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“That’s the project you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Yes. The property has an inn and a manor house and I’m going to turn it into an event center for weddings and corporate programs,” Gillian said, clearly excited. “And I want your artistic eye to help guide me.”
Julie’s shoulders dropped. “Noah asked me about my illustrious interior design career and all I could say was that I’m a full-time mom now. Pretty humiliating.”
“No shame in being a devoted mother, but why didn’t you tell him about the children’s clothing you designed?”
“I haven’t created anything in so long, and since I only sell about one dress a year, it’s too pathetic to mention.”
“Now that Molly’s old enough to be in school or summer programs, maybe it is time for you to get back in the game.”
“You mean trying to revive the clothing line?”
“That and helping me design my event center. And, of course, falling in love.”
3
Eight years ago…
Twenty-five-year-old Noah walkedinto the building on Fifth Avenue just above Washington Square. In the clean, bright lobby he told the doorman he was here to see Julie Vaughn. The doorman called her apartment to confirm and then pointed him to the elevators, saying, “Sixth floor, turn left.”
When Noah stepped off the elevator, a girl so beautiful she nearly knocked the wind out of him was waiting in the hallway, smiling at him. He stood there frozen, unable to speak or get his feet to move.
She was barefoot and had long dark hair that skimmed over her creamy bare shoulders. A tube top showed off her small waist and full breasts and tight jeans covered her long sleek legs.
Realizing he was staring at her, Noah quickly said, “Hi.” And couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“I guess you are Noah Taylor?” She didn’t seem to notice his weird behavior, or maybe she was so used to guys being blown away by how beautiful she was that she took it in stride.
“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Dr. Scott told me you had an extra room you would be willing to rent to me? But the price he gave me doesn’t exactly match this building.”
Her head went back as she breathed out a laugh that cut right into his chest. And he was a goner. “Uncle Scotty is a close friend of my father’s,” she said, “so whatever price he told you is fine by me.”
“Your father is Trevor Vaughn, the famous architect, right?”
“Yep. And I’m Julie.”
Noah did not know much about architecture, so he had gone to the library and looked up her famous father and saw his creations all over the world. “His work is pretty astonishing.”
“Thank you. Not that I did any of it,” she said, then turned, and he followed her to the apartment, trying not to gape at her perfect butt as she walked ahead of him.
Julie walked him through an apartment the likes of which he had never set foot in before. It looked like it belonged in a magazine. Parquet floors, clean modern designer furniture, and art everywhere. The foyer had a marble-topped table with some kind of bowl and vase on it. The living room had a pale pink sofa that went on for miles, club chairs, exotic coffee and end tables, large paintings on the walls, figurines, and vases with flowers.
And books everywhere. At least that made him feel somewhat better.
The open-plan main room expanded into what he guessed was a dining area since it had a carved wood table beneath an interesting glass and metal chandelier that looked like a modern sculpture. The kitchen was all white and stainless steel with hanging pendant lamps.
“Those two rooms are my bedroom and study,” she said as they walked down a hall past a couple of half-open doors.
Noah resisted the urge to peek in, his doubts about seeing himself living here flooding his brain.
“This would be your room,” Julie said and opened a door to room with pale beige walls and furnishings in shades of green and brown. Queen-sized bed, wood desk and dresser. Nightstand, simple lamps as well as overhead lighting. And a tall window that looked out over the city.
It must have been his silence that prompted her to say, “I know it’s not very big, but—”
“It’s bigger than the bedroom I had in my family’s house.”
“Where did you grow up?” she asked. “I hear a slight New York City accent.”
