Chicago Hope

by Carmen DeSousa

  Maura held up a hand. “You know, Jim, there’s a reason I don’t hang out near the coffee machine or date coworkers in this office.” She made sure she emphasized this office since technically, by this evening, she might be dating someone who worked for the company. She imagined for a second if she had dated Mr. Barros’s son what controversy there’d be. All her hard work would be down the drain. She stared back up at Jim, who would be the first to spread some vicious rumor. “Unlike some people,” she continued, eyeing him disapprovingly, “I have work to do. If you’ll excuse me.” She indicated the cubicle exit.

  The man was relentless. Instead of leaving, he chewed his bottom lip and typed on his phone.

  Not wanting to make a scene, Maura ignored him and turned to her computer, pulling up her email so she could check Jim’s article for plagiarism. If the loser had cheated again, she’d be sure to point it out and make him rewrite it.

  Jim slid his phone across her desk. “You’re telling me you don’t know this guy? ’Cause rumor has it, y’all left the Christmas party together, and then were working overtime in his office this weekend.”

  Maura’s breath streamed out slowly as she stared at the picture. She blinked the sting away, then turned back to her screen. “I don’t know him.” Obviously, she knew nothing about the man who called himself Rick — Oh, God. Rick, short for Enrique. She couldn’t let Jim see he’d gotten to her. “Jim, I have someplace I need to be this evening. Please get out so I can do your work for you.”

  Maura entered the code Enrique Figueroa had texted her, then clenched her fists as she watched the numbers race to the top floor.

  She inhaled deeply. “I’m a professional. I have a job to do. I’ll finish the project, and be done with him.”

  The elevator dinged its arrival, and the doors opened to a large waiting area. She stared up at the twelve-foot soaring ceilings, then down at the solid pine floors and cream-colored area rug. The office sat on the top floor with floor-to-ceiling windows and French doors that led to an exterior that overlooked the city. Since she’d entered the building via Lake Shore Drive, that meant the office took up the entire twenty-sixth floor.

  Enrique — even thinking his name made her insides boil with anger — stepped around the wall at the end of a long foyer. “Hey. You’re early. Dinner’s almost —”

  “Dinner?” she growled, then smoothed her coat along with her thoughts. Keep calm, Maura. Losing it won’t accomplish anything. “I can’t stay for dinner, Rick. We need to pack up the boxes so I can get home.” He walked toward her, removing a … “Are you wearing an apron?”

  He smiled, and she squeezed her eyes shut to combat the mixed emotions.

  “Like I said …” Rick’s smooth voice, along with the soft jazz playing, threatened to steal away her resolve. “Or started to say,” he continued, “dinner’s almost ready.”

  Maura peered around the entrance. Clearly a waiting area with its one long leather bench, a glass table in the center of the room displaying a hand-blown sculpture, and a single framed art on an otherwise empty wall. Other than the eleven-foot Christmas tree embellished with nothing but elegant gold and red bulbs, the room was antiseptic-looking.

  But he was cooking dinner … So was this his home?

  “Is this … your … apartment?” she asked. Of course, it was his home … on Lake Shore Drive, of all places. She could only dream of a condo overlooking Lake Michigan. But the size … she could fit eight of her apartments on the top of this building.

  Rick shrugged. “I don’t know that I would call it an apartment, more like a mansion, but my father is letting me stay here until I find a place.”

  Maura threw up her hands and turned back to the elevator. “So, it’s true.” Tears stung her eyes. She needed to get out of here. Of course, it’s true. She’d looked up Enrique Figueroa’s name. His mother had, in fact, worked for Mr. Barros. And when Rick was nine, his father had died tragically. Two years later, when he was eleven, his mother had married her boss, causing a scandal among the Chicago elite, sparking rumors of infidelity and murder. Maura hadn’t found any proof of the claims, though.

  Maura tapped the elevator button, but then jumped at the hand on her shoulder.

