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I put my phone away and gave the next two hours my full attention so I wouldn’t feel bad about taking a long lunch with Lucy. When ten o’clock hit, I hopped in a cab downtown to meet with one of our top bachelors, taking extra care to review the file this time. I scrunched my nose, trying to remember if we had profiled a freelance photographer the year before.
Brian Ayers swung the door open with enthusiasm and greeted me with a big hug. “What is that scent, it reminds me of Paris!”
“I’m not wearing anything,” I said, giggling shamelessly. “I’m Olivia Germaine, associate editor for Chicago M.”
“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.
