Jules hadn’t really meant to honor Vivian’s request. She’d intended to go home, listen to lovey-dovey music, have a glass of wine, and revel in her memories of the weekend. There would be plenty of time for solemn reflection later.

Solemn reflection showed up anyway when she sat on her couch and reread Carter Mathson’s email.

The feeling returned, the one she couldn’t name, the feeling that said, This is kinda sketchy.

Sure, on the outside, Jules could see how it might look bad. Her lover, who just happened to be her boss, was connecting her to influential people in a way Jules couldn’t manage on her own. An ancient story.

But when Jules thought of other people who did that—the gross men Vivian was so determined not to become—it seemed different. With them it looked like the more powerful partner took sex as the price of entry for the other person who wanted favors. Tit for tat.

Vivian wasn’t doing that. She was giving Jules a gift, and she didn’t expect anything in return.

Jules began to pace her apartment in front of the mosaic-painted wall, the overstuffed ottoman, the poster from a special exhibit at the Pitti Palace. Nothing in here was Vivian’s style, although it was well put together. This was Jules’s space, where she was in control and had room to think.

Simon had done her a favor by putting her in touch with Salon. That had obviously been okay. Of course she owed him now and he’d be sure to collect, but that was also okay.

She remembered Vivian’s troubled expression. Her worries about crossing personal boundaries with professional ones. Jules was starting, finally, to put a name to the feeling that had been plaguing her since she’d seen Carter’s email: Vivian is right.

Ugh. That was always the worst feeling ever, no matter who was right when you were wrong. The question was, what was Jules going to do about it?

Deep down, she was afraid she already knew the answer.

Chapter 51

Chapter 51

In spite of her anxieties, by the time Monday rolled around, Jules was quivering with anticipation. She’d texted Vivian a couple of times on Sunday, trying to walk the fine line between checking in and not being clingy. That wasn’t as good as being in Vivian’s home, talking and eating and having sex.

The replies had been perfectly normal, as far as that went—which was to say, brisk and to the point. The texts of a woman with a lot to do.

Jules wondered how Vivian’s Sunday had gone, if she really had kept so busy that she hadn’t thought about Jules too much.

She found out on Monday morning when Vivian got into the car and refused to look her in the eye.