The Attraction File
CAKE LOVE Series Book 2
Elizabeth Lynx
The Attraction File
Copyright © 2017 by Elizabeth Lynx.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For information contact:
[email protected]
http://www.elizabeth-lynx.com
Book and Cover design by Elizabeth Lynx
Photography by ASjack
DEDICATION
To telling fear to take a long walk off a short pier. To telling fear to not let the door hit its ass on the way out. To giving fear the one finger salute.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Attraction File
CAKE LOVE Series Book 2
DEDICATION
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
ONE WILD RIDE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
THANK YOU
ONE
Evaleen
October 31st
Love was essential for human life.
But let’s be realistic. Ask any psychologist, or better yet, ask any cardiologist if love began in the heart and they would say no. Love was a concept of the mind that never actually touched the heart.
That was fact.
Most people would rather hear the emotion spoken to them in a flowery idiom rather than understand the meaning of the words. I was not most people. Action was love, not sentiment. Action that held respect, understanding, and a willingness to risk everything. Something that was hard and perhaps risky, but worth it in the end.
Call me romantic but facts don’t lie.
Love was not a Sasquatch groping me while waiting in line. It wasn’t even flirting. It was everything I hated about how men thought they could do anything they wanted to women.
Hairs on the back of my head rose as I stiffened. “Remove your bear paw from my ass.” I said through gritted teeth. With tremendous restraint, I turned from facing the very large back of the unusually hairy blonde woman in front of me ordering coffee to face the fur-covered creature behind me.
He held up his brown fur hands in surrender and my rapid heartbeat eased. The bear paw was attached to a very sweaty, slightly dough-faced man holding a large fur covered mask in his right hand. “I’m Chewbacca.”
Why do men believe touching a woman inappropriately was something she desired?
Despite folding my arms and glaring at him in warning, he relaxed his posture. “As you can see I am not a Wookie. I am a real human being from Earth. Here on this planet, we don’t grope people we have never met as it’s against the law.” I paused and glared to make my point.
I continued, “Since you are from Kashyyyk, you should know this if you are going to wait in line at a coffee shop.”
His thin lips curled at the corner from my statement. “Are you a Star Wars purist too?”
“No, I’m a woman,” I said as I smirked right back at him and narrowed my eyes. “A woman standing in line, waiting for a grown man dressed in a fur costume to leave her alone so she can order her coffee in peace.”
Turning back, I noticed the blonde woman, her sweater stretched thin due to her thick muscles, ordering at the counter was still there. How much longer was this towering woman, in a brown plaid skirt, going to take? I had an interview in less than thirty minutes and was running out of time to get my caffeine boost.
I thought for a moment about tapping her on the shoulder to ask her to hurry up. But based on her shape I figured she was a body builder or, at least, worked out a lot, and may not take too kindly to being told to move along.
I heard the fur man pipe up behind me and was thankful his fur hands were not on my body this time. “I am the original 1970s’ Chewbacca, not the current Disney version.”
A headache bloomed with each word out of his mouth. I wished in that moment the coffee gods would take pity on me and push the woman at the counter aside so I could order my drink.
“Because it’s Halloween, we get to dress up at my work.”
I tilted my head to the side and yelled back at him, “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Chewie.”
“So, there is a Halloween happy hour after work today. I don’t know if you work around here, but I would love it if you joined me. I have a Princess Leia costume at home. I can run and grab it for you if—”
I turned back to end this conversation. “Listen, Chewie—”
“Albert. My name is Albert.” He leaned closer and wrinkled his forehead in such a way that made it obvious he was fishing for my name. He can keep on fishing because that was on a need-to-know basis. My mother always said, “Evaleen Bechmann, you are being paranoid,” but in the age of the Internet, giving him my name could be as powerful as giving him a knife.
In a way, I felt bad for Chewie-Albert. The poor guy obviously never learned how to deal with a woman. He believed groping me and refusing to take the hint that I didn’t want to go out with him was normal. And that’s just sad he’s so oblivious.
“Okay, Albert. You seem like a nice, if not, handsy Star Wars . . . purist. You got a killer costume that any other Star Wars purist of the female species would love—”
“I hear ya.” He winked, nodding as his eyes perused my form.
Sighing, I realized in that moment the Wookie wasn’t getting it. I shouldn’t be surprised, every man I had met hadn’t gotten it. They touched and they took, but they didn’t understand. That’s why I avoided them. Preferring to remain alone.
“I am not that female, Albert. I am the type of female who chooses to not dress in fur costumes, or skimpy princess costumes, or costumes in general. This female just likes to stand in a line and be left alone. So, good luck finding your princess, but I am as far from a princess as you will find around here.”
