Push & Pull

by Maya Tayler

  Push & Pull

  Maya Tayler

  Copyright 2013. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  1

  We sat across the table allowing silence to fill the space. Her arms folded neatly across her chest while I flooded my coffee with creamer.

  “Jillian. He’s your fiancé,” I insisted, “I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing such a thing.”

  “It’s what you do for a living and I need to know if he can be trusted.” Her checkbook was on the table before I could utter another word. Never in all my life would I have imagined seducing my friend’s future husband, yet there we sat. I hoped for my sake and his that he was faithful. Jillian Leal was the most successful pharmaceutical CEO in Los Angeles with the worst dating reputation. If she hadn’t have told me about the scores of men trying to embezzle from her, the media sure had. At age 30, she paraded quite the laundry list of half baked Lotharios and her fiancé, Lucca Moretti, would prove no exception. Her hand quivered as she slid the check across the table. Twenty thousand big ones.

  “Wouldn’t a prenup suffice?” I asked, trying not to let the size of the check influence me. She shook her head.

  “You know it’s not about the money. Anyway, he’ll be at that new restaurant, Padua, on Highland tonight at 7,” she said giving her pen a sharp click before dropping it back into her purse. “I’m supposed to meet him and his colleague there but I’ll call and cancel last minute.”

  “How will I know it’s him?”

  “I dressed him this morning,” she smirked, “He’s wearing mustard colored dress shoes. They’re hideous. You’ll spot them right away.”

  “And you’re sure you want to do this?” I asked, hoping to convey my deep rooted concern.

  “Well, you’re not going to fuck him, are you?” she laughed sarcastically as her phone let out a deafening ring. “I have to take this. I’ll catch up with you later,” she said, leaning forward to give me air kisses. “Ciao, Bella.”

  This was never how I imagined my life, sitting in a restaurant being asked to test a man’s fidelity. But some days I wished more than ever that someone like me was around when I took a fall.

  Once upon a time ago I was a self-made millionaire and likely the youngest woman ever to engineer accounting software. My prototype program, Centax, was the first of its kind to incorporate tax advice with basic bookkeeping. After selling the rights for a few million I founded my development company and everything was going smoothly until I met Jason. He was charming, easy-going, and possessed every swoon worthy trait of a true swindler. The last thing on my mind was a prenup as we marched down the Little White Chapel aisle in good ol’ Las Vegas. Two years later I was broke. And he was off in some foreign country spending my life’s work. I managed to pin him down long enough to sign the divorce papers and that was it. I swore I’d never let another woman make my mistake.

  It was already 5 o’clock and I was pressed for time, as always. The faded blue skinny jeans and low back top I was wearing would have to do. I considered taking off my bra, just in case. Jill had sprung this proposition on me and left without the slightest detail about her fiancé. All I knew was that they’d been dating for only a month before she proposed. Jill was never really one to wait around but it certainly came as a surprise to our circle when she showed up for brunch with a fifty thousand dollar rock on her hand. She paid for it. He reimbursed her. This wasn’t looking promising. Either this man was a spineless flop or he was in it for financial reasons. Either way, I didn’t think it’d take long to expose him.

  With only mustard colored shoes and an Italian name to go on, I guessed I’d figure it out as I went.

  2

  By the time I arrived the restaurant was buzzing. Women in short dresses they had no intention of wearing circled around the bar, nursing their watered down cocktails. A few of them looked up from their idle conversations to scowl at me. I could have been the ugliest woman there. It wouldn’t have mattered. I was in their hunting ground now. They laughed at unimportant jokes and pretended to be much more inebriated than they really were while men sized them up. Pathetic. I was that girl once.

  The bartender motioned at me, “What are you drinking?”

  “Scotch, neat.” His eyebrows flickered with amusement as he began to pour. I scanned the room for flashy mustard shoes but the dim lights lent nothing to my cause. It was going to be a long night. Taking a hearty swig of the amber colored liquid, I allowed it to burn down my throat. The sting made me feel like I was alive.

