“Aw, Luce, I skipped breakfast, and I’m famished.”
“Never mind, I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll just be a minute.” She rushed from the room, leaving us in complete silence.
“I’m surprised to see you,” he said.
I shrugged. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Interesting choice of outfit,” he commented, scanning my body.
I made a small noise, startled. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” I followed his eyes and looked down at my fitted black dress. A snakeskin belt cinched my waist, accentuating my slight curves. The neckline scooped flirtatiously, revealing a small glimpse of cleavage. I was wearing higher-than-usual pumps, but they matched the belt, so that was unavoidable. With the four inch boost, I figured my lips would probably come right up to his neck, or maybe just past, to his chin . . . .
“If you expect me to behave, don’t wear things like that,” he said with a tense jaw.
“Noted. Mr. Beman says I must adhere to your every request,” I added.
His eyebrow shot up. “Every request?” My eyes darted downward as I succumbed to a fierce blush.
“So. What do you think?” he asked. I was thankful for the free pass until I looked up to find him looking severe and powerful in a trim, slate-colored suit. He held his arms open, waiting for my answer. Within the second, I had leapt into them, covering his face with kisses, lingering on the soft spots and relishing the coarse ones. I pressed my willing self against his hard body, locking those snakeskins around his lower back so we were perfectly aligned . . . . I blinked, forcing myself from the fantasy.
“It’s nice.” I squeaked, desperately trying to bridle the heat rising from my loins. My eyes darted around the room for a reprieve until I spotted a rolling rack that held four crisp suits. “Are these for you?”
“Seems that way. Lucy is creative, I like that. Not afraid to take a risk.”
“A three-piece suit?” I asked, tugging at the jacket’s lapel. “Creative, indeed.” I tried picturing Bill in one and almost laughed out loud at the image.
“She said women find it sexy.”
“Did she now?” I asked, fighting off a smile.
Lucy burst back into the room and practically pushed David into the fitting room with the next suit. I sat back against the edge of her desk, nervously fingering my earlobe as she bustled around me. I pictured his long limbs behind the door, shedding one suit for the next, his defined muscles straining against the fabric. I closed my eyes and heaved a deep sigh. Get it under control, I ordered myself. This is ridiculous.
“What do you feel like?” Lucy asked.
“What?”
“For lunch? Where should we eat?” She lowered her voice. “Do you mind that I invited him?”
I opened my mouth to answer.
“I was not wrong about you, Lucy,” David said as he reentered the room. “I never would have chosen a three-piece suit for myself, but it’s something new.”
I gulped.
“You look positively dashing,” Lucy replied in a mock British accent, flattening the tie into the vest. He straightened his shoulders in the mirror and tugged on the sleeves. My mouth went dry as I watched, and our back-and-forth from lunch filtered through my head. Standing tall in the urbane suit, he looked every bit the refined gentleman. And gentleman becomes him, I thought.
When Lucy was occupied pinning again, I glanced at the black American Express, which sat beside me on Lucy’s desk next to his other personal effects, and then peered slyly at the price tag of one of the suits. Almost three thousand dollars. Holy . . . Exactly how much do architects make? The desk vibrated under my thighs. David’s phone lit up, and the name ‘Brittany’ bannered across the screen. He didn’t make any effort to move or see who was calling, so I didn’t mention it. Brittany, I thought snidely. Doesn’t exactly sound like work.
“I brought snacks.” I heard the cheery voice of Lucy’s receptionist before she entered. “Goldfish, apples, croissants . . . ,” she nodded, naming each thing on the tray. With a goofy smile plastered on her face, she set it on the coffee table and turned to David. When he remained silent, she cleared her throat nervously. “Um,” she started. “Is this all right? Did you want, maybe, something else?” she asked his reflection.
“I can’t move,” he said, nodding his head toward Lucy.
“Oh, right,” she nodded enthusiastically, picking the tray up again.