  “Maura,” Rick moved in front of her. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay. You’re …” Tears flooded her vision. “You’re Mr. Barros’s son.”

  “Stepson, but yeah … I thought you —”

  She stepped back. “You said your name was Rick Figueroa. You even gave me a copy of your driver’s license. You purposely didn’t tell me —”

  “Maura, you were at the party. How could you have missed my father introducing me? The only secret I asked you to keep was the fact that I would be the new CEO. He didn’t tell anyone. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. But I told you.”

  She huffed out a breath and shook her head, sidestepping away. “You didn’t tell me you were the new CEO.” Oh, God. It was worse than she’d thought. She needed to leave.

  “You were at the party. You heard him introduce me as his son … I told you I was starting.” He stared at her. “What position did you think he’d give me?”

  She steeled herself. “I wasn’t at the party. I never made it past the foyer. I’d only been there for a few minutes when you saw me. It doesn’t matter …”

  The elevator doors dinged, and Rick blocked her escape. “Maura, please. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

  Arms crossed, she shook her head. “I couldn’t even tell my boss I had a kid for fear it’d hinder my advancement. And now …” She dropped her head. “It doesn’t matter. I have to quit. No matter what, if I ever advanced at your company, people would accuse me of sleeping my way to the top.”

  “That’s ridiculous. We haven’t slept together.”

  A derisive laugh broke free. “No, we haven’t, and yet, how do you think I discovered you were Mr. Barros’s stepson? Of course, people saw us leave the party together, and then saw us together in the lobby. And the first person in my office who found out accused me of screwing you to advance my career —”

  Rick stepped forward. “Who accused you?”

  She dropped her head and laughed sardonically again. “It doesn’t matter.”

  He gripped her shoulders. “Maura.” He waited for her to look up. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter.”

  “I was being facetious, Rick. Of course, it matters.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Why? I don’t understand.”

  She pulled away, and his hands dropped. “I just told you. My career’s over … Here anyway. But if I leave now … while I’m still a nobody, I can start over —”

  “No. You can’t. I won’t let you …” He stepped closer, this time he didn’t keep the safe distance that she’d tried to maintain since the first evening they met. One of his hands cupped her face while the other moved around her waist.

  His lips met hers and, as much as she wanted to retreat, the fire in her chest held her. She was already in his home. People would gossip whether they slept together or not. She would have to find a new job. But it had been more than three long years since she’d been held.

  Her lips parted, allowing his tongue to touch hers. His full lips were soft and hot, making her insides flame with need.

  The hand at her cheek trailed to her shoulder, sliding the purse strap aside until the bag fell. Then both his hands were at her jacket lapels, pushing her coat off her shoulders.

  “Maura …” he said between kisses.

  “Shh …” Her fingers found his shirt buttons. “We’ll fight later.”

  His lips turned up, stopping their kiss. “I don’t want to fight. I want to make love to you. Of course, I didn’t plan to do anything tonight. We have work —”

  “I’m mad at you, Rick, but right now …” She pushed the open shirt over his broad shoulders. “Show me your bedroom.”

  Rick removed his shirt and took her hand, pulling her down the hall. He stop
ped at the kitchen long enough to turn off the stove, then continued leading her through the massive home. Maura tried to keep her eyes on Rick. She tried not to allow the solid wood beige cabinets, kitchen island, fancy lighting, and the windows that bordered the entire room, lending amazing views of the city on one side and the lake at the end of the room to distract her. She failed.

  He continued through another hallway, entering the first room on the right. Inside, he released his grip only long enough to push the eight plush pillows off the massive bed and onto the floor.

  Rick turned to her, started to say something, but she raised her fingers to his lips. She moved her hands to her blouse, and his lips found hers again.

  His mouth moved greedily, tugging at her bottom lip then the top. “I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you. Everything about you turns me on. Your mind, your body, your heart —”

  She pressed her lips harder against his to shut him up. She didn’t want to hear what he thought when they first met, or she’d think about why she was so mad at him.

