“You should stop by some time,” I blurted. Shit! Why did I just say that? Sweat coated my body as if I were in a sauna and I had no towel to pat myself dry.
“I might just do that,” he said, showing off his pearly whites. “Hey, did I see you at the Fox Ten Wednesday night?” His words rushed out like they just came to him and he didn’t want to forget them.
“Uh—” The question caught me completely off-guard and my mind fumbled for what to say. “Yeah, I thought I saw you,” I finally managed, my tongue entangling my words. “I was going to say hi, but you looked busy with your date.”
He bent over and retrieved the dropped book he’d been holding before we bumped heads. By the cover, it looked like a fantasy or sci-fi book. “Who, Alma? No, she wasn’t my date,” he said, defending his availability. “She’s just a good friend and colleague.”
My heart fluttered at the news. But why? That didn’t leave the door open for me, or did it? “Oh, well, I just thought—”
“I mean we dated for a while, but it didn’t go anywhere,” he added quickly. “She was there for me when I needed someone and it made us pretty tight.” Why was he telling me this? “She’s great, but we’re not a couple. I’m single.” He was shooting off each word like a semi-automatic. I hadn’t been around a man so nervous in years. His face looked how mine felt: pink and slick with sweat.
My jaw hung open, and I stared at him, perplexed, unsure how to respond. Should I tell him I’m single, too? Was he about to ask me out? My stomach tightened, my throat clenched, and my head swooned a little at the thought. The deep, dark passions aroused from wherever they hid, speeding up my heart rate. I bit my lip, holding back the compulsion to jump on top of him and rip off his clothes.
Before I could reply, the bearded passenger from the car accident arrived from out of thin air, leaning into Vince’s ear to whisper some secret. Vince wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his blazer, nodding as his friend spoke. “Okay. Thanks, Terrance.” He turned back to me. “I have to go. It was really nice to see you again, Maci. I’ll stop by your bakery sometime for a pastry. I hope you have croissants. I absolutely love them.”
In shock, I nodded slowly. “Yeah, we make croissants.” My saliva had disappeared and left my voice dry and grating.
“Well, I hope to see you soon.” He stepped back and put up a hand for a quick, awkward wave, then turned, heading for the checkout counter at the front of the long, narrow store.
Frozen, I couldn’t move. My blood was pumping so rapidly that some terrible, abrupt end seemed inevitable. My hands were trembling, so I leaned on the info desk as a precaution in the event that my legs buckled. Dryness assaulted my mouth worse than any cottonmouth I’d experienced during my cross-country years.
I inhaled deeply, collecting my composure. Analyzing his words, I tried to puzzle out if he was into me. He said he’d stop by the bakery sometime. Was he just being polite? That made the most sense after I examined the possibilities. If he were into me, he would have asked me out, right? I eyed Danielle’s office door and thought twice about asking for her input, but she was in no mood for discussion, not even one so thrilling.
Then an impulse arose, an urge to catch a glimpse of Vince one last time before he left the store. I tossed one of the female sexuality books on the info desk, figuring they were pretty equal, and rushed for the checkout counter. Like a creepy stalker, I hid behind a bookshelf near the purchase line, watching Vince buy the book. Terrance, Vince’s friend, scanned the area while standing at his side.
It was at that moment that I realized: I really wanted him. I wanted Vince like I’d never wanted any other man. It wasn’t some mental connection that drew me in. No, it was an urge that originated between my legs. For the first time in my life, it was my crotch doing the thinking. But I thought only men thought like that? I bit my lip and clenched my fists, beating down the notion to approach him and ask him if he wanted to get coffee.
Within a short breath, the transaction was complete and Vince had left the bookstore, leaving me with only the memory of his image. My normal rationality slowly returned. A shiver struck me and I felt creeped out by my own actions. What was I doing hiding behind a bookshelf spying on someone? This wasn’t me. Despite that fact, I couldn’t deny that I’d enjoyed it in all its brevity.