His shining brown eyes dimmed as my words began to sink in. Before he could get any more Wookie courage, I turned back to find the blonde still at the counter.
Normally, I left people alone because, unlike Albert, I respected their space. But surviving on only three hours of sleep before an interview for a job that
I needed, action was necessary.
Taking a step forward, I tapped the blonde on her bulbous shoulder and took a breath. “Excuse me, Miss, but I believe it has been ten minutes, which is plenty of time to order your drink. Some of us don’t have the luxury of time, and were kept up by our roommate doing gymnastics in bed with her boyfriend until four in the morning.” I gritted my teeth and shook my head trying to get back on point. “So, if you wouldn’t mind placing your order and letting the rest of us have a turn . . .”
Just as I finished, the woman turned to face me.
She had a beard. Also, an Adam’s apple.
The woman wasn’t a she but a he. He had a beard, lush and blond like his long hair, not fake and matted like Albert’s costume. His eyes were the most beautiful gray, like smoke rising from a smoldering fire. They slid over my face.
I shivered.
“Miss?” His deep, velvety tone came out thick as butter and rendered me utterly catatonic. The timbre of his voice like a sonic boom under my skin. His skin, on the other hand, remained still, smooth, and my fingers, for reasons I am attributing to lack of sleep, twitched to touch any part of him.
His eyes widened at what I could only assume was disbelief. Disbelief that a woman of twenty-six years would be referring to a fine specimen of a man, a manly man if you will, as a woman. Despite his thick blond mane and skirted attire, he was all muscle.
I realized this man was in costume too, like Chewie. Only this man was dressed like the Scottish hero William Wallace and not a sweaty sci-fi version of Sasquatch. He even painted his face blue and white.
One would think that a tall man with thick muscles and a wild painted face would instill fear in me, but no. Instead of running in terror, I did the opposite. I laid my hands on him. My fingers caressed his chest working their way down. Doing the exact thing I just lectured Albert not to do. I should have stopped.
But I didn’t.
Never in my life had I taken advantage of anyone in this manner but he gave off some pheromone that screamed sex me with your hands. Sensing quickly how firm his chest was it propelled me farther down, down to his abs. The man had a six-pack or maybe even an eight-pack; whatever pack was hiding under that brown threadbare piece of cashmere was making my heart race and lady parts start to turn savage themselves.
“What are you doing?”
He was still there and I was still in the coffee shop. This wasn’t a dream. The kilted blond’s voice broke me out of my self-gratifying pawing and I realized I was feeling him up, or down as the case may be.
What are you doing, Evaleen?
I froze before snapping my hands away. I began to smooth out my unwrinkled brown blazer as if I wasn’t a chest molester and nothing out of the ordinary just happened. Clearing my throat, I tried to salvage what little dignity I had left.
“I . . . I . . .” Was all I could get out before I turned to look at the raven-haired barista who either had a rare eye condition that caused her to shoot fire at anyone she laid eyes upon, or she hated me right now. I was going with the latter, so I turned my gaze to the line of customers who had their phones turned up to face me as they filmed what had been occurring. Including Albert.
Great, not only am I mortified, but I will now be some viral Internet sensation known only as, The Woman Chest Molester.
Now it was the kilter’s turn to tap his foot as he folded his thick, strong arms in front of himself in protection from the mad chest molester. He’ll probably tell tales to his future kids and grandkids of the crazy chest molester. “Be wary of her,” he’d say in a low warning with his dialect suddenly turning from American to Scottish. After all, he was dressed as William Wallace.
As he crept down to their eye level, and as the window panes would rattle from the storm that swirled outside his Scottish castle, he would whisper, “For if wee girls and boys don’t do as they’re told, the wiry fingers of the deranged chest molester will grab hold!” The kids would cower, holding their blankets to their little faces; one girl would begin to cry as he wrapped his powerful arms gently around her tiny frame in comfort. He’d calm her as he broke out into an old Gaelic tune.
I start humming out loud the only Gaelic tune I knew, which wasn’t really a Gaelic tune but it’s Scottish, so close enough.
The barista interrupted my musical display, “Is that ‘I Would Walk 500 Miles’?”
I frowned in shame at what I had become in these past few minutes.
“Blue eyes,” the kilted blond mumbled as he stared at me.
TWO
Evaleen
Five Years Later
“So many problems erupt when sex enters the picture,” I said just before lifting my glass so that the cool, refreshing gin and tonic could slide easily down my throat.
Aria shook her head. “Speak for yourself.” Her platinum blonde hair, a stark contrast to the dimly lit bar, floated around her head like a halo.
