Chapter 629 Taylor, Where Are You? 2
Julian might have looked casual, but Taylor was a grown woman. She could read the subtle, careful probing in his eyes.
"You want to ask about my divorce, don't you?" she said, cutting straight to the point.
He looked at her but said nothing, his gaze deep and unreadable. Any woman with half a clue could see what was on his mind.
The light ahead turned green. Taylor's voice was husky. "Drive."
Julian nodded and eased the car forward. For a long while, they said nothing. Taylor turned her face toward the passing scenery outside the window. Then, out of nowhere, she spoke.
"Julian, I don't want to be like Samuel. A relationship should start with a clean slate. Right now, we can only be former classmates, or doctor and patient. At most, friends. If you—"
"Don't worry," he said, his voice smooth and low. "I won't cross the line."
Taylor fell silent. He had cut her off. What could she say now?
Maybe the air in the car was too heavy, because Julian reached over and switched on the music. Classical. His taste matched hers—quiet, unobtrusive.
Taylor wasn't just the director of the Montague Group Hospital; she was also a top surgeon. The work drained her physically. Leaning back in the seat, letting the music wash over her, she drifted into sleep.
Half-aware, she felt something warm and heavy settle over her—a man's jacket. It smelled faintly clean, with the lightest trace of fresh tobacco. Her last drifting thought was that Julian smoked.
Half an hour later, the car rolled into the driveway of a villa. The moment it stopped, Taylor woke. She opened her eyes to see a castle-like home surrounded by an endless sweep of green lawn. She had grown up with money; she could tell at a glance that the property covered at least forty thousand square feet. Even in Evergreen City, you couldn't just buy something like this.
Then she noticed the jacket draped over her. Julian's. The air between them shifted.
His gaze slid deliberately to her lips. "Good thing you didn't drool. Otherwise, I'd have to get the car cleaned again."
It was a joke, but it broke the tension. She exhaled and folded the jacket neatly before setting it on the back seat.
"I've been doing back-to-back major surgeries these past few days," she said with an apologetic smile.
"Sounds exhausting," Julian replied, his long fingers brushing the steering wheel. "Tonight, just relax."
She frowned slightly at that, not sure what he meant. He didn't explain. Instead, he got out, came around to her side, and opened the door for her.
Standing there, tall and impossibly handsome, he said, "Taylor, welcome to my home."
She hesitated. He had said he wanted her to meet his child. Now it sounded like an invitation to stay.
Her doubts vanished the moment she stepped out. The sunset spilled molten gold over the lawn, where a little girl of five or six chased a small leather ball. Her skin was as delicate as porcelain, her deep chestnut hair curled slightly at the ends, and her puffy dress swayed with every step. She looked like a tiny angel in the light.
The angel spotted Julian and ran to him, throwing her arms around his leg. Her voice was sweet and airy, like spun sugar. "Daddy."
Julian bent to scoop her up, kissing her cheek before turning to Taylor. "My daughter, Luna. Luna, this is Taylor Montague."
Taylor pinched the girl's cheek gently. "Next time, I'll bring you a cupcake."
Still in her father's arms, Luna tilted her head and said sweetly, "Hello, Aunt Taylor."
Taylor thought, 'This kid has charm.'
Julian's smile lingered.
Taylor took one look at Luna and felt the truth settle in her chest—Luna wasn't sick at all.
Julian had used that as an excuse to bring her here. She stayed, partly because leaving abruptly would have felt rude, and partly because Luna was just too irresistibly cute—warm and soft like a little bundle of sunshine, with a faintly sweet scent and cheeks damp with a delicate sheen of sweat.
Julian undid the top two buttons of his shirt. "Do me a favor and keep her company for a while. I'll make dinner."
Taylor was sure he wasn't the type to cook.
But he said, "I do it sometimes. I'm pretty good, actually." He even winked at Luna.
"Daddy's the best!" Luna clapped her hands.
Taylor looked at the father and daughter and had to admit—Julian had done an amazing job raising a five- or six-year-old like her.
It was obvious he'd spent a lot of time and heart on her.
Julian called a housekeeper to show Taylor inside, then disappeared into the kitchen.
The housekeeper treated Taylor with warm courtesy as they walked. "You're the first woman Mr. Learmond has ever brought home. He's always been a man of discipline—his work and his daughter come first. Social gatherings are rare for him. You'll see soon enough what a good man he is."
Taylor gave a polite smile. Inwardly, she thought this would be the last time. Julian's intentions were too obvious, and she had just finalized her divorce from Samuel. She wasn't ready for anything new.
The living room was tastefully decorated, every piece deliberate and expensive. Julian clearly valued quality. Even the staff spoke with a gentle refinement that made the place feel calm.
Luna sidled up to her as she sat. The housekeeper poured tea, set down a fruit plate, and kept chatting about Julian.
"His parents live out of town. His older brother used to handle diplomatic work here in Evergreen City, but sadly he passed away young."
The housekeeper glanced at Luna. The girl didn't know her own history. For all her brightness, she was still just a child—beautiful, charming, and now quietly eating a small apple beside Taylor.
Taylor's chest tightened, and she felt a deep, aching tenderness for the child.
Julian reappeared in the doorway. He was still in that pale gray shirt, looking more like he'd been playing a grand piano than cooking. His eyes were dark, his voice smooth.
"Steak," he asked. "Medium, medium-well, or well-done?"
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