Riley stared at her for several seconds before shooting a puzzled glance at Grace, who shrugged. “That’s it? Why are you in such a tizzy? That’s the journalistic equivalent of Wonder bread. You can write that in your sleep.”
Julie tossed back the rest of her champagne. Apparently she had to spell it out for them. “I don’t know how to write about it because I’ve never actually done it.”
“Done what?”
“Taken things to the next level.”
“Sure you have,” Riley said with a dismissive wave. “You’re the queen of relationships. Just in the past year there’ve been Erik, Graham, Jason, Matt, and Ben. And last year there were Stephen, Dan, Brett, and let’s see, who else …”
Julie held up a finger. “Now hold on. You make me sound like a common hussy. Just because I dated all of those men doesn’t mean I slept with them.”
Riley wiggled her eyebrows. “Most of them?”
Julie took another sip of her champagne and tried to look sexy and mysterious. Riley gave a disappointed sigh. “You didn’t sleep with any of them, did you?”
The way Riley said it made Julie feel like a prude. But then, Riley was Stiletto’s sexpert in residence. Julie was more hearts and flowers, and, well … Let’s just say I’m a little particular about the men I sleep with.
“I slept with Graham after the fifth date,” Julie protested. And it had been laaaaaame. But the girls didn’t need to know that. “I never dated any of them for more than a couple of weeks, and I liked it that way. You see where I’m going with this? I can’t talk about the next level because I’ve never been there.”
“So?” Riley said, wiggling her fingers at a tuxedo-clad server who practically sprinted over to deliver another round of champagne. “Go there.”
“I can’t just pull a relationship out of my butt, Ri. How am I supposed to add a personal touch to a story about something I’ve never experienced?”
“Interview women who have been through it,” Grace said practically, sounding exactly like Camille.
“Go undercover,” Riley said at the exact same time.
Julie paused with the newly refilled champagne flute halfway to her lips, eyes fixed on Riley. “Keep going with that. Undercover. What are you thinking?”
“What about my idea?” Grace asked.
Julie ignored her. A bland interview-focused article wasn’t on her radar. She hadn’t spent years building up the personal aspect of her articles only to let it all fall apart now.
“Go undercover,” Riley repeated. “If you’re not interested in actually taking a relationship to the next level, fake it.”
“Tell me you’re joking,” Grace said. “That’s just wrong. Pretending to fall in love would be bad enough, but pretending to actually be in love? That’s cruel.”
“It wouldn’t have to actually be love, per se,” Julie mused, warming up to the idea. “I could just sort of dip my toe into the world of commitment. Find some nice, reliable, wife-seeking guy and see what happens.”
“Exactly right,” Riley said with approval. “You just pull the plug before it goes too far. It wouldn’t be unlike normal dating. You’d just be trying a guy on for size, seeing if it might work out.”
“Except it wouldn’t,” Julie said. “Work out, I mean.”
“Maybe not. But he doesn’t know that.”
Grace groaned. “I can’t believe I’m listening to this.”
“This could really work,” Julie mused. “Maybe I could truly find out firsthand what all those boring couples do after the butterflies-and-fun stuff has worn off.”
“Hey!” Grace said.
“Not you and Greg, of course,” Julie amended. “You guys aren’t boring.”
Except they were. Just a little.
“So how do I do this?” she asked, turning her attention back to Riley. “Where do I start?”
Riley rubbed her hands together. “Ah, the tigress hunts her prey.”