The Attraction File (Cake Love Book 2)

by Elizabeth Lynx

  “No. There has been no communication from him. Not even an email. I’ll make a record of it and try to contact him in the morning. It’s usually that an employee thought they filled out the vacation paperwork and submitted it but didn’t. So, he is most likely on vacation and doesn’t think anything is wrong.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  I hoped.

  She nodded. I nodded. Then there was nothing left but awkwardness.

  And silence. I forgot to mention the silence.

  I should say something.

  Anything. I could mention how tight her ass looked.

  Evaleen began to squint at me. I wondered if she read my mind about her ass?

  Her head tilted. She must have read my mind.

  “I better be going. That’s all I came in here for. And I hadn’t noticed you bending over when I first came in here. I mean, I wanted to drop off this note,” I held up the blue sticky note now crinkled in my fingers, “but you seemed busy bending over. Not that you need to be bent over to be busy. Just, I thought I should give you some privacy. Because, uh . . .”

  This was not going well. Evaleen was frowning, maybe even sneering at me. The slow tingle of desperation clawed up my chest as I realized how badly I needed to clean this up.

  “Privacy for your lady business.”

  I couldn’t look at her. My eyes snapped to the floor as I shuffled backward. First, I slammed into her office door. Searing pain shot up my back from the brass door knob but I wouldn’t let it show. I ground my teeth while fumbling to open the door.

  Once I was clear and made it outside the HR department, I let out a huge breath.

  I ran to the elevator and tapped the down arrow button wildly, many times. Each time with greater force while mumbling, “Come on,” under my breath.

  The doors finally opened. The interaction with Evaleen kept replaying in my head as I was safely shuttled down to the lobby. With each passing floor, my heart sunk lower and lower.

  Smooth Edgar, real smooth. She’ll never want to have sex with me now.

  I made it out to the sidewalk with the brisk wind biting at my skin. Looking back into the lobby, I realized in all the chaos I dropped my coat on the floor when I fell in the HR department and left it there.

  I didn’t even have to contemplate going back in to grab it. If I died of frostbite tonight on my way home it would be better than possibly running into Evaleen.

  I hoped I’d never run into Evaleen Bechmann again.

  FIVE

  Evaleen

  That was love. In its purest form.

  The scent of my mother’s beef vegetable soup surrounded me as I emerged from the second-floor stairwell and into the hallway on a very cold Friday night. The warm prickly feeling that reminded me of everything wonderful from my youth ran down my neck and covered my body. It propelled me closer to the door of my apartment. When I opened it, the smell intensified and I salivated at its deliciousness.

  “Lucy, I’m home,” I announced in my best Cuban accent.

  I laughed every time I said that. My roommate, who happened to be my mom, was named Lucy. I Love Lucy, get it? Well, I thought it was funny.

  “I’m in the kitchen.” Her voice mixed with the aroma, beckoning me.

  Putting down my brown leather work bag, I shrugged off the cocoon-like black winter coat I named Big Earl. After placing everything away, I went into the kitchen and melted into the bar stool at the edge of the black granite island counter.

  I LOVED my mom’s beef vegetable soup. It’s home. It’s hearty. It warmed my bones on those cold Chicago days. And, it was the perfect elixir for the rough week I had.

  “Hey, I never got a chance to ask you. Did your boss, Mr. Mimir, accept the undercover idea about Morgana?” My mom stood in front of the stove stirring the pot in front of her.

  I rolled my eyes because of Payne’s stupid idea.

  “Surprisingly, yes he did. When Payne came up with that excuse as to why Morgana was working at RT Mitchell and not still at Mimir, I thought for sure Mr. Mimir would find the idea ludicrous. But, he nodded as if he completely understood.”

  My mom turned, grabbing two white ceramic bowls from the counter and began ladling soup. “Great. So, did you tell her last night like you wanted to?”

  “Yeah.” My eyes slid from her bright blue eyes as she turned to place a steaming bowl in front of me. She came around the kitchen island and sat beside me placing her bowl down.