  “You know, gentlemen prefer blondes,” a deep, soothing voice said from behind me. I didn’t bother to turn as I took another drag of scotch.

  “I’m a redhead.”

  “And I’m no gentleman,” he replied. His hand met softly with the small of my back as he flexed his palm inward, breaking the physical barrier. Clever.

  I turned to him, met by fiery emerald green eyes and a solid, square jaw. Each side of his face smeared with charcoal stubble that opposed the neatly kept locks resting upon his head. He was handsome. And if I needed further proof a faint scar adorned the upper left part of his lip. It was only noticeable when he opened his mouth to speak again.

  "Brandy?" He gestured towards my glass. Instead, I glanced down at his shoes. Slate colored Armani boots. Hot. But this wasn't my mark.

  "I'm not interested."

  "Why? Do you prefer blondes?" He flashed a winning smirk before signaling to the bartender to get me another drink.

  “I prefer manners. You didn’t ask if you could touch me.” I gave a curt smile and turned to leave when he caught my arm.

  “What’s your name, Red?” Red. Yeah, I’d never heard that before. Couldn’t this guy take a hint? I searched the room again for the shoes but it was useless. I could have sworn it was getting darker as the night carried on. I needed to shake this guy and soon or he might ruin any chance I had at Lucca…if I ever found him.

  “Claire. My name is Claire. Now, will you let go of me?” I snapped, yanking my arm away from him. His features softened and he withdrew his hands in an apologetic manner.

  “Usually any woman showing that much skin wants the attention. I just wanted you to join me and my colleague for a drink.” He gestured toward a booth on the back wall of the restaurant. Another man sat slouched towards the end of the booth, holding a drink and impatiently tapping his foot. He was wearing mustard colored dress shoes.

  “Sure!” I blurted out before he could say another word. My eagerness didn’t seem to surprise him as he placed a hand on me again and guided me toward the back of the room.

  “My name is Liam,” he said, allowing me to scoot into the booth first. A few more sentences tumbled out of his mouth but I had a hard time catching them. As the amount of patrons rose so had the noise level. I politely shook hands with the other man, Lucca, and he proceeded to pound his drink. Perfect, I thought. Let’s get this show on the road.

  The three of us made small talk while I attempted to engage Lucca. Nothing. He muttered some nonsense about work and seemed alarmed when I placed my hand on his knee. Maybe he wasn’t an easy mark after all. Maybe Jill had found someone she could truly dominate. He certainly wasn’t anything to write home about. Sure, he was handsome in a safe kind of way. Pristine black hair, clean shaven, with a dimple pressed into his chin. But his skin seemed sallo
w under the muted lighting and the suit he wore sagged around his shoulders. He had poor posture or needed a new tailor. Either way, his inability to sustain my attention made me listen more closely to Liam whom, to my surprise, wasn’t a complete douche.

  When the waiter came by Liam was polite, bought another round, and kept his hands to himself. He even managed to get Lucca to talk more, or maybe that was the alcohol. I attempted once more to break the physical barrier with Lucca as I casually placed my hand on his leg. This time he didn’t jump and his eyes drew up to meet mine. Bingo. All I had to do was isolate him. Nothing would happen with Liam in our company and I didn’t want to drag this night out any longer than necessary.

  “Excuse me,” I said, “I need to use the ladies room.” My eyes zeroed in on Lucca and I gave a slight wink. He seemed to get the clue. I slid across the seat towards him as he clambered out quickly, but not before I could graze my body against his. Winding my way through the restaurant, I found the restrooms sequestered by the kitchen. It was a long empty hallway that mimicked the claustrophobic design of the dining room. On any other night the weak lighting would have been off putting, but for this…it was perfect.

  It would likely take a few minutes before he mustered up the courage to follow me. He seemed like the nervous type. I took out my phone and messaged Jill:

  Nothing yet. Night is winding down. Will call soon.