The adrenaline withdrew and I breathed normally again. I glanced down at the book in my hands and decided to go buy it before I changed my mind. Although the store was fairly busy, the purchase line was rather dead, and I ended up with the same cashier as Vince, with no one between us.
I laid the book down on the counter and smiled at the middle-aged woman. “Hi,” I said.
“Good evening,” she returned cordially. “Can you believe who was just in here?” she said, a little star-struck.
I shook my head, intrigued. “No, who?” So drawn to Vince, I hadn’t even looked at anyone beyond him and his friend, absorbed in the moment.
She pointed to a magazine pinned up behind the counter. “Vince Forte, the billionaire.”
I gazed up at the edition of Wired with Vince on the cover, smiling wide with a strange box in his hands. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe I’d been talking to a billionaire. A multibillionaire.
But most of all, I couldn’t believe I’d just stalked one of the richest people in the United States—and, wanted more.
7
TIME FOR MOXIE
I gaped at the magazine cover, stunned.
“Are you okay?” the cashier asked, after a perplexing moment of silence. I couldn’t take my eyes off the cover.
“I—yes, yes, I’m fine,” I answered.
“It’ll be thirteen ninety-five,” she said.
“What?”
“The book, the book is thirteen ninety-five,” she said, raising her voice.
I looked at the counter and saw Secrets of the Sexually Satisfied Woman and suddenly remembered what I was doing at the counter in the first place. “Right, right. Sorry.” I opened my clutch and withdrew my card, but something else snuck out with it. I had forgotten about my stowed panties from the night before, and they got caught between my fingers as I slid out my card. My eyes bulged in terror. I glanced up at the woman and she regarded me with disgust. “Sorry. So sorry.”
Pocketing the card and panties, I handed over a twenty, certain that the card touching the panties probably had mortified the woman. She counted out the change and gave me a faint, hesitant smile. “Have a nice night,” she said as I sprinted for the door.
Once in Eddie, I sped home, reviewing the bizarre events at the bookstore. I had nearly lost control standing before Vince. Vince Forte, the billionaire, the same guy who said he’d stop by the bakery for a croissant and walked me to my car. How had I not put the name to the face before? I had heard it over and over on the news in recent months. Vince Forte had walked me to my car! My mind was running wild, so many different thoughts at once, it was making my head hurt. We had almost kissed on several occasions! But he didn’t, and I didn’t, and it never happened. So close!
When I got home, I jumped into bed and buried my face in my pillow. I finally realized how much, and in what capacity, I wanted Vince, and then to find out that he’s exceptionally, insanely rich stunned me through and through, I couldn’t do anything but lie there.
“Maci?” I heard Danielle’s voice. She sounded close, so I turned and spotted her in the doorway. “You all right?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
“What happened?”
I opened my laptop on my bed and navigated to the Wikipedia entry on Vince Forte. “This.” I spun the screen around so she could see.
I watched her eyes as they shifted left, right, then left again, reading his brief biography. “Holy shit—that’s—that’s the guy I hit!” she gasped. “The guy you keep running into! The guy whose arms you fell into! He’s the Vince Forte . . . how—?”
“How did we not know?” I finished for her. “Well, who the hell thi
nks they’re going to crash into a billionaire? Who thinks one is randomly going to walk her home?”
“How did you find out?”
We moved to the kitchen, grabbed some ice cream, and I went through the details, second by second, blow by blow. I even showed her my private book that wasn’t so private anymore. “Well, I’m glad that you’re at least taking some of my advice.” She grinned, reading the title. “This is just too bizarre. I hit a fucking billionaire’s car.”
“And you wanted me to ask him out!” I exploded, the excitement getting to me. “Could you imagine if I had?”
“But he said he’d stop by the bakery?”
“He was just being polite,” I said.
“What if he wasn’t?” she tossed out. “What if he’s into you? You could be dating a billionaire, Maci, a billionaire! I can’t believe I hit a fucking billionaire’s car.” She repeated that statement throughout the night. “I mean, if we examine all the ‘accidental’ encounters, it seems like maybe he’s stalking you. Have you ever thought of that?”