  “Just yeah? You were so eager to help her get her job back. From what you told me about Morgana she seems like a really sweet and smart woman.”

  I groaned. Sometimes I hated that I told my mom everything. Well, not every single thing. There was one thing no one knew about, even her.

  “I told her last night at the SWIM Meet but I had to lie,” I held up my thumb and index finger, “just a little. I told her I never wrote her up for what happened between her and Payne when I caught them, but I did.”

  “Sometimes, Evaleen, we have to say or do things we don’t want to in order to protect them. I can’t say it’s a good thing to lie, but if it protects your friend, maybe it was for the best. Besides, I know you would never do anything to hurt someone.” She smiled and patted my back. “Anything else bothering you?”

  I shook my head between bites of the roll I grabbed from the bread bowl that was in the middle of the island. As honest as I was with my mother I wasn’t ready to discuss how I spent the entire week avoiding Edgar since he came to me Thursday last week. Despite Edgar’s best efforts to discuss Ashton with me I ran from him every chance I got. Only responding to him via email.

  My mother doesn’t need to know about my cowardly ways. Plus, she would just think I was being paranoid because I reached out to my contacts about Ashton. They told me none of his neighbors had seen him in weeks.

  “Hmm.”

  I knew that sound all too well. Having no father in the picture growing up, at least no one who acted like a father, my mother was the only constant presence in my life. She held me when I woke from a nightmare when I was little and gave me plenty of time-outs when I sassed her or anyone else as a kid. She was my mother and father, the nurturer and the disciplinarian, the good cop and the bad cop.

  She was good at it, so much so that just one humming sound told me everything.

  “Really, nothing is bothering me. I’m not going to argue with you about this for the millionth time, Mom. I love my job.”

  She turned on her stool to face me and placed her hand on my arm. “I’m not saying you don’t. You are doing what you went to college for. I remember how nervous you were five years ago before the interview at Mimir. Then how equally excited you were when they called you the next day to tell you that you got the job.”

  I put down my spoon and smiled. “No thanks to you and your boyfriend at the time. Who was that . . . Paul?”

  My mom’s cheeks flushed with the memory. “No, it was Ronald. I miss Ronald.”

  “Oh, yeah, the gymnast.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “He even placed on the Olympic team but got an ankle injury that took him out. Anyway, I just think with the other work you do, you seem happier. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Not wanting to talk about my work I decide to turn the subject back to her. “It’s too bad he had to move to Italy for that coaching job.”

  When it came to men, my mother and I were total opposites. She loved to date, whereas I loved to not be taken advantage of and be a fool to love.

  Picking up her spoon and making a swirling pattern in her soup, she sighed. “I felt terrible when I had to turn him down.”

  “Turn him down?”

  Her smile was warm but didn’t reach her eyes. “He asked me to move to Italy with him. I never told you because I know you would have told me to go. But, I could never be that far from you, Evaleen.”

  I was surprised but understood. Sometimes I imagined what would happen when I did finally meet a guy and we got to the point where we
lived together. My mom and I have been a team for so long, I wouldn’t want to leave her.

  “You could have gone, Mom. I don’t want—”

  She waved her hands at me. “Hush. It’s in the past. Anyway, speaking of men, how is that new book of yours coming?”

  “I’m about half way through. They are stuck at his Scottish castle during a bad storm. So, you know—”

  “Sex.”

  I nodded and we both laughed. When I wasn’t working at Mimir or eating my mom’s fabulous food, I wrote romance novels under a pen name. I had been doing it for seven years now and have developed a bit of a following in the romance community. My last three books had been bestsellers.

  “What’s the hero’s name?”

  “Edgann.”

  “Hmm.” She pushed the bowl away.

  “It’s not about him, Mom.”

  Her eyes focused on the floor as she stood and moved into the living room only a few steps away. “I never said it was. It’s just . . .”

