Love Beyond Words (City Lights: San Francisco Book 1) (9 page)

Julian tapped the steering wheel. “I think I know a place that’s open.”

“Anything but a coffee shop.”

Julian navigated the car through light traffic from the Sunset District to the Financial. Natalie had remembered from one of their talks that he lived in this part of town. She watched him drive, biting back a smile.
The car commercials are right
, she thought.
There’s something sexy about a man driving a stick shift
. He pulled the car under an old-style electric sign that read Tadich Grill.

“Do you like seafood?” Julian asked, handing the car keys to the valet. “I think you mentioned you did once before.”

Natalie laughed. “You know I do. I have three obsessions: reading, numbers, and grilled halibut. In that order.”

He opened the front door for her and Natalie saw that the Tadich Grill was a “nice” restaurant. The kind where her father would have reminded her to put her napkin in her lap and keep her elbows off the table. They stepped up to a long, narrow bar, where a bartender in a white smock was polishing a glass and eyeing them as though they had barged into his home during dinner.

“Well?” the bartender demanded. “Bar or table?”

“Table,” Julian replied.

The man sighed as if they’d had a long-standing beef and pulled out two menus. “This way.”

“Do you know him?” Natalie whispered. “He seems upset with us. Is it the holiday…?”

“Nah.” Julian grinned. “He’s always like that.”

The surly man led them into the pleasantly dark confines of the restaurant. Cozy tables draped in white lined the walls. Delicious smells of fresh seafood and steak permeated the air, as did the muted conversations of a dozen or so patrons.

The bartender waited impatiently as Julian took Natalie’s coat and draped it across the back of her chair. Her lavender dress was simple and rather plain, she thought, but Julian was wearing only dark blue jeans and a gray long-sleeved shirt—albeit clearly expensive jeans and shirt. None of the other patrons appeared particularly dressed up, either. The bartender handed over the menus with a grunt and returned to his post.

“What a grouch.” Natalie laughed. “I like it. I like
him
. Suits this place.”

“I think so too.”

Her laughter died when she perused the menu and saw the prices. They weren’t outrageous, but far more than she could ever afford to spend. Some of the dishes, she noted, had no prices at all. She could hear her mother’s knowing tone.
If you have to ask, you can’t afford it
.

The waiter appeared. He rattled off the day’s specials and Julian ordered a bottle of cabernet from a long list full of old-sounding French titles. When the waiter returned to present it, the label showed it predated the Cold War.

“I thought we’re supposed to drink white wine with fish,” Natalie managed. She was no connoisseur but the bottle had to cost half a month’s rent.

“You hate white wine,” Julian said. He tasted the small sip the waiter offered, and nodded. The man poured and left them.

Natalie laughed weakly. “Ah yes. Everything I told you of my likes and dislikes is paying off exactly to plan.”

Julian grinned. “Is it?”

“How else would I get my fix of…” she turned the wine bottle to face her, “1947 Chateau Gruaud Laros?”

“A real mastermind.”

“A girl’s gotta drink.”

They laughed again as the waiter returned to take their order. Julian caught Natalie’s dismayed expression. “Shall I?”

“Yes, please.”

He ordered appetizers, entrees—Alaskan halibut for her, red snapper for him—and sides of sautéed mushrooms, pasta, and grilled asparagus.

“Okay?” he asked.

Natalie nodded. “Okay.”

The waiter winked. “Okay.”

#

Over a Dungeness crab cocktail, Julian asked her about her studies. “How are they going? Nearly done or have you time yet?”

“Nearly done,” she said. “I’m set to graduate in June.”

“Congratulations,” he said. “And have you decided what to do with your degree? Personal accounting or… something else?” He laughed. “I know nothing about the subject myself. David handles all that stuff for me.”

“David?” Natalie asked, keeping her voice light. “You haven’t mentioned him before.” She dipped a wedge of crab into a little dish of melted butter calmly while her thoughts took off.
Marshall was right. He’s gay. He’s gay and has a boyfriend named David…

“David is a good friend of mine, as well as my personal assistant. He manages my trust fund. I hate talking about that—the trust fund. It makes me sound useless and spoiled, and besides we were talking about you and what you’re going to do with your degree.”

Natalie toyed with her under-sized fork as the topic of his money whizzed by like a runaway train.
Like whatever he’s writing, it’s his business,
she told herself. Besides, it was too good to see him like this, sitting across from her at a table that wasn’t at Niko’s. She bit back a smile.
And David is only an assistant.

“I haven’t decided yet,” she answered. “I don’t have to pick my focus until next semester. Personal accounting seems a bit too simple while investment banking is too…”

“Cutthroat?”

“I was going to say ‘irresponsible.’ I mean, it may sound stupid—I’m probably in the wrong business—but I don’t want to sit around counting other people’s money. I’d like to do something meaningful. Working for a socially-conscious nonprofit would be ideal.”

“Sounds like a noble use of your talents.”

“I don’t know about noble. It may be a huge mistake. Most of my classmates are going on to grad school to become hedge-fund managers, or try to shoulder their way into a big corporation.” She made a face. “The simulations are close enough to that for me.”

“Simulations?”

“We use a company’s financial data and current economic trends to mock up portfolios for imaginary investors. Over the course of the semester we have to show the profits and losses, and calculate earnings, dividends, that sort of thing. I was assigned a huge, soulless corporation with a fat carbon footprint and no social conscience to speak of. EllisIntel, it’s called.”

