark trousers.

He continued to watch me with the same intensity that had captivated me all evening. Now, under the bright glow of the kitchen light, I could truly appreciate the depth of his striking eyes. They were enchanting, a gaze that would surely intimidate any adversary he encountered.

"Make yourself comfortable," I said, turning away to focus on retrieving two rocks glasses and filling them with ice from the freezer. He remained silent as I mixed the drinks, opting for freshly squeezed orange juice with the vodka instead of the store-bought variety.

"You’re not from around here," he remarked a moment later.