Julie's Butterfly (2 page)

C
HAPTER
2

“Perhaps you should ask her out for a drink,” suggested Elena.

Bastian looked up from his camera, which he was still gripping tightly, and shot her a disapproving glance. She was leaning casually next to him against the wall where he’d found refuge—as far from Julie as possible. Elena regarded him over the rim of her wineglass with a mixture of concern and understanding. So she’d been watching him.

He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Perhaps you should just stay out of it,” he muttered.

His tone would have caused anyone else to withdraw, but not Elena.

“She seems to like you,” she remarked. “There must be a few women out there who have a weakness for arrogant fools,” she added with a good-natured smile. “And this evening, my friend, you are certainly behaving like one.”

She gave him a reassuring pat on the arm, causing him to flinch almost imperceptibly, before she moved away and left him to himself.

Bastian lowered his camera and looked over in Julie’s direction. Though naturally reserved, he would normally have shown her at least a little courtesy, but something about this woman set off alarm bells in his head. He studied her intently, trying to find a plausible reason for his intense reaction.

There was an elfin quality about the way she moved nimbly through the crowd. Her dark evening dress emphasized her dainty figure, clinging in all the right places. Her face was attractive and her skin utterly unblemished, stirring in him an impulse to touch her.

He couldn’t forget her lovely wild-rose scent. He had noticed it when she had attempted to engage him in conversation—and he had been rattled by the overwhelming desire to bury his nose in the hollow of her neck and inhale it deeply. Though his response to her had been unusually strong, she was not the first beautiful woman he’d ever been physically attracted to. After all, he was only a man.

But she stood out, head and shoulders above the rest, in one respect: she didn’t appear to be the type who would ever be interested in his idea of a “relationship.” Women like her did not usually attract his attention in the slightest. He merely registered these innocent girls in passing and rarely, if ever, gave them so much as a second glance.

With good reason.

He stretched his free hand in its close-fitting leather glove and felt the familiar twinge of pain that he had known as long as he could remember.

As Julie looked up and their eyes met, Bastian realized what the problem was.

Her eyes.

Those dark-brown eyes, sparkling with joie de vivre, seemed to penetrate him with their warmth and radiance. He could literally feel the heat spreading through him, and he was struck by an indefinable lust for life. The wave of desire that surged through him was so strong he could barely resist it.

“Good evening.”

Annoyed by the interruption, Bastian turned to the strawberry blonde who had thrust herself into his presence.

“I’m Lisa,” she purred.

He regarded her coolly. Oh, yes, she was his typical idea of a catch. Five foot ten with a slim figure and cascading hair, she was a true beauty and fully aware of her effect on the opposite sex. Dolled up in a black leather bodice, short red miniskirt, and patent leather pumps, she knew how to make the most of her assets and left little to his imagination. Several of the guests glanced at her appreciatively, but she ignored them—she had already made her choice.

“Have you seen anything of interest to you tonight?” she asked in a manner that left no doubt about her meaning.

He despised this superficial girl. He could tell from a glance that she would be his for the taking if he so much as smiled at her. Unfortunately, he hadn’t the slightest interest in diversion that particular evening.

“No,” he replied curtly.

Lisa sidled a little nearer, getting closer to him than he liked. He tensed instinctively as she lustfully licked her fiery-red lips, arched her back, and offered him a full view of her cleavage. “You’re sure you haven’t found a
single
thing to interest you?” she repeated lasciviously.

He had to admire her brazenness. He leaned back and subjected her body to open scrutiny. Her self-satisfied smile told him that she was enjoying his undivided attention.

“Absolutely sure,” he said indifferently.

Her smile withered, and she gave him a scathing look.

“You’ve got no idea what you’re missing,” she hissed and strutted off into the crowd, in search of a more willing victim.

Bastian didn’t give the woman another thought. Instead he stole another glance at Julie, who was still chatting with the reporter.

The easy way the man was flirting with her disturbed him. What he wouldn’t give to simply take her hand and draw her away from that greasy fellow, who was doing everything in his power to try to win her favor.

Under different circumstances, he would have responded to her attempts to strike up a conversation and tried to show her his better side. Then he would have been the one making her laugh, animating her expression, and bringing a flush to her cheeks. In more ways than one.

Appalled by the direction his thoughts were taking, he shook his head and returned his attention to his camera. He was there to do a job, and he’d damn well better do it.

