"Honey, I could maintain your tastes for many years... without having to work. So relax: your husband's got a long way to go."
The double entendre was so obvious I felt the blood rush to my cheeks.
"You're shameless," I muttered.
"I know. And I know you love it."
Just as I was about to remind him—for the umpteenth time—that I only had one year left, that this was a contract, that there were no feelings involved, the director's secretary poked her head around the door.
"Dr. Fox, the director is expecting you."
I took a deep breath. I squeezed Julian's hand for a second longer before letting go.
"Good luck, my love," he said, with a wink.
"My love."
I knew it was part of the act. I knew he said it in case someone overheard. But even so, my heart raced like a teenager's.
T
