Vibrizzio (8 page)

About halfway through the lunch, Julie, a married thirty-something who’d started at the firm around the same time as Lyssa, dropped her napkin onto the floor. On her way down to retrieve it, she grabbed Lyssa’s arm, pulling her close, and asked in a low voice, “Is something going on between you two?”

“Who two?” Lyssa asked, mirroring Julie’s quiet, conspiratorial tone.

“You and Captain America.”

“Ha! No. He’s a great guy but not really my type.”

“Please.” Julie rolled her eyes. “He’s everybody’s type.”

“Not mine,” Lyssa insisted. “And even if he was, it wouldn’t make any difference because I’m not his.” The two women had straightened up by now, but Lyssa leaned in and lowered her voice again. “Actually, the reason I keep saying such nice things about him is because he’s got a thing for Sabine, and I said I’d do what I could to help.”

“Ahh, that makes sense. Hey, Sabine,” Julie called across the table. “The Taft-hottie wants to woo you.”

Sabine’s eyes instantly flicked to Lyssa, who shrugged and scrunched her face in apology as she said, “He’s a good guy. Worth giving a chance.”

Three days later, Hayden surprised Lyssa by jumping up from his chair and circling his desk the moment she entered his office. Pulling her close, he planted a big, fat kiss on her forehead. “You’re the best partner ever.”

“Um, thanks?” She stepped back and eyed his wide grin.

“Guess who’s got a date with the goddess from HR this weekend.”

“If you stick up your thumbs and say ‘This guy,’ I’m leaving right now.”

“Now, now, my snarky little matchmaker, you know I’m far too cool to do anything of the sort.” He lifted his hand to her nose and looked very much as if he was going to tweak it.

“Touch me and die.”

He pulled his hand back. “Fine, I’ll bury my jubilation deep inside, but at least let me say thank you for upholding your end of the deal.”

“You’re welcome.” While he returned to his seat, she pulled over the side chair and opened her file, ready to dig into Delicious Hawaii business. “And I hope you have fun on your date.”

“Thanks. So what’ve you got going on this weekend?”

“Wedding. I’m a bridesmaid.”

“Ooph. Sorry.”

She laughed. “Shut up. I’m looking forward to it. It’s for Amy, one of my best friends since college. I know Chuck from school too. It’ll be a great party.”

He sat back. “And yet you’re less than excited.”

She gave her head a small shake. “I’m excited. I’m just … not looking forward to all the pity glances for being the only person in the wedding party without a date.”

“The pity glances are only imagined. But what happened—the programmer can’t make it?”

“Oh, guess I forgot to tell you. We broke up.” She pulled out some papers and began organizing them into three stacks.

“Why?”

“Irreconcilable differences.” She opened her laptop and clicked around to open the pertinent spreadsheets.

Hayden remained leaning back in his chair, watching her. “Is that all you’re going to give me?”

“Yup.”

* * *

Amy and Chuck’s close family friends and out-of- town relatives joined the bridal party and their dates, minus one, at the rehearsal dinner on the second floor of the crab house at Navy Pier. Surrounded by views of nautical activity on Lake Michigan, Amy’s dad made a cheesy toast about his daughter and her groom setting sail on a new life adventure. After everyone laughed politely and clinked glasses, Chuck walked over to Lyssa with a moderately attractive guy in tow.

“Lyss, I want you to meet my cousin, Sean. He’s from upstate New York.” Turning to his cousin, Chuck added, “Lyssa goes to New York City for work all the time.”

“If by
all the time
you mean twice so far in my career, then yeah, I’m a regular. Nice to meet you, Sean,” she said, offering her hand.

As he shook it, Chuck announced that he better go see what Amy was up to and walked away. Apparently, Lyssa wasn’t the only one playing matchmaker this week. Sean flashed a somewhat embarrassed grin. “Subtlety has never been my cousin’s strongpoint.”

“Subtlety’s overrated,” Lyssa said, liking the way Sean’s smile ignited sparks in his pale green eyes. When she’d spotted him earlier, she’d judged him to be older because of his receding hairline. Now that she saw him up close, she estimated him at somewhere around her own age. She’d get the skinny from Amy later. “I guess since he made the effort, we at least owe him a little small talk. Do you get into New York City often?”

They talked about the city for a few minutes but then were summoned to take their seats for dinner and separated. After eating, most of the younger set drifted down the pier to the dark-wooded coziness of Harry Caray’s Tavern. By the end of Lyssa’s first pint, Sean had circled around to where she, Trish, JoAnne, and Amy were huddled together at one end of the bar.

