CHAPTER 3
I enter the offices of Grayson & Wade in the Loop. There’s a modern silver logo for G&W emblazoned on the wall behind our receptionist, Lou.
When I approach his desk, he lifts his catlike gaze as if sensing me. He leisurely taps the end of pen on the hollow of his cheek. I attempt a guilty smile, but this gesture doesn’t put him at ease. Instead, his eyes press into displeased slits. He’s ticked and has every right to be. Am I a bad friend? A bad coworker? I’m not sure what we are. He was friends with Aggie first but then she pulled me into their tight circle.
Unlike other times, today I came prepared. I think I did. I settle a peace offering on his desk—a Mr. Moon’s to-go cup.
“You think a raspberry macchiato is going to make everything better?” Lou’s dark sculpted eyebrow rises into a peak.
Knowing this would not be enough to appease his queenly high-maintenance, I remove a Get Dunked Up donut bag from my purse and set it beside the coffee and wait.
“Lemon pistachio?” He eyes it suspiciously.
“And a peanut butter bacon,” I add with confidence.
Lou bobs his head, considering. He inhales deeply and lifts his chin in a superior manner. “Fine. You’re forgiven for ditching me.”
He continues, “But remember, I’m on vacation for the next few weeks, so you’ll be walking to work all by your lonesome.”
“I’ll cry every single morning without you.”
“That’s a good start.” He accepts my sugar offerings with a smug grin, and I exhale, relieved. He would have forgiven me eventually, he always does, but it’s easier to keep the peace. As he takes a sip, the office phone rings. He slides his headset over his inky, hipster haircut and returns to work.
“Grayson & Wade.” His chipper voice signals my atonement, so I move to my office to tackle the next obstacle. Inside, Aggie’s dropped a stack of papers on my desk.
“Lord Linden beckoned. He wants to see us ASAP,” she says.
At the request, I tighten my grip on my purse strap. Before I allow the stress to dig deeper, I clear my mind, focus, and slip into my work mask. With it settled in place, I’m fearless. I’m Superwoman. At least, this is what I pretend to be.
“Did we receive the renderings from Adam?” I ask.
“Ta-da!” She presents a black foam board with three computer renderings mounted to the front. They look great. My muscles relax a little.
“And I have a draft of the presentation booklet.” At my desk, I select the spiral-bound book from my color-coded files.
After I run through a three-page checklist of items with Aggie, we cross the hall to Linden’s corner office. His floor-to-ceiling windows frame the Chicago River. The water glistens with the reflections of the surrounding high-rises. Water taxis zoom by, blowing horns at tourists paddling canoes.
Linden’s on the phone but waves us in.
As we sit and wait, I have a moment to compare Linden to Evan. Sometimes I forget they’re brothers. Linden is the older of the two. I covertly allow my gaze to roam his features. Where Linden is refined with slicked-back hair and a clean face, Evan is brooding and rugged. Though they do share the same dark hair, eyes, and complexion, along with bodies that can only be attained at the gym. When his chair swivels in my direction and his gaze spots mine, I avert my interest to my nails. Maybe one day I’ll paint them.
Grayson & Wade recruited me the moment I strode across the stage for my business degree at Georgetown. To make the move across country smoother, the company rented me an apartment in one of their family-owned buildings.
Finishing his call, Linden slips his cell into his pocket. “What do you have for me?” He’s business focused, another blaring difference from Evan, who’s all play.
I slide to the edge of my chair, back straight, and hand him the presentation booklet. “I’ve picked three properties, and Aggie’s been coordinating with 3-D imaging.”
On cue and as I instructed, Aggie rises from her seat and lifts the presentation boards. Her arm swings across each photo in a spirited manner. Too spirited. Linden assesses her fluttering hands with deepening brow lines.
“Will Aggie be impersonating Vanna White at the meeting?” he asks.
“Kind of adds a little pizazz, right?” She gleams.
“It’s purely for your enjoyment,” I assure.
“Thank God.” Linden relaxes in his chair, his gaze drops to the booklet open on his lap. He flips through while nodding. On the last page, he pauses before returning it. “Add the estimated TI allowances for each property and update those renderings with some brighter colors. Make the Lakeman logo larger. It really needs to pop.”
“Will do,” I say.
Linden stands, and I stand. He buttons his suit jacket and strides toward the door. When he pauses and turns back, I hold my breath. I’m always waiting for something to go wrong, but in this case it’s not me he’s inspecting, it’s Aggie.
“No. Just no,” he says, shaking his head. He gives me a glance. He’s transmitting a message: fix her before the meeting. When I nod in understanding he disappears, rushing down the hall for his next appointment.
“What’s wrong with me?” She grimaces.
I survey her purple patterned tights and the cheery narwhal sweater. “Maybe a little less color for the meeting? Less fringe? Oh, I know, less glitter.” I smile.
“At least I’m not wearing the colors of death every day.” She eyes my black skirt suit, one of ten I own.
“Just tone it down for the presentation? For me? Please?”
The remainder of the Friday is spent revising the presentation booklet, returning emails, making calls, and coordinating Aggie’s boring outfit for the meeting. She’s only slightly cheered at the prospect when I suggest shopping for something new. At three, I show several commercial properties in the West Loop to a small graphic design firm before returning home late in the evening.