“No, no – I’ll get something later,” he said quickly as she started toward him. I stifled a giggle and wondered if women were always this uneasy around him.
“Right,” she said, setting it down. “Well, if you need anything - ”
“I’ll take an apple,” I interjected.
“Sure Liv, go for it.” She motioned toward the tray as she left. David made no attempt to hide his grin, but an awkward silence fell over the room in her wake.
“So Liv, how’s the article?” Lucy asked. “She’s up for a promotion if it goes well, David. Do you think you’ll get it? Are you nervous?” I was, in fact, very nervous, but I did my best to act casual.
“I’m optimistic,” I said.
“It’s my favorite time of year,” Lucy gushed, looking up at David. “Liv gets to work with all these hot guys, and I get to live vicariously through her. Don’t tell Andrew,” she added, reddening with a giggle.
“And women,” I inserted. David looked disapproving as he stared ahead.
“Oh, who cares about them? Who else are you interviewing?”
“Actually, I just got back from meeting with this freelance photographer at his apartment.”
“Hold still, David, or I might accidentally stab you!”
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“His name is Brian Ayers, really interesting guy, beguiling actually. Don’t tell, but he fed me wine and cheese.”
“Liv, while you’re working?” Lucy scolded. I widened my eyes at her playfully and nodded.
“Brian Ayers?” David repeated, looking at me finally.
“Yes, do you know him?”
“For a long time. We run in the same circle.” I thought I detected a hint of a growl, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Well what do you think, David? Would he make a good Bachelor?” Lucy asked.
His nostrils flared, but Lucy couldn’t see since she was working intently on the hem of his blazer. “He’s a good guy,” he said with reluctance. “I suppose some women might find him attractive.”
“Liv?”
I pondered as I compared our first meeting on the Trail with the interview we’d just had. “Yes, he is. He looks like a distinguished beach bum if that makes sense. Like, I could see him hitting the waves before a board meeting. But he doesn’t have board meetings, because he’s a photographer. I don’t really know how to pin him down, which is why he’ll be great for the article. He’ll appeal to different demographics.”
“Distinguished beach bum,” David snorted. “Maybe that should be his headline.”
“David, let me ask you a couple questions while I work,” Lucy said. “Liv, will you grab the clipboard from my desk and take notes?”
“Oh, now you’re putting me to work?” I joked as I located it.
“We’re almost done.” She looked at me apologetically. If she only knew, I thought. I could sit and watch this all day.
“Aside from work and the occasional event - ”
“Frequent. I have events weekly.”
“Right, frequent events, what other wardrobe needs do you have?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, you mentioned that you’re a swimmer. What are your other hobbies?” she asked.
“I don’t have much free time,” he stated. “Right now Arnaud and I are flipping a house in Evanston, but for that I just wear a t-shirt and jeans.”
My mouth twitched and I looked away, embarrassed. Jesus, was he trying to give me a heart attack? Between gentleman, swimmer and construction worker he was hitting all the right tr
iggers. “Well, do you need trunks? For swimming?” I asked, trying to be helpful.
He glanced at me in the reflection and a smirk twisted his mouth. “No, I’m all set.”
Not understanding what was funny, I smirked right back. He’s trying to make me uncomfortable, I figured. But two can play at that game. “How about undergarments? Boxers? Briefs?”
He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. How about you?”
“I’m good,” I said, fighting the blush that was creeping upward. “Bill has great taste in that department,” I added. Lucy raised her eyebrows at me, but I pretended to make notes on the clipboard.
“Glad to hear it,” he said. “You know what I could use though? Shoes. Size fourteen. And a half,” he said with a wink. “They’re hard to find, so don’t forget to write that down.”
It took me a second to realize I had dropped my pen. Lucy froze, and I was sure I saw her sneak a peek upward from where she was crouched. I wonder if that’s true? He does have big hands. And if . . . ? I shook my head and looked up. He was watching me in the reflection again.
