9. James
9
JAMES
M y reflection in the mirror stared back at me as I tied my tie and prepared for my workday. The greys at my temple were growing in thicker, and my beard was seeing a few more silvers appear too, but I only started really noticing them in the past month when it occurred to me that I wasn't growing old alongside the woman who had promised to do that with me.
This morning, she wasn't even the woman on my mind anymore. It was funny to me how for years I spent every waking second thinking of her. Then I spent my time thinking of my company. Then for a short time, the obsession with all things Barbra returned but in a very traumatic way, a way I'd like to forget never happened.
Now my thoughts were on Ms. Ivy Hart and her incredible smile. The look on her face—of awe and admiration—when I told that florist to name her price for delivery was priceless. She was adorable, and I found myself smitten, especially when we bumped heads and I checked to make sure she was alright. I'd have kissed her too, if her friend wouldn’t have come in. I was poised to do it. My lips tingled to feel hers against them and my fingers itched to curl through her hair and pull her into me.
Even now as I finished my double Windsor, a smile crept across my lips. Her reaction was what made me fully believe that if I had actually kissed her, she'd have kissed me back. Her hand fluttered up to her face, fingers dancing over her lip as I backed away and smiled at her. The friend seemed to have read the situation, but I ducked out gracefully.
Ms. Hart and I were leagues apart in almost every way. I had so much money I could burn it in my fireplace as warmth for my home in winter. I'd picked up over the past several weeks in our conversations that she was looking for a place to live. My firm dealt in expensive microchips that went into luxury electric vehicles and other sorts of things while she was a party planner tasked with crafting luxury experiences in her own way.
And the fact that I was forty-five and she was less than thirty didn't escape me. I wasn't quite old enough to be her father, but I was from a different generation. We grew up throwing sticks in the river and building forts in the trees. She grew up with an iPad in her hand texting her best friends on the internet. I wasn't even sure what women her age liked or enjoyed, and here I was with designs for her.
The wind left my sails at the thought, and I smoothed my hand back over my hair. The chemistry between us was real, but chemistry isn't the only thing needed for a relationship. Whatever I had with Barbra had started much the same way, but we never found our groove, never had much in common upon which to build something lasting. My admiration for Ms. Hart had to be harnessed and caged or I'd end up with the same sort of failure, and she didn't deserve that.
I left my bedroom dressed for my important meetings this morning and ready to leave, but I headed down to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee before I headed out. It was early, much earlier than a normal day, but the meetings couldn’t wait. When I popped through the kitchen door, Marna wasn’t even here preparing breakfast for Ms. Hart yet, though I'd told her not to worry about me this morning.
What I did see was a sight that made my body warm to a sizzling temperature and my dick start to swell. Ms. Hart stood by the back door that led out to the veranda with one foot lifted behind herself and held there by an outstretched arm. She looked graceful and poised. She had earbuds in her ears, and her body shimmered with sweat. She wore a matching green sports bra and spandex, and her hair was tied up in a ponytail.
I had to stop myself from drooling as I took her in. The sight of her made any rational thought fly right out of my head, and I completely forgot every reason that it wouldn’t work between us. In that moment, all I knew was that I was a man with a sex drive and she was a stunning woman with curves like a backroad I wanted to cruise all day.
"Oh, Mr. Carver…" She put her foot down and smiled, then turned and removed her earbuds. "I didn't see you there. I was just about to step outside to cool down after my run."
Okay, so I actually was drooling a little. Even soaked in sweat, she was the most gorgeous creature on the planet.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," I told her as I took a few more steps into the kitchen, forgetting why I even came in here. "And I asked you to call me James."
"Well I asked you to call me Ivy," she said with a smile as she curled a stray strand of hair around her ear.
"Indeed, you did…" I hovered halfway between the door and the island, and she remained across the island by the exterior door. It seemed, however, like there was an ocean between us, and I wanted to close that gap, but I didn't want to seem too forward. The gap wasn't just the kitchen island topped in marble. It was an entire universe of differences I'd have to account for.