  I noticed the hall was littered with random pieces of art. Examining a cluster of Picasso-like canvases, I squinted my eyes to get a better look. Shapes. And more shapes. I never really understood the draw of Picasso. To the right, perched prominently at the very end of the hallway was a ceiling to floor waterfall feature with speckled river rock. This was definitely more my style. The water cascaded to the floor, leaving small puddles before the sun-shaped drain absorbed them. Occasionally the drain would be slow to drink its relentless load causing the liquid to pool near the hallway tile. It was enthralling.

  A hand reached around the front of me, skirting its way along my waist. My eyes unfocused on the water that continued to rain down in front of me and I sighed. His hand dipped below my navel, easing into my panties while another reached around to cup my breast. A heavy groan escaped my lips as I clasped the back of his neck. His fingers probed between my thighs lovingly stroking my clit. It had suddenly become too heated for a public scenario.

  I attempted to stop him and offer to exchange numbers but he grabbed my hair and steered me into the janitor’s closet. Oh shit.

  “Not here. Not like this,” I said in a sultry tone.

  “You act like you don’t want it,” Lucca hissed as he pawed at my top. He stopped and I sensed him step away, “You do want it…right?” No. I wasn’t supposed to at least. My profession didn’t leave room for personal fun. His hands returned to my shirt, preparing to pull it over my head as I ran my hand along his jaw. He had more stubble than I had noticed but I enjoyed the rough sensation. Just as he slid a hand underneath my top the closet door swung open. We pushed away from each other like two horny teenagers. It hadn’t gotten that far and I was ashamed to think it might have until the light cast upon our faces.

  “Liam!” I gasped, the crowded space filled with just enough light to distinguish his scar. The man who had opened the closet door, a drunk no doubt, stumbled forward and smiled.

  “Is this the loo?”

  I exchanged looks with Liam who pointed the man in the right direction before shutting the door again. Flipping the light on, I hoped to deter the situation. Even under the fluorescent bath he was beautiful. His hands rested on my hips, pinning me gently against the door and I fought the urge to blurt out what was really on my mind.

  “This was a mistake,” I stated, trying to keep my tone flat and void of any emotion. The adrenaline was still pulsing through me and it would have been nice to simply resume our rendezvous. His thumb fluttered across a little bit of skin peeking out from my jeans and the wild look in his eyes seemed to yearn for a reaction. He deserved something, a moan or perhaps a kiss as he held me firm, but I had a job to finish.

  “You enjoyed it,” he whispered, brushing his cheek against my neck. The bristle of his beard made my skin crawl with desire but I pushed him away. Before he had a chance to change my mind I grabbed my jacket and ducked out of the closet. If I moved quickly, I could still catch Lucca. More bodies had flooded into the already busy restaurant obstructing my view of the table we once occupied. When I finally broke through my heart sank. He was gone.

  3

  I missed my mark. He was right in front of me, prime for the picking, and for some reason it wasn’t good enough. I’d never had a guy slip through my grasp in the last five years and Lucca shouldn’t have been any different. Damn, Liam. If he hadn’t of gotten in the way this could have been different. It would have been different. My fingers trembled anxiously on the keys of my telephone as I dialed Jill’s number. I should offer another pass, mention that he seemed distracted and that maybe he was pissed she’d blown him off. But as I rationalized the scenario to myself I realized he was in the best frame of mind. He should have gone for it.

  “Hello?” Jill’s voice sounded confident on the other end, as if she already knew the answer.

  “He didn’t go for it,” I sighed. I hoped my tone conveyed relief instead of the disappointment clouding my judgment. She let a considerable amount of silence pass before she cleared her throat.

  “Good. I didn’t think he would. Lucca is a good man. You’ll see.” She didn’t sound convinced and I sure as Hell wasn’t. “Tell me how it happened.”

