Page 85 of The Holy Grail
“Those are bothreallygood options, Mal,” she said, trying to sound as truthful as possible, “but why don’t we just see how this goes? Besides, I want to meet your mom in person, too.”
“All right, we’ll give it a go,” he agreed, putting a hand on her back and pulling her in close. “But I need a little something first. You know, for … motivation.”
He gave her a nice, deep kiss, while trying to be mindful of her lipstick, and when he leaned back, saw he needn’t have worried, since the deep mauve color seemed to still be in place. She smiled at him and explained, “This particular lipstick is almost bomb-proof.”
“Really?” He dipped his head for another kiss, this one with more vigor. His expression was more relaxed when the kiss ended, and he rested his forehead against hers, while his hand rubbed slowly along her back. “Are you … not wearing a bra?”
“No. I told you I hardly ever do.”
“I know, but …”
“But what? No one will be the wiser.” She paused. “Except for you.”
“Good point,” he allowed.
He still appeared slightly off-kilter, which Jules decided could be advantageous, because if half his brain was on her braless status, then maybe he wouldn’t be too focused on whatever crap his father brought to the table. “And if you start feeling uncomfortable or whatever, just think about that, okay?”
“Think about the fact you’re not wearing a bra?”
“Yes, because then you’ll start thinking about my boobs, and how amazing they are—”
“Another goodpoint.”
“—and it will redirect any negative energy you might be feeling into something positive.”
He chuckled softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good,” Jules said, then reached out to knock, using the large lion’s head brass knocker, which reverberated like gunshots. A few moments later, the door was opened by a beautiful woman in her late sixties, with silver-streaked dark hair cut in a classic bob and blue eyes. She was dressed in a pair of sand-colored pants and a matching tunic, which looked like cashmere. The strong resemblance to Malcom left little doubt that this was his mother.
“Come in, come in,” she said with enthusiasm, ushering Jules and Malcom into the grand foyer, complete with a black and white marble floor, then closed the door behind them. “I’m so glad you both could make it.”
“Hi, Mom.” He bent to kiss her cheek, before bringing Jules forward. “I’d like you to meet Jules Shaw. Jules, this is my mother, Beverly.”
He watched as the two most important people in his life took stock of one another, and even though he’d had no reason to believe the meeting would be uncomfortable, it was still a relief to see them smiling and at ease.
Jules held her hand out. “It’s nice to meet you, Beverly.”
“Oh, we’re not doing that,” Beverly said, pulling Jules in for a hug, instead. “And it’s nice to meet you, too.Verynice,” Beverly added with a smile when she pulled back. It was then that she really took note of Malcom’s shirt, and exchanged a quick look with him before lightly touching his sleeve. “Is this new?”
“It is,” he confirmed. “Jules picked it out for me.”
Surprised, Beverly swiveled to Jules. “You did?”
Jules nodded. “I did. I took him shopping for clothes one night because I was tired of seeing him in suits and made him inflict some damage to his credit card. Honestly, it was long overdue.”
“Well, he looks very handsome in it.”
“I agree.”
Beverly then looped her arm through Jules’. “Why don’t we go get a drink?”
“That sounds great.”
Beverly began leading Jules down a long hallway toward the interior of the house, leaving Malcom to follow. Every room they passed was filled with expensive furnishings, and looked like the only person who ever went in them was probably popping in to dust.
The room she led them into appeared to be a parlor of some sort, with a small couch, a few accent chairs and a little bar area, which Beverly immediately went to.
“What would you like to drink?” she asked Jules.
