His Perfect Woman (Urban Hearts Series Book 1) (25 page)

Azure was more nervous than she’d ever thought she’d be as she stepped off the plane at O’Hare. After the summer of just her and Ross holing up in her condo in Denver, he’d had to go back to Chicago, to meet with his editor and sign some contracts.  He’d asked her to follow him after she finished up a wedding—to fly back and meet his family. Ben’s wedding was the perfect opportunity.

She’d been to Chicago before, of course. She hired Ross after hearing him speak at convention here almost two years earlier. Her memories slipped back to that time as she boarded the underground train for the main terminal.

It had been her first solo convention—
her
first time as director of event planning, and she and six hundred other marketing directors and planners had been jammed into a too-warm banquet hall. She remembered being tired and restless and hungry when Ross had come up to the podium.

Up until that moment, she had lamented being up front—being that close to presenters made her feel awkward every time she checked her buzzing phone. From her vantage point, she could view him in exquisite detail—from the blue pin stripes of his tie to a tiny red line just under his jawbone where he’d nicked himself shaving. He really looked at his audience, studying them, moving out from behind the podium to connect with folks in the front row.  Some sliver of sincerity in a haystack of bullshit presenters had her believing this one. Her first time as Director and she’d hired him as a brand new consultant—had an online conversation with him that left her giddy and smiling as she’d left Chicago for home.  At the time, it felt like a new beginning for her. Now, it truly was.

“Hey, beautiful.” He waited at the top of the escalator.

“There you are.” She rushed up to him, catching him around the neck and leaning up for a kiss. He stopped her.

“You are, you know,” he whispered before kissing her—a soft, open-mouthed kiss that dazzled like Christmas morning. Taking her hand, he turned toward the escalators. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” They walked together, both of them seasoned enough travelers to navigate rushed tourists and old people heading to baggage claim. He didn’t say much until they were in the car heading into the city.

“Rachel was ecstatic when I told her you were coming. She almost cried when she realized you could have planned the wedding.” He drove conservatively, hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, speedometer never creeping above four miles over the limit.

Az smiled at the thought of her former assistant.

“Long distance wedding planning is never a good idea. It’s a really stressful time for brides, and they get kind of…”

“Bitchy?” Ross asked. He chuckled. “Rachel’s been pretty decent, I think, and Ben’s so head over heels he just laps up whatever she puts out. They wanted me to go straight to the house, but I put them off till tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Good. She wanted time alone with him. It had been only days, but it felt like forever.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Unconsciously repeating his earlier sentiment, he squeezed her hand. “It feels like forever, and I’ve missed you.” Turning to look out across the lake, she hid a smile at his voicing her very thought.  It had happened more than once during their time together—like some couple having lived together so long, they knew what each other was thinking.

His apartment was not overly stylish, or modern, or barren—the walls were not white, or beige, or pastel, but a rich mahogany. A flank of windows ran the length of the tiny space, white sheers obscuring the view.  A smallish old leather sofa lounged perpendicular to the windows, facing a flat screen TV. A corner cabinet, similar to a dish pantry held books instead of dishes. It’s chipped paint and rusted hinges oversaw the rest of the furniture like a grandfather. Magazines on the coffee table were stacked exactly, in order of size. The countertop between kitchen space and living room gleamed bare save for rack of wine glasses against the wall. The entire place was neat and tidy, reflecting the owner’s orderliness and simple taste. Her gaze turned toward the windows as he opened the sheers. The west end of the city stretched before her.

“You always said the view was the best part of this apartment.” She spoke to the window, knowing he was behind her. “This is the same apartment, right?” She meant the one he’d had with Dani.

“Yes.” He answered from a doorway just to the right of the TV. He must have taken her suitcase to his bedroom. “And the view is pretty spectacular, especially right now.”

She resisted a smile, trying to see his reflection in the glass, but the sun was too bright.

“So you going to show me the rest of the house?” Ambient warmth radiated off the thick glass to envelop her. Or maybe it was his gaze. She couldn’t tell. His answer was to hold out his hand.

She didn’t notice the bedroom décor until much later, as they lay in bed together. Their lovemaking had been rushed, an onslaught of words and moves that shocked both of them and then, after the initial heat had been slaked away, they melded into a languid dance of hands and lips upon each other. And they would start again, she was sure. Overheated, he’d thrown off what coverings they had and his long limbs angled across the bed. The sheets were the color of pine needles in spring, a soft, vibrant green, and his skin contrasted against them like a modern art motif. The pillow smelled faintly of familiar aftershave, and she realized she remembered it from the hotel bathroom. The one she’d left. But that was past—she was here now, the slight flush caused by his cheek stubble dissipating from her skin. His fingers traced a lazy S curve down her back to the swell of her bottom. 

“Malinda asked me if you were my ideal man.” She reached for him, speaking into his neck and feeling her words muffle against his throat.

“Is there such a thing?”

“That’s what I said.” She leaned away, touching his cheek as he smiled. He kissed her palm. “There is no perfect person.” She traced his full lips with her finger, dipping one into the heat of his mouth. He bit tenderly. “And ideals are very subjective. Everyone is different.”

“So what is your ideal man?” He took her hand, kissing each finger as she answered, causing her eyelids to flutter closed. She sighed, not wanting to break the moment and he rubbed his mouth against her fingers like a cat wanting attention. She noticed the color of his eyes was similar to a cats—a deep jade blending into hazel.

“I think even my ideal will have flaws—like obsessive tidiness, or compulsive planning.” She grinned. “But both parties have to be willing to accept those flaws—work with them, compromise to make the relationship work.”

“I am not obsessively tidy, maybe a trifle too neat.” He turned serious. “So that works for you?” He watched her expression. “Finding someone you have to compromise with? Then how much is too much?”