"Ms. Hart, do you have plans for dinner tomorrow evening?" I always asked her to dinner. That was nothing special, but I felt like doing something out of the ordinary, and I wanted her to know it was out of the ordinary. The first Friday of December was no special day except that I hoped it would be a day where I could get to know her better and find out just how different or similar we were.
"Not really. I planned to have dinner here." She bobbed one shoulder up and down, and her ponytail swayed and the tiniest dimple appeared on her cheek.
"Good," I said, now feeling more confident. "I have plans this evening, but I want you to clear your schedule for tomorrow. Be here at one and be ready for a transformation. I'll pick you up at six. I'm taking you to dinner."
"James, I…" She looked like she was going to refuse my invitation, so I cut her off.
"Please, Ivy?" I said, and her eyebrows rose. I much preferred calling her Ms. Hart. The way it rolled off my tongue felt sophisticated and classy. But it worked like a charm.
"Dinner, tomorrow at six. I'll be ready." Her posture relaxed, and she smiled as she slid her earbuds back into her ears and I backed out of the room.
Only when I had climbed into my limo and shut the door did I realize that I hadn't picked up my coffee, but I had picked up something even better. My date for tomorrow evening might not even realize she was on a date until I made that part obvious, but I hoped she wouldn't react negatively when she found out that I considered it one. I hoped her reaction would be more like the one she gave me as my thumb slid over her bottom lip as I prepared to kiss her.
I settled in for my commute to work and took out my phone. This called for a special touch. I figured Ivy would feel out of place if I took her to a fancy restaurant while wearing my Armani suit and Rolex. The way she dressed was fine by any standards, and I didn’t look down on her simple suits and dresses, but I wanted her to feel like a princess, so I called my friend Genevieve and asked a favor.
"Hello? Yes, James." She sounded happy to hear from me, which meant Barbra probably hadn't shared the news to her yet.
"Gen," I said, "so good to hear your voice."
"All the same to you, dear. What can I do for you?"
"Gen, I need a huge favor…" I cringed a little inwardly when I realized what I was doing. Genevieve was still friends with Barbra, and word would get out that I was having another woman styled, and I wasn't sure what to think of that so far before my Valentine's gala where I'd make the announcement that Barbra and I were separating. My lawyer had already gotten annulment paperwork from Barbra's lawyer, so it wasn't like she was changing her mind. But so soon after she officially left my house felt like I was the cheater, not her. Still, it was her choice and this could be chalked up to a business meeting. Ivy, after all, did work for me.
"Of course, anything for you, dear."
The car bumped over the road as I explained to Genevieve what I expected. I wanted the full workup for Ivy, whatever she'd do for Barbra when we had an event. I told her Ivy worked for me and was staying at my home and for this particular business meeting, we were putting on the Ritz. She seemed to understand my instructions and seemed thankful that I'd thought of her.
"You know, dear, people are talking…" Genevieve said, and I found my mood souring slightly. I knew people would talk and I didn't care as long as I didn't have to hear about it.
"I'm sure they're saying this year's Christmas event will be the biggest yet. I'll see you there, right?" My command of the conversation steered it away from gossip and toward better things, and I heard the shift of emotion in Genevieve's tone as she agreed.
"Yes, yes. I'll be there with bells on. Literally," she said, chuckling. "My dress will have jingle bells!"
"Fantastic. Just don't expect to sit on Santa's lap. I heard he's taken." My joke hit its mark, and I finished the conversation before I got waylaid into answering twenty questions. "See you then, Gen. And just send me the bill."
"Tootles, James. Have a good day."
I hung up and let the storm clouds gather. It was fascinating to me how my mood could go from light and happy to angry and brooding in just a few moments' time. Barbra had every right to talk about what was going on in our relationship because it was directly concerning her and her mental state. I just wished she'd keep it to herself until I had time to fully process it and understand my own feelings. One minute I was angry, the next happy, and all over the women in my life.
My smile returned as I looked out the tinted window at passing cars on the road. The women in my life… Or woman, I should say. Ivy Hart, the woman in my life. I liked the sound of that.
I hoped she might like the sound of it too.