He began working the room from behind the lens, capturing the usual pretension in all its facets. This whole charade was just one of many reasons he so deeply loathed such events. He would normally never have accepted such a job, but when Elena had called and asked him to take the place of the original photographer, who had dropped out at short notice, he had agreed to come to her aid without hesitation.

Observing the faux friendliness of the guests, Bastian did his utmost to not surrender to his growing sense of unease.

Which of course he failed to do.

An elderly woman staring at the floor with a pained expression caught his eye. Looking down to see what had captured her interest, he frowned. Granted, squeezing her foot into such a narrow high-heeled shoe took an impressive amount of self-sacrifice, but it wasn’t as though she had no choice in the matter. He therefore didn’t feel she had grounds to complain. From her demeanor, he could tell without a doubt that she had never experienced real pain and had absolutely no idea of her own good fortune. This lack of gratitude annoyed him, but he wasn’t going to let himself get worked up over it.

He lifted his camera back to his eye and began to sift through the crowd for a more suitable subject.

When engaged in his own work, he was particular in his selections. His subjects had to be fascinating, genuine, and flawless. He scorned models who allowed themselves to be altered beyond recognition in Photoshop and categorically refused to manipulate his photographs after they were taken. They had to be perfect in real life, not just in print.

Bastian sought beauty in its purest form. The bitter reminder of his own imperfections coursed through him, and he deliberately screwed up his eyes to concentrate.

Realizing that it didn’t really matter whose pictures he took that evening, he began to methodically and apathetically take photos of the various guests, until his viewfinder paused on Julie. She had finally detached herself from the persistent reporter and was deep in conversation with Elena at the other end of the room. Bastian focused his camera.

A few locks of brown hair fell gently against the soft lines of her neck. Her dark eyes sparkled with pleasure, and her soft lips appeared to have been created just for kissing. Her hesitant smile changed to a heartfelt laugh, revealing her even teeth. Her natural warmth shone with a radiance that captivated him.

Bastian’s fingertips prickled beneath his gloves. That was the sign. His intuition told him that this moment would make the entire evening worth it. Entranced by the sight of her, he pressed the shutter button, then lowered his camera, satisfied. A deep calm spread through him. His work was finished.

The triumphant sensation he felt was triggered not just because he had snapped a successful picture of a beautiful woman. It was much more than that.

It was clear, pure, complete.

It was perfect.

It was, as Bastian recognized with unshakable clarity, all that he would never be.

C
HAPTER
3

Isabelle was waiting for Julie by the main bar and handed her a full glass of champagne. Upon seeing her friend’s resigned shrug, Isabelle needed to ask no questions and instead simply gave one of her famous “chin-up” smiles.

“Have you been busy wrapping your admirers around your little finger?” asked Julie in an attempt to forget her depressing conversation—or lack thereof—with Bastian.

“By the time I walk out of here tonight, I imagine I’ll be rolling in it,” she replied.

“Leave something for the others.”

Isabelle sighed theatrically. “Oh, honey, if the rest of humanity were only half as selfless as you, the world would be a better place.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Have you had a good look at my competition?” asked Isabelle.

“Not yet.”

Isabelle took Julie by the arm and began walking the room. With the glass in her hand, she indicated a small, coy blonde. “Sofia’s responsible for the surreal creations in the right wing,” she said. “She may look harmless, but believe me, her talent’s as great as her psychoses.”

Isabelle then gestured to the pretty redhead who had just tried to seduce Bastian with her physical charms. Julie couldn’t help but wonder whether she had succeeded in snaring him. Things didn’t look too good for her, as she had since turned her back on him and moved to the vicinity of the bar.

“That’s Lisa,” whispered Isabelle, imitating her coquettish voice perfectly. “She seriously believes that all men exist to kiss her feet.”

Julie pressed her lips together to suppress a laugh. Some women really did have the most incredible ego. Lisa reached for a glass of Chianti and strolled toward them.

“Hers are the caricatures. A little too ostentatious for my taste, but her work’s very popular.”

When Lisa reached them, Isabelle raised an amused eyebrow. “Still on the prowl?”

Sipping her wine with a bored expression on her face, Lisa gave Isabelle a disparaging look. “The clientele’s a bit dull tonight, don’t you think?”

“Really?” replied Isabelle cheerfully. “To be honest, I’ve found several of the guests rather
attractive
.” She emphasized the final word with a provocative grin.

Julie’s gaze drifted over the crowd, searching until she found Bastian, who was busily snapping photos.

“I’d keep well away from that one.” Julie flinched and quickly averted her eyes as Lisa laughed loudly, nodding in Bastian’s direction. “That guy’s obviously a freak.”