“You could get pregnant. You could get kidnapped. Or in Drake’s case, get fired. Twice.” I held up two fingers to make my point, but it only caused the laughter at the table to grow louder. Especially from me. I may have been a little drunk and exaggerated about the kidnapping, but there were a lot of weirdos out there. I’m just saying.
“Is it any surprise that they did it on the conference table? If it were me, I would have done him against the window, in the bathroom, and in the elevator by now. Henrik Payne is like Heathcliff and Mr. Darcy all rolled into an expensive suit,” Aria added just before popping the cherry from her whiskey sour into her mouth.
“Maybe it was a mistake. Henrik is so responsible, and even though I only met Morgana once, she seemed very nice. Why would they both jeopardize their jobs?” Tiffany’s brow wrinkled in an adorable way. She was like Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island but with chestnut hair and Ginger’s body. I just wanted to hug her despite the naïve question.
We were in the middle of our Thursday night SWIM Meet. It’s an acronym that stands for Smart Women with Idiot Men. Last week, my coworker and our good friend, Morgana Drake was fired for having sex with her ex-boss, Henrik Payne, after a meeting.
She used to be Henrik Payne’s assistant. Over a month ago, I caught them fooling around on company property, which is why she is no longer at Mimir. In the span of just over a month she was let go of not one, but two different companies for having sex.
That was all Payne’s fault, yet he still had his job as an Executive with Mimir, and poor Morgana was left with nothing. Why was it usually men behind women’s problems? Perhaps that’s why I decided years ago to stay away from them.
Especially one man in particular.
Since I had been promoted to the head of human resources last year, I was the one that had to write Morgana up. This had been eating away at me for a while. Morgana was smart and a hard worker, she deserved better than being the one who left. She definitely deserved better than Payne.
As much as I disliked Payne, I understood Drake’s attraction to someone she worked with. Sometimes being in such close proximity every day made it hard not to let your mind wander.
Knowing what I did about both situations, I had been trying to figure out how to get Morgana her job back.
“Come on, Tiffany. You know what it’s like when you have the hots for someone. Location becomes irrelevant. You sort of forget you are at work, or in a bathroom, or at the circus.”
I frowned at Aria. Tiffany blushed.
“Yeah, I was like that with my husband when he was alive. Except we never did it at his job, or in a bathroom, or at a circus. We did do it once in his car after a Cubs game.”
Aria nodded and turned her head toward me. “How about you, Evaleen? You ever do it someplace wild like a conference table or a car?”
I had only known these women for a month, so explaining my sexual history to them wasn’t something I was prepared to do. Luckily, I didn’t have to as Tiffany’s phone began to ring.
She fumbled with her purse and pulled it out. I tried my b
est to give her privacy and turned my attention toward the rest of the bar, but when I heard her voice wobble with the words, “He took a step.” I turned my ear toward her.
When she ended the call, Aria and I gazed at her hoping to hear something good about her son, David, but what we saw was her hands covering her face as she released heavy sobs. Her body trembled as Aria scooted closer and wrapped her arms around Tiffany.
I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Oh honey, we’re here. Let it out.”
Her hands fell.
“It was David’s doctor. He called to tell me that when the therapist had him stand from his bed he took one step. The last time he walked was ten years ago when he was two years old. I never thought this day would come.” She raised her head, her face streaked with tears and the biggest smile I had ever seen. “It worked. The surgery worked. I have to go.”
I didn’t know all the details about what happened to Tiffany’s son, but I did know that when he was only two he was in a car accident that left him without the ability to walk. A few weeks ago, he had experimental surgery in the hopes it would help him. She had been at his side since and it took all our powers of persuasion to get her to take a break once a week. Just us girls. A chance for her to let go for a few hours.
Both Aria and I hadn’t known Tiffany long, but we could see she was a woman in need of a drink and some friends. Even if she could only spare a few hours a week.
Tiffany waved her hands in the air as her thick hair fluttered around her shoulders. “I need to be with him.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
Moving out of the booth, I gave her room. Aria grabbed her purse and gave it to her before she ran off.
We both watched her bump into a few people on her way out, and my heart skipped a beat in that moment. That was love. A mother for a child and a child for a mother. Not everyone understood its depth and unfortunately, some who need to understand it the most didn’t. But it existed. Only the strong could grasp its power and responsibility.
I loved my mother, but it’s not like I made the decision to have her as my mother. My mom understood what came with becoming a mother and she was tested many times in her life, but she stayed strong. She was my hero and I don’t think I could have handled the life she had led. In fact, I know I couldn’t handle some of the things we went through together.
The Attraction File (Cake Love Book 2) Page 1