“Shoot,” Lucy said, causing me to break the stare. “I pricked myself. I’m going to get a Band-Aid. I’m done if you want to get dressed, David.”
“So Brian Ayers, huh?” he asked when we were alone. “Do you really think it’s wise to go around drinking wine in strangers’ apartments?”
“I thought you knew him.”
“He’s still a stranger to you.”
“Is he a bad guy?”
“No, but that’s not the point,” he said, running his hand over his face. “And in that dress.” He exhaled loudly.
“It’s just business.” I smoothed my hand over my dress self-consciously.
He inclined toward me, and I stiffened instinctively. “Do you really find him attractive?” he asked near my ear while he picked up his phone from the desk. His hair was styled into that lustrous wave again, and when he stood back, I was left with a waft of men’s hair product.
I shook my head slowly without breaking eye contact. “I suppose some women might think so,” I echoed his words. “But no, he’s not my type.” David raised his eyebrows and looked pleased.
I leaned over for my apple and settled back against the desk. “Speaking of which, how’s Maria?” I asked casually.
“Hmm, not sure. We can call and ask if you’d like.” He waved his phone at me and I scowled. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. You just have to ask,” he said. I looked into my apple, searching for an answer it couldn’t give me. I shook it slightly, hoping for an eight ball miracle.
He disappeared into the other room, this time leaving the door ajar. I hesitated, wondering if I really wanted to know. It was fair to say that the image of her perfectly browned skin and slitted green eyes had haunted me since the night we’d met. Why am I so pale? I lamented.
“So?” he called from the other side of the door.
“Okay.” I took a bite of the apple and chewed slowly. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“No,” he stated.
“Do you have sex?”
I listened to him chuckle and then fall silent. “Yes,” he said after a moment. I felt the divergence of my heart drop and my insides tighten simultaneously. Although I tried to look away, I couldn’t help noticing flashes of his tanned skin through the sliver of doorway. “We have an unspoken arrangement. We go out, she accompanies me to some events.” He paused. “We sleep together sometimes. But we’re not exclusive.”
“Not exclusive?” I asked incredulously. He reentered the room, crossing his arms and positioning himself in front of me.
“No,” he confirmed, looking me in the eye. “We see other people.”
“I thought you didn’t gallivant.”
“It’s hardly gallivanting,” he said, lifting his chin fractionally. “It’s cut-and-dry. I normally don’t have time to seek women out, but sometimes things develop.”
“Are you seeing other women?”
“Not technically at the moment,” he said. “But I can, and I do.”
I didn’t know why his honesty startled me. I’d known all along that he was a player – casual encounters and all. I had been right about one thing though – I wasn’t the only person who had experienced this connection with him. I suddenly felt out of my league, which was becoming an all too familiar feeling. My indignation from our first introduction resurfaced, and I found satisfaction in the fact that he couldn’t notch me on his figurative post like the others.
“Well,” I said uncomfortably, at a loss for words.
“Anything else?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. His words were measured, and I knew he’d heard my request for restraint earlier in the week. I got the feeling there was something he wanted me to ask, but he was playing indifferent. I decided I’d heard enough, though.
“No.” I forced a smile, a front for the confusion I was feeling.
“What is it?” he asked with a short nod.
“Nothing.” I shrugged. “I should check on Lucy,” I said after a moment.
“Olivia,” he said, and stopped. His face changed then, and I noticed his shoulders loosen slightly. “I’ve been reading your articles on-line. I enjoy your writing.”
What? I gave him a funny look as my insides flipped over, taken aback by the unsolicited compliment.
“No,” I shook my head, turning red. “My mother is a writer. I’m an editor. She used to make me sit and edit her stuff for hours, in fact.”
“Hmm,” he whirred. “You are a great writer, though.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, embarrassed that it came out sounding like a question. We sat that way for a moment as silence settled over the room. Before he could say anything else, I threw the apple rind I’d been holding into the trash across the room, sinking a perfect shot. “Three-pointer,” I said, throwing my hands up.