  She took her favorite spot on the smoky gray couch, the end near the simple beech-topped end table. I stood from the stool and followed her into the living room.

  “It’s just, what?”

  I waited on the other side of the oval coffee table with my hands on my hips for her to finish, but she never did. My mother picked up a home decorating magazine with a flower-filled window box on the cover and began to thumb through it.

  Her head lifted and she appeared surprised, as if she didn’t expect me to be in the same room as her. “What?”

  I folded my arms. She had her signals of warning and I had mine.

  “You know what I am asking.”

  Throwing the magazine back onto the table, she shook her head. “Fine. It’s just that you always give your male heroes similar names. They all begin with E or have an E sounding name. And while we are on the subject, why Scotland? Why do all of your heroes come from Scotland?”

  I shook my head. That’s not true. Some of my heroes have names that don’t begin with E. I couldn’t think of any at that moment, but surely I must. I’ve written over twenty books, there had to be a K or D or M named character in there.

  “But what about The Tartan Fire. That guy was from London.”

  “His name was Eugene who happened to be adopted by a London couple. His real Scottish mother came to find him and take him back to Scotland.”

  I reached up to my head and pulled out the hairpins that held my hair in place, tossing them onto the coffee table. Digging my fingers into my locks and messaging my scalp didn’t do much to clear my head. Mentally, I went through my entire back stock of books and realized my mother was right.

  Throwing myself on the couch, I placed my head in her lap. “You’re right. It is him. Maybe subconsciously, and perhaps sometimes consciously, I make every hero of my books about Edgar.”

  SIX

  Evaleen

  My mom swept my hair out of my face in soothing strokes. Her fingers acted as a comb helping to put me at ease.

  “It’s not easy, Evaleen. Having feelings for a man who doesn’t even know you exist.”

  I rolled my eyes but allowed her to continue pampering my head. “I think every man you have ever met knew you existed, Mom. Even the ones you didn’t want to know.”

  “You’re right. There have been a few bad apples, maybe one in particular, but I’m talking about my big crush in high school. Anderson Carroll. He was tall with jet-black hair and loved Blondie. I even cut my hair shoulder-length like Debbie Harry, but he never noticed me. He ended up dating some cheerleader. So, I understand how hard it is to want someone you can’t have.”

  I had seen pictures of my mom when she was in high school, and she could have been Debbie Harry’s sister. She was gorgeous. Somehow knowing my mom couldn’t snag the attention of a teenage boy looking like a hot rocker chick made me feel worse.

  My crush, ugh, even calling him that made me seem like a dopey high schooler instead of a grown woman. He knew I existed but didn’t care. I was only a worker to him. Sometimes I thought he didn’t even see me as a human. Based on how he acted last week, he couldn’t wait to get away from me.

  “I have to work with him, Mom, so he knows I exist. He is always polite to me. But, it’s just—”

  “Like you aren’t even a woman to him. Almost like you are androgynous? That if you were completely naked in front of him, he would yawn?”

  I cringed at her words but gave my response, a garbled whisper, “Yes.”

  But there was that one time when he didn’t yawn.

  “I wish I could give you some secret to getting a man to be interested in you, but most of the things women do to get men to take notice just get them used. If he was worth it, Evaleen, he would be knocking on that door right now with flowers in hand and begging to take you out. I know I am your mother, but I’m not exaggerating when I say you are a gorgeous and wonderful person.”

  I sat up and smiled. As I wrapped my arms around her to thank her for being wonderful too, there was a knock at the door.

  We both pulled away and stared at each other. My mother’s bright blue eyes widened whereas mine narrowed. I pointed at her. “Did you do that on purpose?”

  “No, I swear. Oh my God, maybe I’m psychic?” She laughed.

  I got up and shook my head as I walked to the door. “If you can predict what will happen, then imagine me winning a million dollars,” I yelled back over my shoulder as I opened the door.

  A man in a Cubs cap and puffy navy coat stood there with a large bouquet of red roses in a glass vase.