“Why?” said Isabelle. “Because he gave you the brush-off?”

Julie could have hugged her.

“Bullshit!” said Lisa, a clear sign that Isabelle had hit the mark. “Just tell me, what’s that stupid business with the gloves supposed to mean?”

Isabelle grinned. “Maybe he’s cold.”

“Yeah, right,” snorted Lisa. She didn’t appear to share Isabelle’s sense of humor. “More like he’s simply a freak who can’t be parted from his fetish, even in public.”

“Possible, but unlikely,” replied Isabelle.

Julie wondered about the significance of those gloves. They were an unusual accessory for a man, but he must have a sound reason for wearing them, though she had no idea what it could be.

“Perhaps he’s gay,” remarked Lisa, clearly seeking an acceptable explanation for his rejection.

Isabelle cocked her head and briefly considered Bastian, who was absorbed in his work.

“No, he’s not,” she decided, expressing no doubt. She considered herself a natural talent in assessing the sexual orientation of strangers and often boasted that she’d never once been wrong.

“Whatever,” said Lisa. “I’m off to have another look around.”

Isabelle gave Julie a knowing look once Lisa had gone. “In other words, ‘I’m looking for another catch.’ ”

Julie giggled and took a sip of champagne.

“So where are your parents this evening?” asked Isabelle. “Didn’t they want to come?”

“Now that you mention it,” replied Julie, looking around, “I don’t see them anywhere.”

“I’m surprised your mother would miss an occasion like this.”

“She must have her reasons,” said Julie.

Isabelle regarded her suspiciously. “You still haven’t told them, have you?” Her tone was disapproving.

“There hasn’t been a good time.”

“Your parents won’t bite your head off if you confess you’ve given up law school.”

“Come on. You know my mother.”

“True enough. But I suppose she has a point.”

“I know,” replied Julie. “But that only makes it worse.”

“At the end of the day, you have to decide what
you
want to do, honey. Or else you’ll still be waitressing when you’re forty.”

“At least I’m financially independent,” said Julie, though she knew there was no point trying to defend herself.

“That’s all well and good, but I don’t recall that being part of your career plan when we were eight-year-olds discussing the future.”

“We were just kids back then.”

“Yes, and you were always hatching some new plan. Do you remember when you decided you wanted to be a writer? You did nothing but scribble in your notebook for weeks. Or the time you wanted to be an engineer and took apart everything in sight?” Isabelle giggled. “But my favorite was when you wanted to become an archaeologist and went around digging holes all over the place.”

“Very funny.”

“Your problem has always been that you’re interested in so much. You’ve never been able to focus your energy.”

“I’m what they call well-rounded.”

“No need for sarcasm.”

“I’m not being sarcastic. I’m at a loss.”

“Honey, being blessed with so many interests is a gift, not something to be scared of,” countered Isabelle gently. “But if you keep filling your days with mindless work, you’ll never figure out what really makes you happy.”

“What would you know?” replied Julie. “All your life you’ve done nothing but paint, paint, paint.”

“And just look where it’s gotten me.” Isabelle grinned, making a sweeping gesture.

“You’re right.” Julie laughed mirthlessly. “Enough. This is your big night, not mine.” She reached for two full glasses of champagne and pressed one into her friend’s hand. “Let’s celebrate.”

Julie closed her eyes with pleasure as she breathed in the cool night air. The preview was still in full swing, but she’d had enough.

She didn’t feel like taking a taxi, so she shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets and walked along the quiet street toward home. Spring had just arrived, and she was pleased that the nights were not as cold.

She welcomed the serenity of the darkness around her as she walked. She’d enjoyed the evening. Some of Isabelle’s radiance had managed to touch her now and then. The only thoughts that cast a shadow on her mood were those of Bastian.

For some reason, his dismissive behavior didn’t anger her. She only wished that he had made even the slightest effort to get to know her—after all, she was a very nice person. Most of the time, at least.

Julie wondered why he had been so standoffish. She’d felt him looking at her; he’d observed her all evening. At times, she’d even sensed that he was deliberately avoiding her. There had been something unnatural about his impassive expression, and she couldn’t help but think that his indifference was merely a show.

She shook her head in bewilderment. The irrational attraction that had possessed her when she sensed he was near was totally new to her.

She had never been the kind of woman to believe in love at first sight. In fact, the very idea scared her.

