Come Undone (9 page)

I was feeling gloomy and, without Bill, alone, so I picked out a
cap-sleeve, fitted charcoal dress and a cropped black cardigan to mirror my
mood. Concealer helped me to cover the dark circles from the night’s halting
sleep. I brushed on mascara in an attempt to open my sleepy eyes, but the
effort of trying to make myself presentable was too great, and I gave up,
tossing the make-up back in the drawer.

~

Serena
followed me to my new office with two cups of steaming coffee.

“Thank you. How was your weekend?” I asked, sitting down to face
her.

“Awesome!” she replied with big eyes. “Brock and I saw
Enter the Dragon
downtown with his
brothers.”

“
Enter the Dragon
?” I
wrinkled my nose. “What’s that?”

“It’s a martial arts classic,” she said excitedly. “There was a
special showing at the Music Box Theatre.”

“Oh,” I grinned. “Is martial arts an interest of yours?”

“Chinese cinema is, absolutely! Brock too.”

“Huh,” I replied. “When did you get into that?”

“Hmm,” she closed one eye as she counted silently. “Eight –
no, seven – no, eight months ago.”

“And you have been dating Brock for . . . ?”

“It will be a year in a few months,” she offered a wide grin,
seeming proud.

“Cool. Well, thanks for the coffee.”

“Oh a couple things. Mr. Beman wants you to refer to yourself as
associate editor for now. He said nobody will take you seriously otherwise.”

“Sounds like something he’d say,” I mumbled.

“Also.” She pulled a folder out from under her arm and handed it
to me. “One of the guys for
Most Eligible
is available to meet today, but it’s his only time. He sounds very busy.”

“Busy is good,” I said, opening the file. I scanned the profile
sheet and nodded approvingly. “He sounds great. Is he good-looking? Can you get
me a photo?”

“Oh, trust me, he is,” she said. “All the girls gave him a ten.
And Lisa already approved. I’ll send one over but like, can you do the interview?
Or should I ask Lisa?”

I scowled. Lisa would just love to edge me out. “I’ll do it. Just
e-mail me the address, and I’ll prep the rest.” I straightened when I saw
Beman’s head bobbing through the office.

“Actually, he’s coming here. He insisted.”

“Oh. That’s fine I guess. Can you see that the kitchen is stocked
so we can offer him something?”

“Good morning, ladies,” Beman said all of a sudden, causing Serena
to jump. “I see you have Starbucks there. Anything for me?” He directed his
eyes at Serena and she opened her mouth slowly.

“I’m sorry. I can go back. What would you like?” Serena asked.

“Nothing,” he snapped. “Please get to work. Olivia, a word?”

Despite his small frame, I noticed how the office felt smaller
when he was in it. “How are you this morning, Mr. Beman?”

“I’d like an update on the
Most
Eligible
article.”

“It’s coming along nicely. In fact, I have an interview today with
a mister - ” I opened the file and squinted, “a mister Lucas Dylan.”

Beman raised his eyebrows. “The architect?”

I nodded, glancing down quickly to make sure that was right.

“Excellent. But don’t call him Lucas, he doesn’t like it,” he
said, waving a finger. I nodded knowingly, making a mental note.
Luke it is
. “We’ve tried the past few
years to get him involved but he’s very private, only does work-related
interviews. Actually,
Architectural
Digest
profiled him in last month’s issue, look it up.”
Thank
you
, Serena
, I thought. “This would be a huge coup, Liv,” he
continued. “If you manage to get him in the issue, well,” he paused, “it would
be very
impressive
.” His lips
tightened at the last word, and I bit the inside of my lip to prevent a grimace.

“Mr. Beman, I’d like to run an idea by you.” He glanced at his
watch and nodded curtly. “In addition to the issue’s launch party, I think it
would benefit us to have an exclusive meet and greet for the top candidates.
Since many of them are local celebrities, it would drum up some publicity. We
can get web to post some pics afterward to get people wondering who will make
the magazine.”