  Reluctantly, I obliged explaining in detail how the bar scene ensued. I tried to keep Liam out of the story because the last thing Jill needed to hear was that I got distracted. Occasionally she’d interject with something snide about him knowing better and the conversation shortly became unbearable.

  “Look,” I snapped, “If you trusted him so much why did you ask me to do this in the first place?”

  “You needed a challenge,” she said, her tone cool and ripe with conceit.

  “I can make a second pass at him if you think he’s so pure.”

  “Claire. Let sleeping dogs lie.” For a moment, a hint of uncertainty betrayed her. “We can meet up and talk about this later. I’m about to go into a meeting.”

  “Fine. I have to go anyway. Talk to you later,” I replied, hanging up the phone before she had another chance to speak. I was late. Another prospective client had called me that morning to schedule a chat. Punctuality wasn’t my strongest point, but I rarely missed the opportunity to help someone.

  As I smoothed down my coat and slid my hands into the pockets something caught my attention. A note. No. A business card in my right pocket belonging to, none other than, Liam. He must have slipped it in my pocket the night before. Sly bastard. As much as I hated to admit it, I quite enjoyed what had transpired in the janitorial closet because I rarely indulged in me time. Well, unless you counted loving of the battery operated persuasion. He hadn’t turned me down, but Lucca had. In all of the years of doing this, I’d never planned for failure. What happens when a mark doesn’t take the bait? It hurts like a bitch and it’s hard to not take it personally because it is personal. Someone, whether betrothed or not, basically says, “I don’t want you.” Lucca didn’t want me. He had Jill. I waited for the happy friend feelings to return and when they didn’t I called and canceled my appointment.

  It never crossed my mind that perhaps this was a bad idea, that I should stay home, cool off, and call my appointment tomorrow. Resume life as usual. The previous night kept looping in my mind as I dialed the number on the business card.

  “Liam speaking.” His voice was the same smooth, arrogant tone I recalled.

  “I bet you didn’t expect to hear from me,” I said, testing the waters to see how many women he’d given this card to. He probably cast the net wide and even though I was hurting for the attention, I wasn’t about to be a number.

  “Claire,” he
replied, without missing a beat, “I knew you’d call.” The confident smirk emanated through the receiver. I paused too long and showed him all of my cards. “We should talk in person. Can you swing by?” No appointment. No plans.

  “Sure.”

  His apartment building looked like a high security prison with a sleek, modern design and brilliant onyx gating. He had sent me a text with the address and gate code. The cynic in me felt he may be a bit too trusting. Or desperate. Both? Parking was sparse but socially revealing as I passed row after row of Mercedes Benz, settling on a narrow spot towards the back of the garage. He was on the forty second floor, the top floor, I soon realized as I pressed the elevator button. Great. What kind of self-indulgent asshole was I getting involved with now? As the elevator rolled to the top I began to rethink my decision. It wasn’t too late to turn back.

  The elevator opened slowly revealing a doorway to the first apartment. The only apartment on the whole floor. My stomach started to turn anxiously as I rapped on the door. Laughter sounded from inside. Did I have the wrong apartment? Was he not alone? Before I could double check the address the door opened with Liam standing there in business casual attire.

  “Claire! What took you so long? Did you get lost?” He smiled, gently taking my hand and guiding me into the foyer.

  “I couldn’t choose whether I wanted to park by a Beamer or a Ferrari,” I teased. A deep chuckle came from behind me as Liam took my coat but it wasn’t his laugh. He wasn’t alone. Another man emerged from the kitchen with a beer in hand, dressed similarly to Liam.

  “I’m sorry. Did I come at a bad time?” I asked, standing motionless as I assessed this new stranger. He was olive complexioned with light, golden hair. His body moved gracefully beneath the clothes he’d clearly purchased from the big and tall store and he easily stood at six and a half feet. He had a well-maintained physique and gentleness to his eyes. Deceptive. I knew he could break me.