She crossed the road and turned onto a narrow, deserted street that she often took as a shortcut. Three men were walking toward her. They were visibly drunk and telling dirty jokes loudly enough for all to hear. They fell silent when they saw Julie.

The biggest, apparently their leader, stopped and tilted his head appreciatively, like a hunter assessing his prey.

Julie slowed her pace.

He sauntered up to her, his dark gaze boring into her. “Who’ve we got here, gorgeous?” he smirked.

Julie broke out in goose bumps at his mocking tone. Not the pleasant kind. She glanced around in search of help. On her left was a high wall that reached to her shoulders. The opposite side of the street was lined with parked cars and a series of trees encircled by wire fencing. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

The two smaller men laughed and continued on their way, grinning at Julie as they passed. But their leader stood motionless on the street, staring at her.

“Are you coming, Bones?” called one of the others impatiently.

Bones took a deep pull from his beer bottle. “You guys keep going,” he replied. “I’ve got something to finish off here.”

The other two chortled as they strolled away, as though they were thoroughly familiar with his antics. Bones subjected Julie to a thorough examination.

This was not looking good. Not good at all. She didn’t want to think about what was going on in this guy’s imagination.

Her eyes darted around once more, trying to locate a gap between the parked cars so that she could make her escape.

“Thinking of leaving already?” asked Bones, sounding disappointed as he set his bottle down. “But we haven’t even properly introduced ourselves.”

Julie sprung aside wordlessly. But not fast enough. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her back onto the sidewalk.

“Not so fast,” he hissed. “Don’t you want to have a bit of fun?”

Julie glared at him silently and tried to pull her arm away. But he was far too strong, and he had her firmly in his grip. Bones bent his head toward her, his stinking breath hitting her full in the face. She swallowed down her growing nausea.

“I asked you a question!” he snarled.

Julie panicked as she wondered what to do next. She couldn’t recall a single lesson from her self-defense classes. She had to get him to release his grip on her arm, but she didn’t want to provoke or encourage him.

“Leave the lady alone.” The flat voice sounded familiar. Bewildered, she looked in the direction of the speaker and was amazed to have her suspicion confirmed.

As Julie watched Bastian walking slowly toward them, butterflies danced wildly in her stomach.

Bones also seemed dumbfounded. Judging from his expression, he was not accustomed to having anyone interfere with his business. And he wasn’t going to be put off so easily.

“Who’ve we got here?” An amused grin spread across his face as he sized up his new opponent. “A knight in shining armor?”

“The lady’s mine,” replied Bastian calmly, his full attention on Bones.

His words caused Julie’s heart to skip a beat, despite her realization that this reaction was entirely inappropriate under the circumstances. Granted, she had a weakness for drama, but she could happily have managed without this one. The crazy thing was that what he’d said felt so right.

Bones’s buddies also noticed the newcomer and stopped on the corner.

“Leave it be,” called one. “Come on, Bones. Let’s go!”

Displeased by the turn of events, Bones tightened his grip on Julie’s arm. She gasped.

Bastian narrowed his eyes. “Let her go.”

The two men glared silently at each other. After what felt like an age, the tight grip on Julie’s arm slackened. Bones took a couple steps back.

Bastian slowly positioned himself in front of her, shielding her with his body. With him standing directly in front of her, she could hardly see over his shoulder. She could sense the tension of his body and the aura of aggression that emanated from him.

Bones put his hands up in resignation. “If that’s how it’s to be,” he said in a conciliatory tone. He stepped aside to head in his friends’ direction.

His assault came so fast that Julie hardly saw what was happening. He gave Bastian a brutal shove in the chest. Bastian tried to keep his balance, but he staggered past Julie and fell roughly onto his back, elbows braced to break his fall.

Julie’s breath caught in horror, but Bastian was already back on his feet. Within seconds, he had resumed his defensive position in front of her.

Bones’s cruel laughter rang out as he swaggered away. He was waiting for a reaction, but Bastian didn’t move an inch.

“Damn it, Bones,” called one of his buddies irritably. “Did you have to do that?”

“No.” Bones gave one last diabolical laugh. “But it was fun.”

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Bones turned and caught Julie’s eye.

“Have a good evening, sweetheart.” His eyes shone with delight. “Until we meet again.”

When he reached his friends, all three of them strutted off around the corner.

Still unable to breathe normally, Julie stared at the street corner until she was sure they had really gone. Then she walked over to Bastian and looked at him uncertainly. His face was totally expressionless except for an angry gleam in his eyes.

“Are you OK?” she asked softly.