“EllisIntel.” Julian frowned. “I believe David’s invested in them for me. How bad are they?”

“Well, right now they’re in trouble overseas for factory worker violations. They’ve almost single-handedly ruined a river in Venezuela, and
now
there’s talk they’re going to partner with some big fracking company out of Oklahoma.” She waited until the waiter finished removing their appetizer dishes. “On the other hand, they make money for their shareholders like they were printing it. You could stand to lose a considerable fortune, if you decided to sell.”

“Sounds like it would be worth it.”

Natalie started to reply when Julian’s cell phone chimed from inside the pocket of his jacket. She realized she’d never seen him take a call before.

“Sorry,” he said, and pressed a button to silence the ring. “That was David, actually.”

“Might it be important?”

“He can leave a message.”

The waiter returned with their main dishes and Natalie swooned at the gorgeous slice of fish on her plate. “I haven’t had halibut since Mexico.”

Julian cocked an eyebrow. “I seem to recall you telling me you didn’t travel.”

Natalie smiled faintly. She hadn’t meant to mention Mexico; it just popped out. “It was a long time ago. Seven years ago now. Puerto Vallarta.”

“With your parents?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” she said, casting her gaze to her plate as the memory swam up at her. “I was sixteen. My dad let me drink a little bit of his margarita, which somehow turned into
a lot
of margarita, and the next thing I knew I was rolling under the table, laughing my head off. And my mom was
pissed
. She was still yelling at my dad all through my first hangover.” She smiled at the memory and then looked up to see Julian watching her with soft eyes. “Anyway,” she said, “this looks amazing. Shall we?”

“Yes, but I have one more question.”

Natalie twisted her napkin under her lap, bracing herself. She’d had too much wine to be talking this much about her parents. “What is it?”

“Why accounting?”

Natalie blinked. “What? Oh, why did I pick something so boring?”

“No,” he said. “Why did you pick something so solid and exact, when you are so fluid and luminous?”

Natalie felt his compliment wash over her like soft, warm water. “I…I’m not…”

“You are.” He was looking at her in a way that made her want to tell him everything, anything…

“Accounting is safe,” she answered when she’d found her voice. “The numbers don’t change. I mean, they can be moved around and manipulated. But four plus four will always equal eight, you know? They’re emotionless. After my parents…Well, I have my books to provide me with all the emotion I can take. I want a profession that will never, ever remind me of something I don’t want to be reminded of.” She heaved a breath. “So that’s the long answer. Short answer: I also enjoy it. Go figure.”

Julian’s smile was sad, warm, and brilliant all at once. He held up his wine glass. “To the socially-conscious nonprofit that will be lucky enough to find you walking through its doors in about six months.”

She raised her glass with his, struggling to find some pithy toast for him. She couldn’t think of one single thing but that he was absolutely beautiful, and that, for a wonder, she managed to keep to herself.

#

The lunch was exquisite, the wine perfect, and the conversation danced from one easy topic to another. After dessert Natalie felt giddy, and reached into her bag before she could talk herself out of it.

“Merry Christmas,” she said. Julian appeared genuinely touched. He opened the card and her stomach twisted. “Open the bigger one first,” she said, hoping to distract him, and wishing mightily that she had written
Merry Christmas
instead of
Love, Natalie,
but it was too late now. Julian smiled as he read it and she took a long swallow of water.

He opened the first gift and admired the composition books appreciatively. “I thought I might be short a book or two. Thank you.”

“Um, sure,” she said, and watched him open the antique fountain pen, her heart in her throat.

He said nothing but turned it over in his hand. Its warm wood gleamed, and the pewter nib, with delicate art deco etchings, glowed in the candlelight.

Natalie cleared her throat. “The clerk told me it once belonged to John Steinbeck, but I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It’s beautiful,” Julian told her. His eyes were like blue velvet in the dimness. “It’s perfect. Again, thank you.”

She eased a sigh of relief and then choked a second later as he pulled a flat, rectangular box out of his jacket pocket and held it out to her wordlessly.

“As if this wasn’t enough?” she said, indicating the restaurant.

“You need something to open.”

She took the gift quickly, so he wouldn’t see her hands tremble, and opened the delicate wrapping and the box inside. A gold micro mosaic pendant lay against the black velvet. A willow tree in pale jade swayed over a lapis lakeshore. Mother of pearl and garnet accents decorated the edges. The chain was long and also gold. A lot of very real gold.

“Julian…” she breathed.

“Do you like it?” He toyed with this dessert fork. “I saw it and thought it suited you. If you don’t like it, I can take it back…”

“Oh, hush.” She slipped it over her neck. The pendant lay beautifully against her blouse. “It’s just stunning. Thank you.”

He started to smile and then frowned. “There was a card…” He fished around in his jacket pocket. “It’s a little late now…”

Natalie held out her hand, eyebrows raised.

Julian laughed shortly and gave it to her, looking away as she read it.

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah,
it read, and Natalie felt that soft water warmth all over again.
Love, Julian

#

He parked in front of her building, shut off the engine, and then sat with both hands gripping the steering wheel. Natalie curled toward him, warmed and drowsy by the heat emanating from the leather seats, and more than a little tipsy from the wine. The day’s sublimity was making her bold; she had a sudden image of standing before him in her apartment wearing nothing but the Victorian pendant. Her skin flushed hotly at the thought. She’d never felt this way before, could never have
imagined
feeling this way about anyone. But not even her ingrained shyness could stop her from reaching out and taking Julian’s hand in hers.