“Any of you ladies care to join me and a few of the others for a night on the town? I’m going to see if infamous Rush Street lives up to the hype.” His eyes fell onto Lyssa.

“Sorry,” she said. “We’re actually about to leave. Bridesmaids are having a sleepover in the honeymoon suite tonight.”

“Yeah, paws off my friends until tomorrow. No boys allowed!” Amy shouted, wagging her finger in his face before throwing her arms around her friends and squeezing them. “I want my girls all to myself tonight before my big bad husband drags me away to live in San Diego.”

“The transfer’s official?” Lyssa asked.

“Yep, as of last week.” Amy’s smile only faltered for half a second before firmly locking back into place, letting Lyssa know this wasn’t the time to talk about the impending cross-country move.

Sean persisted. “Then at least let me buy you all a round of shots before you leave.”

“Naughty boy. I can’t be hungover on my wedding day,” Amy said. And then, without any arm-twisting by anyone, “Well okay, maybe one!”

After toasting the happy couple with top shelf whiskey shots, the girls cut the bride-to-be off from any more alcohol, and then got her properly hydrated and to bed at a decent hour—early enough that she sang them all awake first thing in the morning with a poorly-executed rendition of a Disney princess song, complete with dancing.

JoAnne opened one eye and aimed it across the air mattress at Lyssa. “We should’ve let her get tanked last night.”

From the bed, Trish groaned. “She’d still be waking us up at the crack for our hair and makeup appointments.”

Amy pirouetted between the air mattresses, nearly clocking Lyssa in the head as she lost her footing on the backspin.

“Yeah, but it would’ve at least brought her down a few decibels,” JoAnne said.

They got their perky friend married off and made their way through wedding photos, introductions, toasts, and dinner. The occupants of the head table gathered for one final group photo, then clinked glasses, vowing to make up for what they didn’t drink the night before. Amy and Chuck had given their friends input on the DJ’s playlist, and, in Lyssa’s opinion, the selections were excellent. She stayed on the dance floor for several songs, not feeling the least bit awkward for not having a date, though she had to stop herself a few times from searching the room for Sean. She caught glimpses of him but assumed he’d lost interest after she’d turned down his invitation to cruise the bars the night before.

A terrace overlooking the Chicago River bordered one wall of the banquet room, and that’s where Lyssa went after working up a sweat on the dance floor. The area was only lightly populated with a few smokers in the chilly late September air. Lyssa automatically moved to the railing to watch the city’s lights reflect off the jelly-like ripples of the river. She wouldn’t last long with her bare arms in the night air, but she wanted to take a few minutes to fully enjoy the facilities that had to be costing Amy’s parents a good chunk of their retirement funds. She laughed at herself: always finance on the brain. Hayden would be proud.

“What’s funny?” It was a man’s voice approaching from behind. She turned and saw that it belonged to Sean.

“Nothing really. I was thinking about how much this reception must’ve cost.”

“You can probably find out easily enough at the hotel’s website.” He came and stood next to her at the railing.

“Yeah, but then I realized it was none of my business.”

He curled his fingers and ran his knuckles along the side of her arm. “You’re ice cold. Here.” He slid out of his jacket.

“No! You don’t have to do that,” she said, holding both hands up in protest.

“Don’t worry—my motivations are purely selfish.” He hung the jacket off both her shoulders and tucked the sides to cover her arms. “I don’t want you to use being cold as an excuse to run away from me again.”

Maneuvering both arms through the deliciously warm sleeves, she smiled. “If you’re so worried about me running away, what took you so long to give me something to run away from?”

“What took you so long to be out of the midst of a gaggle of girls so I could approach you?” He raised one eyebrow, and the moonlight fell across his face, accentuating the strong lines of his features.

She laughed. “Point for you. So here you are. Now what?”

“Now I tell you how beautiful you look tonight.” When she rolled her eyes, he followed up with, “Seriously, you should wear a dress more often.”

“Have you been talking to my mother?”

“Does your mother think you have sexy legs too?”

“Hold up.” Lyssa eyed him, suddenly suspicious. “Last night’s the only time you’ve ever seen me not in a dress—how would you know how infrequently I wear them?”

He gritted his teeth and raised his top lip in a half snarl. “Whoops. Busted.”

“Busted?” Lyssa took a step back, but he stopped her by laying his hand over hers on the railing.

