Chapter 3
three
I enter the offices of Grayson & Wade in the Loop. A modern silver logo for G&W is 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 a pen on the hollow of his cheek.
I attempt a guilty smile, but this gesture doesn’t put him at ease.
Instead, his eyes narrow into displeased slits.
He’s ticked, and he 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 set 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 arches.
Knowing this wouldn’t be enough to appease his queenly high-maintenance persona, I remove a Get Dunked Up doughnut 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 nods, considering, then he inhales deeply and lifts his chin in a superior manner. “Fine. You’re forgiven for ditching me.” Leveling me with a warning look, he says, “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.”
When he accepts my sugary offerings with a smug grin, I let out a relieved breath. 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 hair and returns to work. “Grayson & Wade.”
His chipper voice signals my dismissal, so I move to my office to tackle the next obstacle. Inside, Aggie’s dropping a stack of papers on my desk.
“Lord Linden beckoned. He wants to see us ASAP,” she says.
I tighten my grip on my purse strap. Before I allow the impending anxiety to dig deeper, I clear my mind, focus, and slip on 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 Charlie?” I ask.
“Ta-da!” She presents a black foam board with three computer renderings mounted to the front.
They look great. I 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 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, allowing my gaze to covertly roam his features. They’re so different, sometimes I forget they’re brothers.
Linden is the older of the two. Where he’s refined with slicked-back hair and a clean-shaven face, Evan is brooding and rugged. Though they do share the same dark hair, eyes, and warm beige complexion, along with toned bodies that can only be attained at the gym.
When his chair swivels in my direction and his gaze meets mine, I drop my attention to my nails. Maybe one day I’ll paint them.
Grayson & Wade recruited me the moment I strode across the stage at Georgetown for my business-degree diploma. To make the move across country smoother, the company rented me an apartment in one of their family-owned buildings.
After finishing his call, Linden slips his cell into his pocket. “What do you have for me?” He’s focused, all business, another glaring difference from Evan, who’s all play.
I slide to the edge of my chair, my back straight, and hand him the presentation booklet. “I’ve picked three properties, and Aggie’s been coordinating the 3-D imaging.”
On cue, Aggie rises from her seat and lifts the presentation boards. Her arm swings across each photo in a spirited manner. Too spirited.
Lines deepen in Linden’s brow as he assesses her fluttering hands. “Will Aggie be impersonating a game show model at the meeting?”
She beams. “Kind of adds a little pizazz, right?”
“It’s purely for your enjoyment,” I say, assuring him.
“Thank God.” Linden relaxes in his chair, and 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 so do I. 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 frowning at. It’s Aggie.
He shakes his head and gives me a glance, telepathically sending me a message. Fix her before the meeting.
When I nod in understanding, he leaves, hurrying down the hall for his next appointment.
Aggie looks down at herself, grimacing. “What’s wrong with me?”
Smiling, I survey her purple patterned tights and cheery pineapple sweater. “Maybe a little less color for the meeting? Less fringe? Oh, and less glitter.”
“At least I’m not wearing the colors of death every day.” She glares at my black skirt suit, one of ten I own.
“Just tone it down for the presentation. For me, please?” I bat my eyelashes.
“Fine, but you owe me.” She huffs.
The remainder of 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 o’clock, 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 and 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 glass of malbec.
I take several sips, allowing the alcohol to warm me before heading down the hall.
I lean against the doorjamb and peer inside the bathroom, noting the same scene from last night—water everywhere, my good towels soaked on the floor, and ass crack.
“Please tell me it’s fixed.”
Evan glances over his shoulder. “Welcome home, Kitty Cat.”
“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 leans back on his haunches and rubs his hands down his jeans, over his strong thighs.
Linden fiercely protects the financial well-being 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 trouble, but I walk on eggshells in his presence.
The stress of losing my job—and my apartment—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?” Evan 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,” I say with a moan. “You’re killing me here.”
He stands and stuffs a rag into his back pocket. “My offer stands. You can use my shower.” His eyes twinkle. “Or we could use it together.”
I stiffen at his offer. I know he’s joking, but when his brows give me a naughty wag, an unexpected scene emerges behind my eyelids. An image of us showering together.
“Cat?” Evan snaps his fingers, bringing me back from my racy daydream.
I jolt and blink to find his curious eyes searching mine. A mental image of us wet, naked, and entwined sends a blaze of heat from my cheeks to the tips of my ears. I look away from his questioning gaze as if focusing on the floor will save me.
Evan’s head falls back and a full, throaty laugh booms from his open mouth, like he’s read my mind. He grabs his stomach and bends 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 in my belly.
I won’t allow myself to be attracted to Evan.
I blame Aggie for putting the thought into my head.
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 drop into the armchair with my wine. Taking a long gulp, I finish it.
Evan has to see my discomfort, the rigidity of my posture, but he’s still grinning as if my mortification is the best gift in the world. He nears and scrutinizes my empty wineglass.
“What?” I snap, not wanting to give him the chance to hurl another one-liner my way.
“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?”
He smiles as if I’d just played into his hands, and presses his lips together. “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, I scramble to construct a comeback. My mind zips from one brassy retort to the next. But my instinct when he challenges me like this is to bulldoze him right back and knock him off his high horse.
Though I would never act on it, an alluring option plays in my mind like a movie.
I set my glass down and slink toward Evan until we’re face-to-face, and place my hand on 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, drawing his gaze. I lean closer until my lips brush over the sandpaper scruff of his chin and the softness of his full lips. His accelerated breathing warms my face. Behind my controlled facade, my heart lurches with excitement.
Evan wouldn’t expect this aggressiveness from an uptight princess. Now that he’s in shock, I whisper 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. Emboldened by my victory, I slam the door in his handsome face.
Perhaps if I had more alcohol circulating in my veins to lower my inhibitions, I would have the courage to approach him and prove him wrong.
And 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 of myself.
My mood plummets when I realize he sees my flaws. It’s hard enough for me to fight my own negativity, but now I have to hide it from him too? I already do it with everyone at work.
Then I consider the bright side of this unfortunate conversation. In a few words, Evan has cured me of 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 say with bite.
“Sure thing, Cat. But if you change your mind about the shower,” he says as he saunters toward the door, “you know where to find me.”