  Right now, she just wanted him. Her hands roamed over his wide chest, trailing her fingers down the fine line of hair disappearing into his jeans.

  He lifted her without warning, setting her on the bed. One hand traced her breasts while the other found the hem of her skirt. He raised the stretchy fabric, found his way between her legs.

  She gasped at the long-forgotten feeling of a man’s touch. “Oh, yes!”

  He hoisted her again, setting her in the middle of the bed. “I want you, Maura, but —”

  “Stop talking.” She reached for him, found the buttons restraining him. Releasing him, she pushed down his jeans.

  Rick finished removing his pants, then returned to her. His mouth moved up her midsection, over her breasts, nibbling the entire way. All she wanted was for him to be inside of her. Three years of abstinence, coupled with the last ten days thinking about him, had made her hungry.

  She tried to pull him to her, but he suspended his body above her, only his mouth touched her.

  He continued the kisses up her neck until he reached her ear. “I want you right now more than anything I’ve ever wanted, Maura, but —”

  She craned her head away so she could see his face. “There’s that but again. Do you want me or not?”

  He rolled to her side, propping his head on his hand. “I do want you, but not if you’re going to resign tomorrow.”

  Self-consciously, she tugged her blouse together with one hand, pushed herself off the bed with the other. “It’s too late for that, but since I’m sure Jim has told the entire staff that we slept together, then I figured I might as well enjoy myself for one night. I guess that’s even out of the question. Just my luck.”

  He stared at her as she smoothed her skirt, then walked around the bed and retrieved her panties. Instead of trying to put them on while he stared at her, she balled them up.

  Rick sat up quickly. “Who’s Jim?”

  She dropped her head, started buttoning her blouse. “It doesn’t matter. Someone told him. He told me. That’s the way the gossip mill works.”

  “We don’t have to be gossip. You didn’t see me slinking around. I was nothing but honest with you from minute one.” He buttoned his jeans then jumped out of bed. “I don’t use women, Maura, and I’m not accustomed to being used.” He walked past her, leaving her in the bedroom.

  She stared out the window, at the Navy Pier all lit up for Christmas. Her dreams of climbing to the top, buying a condo on LSD … Gone. And so was the man she knew she was falling in love with. Not only did she yell at him — rightfully so — but she’d also tried to take advantage of him, and then walk out the door as if he were some hired gigolo.

  She pulled on her panties, checked her appearance in the brass-framed mirror, and then left the bedroom.

  Obviously, he wanted her to leave now. He didn’t need her; he could hire interns to package the children’s gifts.

  She followed the hallway the same way she arrived, hoping he’d gone to some other part of the condo.

  He hadn’t. He stood in the kitchen shirtless, his bronze skin standing out among the light background. Everything in the house from the floors to the cabinets to the furniture was cream-colored.

  Instead of demanding she leave, he pushed a plate toward her. “It’s a bit overcooked, but it tastes good.”

  She stared down at the lasagna. “I can’t eat —”

  “It’s vegan. I found a recipe for tofu ricotta, played with it until it tasted right, and then went for it. I have to admit … it’s pretty good. I could have even gotten used to your diet.”

  She ignored that. Could’ves and would’ves wouldn’t further her career. Still, even her beloved husband had never tried to change his diet or make her something vegan. “You … made … vegan lasagna.”

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to hide who my father is, Maura. I thought you knew. But I don’t flaunt it, and there’s a reason I don’t talk about him and his money.” He stared down at the plate. “It is his money, Maura. I’ve never taken a cent from him. I drive a Toyota Tacoma for Pete’s sake, paid my way through college, worked my way up. And I plan to rent an apartment come January. I earned this job. I paid my dues. While I might not have gotten the job if I weren’t his son, it doesn’t mean I’m not qualified.”

  “I didn’t say —”

  “I know, but that’s what you were thinking. That’s why you’re so mad. You wouldn’t be so mad if I were just another coworker —”

  “I don’t sleep with my coworkers!”