His jaw swung from side to side as he considered it. “Publicity
would be good, I’d like the issue to be a high point of the year,” he reasoned.
“Get me some numbers by Wednesday, and I’ll see if I can get you a budget. It wouldn’t
be much, so work with the publicity department on getting some sponsors to foot
the bill.”

“Great, I’ll look into it.”

“Oh, and might I suggest a little lipstick before you meet with
Mr. Dylan? No harm in trying to look nice for him.”

He sashayed away, and I touched my fingers to my hair.
What does it matter how I look for him?
I
thought angrily.
I’m asking him
questions, not testing his make-out skills.
The thought of Beman pimping me
out to guarantee Lucas’s involvement made me laugh and cringe simultaneously,
because I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t do it.

The phone had become more conspicuous with every passing minute
and now it demanded my attention. I knew I had to call Bill and that it would
be the first time I would really lie to him. But there was no way around it.

“Hi, babe,” I said, when he picked up.

“Hey, Livs. Can I call you back? Just got out of a meeting and
have another in ten minutes.”

“Actually, this is important,” I started.

~

The
phone buzzed, and I grabbed it automatically, my eyes fixed on the computer
screen.

“Liv, Mr. Dylan’s here.” Jenny’s voice was even more high-pitched
than usual.

“Right. Can you have Serena or one of the interns bring him back?”
She hadn’t sent the photo, but it didn’t much matter now. According to everyone
else, he was a shoe-in. Quickly, I peeled my sweater off and grabbed my make-up
bag, heading for the tiny mirror Diane had installed behind the door. My hair
was actually behaving, and I patted it appreciatively. Balancing the bag on the
couch, I smoothed on raspberry lip gloss, Beman’s comment lingering in my head.

“Right back here,” I heard.
Just
then the bag teetered over, spilling products all over the floor.
Shit.
I squatted and threw everything
back in record time. A sea foam green Clinique lipstick tube caught my eye from
behind the couch.
Leave it.
But I
couldn’t, so I steadied myself against the edge and reached an arm into the
sliver of space.

“Hello, Olivia,” I heard, just as I had grasped it.

Burnished, brandy-colored leather brogues stared me in the face. I
froze as my eyes drifted up a long body and landed on David’s expressionless
face. His hair was parted off to the side, gelled into one soft, cohesive wave.
His sharp navy pinstripe suit looked as though it was made for him.
It likely was
, I thought. He wore the
collar open with no tie so that I could glimpse the beginnings of his
collarbone, and the sight of his exposed skin sent a shock through me that
ended in a tingling between my legs.

“D-David?” I stammered from below once I’d recovered. If I’d
thought the office had seemed smaller before, it now felt microscopic,
especially from my current position. His presence could barely be contained. I
rocked off my heels and stood, smoothing my hands over my dress.

“You’re surprised. Were you expecting someone else?”

“Um, yes. Lucas Dylan?” I said, wiping excess lip gloss from the
corner of my mouth.

“Aha. Do you always do this much research before an interview?” he
teased. “I go by my middle name.”

I eyed Serena, who stood in the doorway, and then looked back at
David.
How could she make such an
oversight?
“I’m sorry, you’re right. Welcome.” I stuck my hand out
awkwardly. Quickly, I attempted to sort through my thoughts, but all I could
think was that I was glad I had heeded Beman’s advice. With a smirk, he took my
warm hand in his icy one and squeezed it with a pump, sending a chill up my
arm.

“Sorry I’m so cold, it’s biting out there today.”

“How about some coffee then?” Serena asked.

“Sure,” I said absentmindedly, narrowing my eyes at David. Once
she had stepped out and we were alone, I gestured to a seat as I returned to my
spot behind the desk.

“Mr. Dylan,” I began, carefully pronouncing his name. “I wasn’t
expecting to see you again.”

His laugh was soft. “I should think not, after the way you ran out
on me last night.”

