by Nicki Elson
“You want me to sleep in your underwear?”
He touched his fingertips onto the counter and leaned forward. “Bates, I’m exhausted, and the longer we stand here and debate, the less sleep we’re going to get. You know my plan makes the most sense, so can we go?”
It did make the most sense, and the idea of a quick cab ride to his place in River North was more than appealing. “Okay, but I’ll take the couch. No chivalry, capisce?”
He shook his head. “If that gets you to move, then fine.”
Within thirty minutes, she was snuggled under a blanket on Hayden’s couch, wearing his Stone Sour T-shirt, which was long enough that she didn’t also require his underwear. His one bedroom apartment was impressively neat considering he hadn’t expected to have company that night. It was also tastefully furnished with comfortable but stately pieces in a harmonizing blend of neutrals. Grown-up furniture. Unlike her mishmash of hand-me-downs and cheap warehouse finds or Keith and Bill’s Nordic den of blond build-it-yourselves.
Hayden made sure she had everything she needed, and when he stepped into his bedroom, he paused in the doorway. “I’ll shut the door so you and Andre Agassi can have some privacy.”
“What?”
A fresh spark flashed over his weary features. “Double A.” He waggled his thick eyebrows, retreating into his room. The second his door shut, a small pillow that’d been lying on the floor next to Lyssa slammed into it.
* * *
Not enough hours later, Lyssa stepped out of Hayden’s bathroom. She’d taken a quick shower, and after blow-drying her hair and putting on makeup, she’d slipped back into the T-shirt and wrapped the towel around her waist like a skirt in case Hayden was in the main room. He was. He’d set up an ironing board and was pulling the iron back and forth over a pair of dark khaki fabric. Glancing up, he nodded toward the kitchen. “I put out a few choices of coffee pods for you. But sorry, you’ll have to use almond milk instead of cream. Help yourself to fruit and cereal.”
“Thanks.” Her stomach was too unsettled from not enough sleep to eat anything, but she popped a pod into his Keurig and watched him while she waited for her mug to fill. He wore a crisp, pale-blue shirt and navy suit pants. Looking closer at what he was ironing, she asked, “Are those mine?”
“Yep.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I’m already ready, and I don’t mind.” He switched to the other leg and smoothed it out flat, checking that the front crease would be centered.
Lyssa folded one arm over the other and leaned back on the shiny granite counter. “I gotta say, King, this is probably the sexiest thing a guy’s ever done for me.”
He lifted the iron and blasted out a puff of steam. “So this is how you like it, huh? Hot and wet?” Lyssa laughed and poured the milk. “Drink it fast,” Hayden said, giving her pants a few last swipes with the iron and looking at his watch. “There’s no time to get into it now, but on the way over I’ll tell you all about the brilliant idea I had last night.”
She gulped down her first sip. “You were supposed to be sleeping, not thinking.” Snatching her pants from Hayden, she returned to the bathroom to get dressed, then sucked down the rest of her coffee, and they caught a cab. On the way to DH’s Chicago offices, they reviewed the order of their presentation, which ended up taking the entire cab ride to get through. Stepping out, Lyssa asked, “So what’s this brilliant idea?”
“No time now. We’ll talk about it after the meeting.”
From Lyssa’s perspective, the presentation went smoothly. The DH executives nodded often, and their questions and comments indicated that they were satisfied with their choices. Shep had remained relatively quiet but didn’t appear to be displeased. In the end, the DH executives decided to move forward with Ardent Capital Management.
As they shut their freshly prepared reports, Hayden said. “We considered throwing something a little more radical at you, but after what the fund’s been through with Blaze, going conservatively seemed the best route for this placement. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun with other portions of the fund.”
Shep twirled a pen and sat back, a smile tugging at his lip. “What do you have in mind?”
“It’s a bit premature for me to say,” Hayden admitted. “I have to work it all out with the asset allocation team, but rather than the typical approach—picking a candidate based on cursory visits and statistics and hoping it’ll work out—what if a small segment of the overall fund was dedicated to a pool of untested but promising up-and-comers? When one breaks away and proves themselves, you can up their allotment. There are a lot of interesting, smaller, cutting-edge managers out there; but by the time they build up a long enough track record to even be considered by a sizeable fund like yours and then pass through all the stages of due diligence, you’ve missed out on a big chunk of their returns. If they were already part of the line-up, then as soon as they proved themselves, the process would be streamlined, and you could move them quickly into a bigger position.”
Shep looked bright-eyed and alert for the first time that morning, tapping the table with his pen while the low rumble of his characteristic chuckle rolled up and out his throat. “You run it past your allocation team, see what they have to say about it, and then we’ll talk. If they give you any trouble, tell ’em Shep is enthusiastic about it.”
Hayden only let his smile spread so far, but Lyssa could tell he was fighting an all-out goofy grin. They shook hands with the executives and said their goodbyes with a promise to meet again in early November—this time in Dallas.
The Fox & Keaton associates left the building and walked a couple of blocks before Hayden turned to Lyssa. “Sorry I brought up the idea for a wildcard manager pool without discussing it with you first. It’s just … Shep actually yawned in the middle of our presentation, and I couldn’t walk out of there letting him think we’re plain vanilla.”
Lyssa nodded. “It’s okay—I mean, don’t do it again, but I get it. Is this something you really want to pursue?”
“Hell yes. Don’t you think it’s appealing?”
Lyssa shrugged and then shook her head to ward off the tiny prickles poking at her temples. “I guess.” The adrenaline from the meeting was draining quickly, and all the sleep she’d missed the night before slammed into her. “When did you … how … ”
She hadn’t realized that her head had been drooping until Hayden caught one side of her face and lifted it. Peering directly into her eyes, he asked, “Are you okay? Did you eat anything this morning?”
She stared back, smiling lightly as she imagined the rich blue of his irises as swirling fairies. Her eyelids fluttered, and the next thing she knew, the side of her face was pressed into Hayden’s chest. One of his hands pressed into the middle of her back, and the other was in her hair. With a sharp inhale, she pulled back and stood straight, leaving both her hands pressed into his chest for support. “I’m so sorry, I … ”
One side of Hayden’s mouth lifted. “You swooned over me. Don’t worry, happens all the time.”
“If I had any strength left, I’d choke that cocky grin off your face.”
“Aha, so hot, wet, and violent—that’s how you like it. I learn something new about you every day, Bates.” He curled his hands around the backs of hers and slid them off him, keeping possession of one. “Come on. I’m going to take my starving partner out for some eggs, and then we’ll get you tucked into your own bed.”
“Alone.”
He squeezed her hand as they moved down the sidewalk. “Of course, alone. Well, except for your buddy, Double A.”
Chapter Seven
At lunch with the girls from work, Lyssa found it easy to put in a good word for Hayden. In fact, she put in several. As the nine F&K females batted a collection of conversations back and forth across the large table, Lyssa gave him a mention whenever it felt natural: “Hayden’s been really great to work with. I’m learning a lot from him” or “Hayden is so fun
to tease because he’s got a great sense of humor and can take it.” Soon, she found she was doing it without even trying. “Hayden’s amazing in stressful situations, totally keeps his cool.”
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 li
ghts 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?”