  He stared up at her again. “I wasn’t going to say that. If you will allow me to finish …” He picked up his plate, gestured that she should get hers, and walked to the other side of the kitchen, past the dinette.

  At the end of the long room, the wall curved, offering a panoramic view. Six sets of floor-to-ceiling windows boasted views of Lake Michigan and the city. Two white leather seating areas, each twelve-foot long if they were an inch, sat opposite each other. No matter where she chose to sit, she’d have a view.

  Rick plopped down at one end of the sofa facing the lake, then slid the end table around so it was in front of him. He patted the cushion beside him. “I’d planned a three-course menu with candles and wine, but it’s too late for that, so we might as well enjoy the lasagna, then we can get to work.”

  Maura sat but didn’t set the dish next to his. The small glass table was still too intimate. A sorry threatened to explode from her mouth, so she took a bite instead. There was no reason for her to apologize … Because she’d wanted to have sex with him? She guessed he wouldn’t be running to tell his friends that she didn’t apologize for trying to use his body.

  “Mmmm …” She couldn’t stop the groan of approval. “This is good.”

  “Thank you. It would have been better if it weren’t overcooked.”

  She stared up at him. “We probably wouldn’t have minded if we’d finished.”

  He held his fork midair, turned just his head. “Says you. If you’d left after taking advantage of me, I would have minded.”

  “Humph!”

  He scooped up the last bite, then set down his fork. “Well, I was hoping the view might calm you down, but apparently not. You’d prefer to stay mad, and I don’t even know what I did or how to change it.”

  She set her plate on the table. “Rick, I’m …” She sighed. “Nothing is going to change the facts. If I continue to see you —”

  He threw up his hands. “Wait. So, you’re going to quit, and you don’t want to see me again?”

  “If I don’t quit, I’ll never know if any of my accomplishments are mine.”

  “Wow … Is that all that matters to you?”

  She steeled herself. “I’ve paid my dues, too. The difference is … I don’t have a mother or father who can give me a push to the top. I don’t have anyone —”

  He stepped toward her, then closed his eyes and dropped his head. “I’m sorry. I thou
ght — never mind. We have work to do.” He turned, and she followed.

  Rick made his way to the other side of the condo. Well, he hadn’t been lying about it being an office. Not only was there a conference room set up with a long table and twelve chairs, next to the large room was an office with two massive desks, each with their own wide-screen monitors.

  Along the wall sat stacks of shoebox-size boxes. Next to the boxes sat two gigantic boxes overflowing with school and art supplies. He must have had more items shipped in.

  Rick dragged one of the boxes to the table. “How do you want to do this?”

  She was surprised that he could switch from pleasure, to fighting, to business so quickly. If he could, so could she. After all, she was correct … There was no answer to their predicament, not if she wanted to move up in the company — another company, that is.

  Maura stared at the stacks. “What if we set up small piles, as many as will fit on the table, then we can box them. You hand me items from the large box, I’ll separate them, then we can both put them in the boxes.”

  He dug into the large box, pulling up a case of markers. “Sounds like an efficient assembly line. See … I never questioned your abilities from minute one, even without knowing who you were sleeping with.”

  He obviously wasn’t going to let it drop. She snatched the package from him, picked up the scissors, and then slashed it open. “That’s the thing, Rick … No one has ever questioned me because I haven’t dated coworkers. Heck, I haven’t dated or slept with anyone since I’ve moved to Chicago.”

  He picked up a stack of drawing pads. “You said you’ve worked for the company for three years …” He let his words fade as if he were embarrassed to word his thoughts as a question.

  She added a sketch pad to each pile. “Yeah. Your point is?”

  He shook his head and dug into the box.

  They continued building the stacks without any more discussion of sex or her lack thereof. He also didn’t mention work, and she didn’t mention the fact that he was the boss’s son.

  After they’d filled all the boxes, Maura stood and stretched. “The nearest washroom?”