“Anyone else might take a hint,” I ribbed.

“I love what you’ve done with your office,” he commented, gripping
the arms of his chair. “Very colorful.” I hated its stark white walls and
generic carpet. It was the matted and grimy type that you never wanted to touch
with bare feet. The only indication that it had an inhabitant was a photo of
Lucy, Gretchen and me that Lucy had taken, printed, framed and brought over my
first week at the magazine. She even positioned it on my old desk herself.

“Well, I’m just borrowing it,” I responded quietly.

As he looked around the room, I took the opportunity to study him
in the daylight. He was no less mysterious, but in the office, with the desk
between us, he somehow seemed less threatening. And if possible, more handsome.

“That’s right, it must’ve been Diane’s office. So I want to
apologize if I came on too strong last night,” he said, affixing his eyes on me
again. I glanced at the door. Lowering his voice and leaning his elbows on his
knees, he continued. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You came here to tell me that?” I asked. “How did you know where
to find me?”

“It wasn’t hard.” He winked.

My brows creased as Serena knocked lightly and entered the room.

“Here you are, Mr. Dylan,” she cooed, offering him a steaming cup
of coffee. She set the tray on the coffee table and handed me mine as well.

“Thank you, Serena,” I said.

David stared at me over the lip of the mug as he took a sip, and I
shifted anxiously. He swallowed and cupped a hand around the heated drink, watching
me like I was his next meal. In unison we glanced at Serena, who was lingering
near the door.

“Thank you, Serena,” I repeated more sternly. She smiled at David,
even though his back was to her, did some sort of curtsey and left the room.
Strange girl
, I thought.

“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea, your being here,” I said,
straightening a pile of papers on the desk.

“Why not?” he asked. “Nothing’s going on.”

I felt silly for suggesting that something was. I tilted my head
and, lifting my shoulder lightly, asked, “So you went out of your way just to
tell me that?”

“No,” he said simply. “Diane had asked me to do the article this
year, and I turned her down. But I’ve changed my mind.”

I stopped and set down the stack of papers. “Really?” I asked.
“Why?”

“Don’t make me answer that, or I might start to wonder the same
thing.” His mouth kinked into a half smile, but I chewed the inside of my lip.
This would mean working with him until the issue went to press, since he was
all but guaranteed a spot. I wondered if I’d been wrong about him. Perhaps his
visit was purely platonic. As if he could read my mind, he added, “I never mix
business and pleasure. Ever. You have my word that I will be completely
professional.” I narrowed my eyes at him without realizing it. “You don’t
believe me,” he observed. “Do though, as I don’t like repeating myself.” My
thighs constricted involuntarily at the way his tone dropped.
Composure, Olivia. Composure.

“I don’t really have a choice in the matter,” I pointed out,
searching his face.

“Sure you do, it’s your article,” he said. “Don’t worry about
them,” he added, waving his hand. “I’ll say it’s a conflict with my schedule if
you aren’t comfortable.”

Part of me wanted to refuse, wanted to ask him to back out if it
became too much to handle. But I didn’t know how to express that in so many
words, and I didn’t want to make something of nothing. Not only that, but it
would put me some steps closer to the promotion. “All right. Let’s do it,” I decided,
straightening my back.

He answered with a large, boyish grin, pure and unassuming. I
flexed my hands against my thighs, digging my fingers into them; I’d never seen
a smile like that before. It made me want to laugh and hug and kiss him all at
once.

“Let’s get started then,” I said, blinking away the dreadful impulse.
I reached over the desk for his file, and he jumped from the chair suddenly. My
head snapped up; his expression both darkened and enhanced his attractive
features as his gaze fixed on my arm.

“What the . . . Oh my God,” he stammered, and I followed his eyes
to find fresh, purple bruises forming along my bicep and elbow.

“Oh,” I said, my eyes flitting between the marks and him. I shook
my head as he found the words.