Freddie stepped back, his chest heaving, and his rugged face filled with tension. His dark hair lay loose around his shoulders. Julia dropped onto her feet. She reached to adjust her clothes with shaking fingers, but then she realized they weren’t in disarray. Despite the intensity of what had just taken place, she was still fully dressed. But she felt naked, exposed. She found the courage to look up at him as the sound of her father’s whistling came down the hall toward them. Freddie ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth the rumpled curls and bring himself back under control. He moved to the back of the island, and she knew why. He wanted to hide the manifestation of what their kissing and touching had done to his body. “Hey, Sugar—” Randolph halted at the entrance to the kitchen when he saw Freddie. “Hello, Mr. Newman.” How did he manage to sound so calm? “Hi, Dad!” Her voice sounded brittle and breathless. Her observant father would immediately recognize something was amiss.