“That’s creepy, Danielle, and he’s definitely not stalking me. It’s just coincidence that we keep running into each other—nothing more.”
A knock at the door made my heart jump. “Hello?” Ashley said, coming inside.
“In here,” Danielle shouted back.
Ashley walked in and tossed her purse on the kitchen table. “Hi, Maci.” She smiled at me, then turned to Danielle. “We need to talk.”
“It doesn’t matter how many layers,” Danielle said before they got into it. “I’m cool with whatever. You need to see this, though.” My laptop sat in front of me on the table, and she turned it around, pointing enthusiastically.
Ashley frowned. “You’re just going to give in? That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Danielle conceded. “Relationships are give and take, and I’m giving this time.”
Ashley folded her arms, unconvinced. “You never give in so easily. Why now?”
“Look.” Danielle pointed again at the laptop screen.
Ashley leaned over and read the bio. “Yeah? I’ve heard of him before. He’s a big shot in the energy world, so?”
“That’s the guy I hit!” Danielle exclaimed. “The guy who’s been chasing after Maci.”
“He’s not chasing after me,” I chimed in.
Ashley still wore her incredulity, her face mocking us. “That’s the guy? But—”
“But he’s a billionaire?” Danielle filled in for her fiancée. “Yeah, it’s unreal, but it’s the truth. That’s him. That’s the guy.”
I was nodding as Ashley turned to me. All three of us stayed up late that night, evaluating all of my encounters with Vince Forte, from the car accident to the Powell’s female-sexuality-book blunder. They were entirely convinced that he was into me, even attracted to the degree that he couldn’t resist faking our chance meetings, which of course he designed and carried out flawlessly.
At one A.M. I said goodnight, knowing I had the next day off and realizing that my subconscious must have planned it this way long ago in its recognition that I’d need a break. Enervated from the night before and my lack of sleep—plus the toll of the day and the lengthy symposium centered on Vince—I could barely keep my eyes open when my head hit the pillow. I immediately conked out.
DANIELLE AND ASHLEY WERE eating breakfast by the time I got out of bed. They’d made up as if nothing had happened, each confessing that it wasn’t actually the cake layers they were mad about, but the stress of the impending wedding and all the details required to pull it off.
“You want to hit the gym this morning?” Danielle asked as I dumped out the old coffee from Saturday. “Ashley’s coming.”
Well rested, my body was loose and ready to get back on the elliptical. “Yeah, after a few cups.”
“Okay, but we have to go fast. We both have to be at work by nine.”
I nodded. I had taken a quick shower last night after dinner, but I still felt the grime from David’s apartment and decided to take another before the gym, even though I’d probably take one after, too.
“You know Vince owns Ripped City Fitness,” I said, as Danielle drove, on our way to the gym.
“Was that in his bio? I didn’t read it all,” Danielle admitted.
“It’s amazing that he held you in his arms,” Ashley said before I could reply. “Maci’s white knight.”
“You mean Mr. Right,” Danielle joked.
“Oh, that’s right,” Ashley laughed. “Maybe he’ll be there today for round two.”
“I’m glad you guys are together,” I said, staring out the back window. “You two make the perfect couple.”
Danielle grabbed Ashley’s hand and brought it to her lips for a soft kiss. “Don’t be jealous now.” She pulled into the underground parking garage, scanned her pass, and the security arm shot up and let us through. The spaces were slim, but it was mostly empty, so it didn’t matter. “Third floor, Maci?”
“If we go to the third, how will she bump into Mr. Right again?” Ashley asked with a playful grin. “I’m fine with a few men staring at me if it means true love for you.” Her sarcastic tone scratched at my morning-sensitive nerves.
“Ha ha,” I said. “Maybe you should quit the business world and break into the comedy scene.”
She patted my shoulder. “I mean it, I’ll take the sacrifice.”
“So, second floor?” Danielle asked, walking up the stairs.
“You guys will never let up if I say no.” I rolled up the towel I brought and whipped them both.
“True enough,” Ashley agreed. “We might continue with the material just for the hell of it, though.”