“No, it’s not … I’m not a stalker. At least I don’t think I am. I just … when I arrived in town a few days ago, I asked Chuck for the lowdown on the single ladies who’d be at the wedding, and you were one of them. Amy was more than happy to indulge my curiosity by pulling up her photos, and I noticed you wore pants in pretty much all of them.”

“Oh.” His explanation was only slightly less creepy than what she’d been thinking of him a few seconds ago.

“Please don’t look at me like that. I know my methods were sort of sketchy, but I only had limited time to work with and didn’t want to waste any of it trying to find out what Chuck and Amy could easily clue me in on. At least I’m being honest with you, right?”

She narrowed her eyes again and studied him. A bump along the ridge of his nose indicated that it might’ve been broken at one time, and he suddenly struck her as a tantalizing combination of rugged and sophisticated. “Honesty is good. I suppose as long as you promise to keep being honest with me I’ll stay and talk to you … but I’m taking back that point I gave you earlier.”

“Fair enough.” His intrigued smile went from his lips to his eyes, warming Lyssa in ways his jacket couldn’t. She was glad to give him a chance.

“Now that you’re being totally honest—what happened? Did the other girls in the lineup fail to fall for your tricks and that’s why you’re out here with me?”

“I don’t have tricks. And for the record, I had my preference narrowed down to you alone before the rehearsal dinner.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Why?”

“Honestly?”

“I think we’ve already established that.”

“Well, because you’re cute but not ridiculously so—I didn’t want to have to fight off a bunch of other guys. Then when Amy told me you’d just gotten out of a serious-ish relationship, I figured you’d be the least likely to be forming attachments to anyone else at the moment and the most likely to be feeling a void that only a rebound fling can fulfill. In other words, you seemed gettable.”

She let her jaw hang open for a moment before saying, “Y’know, there’s a difference between being honest and being brutal. Do you get your overture advice from Fitzwilliam Darcy?”

“Who?”

“Fitz— Mister Darcy. Pride and Prejudice? He gives Elizabeth that letter—”

He shook his head. “I don’t watch chick flicks. But listen, gettable is only part one of my requirements. Part two is worth getting.”

“I think I’ll like part two better.”

“You will.” He smiled, and her eyebrows pulled together in a doubtful scowl. She hoped she hadn’t invited a fresh round of insults. “Chuck told me you had a good job, so I know you’re smart—I like smart—and Amy said you were the independent sort, that you date a lot, but you’re not the type to perpetually need to have a boyfriend. I also like independence in a woman because I don’t want someone going out with me because she wants a man; I want her with me because she wants me. So I went back through the pictures, and then I noticed something else.” He stopped, wrinkling his nose in an almost shy gesture and setting aflame those sparks she’d admired in his pale green eyes at the rehearsal dinner.

She bit. “What?”

He waved his head slowly back and forth and let out a deep, inviting chuckle. “I don’t know. There was something about you—your smile, the self-deprecating roll of your eyes I can see even in still shots. I could see you were intelligent, funny, and down-to-earth. You seemed like someone I’d want to know. Then I met you last night … ” His eyes dropped to her mouth and slowly rose to capture her gaze with his. “I know we only talked for a few minutes, but Lyssa Bates … you are most definitely someone I want to know.” Each word had drawn her a centimeter closer to him. By the time he finished delivering his lines, their mouths were mere inches apart.

She tilted her chin up ever so slightly, giving him the permission he sought, and his lips were immediately on hers. It would’ve been a motion-picture-perfect kiss if he’d left it at a soft brush, but he didn’t. He went in for the kill way too soon, and Lyssa pushed back. “Whoa, cowboy. How about we have a few dances—and a lot of drinks—before we take it there?”

He laughed and ran his thumb across her jaw, pinching her chin. “See? Funny. So what shall we start with, the dancing or the drinks?”

“Drinks. Definitely drinks.”

The rest of the night passed in a swirl of drinks and dancing and more drinks and kisses … then a feverish taxi ride home and Sean pressing her up against a wall, slowly unzipping her dress, telling her how beautiful she looked in nothing but a push-up bra and bikini panties. His teeth nibbled and gnawed at her flesh. She moaned for more, and he had his way with her all over her small apartment: against the front door, on the kitchen counter, in the shower, at the open window with her bare torso hanging outside while he rammed into her from behind, and she screamed to all within hearing that he’d chosen her, and she was his.