Chapter 9
Tim smiled to himself as he mentally retraced the events of the past few hours. Julie Malloy was a fascinating, but very unpredictable woman. Her energy was like that of a young child with too much sugar in her system. She changed her mind so often that he could never keep up with her train of thought.
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Julie had forced him to take her step by step through his apartment, discussing everything at length, from his record collection to why he chose to type on a manual typewriter. She smiled at his answers to her many questions, tossed out a witty comment from time to time, and basically spent about an hour satisfying her own curiosity. She had made it apparent that she had very much wanted to know about his life, but hadn't wanted to invade his personal space. His esteem of her had multiplied exponentially when he discovered she hadn't been plundering through his most prized possessions in his absence. Well, not much anyway.
But their random afternoon didn't end with her interrogation. She had decided they needed to clean his apartment, and had turned it into a competition. Of course, the rules were stacked in her favor. And it hadn't helped matters that he couldn't stop staring at her when she wasn't looking, catching a glimpse of the tattoo on her lower back that was partially obscured by the low waistband of her shorts.
Once the apartment was "ship-shape", Julie had decided they should watch television. And then she had proceeded to completely shock him by handing him the remote control, lying back against a pillow and patiently waiting for him to make a selection. Because of her energy level and outspokenness, he had expected her to be more like Abby – grabbing the remote and forcing him to watch programming that he couldn't believe anyone actually supported being aired in the first place. She further surprised him by displaying a familiarity with the programs he chose. In his experience, a lot of women may pretend to be familiar with things of interest to another person with whom they becoming acquainted, but few are able to hold an intelligent conversation on the matter. Not that having a philosophical debate on the plot intricacies of "Dr. Who" constituted anything of importance, but he had enjoyed himself.
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Now, Tim found himself ostracized to his living room with everything he would need to dress for dinner. Julie had commandeered his bedroom and bathroom to get ready for dinner. The smells coming from the kitchen reminded him that, in his haste to return home, he hadn't bothered with lunch. He sincerely hoped dinner tasted as good as it smelled. He tucked his dress shirt into his slacks, and then fastened his belt. Due to having no mirror in the room, his shirt was slightly askew and his hair was missing the diligent attention he normally gave it after a shower. He picked up his dirty clothes, carefully folded them and placed them in a stack near the bathroom door. After a cursory glance around the room confirming there was nothing else he could do but wait, he sat down in the chair in front of his computer and began playing a game.
Julie took one last glance in the mirror, fluffed her hair for the ninth time and gave her reflection a sultry smile. She laughed. She had truly gone all out for this date. She couldn't remember the last time she was this nervous about having dinner with a man. She wanted more than to simply make an impression; she wanted to make this a night he would remember for the rest of his life. She couldn't define the precise reasons why, but Tim McGee had somehow wormed his way into her interest without even trying. Throughout the day Julie hadn't been able to keep her mind off the kiss they shared that morning, no matter how hard she tried. Eventually, she stopped trying and admitted to herself that she was becoming infatuated with her rescuer. She smoothed the hemline of her skirt, took a deep breath and slowly walked into the living room expecting to knock him dead.
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Julie may well have been invisible, for all the reaction she received from Tim. He had become absorbed in a game on his computer. Julie took the moment of his inattention to watch him. He was relaxed and comfortable, and in this state she found him extremely attractive. She smiled and slowly walked up behind him.
"What's the objective?" she asked from over his right shoulder. Tim jumped and immediately turned to apologize.
"I'm sorry, I…" Tim's voice hitched silent at the sight of her. She smiled as he stared at her, his gaze traveling from her face to her feet and back. This was the reaction she had hoped for. She was wearing a short coral dress with spaghetti straps and an extremely high hemline. His gaze lingered on her scooping neckline before moving back up to meet hers. She smiled at him invitingly.
"Dinner's ready," she told him.
Tim slowly rose from the chair, turned toward her and smiled. He gave her a hug and quick kiss on the cheek, placed his hand on the small of her back and led her to the kitchen. Julie had placed the dinner on the kitchen countertop, since Tim didn't have a dining table.
"That looks incredible, you look incredible, I…" Tim swallowed, not even trying to finish his sentence. "I'll get some chairs," he said quickly, and rushed to grab two chairs from the living room.
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Their dinner conversation evolved from nervous to comfortable to enjoyable. By the time they had finished dinner, they were laughing. Julie had shared stories of her mother and their relationship, which he countered with similar family stories of his own.
"So…" Tim began. "I noticed earlier that you have a tattoo," he said, a hint of coloring his cheeks.
Julie chuckled, "Two, actually," she amended. The first I got when I finished graduate school. My sister and I went together," her face changed with the mention of her sister.
"Do you not get along?" Tim asked.
"Sort of," she explained. "There's a big age difference between us. She got the family, I was her Dad's dirty little secret, if you know what I mean. She's great, but doesn't see things the way I do. For example, when I got my Doctorate she was so happy for me, but now she won't show even the least bit of approval for how I make a living because I'm not actively using the degree I worked so hard for. It's not enough for her that I'm happy."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Tim sympathized. "At least you have your Mom's support," he suggested.
"Oh certainly," she agreed. "And Uncle Toby's."
"Is Fornell really your uncle?" Tim asked. Julie laughed.
"No, not at all. I'm honestly not even sure how he became friends with my Mom, I always assumed he was an associate of my Dad's. It really doesn't matter, because he has always been there for me."
"Where did you go to school?" Tim asked. "You have a PhD?"
"In developmental child psychology," she answered. "I went to NYU. I started out studying English because I love to write, and ended up taking a lot of child development classes. One thing led to another, and…" she shrugged her shoulders, not feeling any further explanation was necessary.
"You like to write?" he asked, even further intrigued.
"Yes," she answered excitedly. "That's why I called you when I figured out you were Thom E. Gemcity!"
"Do you write fiction?" he asked.
"Yeah," she smiled.
"What name do you write under?" he asked.
"My own," she answered. "You won't find me on the New York Times Bestseller List, Tim. But my last book won the Newbury Award and a Parent's Choice Award."
"You write children's literature," he said with a grin.
"Bingo," she smiled. "Google me sometime."
"I thought you'd never ask," he said suggestively. Her answering laugher filled the room, making him smile in anticipation. This inconvenience had turned into a promising predicament.
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