Deserted, the second floor was ours for about ten minutes before people started shuffling in. They were mostly men on the treadmills and free-weight benches. Even in the back, I could feel the eyes on us, the floor-to-ceiling mirror eliminating the obstacle of facing us to get a view. One man gawked the entire thirty minutes he worked out, but for some odd reason, Danielle and Ashley really didn’t mind, maybe because there was no interest the other way, or maybe because they were just more comfortable with their bodies. They laughed and made jokes about him and all the rest, throwing in fake, sexual taunts that were impossible to hear at such a distance with all the noise of the cardio machines.
“I can’t believe it,” Danielle said abruptly. “Look at her.” She pointed to a woman hopping onto a stationary bike. “She’s only wearing a sports bra.”
I spotted the black and red racerback bra with an oval of bare skin toward her midback.
“Lots of people wear them as tops,” Ashley remarked.
“No they don’t,” Danielle snapped. “Only dumb sluts do.”
“Well, frankly, I’d like to see more women as comfortable with their bodies.” Ashley raised her eyebrows in a mischievous manner. “I mean, good for her.”
Danielle shook her head. “You’re only saying that because she’s hot.” I could see her temper flaring. She wasn’t the super-jealous type, but she didn’t like it when Ashley pointed out other good-looking women, especially since her fiancée had such a wandering eye.
“Ladies, please,” I broke in. “We’re in public. Let’s try and keep it civil.” Just as my words parted my mouth, Vince came strolling in with Terrance at his side, heading for an open bench.
My heart leapt at the sight.
“Ooh, Maci, look who’s here,” Ashley said without delay. “Calling Mr. Right to Maci’s vag.”
“Ashley!” I growled. “Shut up. God! What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Oh, calm down,” Danielle defended. “Loosen up, will ya?”
Ashley was dying of laughter, an evil glint in her eye. “Oops, sorry. I know you don’t like that word. How about ‘pussy,’ is that better?”
My face turned so red, I could see the contrast in the mirror clear across the room.
“Ashley,” Danielle scolded in a phony tone. “You know we’re not supposed to talk
about pee-pees and vajayjays in front of Maci.”
“You two are so juvenile sometimes,” I said, with a crisp, hard voice. I slowed the machine, my thoughts turning to flight. Before I knew Vince was a billionaire, it was nerve-racking enough, now it was ten times worse.
“Maci, we’re just joking,” Danielle said, looking over at me. “Stop. Ah, come on, don’t leave.” She put out her arm as I got off. She jumped down and blocked my exit. “Sorry. We’re sorry. We’ll stop.”
Ashley was still laughing, trying hard to suppress them as they broke through.
“Stay—we still have twenty minutes left,” Danielle begged.
She didn’t realize that it wasn’t her taunting, as much as it was Vince’s presence, that made me want to leave. I could rarely say no to those big, brown, puppy-dog eyes of hers. “Fine,” I said, “but cut it out. I don’t want to hear any more about Mr. Right or Mr. Billionaire, all right?”
“Sure, you got it. We’re done.” She turned to Ashley. “Right?”
“Right.”
“Good.” I hopped back onto the elliptical. Danielle waited for me to get moving before she followed suit.
“But why not?” Ashley asked a breath later.
I eyed her with Danielle between us. “Why not what?”
“Why not you?” she said. “You should take a page out of the Russell Wilson handbook and think about it.”
“Who?”
“The quarterback for the Seahawks,” she answered. “Remember from the Super Bowl? His dad always said, ‘why not you?’ and the Seahawks turned it into ‘why not us?’ to get them motivated. So, why can’t it be you? You’re definitely in his league looks-wise—really, above him, but you see what I’m saying?”
The thought had crossed my mind. Why not me? He had to date someone, didn’t he? But I couldn’t see me at his side in any scenario. They all seemed so fake and fantasy-based, grounded by the monetary gap between us. “Because.” I paused.
They both stared at me, waiting. “Yeah?” Danielle prompted.
I shrugged. “What would I do, just go up and ask him out? Like he’s just some regular person? You two are insane.”
Chasing The O Page 8