Was he thinking about his ex, about past girlfriends? Had
he
ever compromised to keep a relationship going? She knew
she
had—and then wondered if the prize had been worth the effort. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “I agree, compromise is needed to make a relationship work, but I was thinking more personality traits or physical traits.”

“I see. You mean like great tits?” Her eyebrows arched.

“Great tits do not make the woman,” he said with mock seriousness.

“Thank God.” Azure laughed.

“And I don’t think men think that. They may not admit it—they like them—even love them, but when it comes to the end of the day, it’s not what they want to come home to. Not if that’s all there is.”

“So what do they want to come home to?”

“I can’t speak for all men here. Believe or not, we’re not all the same.” He laughed at her eye roll. “Okay, maybe a little.” They settled closer against each other. She studied the framed music poster on his wall across from the bed and wondered when he’d become a fan of Thelonius Monk. Ross continued, and she forgot about the poster. “Speaking for me, I need someone who gets me out of my head a little. I think too much, plan for everything and sometimes….” he touched her chin, tilting it up toward him. “Sometimes I miss the very thing I’m looking for.”

“The
you only live once
type?” Her fingers played along his chest, tracing the line of his collarbone and into the glorious hollow of his throat. “I see—a spontaneous girl—someone who revels in problem solving and chaos.”

“You’re pretty good at problems and chaos.”

“Causing them or fixing them?” Chuckling, she kissed the hollow where her fingers had been. “I am a fixer, but not much of a chance taker in my own life.”

“You do live in the moment, though.”

“I do.”

“So what did you tell her? Malinda? About me being your ideal man?”

“Well, Malinda is the
yolo
type, given to flights of romantic fancy. I told her you weren’t perfect.”

“Thanks for that. I always need to be reminded.” It was his turn to roll his eyes.

“But I said you were pretty damned close.”

He pulled her to him. shifting her so that she was on top of him, the length of her running the length of him.

“Close enough that you’re willing to take a chance, oh cautious one?” She shrugged, trying to make the gesture as casual as possible—a difficult endeavor given the way she was feeling at the moment. “And, by the way—” He pushed at her shoulders, balancing her up above him so he could see more of her. “You have great tits.”

The next day she met his parents. Frank and Gemma Berenger had a large suburban backyard and the excellent weather found everyone outside for lunch. The long picnic table was set with earthenware and candles, which was a little more formal than Az had expected for a backyard cookout

. The wedding rehearsal was scheduled for the next day, and Ross wanted her to meet his family beforehand, before all the bridesmaids and groomsmen invaded. His mother had greeted her with a light hug, his father with a handshake before she was swept up into Ben’s bear hug and Rachel’s girlish squeals at seeing her favorite boss.

Ross’s sister Maggie was warm and somewhat motherly toward both of them and her twin girls were delightful if rambunctious. Ross and his brother-in-law took to the expanse of lawn to play a quick game of tag, which only served to rev-up the girls and wear out the men. Az patted Ross’s arm as he sank onto the swing next to her, his skin warm and slightly damp from exertion.

“Girls wear you out?”

“Just a bit,” he gulped down an iced tea. Lunch had been amazing—a very Tuscan style meal with fresh mozzarella and tomatoes, green salad and grilled chicken. Az stretched her bare legs out, as Ross rocked them back and forth in the swing. She played with the hem of her sundress.

“Az, I really could have used your skills for this wedding,” Rachel was saying for the umpteenth time, this time from Ben’s lap, where she curled against his arm. He kissed the top of her head.

“It will be fine, Rach. It will be glorious.” Ben’s gentle reassurance made Azure smile. They looked so happy.

“Ben’s right.” Az added. “I know you. You have thought of every possible contingency. Just relax now and let it happen.” Beside her, Ross leaned into her side, his muscular forearm solid against the pattern of her skirt as he wove his fingers through hers.  She sounded so much older than Rachel—like she had lived a majority of life while the young bride was just getting started. Az would be thirty in the fall.  Her gaze went from Rachel to Ben, who was at least eight years older than his fiancée. She wondered if he felt that age difference.

“What made you change career’s to weddings?” Ross’s younger sister, Madison, had come in late for lunch.  Just twenty-two, Madison seemed so much younger than the rest of them. She flipped her long hair back, the blonde strands falling into a perfect mess over her tan shoulders.

“Frankly, the corporate world just got boring,” Az answered. “Same people, same issues, over and over again. And I wanted to do something that made people happy. Weddings make people happy.”

“Ross was one of those corporate guys,” Maggie said from across the room, her concern about anyone dating her brother was evident. Azure looked her in the eye.

“We both worked in that world, but he was never a corporate guy. He’s always been different.”

“By different, do you mean weird?” Madison squinched her face at Ross. “Because he is that.”

“Runs in the family, squirt.” He tossed the insult back, the nickname used fondly. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Any one for dessert?” His mom spoke from her rocker and started to rise, but her husband put his hand out, stopping her.

“I’ll get it,” he said quietly as their granddaughters came in from the yard, breathless and excited.

“Let me help.” Az rose from the swing, letting it sway out from the movement. Ross’s hand still held hers and he followed.

“Nonsense, you’re a guest.” Maggie protested, but Ross stopped her much like his father had.

“We got it, Mags. No worries.”

Dessert was homemade peach ice cream and a melt-in-your-mouth butter pound cake. Azure loved the sound of the entire family settled back in, the tinkling of spoons in bowls and exclamations of good and excellent, the smacking of lips and the gratitude for food and family. In fact, the entire afternoon went well. She found herself actually looking forward to the wedding rehearsal—Ross was the best man—and the dinner at a local hangout owned by a friend of the family. She was just starting to feel like she belonged when Maggie brought up kids.