“Basketball fan, huh?” he grinned at me.
“Bill is,” I replied without thinking. “How about you?”
“I’m a Bears fan myself.”
“Ah. Football. I could see that.”
“Oh?”
“Sure, I can picture you as a quarterback, working the field. Leaving a trail of cheerleaders in your wake,” I said, biting my lip as I smiled. “Did you play in high school?”
“Yes, though I would’ve preferred to focus on the swim team.”
“So? Quarterback? Linebacker?” I paused, running my hand along the edge of Lucy’s desk. “Tight end?”
“QB.”
I nodded. “Thought so. I had a crush on our high school quarterback.” I cocked my head. “He looked a little like you, but not as tall,” I said, letting my eyes wander down his body.
His hand twitched, and he quickly crossed his arms tighter. “What are you doing?”
I lightly lifted my right shoulder, staring him down. “What do you mean?”
“You’re flirting with me, even though you asked me to back off. Just like on the roof the other day.” He stopped and I blinked at him a few times, unsure of what he’d say next. “Olivia, I’ll put on a show in front of your friends, at your work, whenever we’re in public. But I’m growing tired of pretending when we’re alone. Don’t tempt me,” he warned.
I knew by his indelicate tone that he meant to reprove me, but my insides liquefied in response. Pretending. What is he pretending? I swallowed as a tingling grew between my legs. For a quick second, I wished I were single so I could find out what he didn’t want to pretend anymore.
Lucy burst through the door again sporting a bright pink Band-Aid. “Sorry! I had to go all over, but I finally found a mom with one in her purse. I don’t even think it’s bleeding anymore.” Despite the carnal reaction my body was experiencing, I couldn’t help but smile at her; she could be so clueless at times. “So David, I think we’re all set. You can take your card back. Did you want to join us for lunch?”
He hesitated for maybe the first time since I’d met him. “I would love to,”
he said and then looked at me pointedly. “But I really shouldn’t. Thanks for your help today. Good luck with the, uh, dresses,” he said, grabbing the rest of his things from the desk and backing away.
“Thanks, David! I’ll have your items delivered as soon as they’re altered.” She turned to gather the suits, but I watched him go. “Isn’t he sweet? Let’s go eat,” she said. “I’m starved.”
~
“Thanks for being flexible. I don’t think we have time for anything other than fast food.”
“No prob,” I said, sliding into the booth. “Oh, I supersized the fries.”
“You’re so bad!”
“We’re indulging! Before a dress fitting!” I exclaimed, unwrapping my burger. “Gretchen would not approve.”
“Oh, look.” She reached into her handbag. “This can be dessert so I don’t feel guilty,” she said, palming an apple.
“Really? I’m having a milkshake.”
“Olivia!” she scolded. “Should I have asked for a size four instead of a two?”
I laughed. “Shut up. So I haven’t even seen Gretchen since the restaurant opening.” I dipped a fry in ketchup.
“I was a little wasted,” she said, skewing her mouth.
“I think we all were. What’s the latest on the chef?”
“She’s still stringing him along, in true Gretch fashion. Sometimes it really bugs me, the way she treats those guys,” she confessed. It bothered me too, although I couldn’t be sure why. I didn’t mind that she played the field, but she seemed to revel in making them squirm.
“Well, it takes two,” I said, trying to be fair. “Sometimes I think they like it.”
“That’s true. But I just don’t see why. Was she always this way?”
“No,” I said, swallowing my food. “Growing up she was actually a bit shy and always hid behind these big glasses. A little pudgy too, but don’t tell her I said that. She’s so smart though, you know. When she met Greg, her appearance changed – she started doing her hair and lost some weight. That started a few weeks before the visit where you guys met. And when he left, well, you sort of know since you were there. That’s when something inside changed.”
Come Undone Page 14
