Come Undone (19 page)

“Hang
on, now, you look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” I knew his face as
well, and I squinted at him while trying to place it. “Eureka.”

“Eureka?”
I repeated. “Oh - with the dog! That was you?”

“Yes,”
he said. He broke into a sudden, boisterous laugh. “Sorry, I was just picturing
the way that dog took you down.”

I
grimaced. “So much for a first impression.”

“Darling,
that was the most endearing first impression anyone’s ever made in the history
of the world. If you weren’t married,” he said, motioning at my ring, “it’d be
a damn fine beginning to our own romantic comedy.”

“
Leashed by Love
, starring,” I studied
him for a moment. “Paul Walker. In a suit.”

“Paul
Walker?” he asked, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “And his lovely co-star . .
. Well, now, I can’t think of a good comparison. Have a seat, I’ll get us a
drink.”

“That’s
not necessary, Mr. Ayers.”

“Please,
call me Brian.”

I
glanced around his sunny apartment, admiring the large framed photographs.
Gritty portraits, backdropped by Chicago’s streets, lined the walls. “You have
a lovely collection here, Brian.”

“Why,
thanks Olivia, that means a lot.” He handed me a glass of white wine and set a
platter of cheese and olives on the coffee table.

“I
really shouldn’t,” I said with a small smile.

“Don’t
worry, it’ll be our secret. ” With a wink, he brushed his hands over his
charcoal slim-fit suit that was punctuated with a striped, knit skinny tie. He
sat across from me and rested his ankle on the opposite knee, exposing grey and
white polka dot socks.

“Well,
I can see why everyone says you’re so charming. It’s because you’re serving
them wine right off the bat,” I teased. I took a sip from the glass, glad I’d
changed my mind at the last minute about bringing Serena.

He
ran a hand through his blond shoulder-length hair, a look I normally despised,
but which he pulled off very well. “It’s my little secret. But that’s off the
record, I wouldn’t want anyone else catching on.”

“Check,”
I said, pulling out my notepad. “Before I forget, we’re having a Meet &
Greet for the participants in the article next week. I will have Serena forward
you the invite.”

“Sounds
perfect. I’ve thought of someone. Lauren Bacall.”

“Sorry?”

“The
voice, definitely. That’s who I’m casting you as, a young Lauren Bacall.”

“I
will take that as a high compliment. I haven’t heard that before.”

“I
see it more in your mannerisms but you do resemble her . . . . You know, you
have wonderful bone structure. Such cheekbones. And your eyes! So sentient!
Perhaps I can photograph you sometime.”

“Perhaps,”
I intoned, knowing full well that would never happen. “So Brian Ayers, tell me
– how long have you been in Chicago?”

~

Lucy’s
receptionist told me she was with a client, but that I should go in anyway. I
headed down the hall and knocked before poking my head in the room.

“Come
in,” Lucy said. I started when I saw her on her knees before David Dylan,
fingering the hem of his pants.

“Hey
Liv,” she managed with a pin between her teeth. David’s head jerked up, and his
face looked as shocked as I felt.

“Hi
Luce.”

“Liv,”
she said, removing the pin and sticking it into the hem. “You remember David
Dylan.”

“Yes,
actually,” I cleared my throat. “David here is going to be one of our
Most Eligible
bachelors next month.”

Lucy
beamed. “Really? Did you know, David? How wonderful!”

“Yes,”
he said slowly. “I met with Olivia earlier this week, in fact.” I gave him a
quick nod, letting him know it was okay to say.

“You’re
going to be great,” she said to him. “And you’ll look top-notch,” she added,
tugging on the fabric. “Liv, we’re running a little behind. Do you mind? We’re
going to a bridesmaid dress fitting after we get something to eat, David,” Lucy
explained, glancing up at him. “You should come. To lunch, not to the fitting.”
She giggled. “I’ll be right back, I need more pins. You know, on second
thought, maybe you shouldn’t eat before a dress fitting. Do you think that
matters? Should we eat after?”

“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 triggers. “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?”