  “Flower delivery for Bechmann.”

  I took the flowers and signed the paper on his clipboard before my mother showed up. She handed him some cash which brightened his spirits.

  Once we closed the door and brought the vase into the living room, I set it on the coffee table.

  “Are you sure you didn’t order these flowers?”

  She shook her head before grabbing the card. “No, I swear. I can’t seem to find an envelope. Oh well, at least we have the card.”

  “What does it say?”

  My mother cleared her throat in dramatic fashion. “To the woman I can’t stop thinking about. That’s it.”

  I took the card out of her hand and flipped it over. “Nothing about who it is from or who it is for? Maybe if I find the envelope?”

  I dug around in the flowers and saw a small cream-colored envelope pushed near the neck of the vase. Taking it out, I read the envelope. “To Lucy, from an old flame.”

  My smile faltered for a moment. I was happy for my mom but for those few minutes, I thought my mom was right. That maybe those flowers were for me. Perhaps Edgar didn’t just see me as an HR manager only there to help him hire people and discuss missing employees.

  It’s my own fault for letting my emotions and hope get the better of me. Facts don’t lie. He avoided me and when he was around, he couldn’t seem to get away fast enough. Why was he the only man that made my brain throw logic out the window?

  Evaleen, you are smarter than that.

  “That’s wonderful, Mom. I wonder who it could be?” I handed her the wrinkled envelope and gave her a side hug.

  Her grin was appreciative. “Even if Edgar can’t see you as a strong and intelligent woman, I know there are hundreds of other men who would call him a fool and line up at your door.”

  But I don’t want them. I only want him.

  “I know, Mom. My heart is a fool. I just wished my brain would beat some sense into my heart every once in a while.”

  She laughed and I pulled away. “I think I will go work on my book for a while. Enjoy your lovely roses.”

  In a way, I envied my mom. Even when we had nothing, and we were broke for most of my life, she always had a smile on her face that made everyone around her want to get to know her. She barely had to run a brush through her hair and men would always try to strike up a conversation. She even knew how to handle the rude ones, and there were many of t
hose.

  I wish I had her confidence, her glowing beauty.

  Making my way down the hall to my bedroom, I shut the door. Instead of reaching under my bed and pulling out my silver laptop, I flopped face first on my blue and white circle patterned bedspread. I was being selfish, I knew that. But after never having one man in my life really love me—not the way they did in my books—it could wear a woman down.

  When I finally managed to feel good enough to get my laptop I sat back against the fluffy blue pillows lining the oak headboard. When the screen lit up, I checked my emails and began to delete spam. There was one email titled Important: Evaleen’s Eyes Only.

  I labeled everything with my initials, never using my name. Only someone who knew me would have sent this.

  Maybe it was Edgar reaching out to me. Secret. A sexy email.

  I grinned and thought for once I should take a risk and stop being paranoid.

  Deciding to open it, I was surprised at what I found. Surprise wasn’t the right word. The image gutted me.

  It was Edgar smiling back at me. Shirtless, and in bed. His smile appeared relaxed and those sexy dimples were on display.

  Tears didn’t just threaten but followed through by leaking down my cheeks. He was in bed with the person taking the picture. His hair sprayed back against the pillow, a reminder of how I liked it.

  I wanted to close the email. Delete it, but I kept staring. He was so happy. He didn’t even look like the same guy. As if Edgar wore the mask of a smooth, confident player only after getting out of bed.

  This photo showed a man willing to look silly, to let his guard down. A man who was okay with making a mistake.

  Maybe that was a mistake too.

  He must have mixed up an email about Ashton, labeling it for me only, but meant to send this to someone else. Perhaps a lady asking for a sexy picture of him to keep her warm until he could be with her.

  I laughed at the image of the woman asking him who Evaleen Bechmann was. My laughter died just as quickly. I didn’t want this to be a mistake. That same bit of hope that tickled at my chest about the flowers earlier came back.