At the top of the stairs, I pause at my open apartment door. I sigh, remembering my water issues. My tense shoulders lift and lock close to my ears. I’ll have to deal with Evan again, and I’ll need a drink to do that. After dropping my things on the counter, I select a wineglass from the cabinet and pour myself a Malbec. I take several sips, allowing the alcohol to warm me before heading down the hall.
I lean my weight on the doorjamb and peer inside the room, noting the same exact scene from last night: water everywhere, my good towels soaked and lining the floor, and ass crack.
“Please tell me it’s fixed,” I beg.
“Welcome home, Kitty Cat.” Evan glances over his shoulder.
“Two days without water seems extreme. Am I getting a break on rent?”
“You’ll have to negotiate with Linden, but if I had to guess the outcome, I’d say no.” He kneels back on his haunches and rubs his hands down his jeans, over his strong thighs.
Linden fiercely protects the financials of his family’s empire. During my first week at work he fired an intern who used too many napkins in the company kitchen. He’s never given me much issue, but I continue to walk on eggshells in his presence. The stress of losing my job remains in the back of my mind, like all the other whispers telling me I’m not good enough.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing away a forming headache.
“Hard day?” he asks.
“Long.” I peer down at him. “But there’s one thing you can tell me that will make everything better.”
“No can do, Cat.”
“Come on. You’re killing me here.” I moan.
He stands and stuffs a rag into his back pocket. “My offer stands. You can use my shower. Or,” his eyes twinkle, “we could use it together.”
I stiffen at his offer. I know he’s joking but when his brows give me a naughty wag, it causes an unexpected scene to emerge behind my eyelids—an image of us showering together.
“Cat?” Evan snaps his fingers, and I’m brought back from my racy daydream. I jolt and blink. I blink again and find him standing in front of me, his curious eyes searching mine. At imagining us wet, naked, and entwined, a blaze of heat fans across my cheeks and shoots to the tips of my ears. I glance away from his questioning gaze as if focusing on the floor will save me.
Evan’s head falls back when a full and throaty laugh booms from his open mouth. It’s like he’s read my mind. He grabs his stomach and curls forward with uncontrolled glee.
“It’s Cait, you idiot.” I shove him away and berate myself for allowing my mind to go there, even accidentally. I stomp down the hall needing to add distance between us, and this unfamiliar fluttering tickle in my belly. I won’t allow myself be attracted to Evan. No way.
His laughter follows me into the living room. Apparently, he’s unwilling to let my humiliating moment pass.
“You better have this fixed tomorrow.” I hunker down into the armchair with my wine. I take a long gulp, finishing it.
He has to see my discomfort and the rigidness in my posture. But he’s grinning, teeth tugging at his lip, like my mortification is the best gift in the world. Evan nears and scrutinizes my empty wineglass.
“What?” I snap, not wanting to give him the chance to construct another arrant one-liner.
“Nothing. Just didn’t peg you for the drinking type.” He shoves his hands into his pockets with a shrug.
“And what type did you peg me for?”
A smile shadows his face as if I just played into his personal joke. He presses his lips together before he says, “An uptight, prissy princess who’s never done anything remotely risky in her life. Drinking included.”
I set my jaw at his assessment. Even if it’s true, my mind dashes to consider a comeback. It zigzags from one brassy retort to the next. But what my instincts plead for me to do when he challenges me is bulldoze him right back, knocking him off his haughty high horse.
This alluring option plays in my mind like a movie.
I set my glass down and slink toward Evan until we’re face to face. I place my hand over his chest. At my touch, his chest muscles stiffen beneath his worn T-shirt.
When he exhales, I read the wild excitement in his stunned eyes. He may have been joking, but I can tell there was a kernel of truth to his offer. He wants me. Though I don’t have time to consider why, the thought of being desired excites me. Deep down, I enjoy this new game between us.
I lick my lips. His gaze drops to them. With his building interest, I lean closer until my lips catch the sandpaper scruff from his chin and the softness of his full lips. His accelerated breathing warms my face. Behind my controlled facade, my own heart lurches with excitement.
Evan wasn’t expecting this aggressiveness from an uptight princess. Good. That’s the point. Now that he’s in shock, I send four words across his skin at his offer to shower together, “Not. On. Your. Life.”
When his eyes widen with confusion, I give him a shove, sending him over the door’s threshold and into the hallway. With a cool sense of victory cheering me on, I slam the door in his handsome face.
Perhaps if I had more alcohol circulating in my veins to lower my walls of reason, I would have the courage to approach him and prove him wrong. Perhaps if every move I made wasn’t so cautious or calculated, I could. At his challenge, I want nothing more than to be the opposite of what he expects or the opposite of what I expect.
I become sullen with the acknowledgment that he sees my flaws. It’s enough for me to fight with my own negativity, but now I have to fight harder to hide them from him too? I already do it with everyone at work. I consider the bright side of this unfortunate conversation. In a few words, Evan’s cured my unwanted budding attraction.
“Are you done for the night? I’d like to have my apartment back. I have uptight and prissy things to do.” I grit my teeth.
“Sure thing, Cat. But if you change your mind about the shower,” he saunters for the door, “you know where to find me.”